No but Gwynriel having twins makes something in MY chest ✨ sparkle ✨
Azriel just screams twin dad to me? I don’t know why but he just does, for him to have a family of his own with TWO little babies at once that are HIS when (supposedly) children are so rare and he has spent centuries feeling unworthy.
And with his shadows, he essentially has a pair of extra hands for those sleepless nights, bringing them things without him or Gwyn having to get up.
He is the spymaster so nothing will get past him as they grow up. He is literally a walking baby camera. No twin will ever accidentally eat something they shouldn’t or fall down any stairs.
When they’re older and want to sneak out? Good luck, he already found the plans several days ago.
And Gwyn? Ugh, being a twin herself she knows how special it is and witnessing their bond is like having a tiny part of Catrin back with her 😭
She would love the chaos of it all, and when they’re y up trying to steal cookies in the middle of the night? She’s right there with them.
Obviously, it’s Azriel that finds them, trying to act disappointed and establish the importance of rules when in reality he heard them the moment they left their beds and gave them time to eat at least one or two cookies before taking them back to bed.
I’m eternally grateful to ginnystellart for this commission! The colors, the lighting, Elain’s expression, Lucien lifting her towards the sunshine she needs — it’s perfect!
Elain Archeron was lost.
Not in the city itself.
Just in everything else.
Sometimes sunshine isn't only found in the sky.
Written for Elucien weeks 2026 ⎸ Day 5 ⎸ Sunshine
Oneshot / 4690 words / Fluff, some angst and comfort / Rated G
Read it on AO3 here or just down below
Happy Elucien Week! ☀️
This is the first time I've written anything for Elucien, but I just had to write something for this special week and threw this together. I struggled a little with the ending, and I'm feeling a little shy posting something for Elucien week, everyone is so damn talented!! But I figured it's the thought and love that counts and I love them so much and wanted to challenge myself writing something new.
Loosely based on the song Come Over by BTS, I tried to imgaine what sunshine might mean to Elain more than just in the literal sense and how it might help her (hopefully) feel a little less lost.
Enjoy! ☀️💛
Elain Archeron was lost.
The cold night brought a flush to her cheeks as she trudged through Velaris. She pulled the shawl falling around her shoulders tighter. Above her, countless glittering stars burned quietly against the dark Night Court sky. The moon cast a silvery light across the streets, and while beautiful—it offered no warmth, did nothing to help chase away the chill from her bones. It didn’t matter that it was the beginning of spring, as soon as the sun set it took its warmth with it.
If Elain allowed herself to be completely honest, she wasn’t sure she’d been truly warm since the Cauldron. Since Mor had whisked her and Nesta away and left them at the House of Wind.
So much had changed. So much had happened. And yet, two or three years was nothing compared to the centuries that awaited her now. It certainly felt like it was only yesterday that she’d been snatched out of bed, gagged and bound and brought before the King of Hybern. She still remembered it all too well.
The soldiers’ cruel hands and sneering grins. The icy water that pulled her under, seeping into her very soul and reshaping her body. The cold floor her new form had been dumped on, her nightgown wet and flesh exposed. The taunting laughs filling the space around her.
But then, for a brief moment, there had been some warmth. A coat wrapped around fragile shoulders and a golden string suddenly tying itself around her ribs. A golden eye.
Elain had never felt anything like it before. Could not understand it.
She still didn’t, she supposed.
Not even when Feyre had returned to Velaris, and some warmth returned with her.
For so long, Elain had wanted nothing but her old life back. Some might call her ungrateful. Might say she was selfish and dumb. Most would trade their mortal life for hers in the blink of an eye. She had never asked for any of it though. Had never wanted to become Fae.
While it would be a lie to say her new physique didn’t have its benefits—she missed her old life.
A life where she’d known exactly where she fit in. Had known how to navigate her way through a ballroom full of scheming nobles and carefully constructed masks. Had known how to charm her way through even the most harrowing situations and people. She’d had friends. Her own friends. Not people employed by her sister. People who wanted to be around her because they liked her for who she was as a person.
But her friends didn’t like her anymore. Her fiancé no longer wanted her. Despised her even.
And all she had left was her sister’s newfound family. They had welcomed her. They were kind. Still, would they have looked twice at her if she wasn’t their High Lady’s sister? A pang of hurt sliced through her chest—cold and sharp as the night around her—and before she could stop it, the answer came.
No.
Perhaps it did make her ungrateful. To look at all she'd been given and still ache for the life that had been taken from her.
None of it made her feel any less lost though. Not when every conversation seemed to end with someone telling her she'd be safer at home. Not when they insisted she leave the coming war, and everything it demanded, to them. Not when they still looked at her as they had during those first weeks in Velaris.
But Elain wasn’t that girl anymore. At least she didn’t think so. They never gave her the chance to find out.
Somewhere to her right, the steady murmur of the Sidra drifted through the streets. The flowing sound was soft enough to soothe, yet unable to quiet the thoughts crowding her mind. Even further down the road, faint music drifted from some unknown tavern, easy laughter following its melodic waves on the cool breeze.
It deepened the ache in her chest. The sounds of people belonging. Of warmth she didn’t have. Further proof that perhaps there was something wrong with her.
Earlier in the evening, everyone had been gathered at the River House to celebrate Nyx’s first birthday. It was a joyous occasion, filled with love and appreciation, knowing how close they’d been to losing not only Nyx but Feyre and Rhysand as well.
And Elain loved her nephew. Loved him so much she sometimes got teary-eyed by just looking at him. His soft giggles and curious mind. Celebrating his birthday should've brought her some warmth.
Maybe it had to some extent.
Then she’d looked up and realised she was the only one without someone by her side. Feyre had Rhysand. Nesta had Cassian. Amren sat nestled beside Varian in one of the corners while Morrigan stood by the hearth, obviously flirting with one of Nesta’s friends from training.
And Azriel, with whom Elain had always felt some small sense of belonging—mostly because it seemed like he might be as lost as she was—sat before a game of chess. His gaze locked on his opponent, another one of Nesta’s friends, a rare and brilliant smile grazed his lips as the priestess huffed in annoyance at the move he’d made.
It shouldn’t have made her feel anything. To see the brightness in his eyes as he looked at Gwyneth. The contentment that seemed to loosen his entire frame in her presence.
Yet, it snuffed out the tiny flicker of warmth she’d gotten from Nyx’s happy smile as he unwrapped his presents. Not because she wanted Azriel to look at her like that. No. It was good to see the Shadowsinger at peace. He deserved it.
They all did.
The cold realisation came because she saw just how utterly alone she was. How perfectly Nesta’s friends fit in with the rest of them. How no one seemed to worry about sharing war stories or new information around them.
Why would they? Elain thought bitterly. They were Valkyries. Re-born and shaped into something new. Fierce and strong. All because of Nesta. Her older sister who had been so angry and self-destructive, but had found new sisters and a purpose.
And Elain was lost.
So damn lost.
Walking mindlessly through Velaris’s streets with no clear path and only a thin shawl to protect her against the wind. She’d walked the same roads a hundred times before. A thousand even.
Still she was lost.
Not in the city itself.
Just in everything else.
But Elain knew exactly where she was. Knew exactly who lived in the building in front of her. Knew who had lit that single candle in the window on the second floor.
And she knew exactly why that single light felt like it was a beacon in the dark.
Though she couldn’t remember crossing the small bridge that led to this part of the city. She had not planned to wander so far from the River House. She’d only needed some air, a quick reprieve from everyone and everything.
It didn’t scare her the way it had the first time it happened. When her feet had carried her to the same building without meaning to. She'd never stepped inside, but she'd known from the very first time exactly whose home it was.
Elain waited for the tiny voice in her head to tell her to turn around. To run.
It didn’t come.
It dawned on her then—it had been months since she last heard it. Since she last felt the overwhelming need to run in the opposite direction.
She told herself it was why she found herself stepping inside the building for the first time, climbing the stairs with quick and steady steps. It wasn't until she reached the second floor, stopping before a polished wooden door, that she became agonizingly aware of what she was actually doing.
Too late.
She’d already knocked.
Could already hear shuffling footsteps on the other side of the door. A beating heart through the stone of the walls. Steady. Strong. Familiar. She’d never once questioned how she just knew it was his.
And then, there he was.
Lucien.
All at once, the coldness in her bones vanished, and Elain wanted nothing more than to melt in the warmth surrounding him. Because standing beside him, simply being in the same room, felt like stepping into true sunlight after a long dark night. It had been like that since the first time she met him, and it had terrified her so thoroughly that it felt safer to stay away.
But now, Elain was lost.
And cold.
“Elain,” he breathed. The surprise in his wide eyes matched the one in his voice. Hearing him say her name—it threatened to bring her to her knees. She suppressed a shiver, refusing to dwell on the flutter that stirred low in her belly. “Are you alright, my lady?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Uncertain of how to answer his question.
Strictly speaking, she was fine. Nothing terrible had happened. Nothing that should have driven her here. Which only made standing on his doorstep feel all the more selfish. After everything she'd done to keep him at arm's length.
A tiny kernel of shame planted itself in her chest. For how unfairly she’d treated him. How wretched she’d been at times. Never cruel, not really, but distant. Cold. Every smile had been carefully measured and every conversation painfully polite. As though pretending the bond didn't exist would somehow make it disappear.
It wasn’t like her. It wasn’t who she was. Shutting someone out in the way she had with him.
And... she shouldn’t be there.
“I...” she began and looked down at the floor between them, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I don’t know–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I–I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Silence settled around them, and she felt his eyes on her, searching her face with quiet concern. A tiny whirring sound from his golden eye echoed softly and had her blood rushing to her cheeks.
And then—
“Would you like to come inside?”
Elain snapped her head up.
Something akin to disbelief swept through her so suddenly it nearly stole her breath. The invite shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
It still did.
Because somewhere between climbing the stairs and knocking on his door, Elain had convinced herself that he’d take one look at her, see that she wasn’t bleeding or hurt, and gently send her on her way again.
But he only stood there, waiting for her answer. Patient as ever. And all Elain could do was stare at him.
Because it had been months since she last saw him in person.
Despite the fact that she knew he’d been at the River House that morning to leave a gift for Nyx. The golden string in her chest had alerted her to his presence, a teasing tingle of warmth rousing her from sleep, but by the time she’d made it downstairs he had already departed.
Only the neatly wrapped gift and the lingering scent of cinnamon baked apples and crackling fire had remained. She’d taken the gift from Feyre, offering to put it aside, and if her sister noticed the way Elain had hugged it close to her chest, breathing in the distinctive traces of Lucien's scent... Well, Feyre thankfully said nothing.
His visits had all been like that lately. Quick and efficient. As if he had accepted the distance she’d insisted upon. As if she had finally managed to push him away.
It left a gaping hole in the pit of her stomach.
And now, Elain couldn’t do anything but simply look at him. Something she’d denied herself so many times before.
Auburn hair caught the candlelight behind him, bringing out the golden copper tones blending with the deeper red strands. He kept it bound in a low bun at the nape of his neck, though some had fallen out in the front and framed his sharp and elegant features.
She’d never allowed herself to fully appreciate his high cheekbones before and the way his russet eye was perhaps the prettiest shade of brown she’d ever seen. His loose beige tunic fell over his broad chest, its deep neckline revealing a tempting expanse of golden skin. It was impossible to ignore how warm and inviting it looked.
A slight flush colored the bridge of his nose, drawing her attention to the faint dusting of freckles she had never noticed until now. As Lucien cleared his throat, Elain suddenly became aware of the silence between them. She'd been too preoccupied with looking at him that she'd forgotten he'd asked her a question.
Her own face grew hotter. Even more so as he raised an arm to scratch the back of his neck nervously, the lean muscles in his arm bulging slightly against the fabric of his tunic. “Only if you’d like to, of course,” he added quietly.
"I do!" The words burst from Elain before she could stop them, far louder than she'd intended. “I mean, yes. Yeah, I would like that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as he bowed his head and opened the door wider, stepping back to give her room to pass.
Elain paused only for a heartbeat before crossing the threshold. More warmth seeped into her frozen bones immediately, wrapping around her limbs like a gentle caress, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was the first time she'd felt truly warm.
Lucien quietly shut the door behind her and Elain sucked in a deep breath to steady herself, the blood in her veins stirring wildly as the enticing scents of Lucien washed over her all at once. The flat was smaller than she’d imagined. Not because it was cramped. It looked comfortable. As though someone had tried to build a life there one small piece at a time. Which was more than she could say about her own room back at the River House.
A huge rug stretched across the wooden floor. The fire in the hearth cast moving shadows over the woven fabric, causing the intricate pattern and rich dyes to come alive. In the middle of the rug was a single book, as if it had been carelessly tossed aside in a hurry instead of being put back into its rightful place.
More books occupied nearly every available shelf, stacked neatly in the large bookshelf until there was no more space. Instead carefully arranged stacks had grown beside the armchair next to the hearth.
And next to all the books, several plants decorated the small nooks and crowded one of the windowsills. Bundles of different herbs hung from a beam closer to the small kitchenette, drying and filling the room with a fresh and earthy quality.
“Sorry.” Lucien’s soft voice cut off before she could explore the room any further. “It’s a bit messy. I wasn’t expecting company."
Elain couldn’t help herself as he stepped around her, leaning over to pick up the abandoned book on the floor—her eyes fell to his backside and the strong outlines of his muscled thighs. Gods, get it together.
“I like it,” she said hesitantly, fidgeting with the laces in the front of her dress. “It feels... homely.”
Lucien lifted his brows, the only sign of surprise he let slip, before schooling his expression back into a cordial one.
“I’m glad you think so, my lady.”
Elain hoped the flicker of disappointment rising within wasn’t visible on her face. The words were polite. Careful courtesy. Something he had undoubtedly learned after she’d spent years giving him little in return. But she had no one but herself to blame for that. For the deliberate guard he kept in front of himself.
Knowing that didn’t make it feel any better though.
The sound of a shrill whistle suddenly rang through the room, breaking the brief silence before it could grow heavier.
Elain glanced toward the kitchenette and spotted a brass-colored kettle on the stove. A thin ribbon of steam curled from the spout, dissolving before it could reach the ceiling. With a quick and easy snap of his fingers, Lucien silenced the whistle and the kettle seemed to move on a soft invisible breeze. From the stove and its heat, to a knitted coaster on the small counter beside it.
When she glanced back at Lucien, his gaze had never left her. Heat spread through her body, from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. He spoke again, asking, “would you like some tea?”
Elain wasn’t sure tea would help her very much at the moment.
Still, she nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”
As Lucien moved to prepare the tea, Elain unwittingly slipped the shawl she’d been wearing off her shoulders and draped it over the back of the deep green sofa. Her attention was drawn by all the plants in the windowsill.
She couldn't help herself. Reaching out, she brushed her fingertips over the slightly bent leaves of one of the plants, glancing down at the white petals that had dropped onto the windowsill beneath it.
“Ahh, don’t go inspecting the flowers too close,” Lucien chuckled from his place by the counter. “I’m trying my best.”
Elain glanced back at him over her shoulder, a small smile tugging at her mouth as she saw the tiny hint of coyness across his features.
“You know jasmine requires a lot of light and sun,” she mused and picked up one of the fallen petals. “Perhaps not the best plant for the Night Court.”
“Perhaps not,” Lucien hummed and picked up a spoon, stirring one of the cups before him. “Or perhaps it’s just not the best plant for someone who lacks a green thumb.”
“It’s not unsalvageable,” she told him quietly and turned over the petal carefully between her fingers.
“No?”
“It just needs a new window. More sunlight.”
Silence filled the space between them like a thoughtful companion. Elain focused on the fragile petal in her hands, wondering briefly if she should bring him some of the soil she’d perfected in her greenhouse.
Or would that be too inappropriate?
It wasn’t until Lucien suddenly stood before her, holding two cups of tea, that she dropped the petal back down onto the windowsill. Instead she reached out to take the cup he offered her. A spark shot through her, racing up her arm before settling somewhere beneath her heart as their fingers accidentally brushed.
Lucien stilled at the brief contact, standing impossibly still save for the deep rise of his chest as he sucked in a long breath. The undeniable flush to his face made her feel better about her own blushing cheeks. Whether it was her heartbeat thundering wildly in her ears, or an echo of Lucien’s—Elain tried to not think too much about it. Not right now at least.
He cleared his throat lightly and took a half step back, blinking as though trying to ground himself. Elain wrapped both hands around the cup, gripping it a little tighter than necessary to stop herself from accidentally reaching out to search for his touch again. The tether between them pulled taut, urging her to keep him close, even if it was only another brush of his finger.
“Please,” Lucien said, his voice coming out somewhat strained, gesturing toward the green sofa using the hand not occupied by his own tea. “Have a seat.”
Elain made sure to perch herself on the very edge of it as she sat down. Hesitant to take up too much space lest she find the warmth too inviting. Leaving her unable to get back up again. All of her senses were overwhelmed by being in such close proximity to the male who somehow seemed to know every part of her. Even when he didn’t actually know her at all.
Lucien seemed to hesitate, but a heartbeat later he settled down on the opposite corner of the sofa, angling his body so he could face her, one arm draping across the backrest as he shuffled to get comfortable.
Once again, Elain was unable to resist the temptation to just look at him. As though allowing herself that one look earlier had completely erased any and all of her self-control. An uncontrollable longing burned within her, as if she needed to make up for all those times she’d denied herself the chance to look at him.
Beautiful.
The recognition came naturally, not because of the bond linking them together, but because it was simply true.
Lucien was beautiful.
It was the quiet kindness she could see written into every sharp line of him. The way his eyes only beheld her with concern instead of accusation. His patience and loyalty, both of them offered freely even when she’d given him so little in return.
A kind of beauty she’d been too afraid to notice until now.
“I’m sorry, Lucien. For making things harder than they needed to be between us.”
The words toppled from her lips faster than she could stop them. Though she found that she did not regret them. Not as a soft gasp left him at the sound of her saying his name aloud. Not as something similar to relief and affection bloomed across the golden string.
“My lady, you have nothing—”
“Elain,” she cut him off softly. “Please... just call me Elain.”
“Okay,” he nodded, pausing only for a moment. “Elain.” Once again, she tried to fight the shiver that ran through her—and lost. Lucien noticed immediately. “Are you cold?”
Elain shook her head.
“No.”
And it wasn’t a lie.
For the first time since the Cauldron, she found that she was almost too warm.
“You have nothing to apologise for, Elain,” he said slowly and she opened her mouth to argue. Lucien continued before she could. "I wasn't ready either. And I’m sorry for the part I played in everything. I never thought...after Jesm— I’m sorry.”
He cut himself off so abruptly it was clear there was more to Lucien’s past than what she already knew. If that wasn’t enough of a hint of something deeper, the flicker of pain in his russet eye was so tangible it nearly shattered her own heart in two.
And it struck her then that she had spent years assuming she was the only one mourning a life she’d lost.
But she wouldn’t pry.
There were too many things left unsaid between them. Things that had to be resolved before they could dig into each other’s grief. Tonight was not the right time to do so. Elain wasn’t ready yet. Neither was Lucien it seemed.
Instead, she settled on something else.
“I... I feel like I don’t belong anywhere anymore,” she admitted, her voice more of a whisper than it had been earlier. She’d never spoken the words out loud before, and yet, there was no one other than Lucien she felt brave enough to do so in front of. Her sisters would pity her, and would try to fix it without asking her. Rhysand and Cassian—everyone else really—would follow their lead.
Elain found she couldn’t blame them—knew her sisters treated her the way they did only because they didn’t know any other way. Knew that the others didn’t get involved because it wasn’t their place to. They loved her and wanted her to be happy and safe.
Elain wasn’t happy.
But how could she ever tell them that?
“I know that feeling.”
“You do?” Elain blinked.
“I do.”
Lucien’s gaze drifted toward the flames dancing in the hearth, lost to his own thoughts and whether he should offer further explanations or let her draw her own conclusions. Elain wanted to tell him it was alright. That just sitting with him was enough.
Her tongue felt too heavy in her mouth though.
To admit something like that outloud, to let the words out into the open, it still scared her more than she wanted it to.
His golden eye looked brighter in the firelight, revealing its true intricacy and brilliance. She’d overheard a conversation once, about how he got the deep scar carved into his skin. Knew that the female responsible was already dead. Even so, something ferocious stirred awake whenever she imagined the cruelty he had experienced.
At the time, she hadn’t been ready to accept what all of that meant.
And she still wasn’t. Not fully. Not until she could at least admit out loud that just sitting with him was enough to make the ice in her veins melt.
But... she’d gone to him. To his home.
Only time would tell whether it was a lapse in judgement or a step toward a new future.
Her eyes landed on the withering jasmine in the window. That was something easier.
“I have some soil that could probably help your plant,” she told him, lowering her gaze to hide her nerves. “I could bring some. The next time I’m nearby… if you'd like, I mean.”
Lucien’s eye made a small clicking sound as he looked at her, undoubtedly trying to determine whether she’d been making a jest or not. She took a sip of her tea, casual and poised, like it would somehow cover up how incredibly flustered she felt by merely suggesting such a thing.
Then he smiled. Small and hopeful.
“I’d like that.” The bond between them hummed with a quiet delight. Elain took another sip of tea, this time to hide her widening smile. For once, she allowed herself to fully enjoy the thread binding them together. The comfort it brought, the taste of sunshine dancing within her in a way that left her breathless.
Silence settled comfortably between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the occasional sip of hot tea. It was strange, she thought, how settled she felt here. The unrest and loneliness that had driven her from the River House had, somehow, completely melted away.
"Can I ask you something?" Elain broke the silence somewhat abruptly, and still Lucien wasted no time before nodding.
"Anything."
"When I knocked..." She glanced down at her cup, turning it slowly between her hands. "Why didn't you ask why I was here?"
Lucien’s brows furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“You didn't question me. You just... let me come inside."
There was a long pause. When he spoke again, it was with a steady assurance.
“You knocked,” he said simply, lifting one shoulder in an easy shrug, as if inviting her in had never been a question. A soft, almost bashful, smile curved the corners of his mouth. “You are always welcome to come over, Elain.”
She let out a breath she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding. One final piece settling quietly within her. The question had lingered at the back of her mind, ever since she'd stepped through his door, how long she could reasonably stay before she ought to leave.
Even if he’d given her no reason to believe he wanted her gone, it was still nice to hear the actual words.
One day she would say them herself.
The single candle was still burning steadily in the window, the small flame flickering against the glass and the dark streets below. Outside, the wind made the trees in the distance sway, but its chill could no longer reach her.
It wasn’t thanks to the crackling fire or even the hot tea in her hands. She did not question the steady pulse of warmth she felt thrumming through the thread around her ribs. Wasn’t looking for a reason to retreat from it.
From him.
So as the clock ticked on, their tea was drained and refilled. Between one of Lucien’s stories and the next, she tucked her legs beneath herself and sank deeper into the cozy cushions. The shawl she’d been wearing remained draped over the back of the sofa, long forgotten.
Content and warm, she simply sat back and listened.
And perhaps Elain Archeron wasn't quite so lost anymore.
Day 2: 70s Disco - we used the Barbie Movie as inspiration and told the beautiful perfect wonderful sexy smart @qwillaart gave us this beautiful perfect wonderful sexy smart art piece
@the-lonelybarricade and I are so grateful for you AND we think your friendship is just sublime
I was doing some light re-reading of ACOTAR and once again I'm thinking about Gwyn's family history. There are so many theories out there about who her father could be. About it being Eris. Or Lucien. Or even Tamlin.
While I still don't think her father will play a huge part, and it'll be more about who her grandfather is, something struck me reading those parts of Under the Mountain again.
I've seen so many theories that say that it has to be Tamlin since he was the only "free" High Lord during the Great Rite when Gwyn and Catrin were conceived. Same thing in the theories about it being Lucien.
But not all of the High Lords were trapped UTM. It was only the High Lords who rebelled against Amarantha (which were Day, Summer and Winter) And Rhysand.
The other High Lords and their courts were largely confined to their courts. She only summoned all of them for Feyre's trials and made it forbidden to leave until it was finished.
Which means the possibilities for Gwyn's father is not only between Tamlin, Lucien and Eris (I personally don't think it's either of them) Might as well be someone from the Dawn court. If Sangravha is in the Autumn Court, it could be any of the Vanserra brothers.
(also I want Gwyn to be related to the Vanserra only like a distant cousin and most of all through Lady Autumn's side of the family hehe)
I was just a bit surprised I guess, because I've always seen people saying all of them were stuck but then I realized that wasn't really true.
So my question is, did Sarah change that in later books or has that always been the case? lmao
Gwyn’s New Year’s resolution was simple, until a man with beautiful hazel eyes walked into her life like he belonged.
Letting him stay should have been easy. Falling for him might have been easier.
If her past wasn’t watching. Waiting. Refusing to let her go.
Modern day- AU.
Part twelve is up on AO3. Read it HERE or down below
Tumblr masterlist
Summary: Azriel is trying.
words: 3665
a/n: Time for a bit of a breather, but I hope you like it!! I've re-written this so many times now that I think I just need to post it. I dunno why this was so hard to write, but it's definitely less angsty than the past three chapters so I hope you enjoy the small moment of fluff! Azriel is finally doing something.
There probably won't be an update next week since I'm traveling a bit, but hopefully I'll be back asap. In my original outline this fic was supposed to be 13 chapters long in total. I don't know what happened lmao but I can say that we are probably halfway done by now, so thank you so much to everyone for staying with me and being so lovely!! I hope you all like this one too <3
Gwyn didn’t go to work the next day.
Or the one after that.
Neither did Nesta or Emerie. Emerie called in sick and Nesta could work from home. Both her friends refused to leave her alone, made sure she got up in the morning and had something to eat. When she looked at her phone with tears in her eyes for the fifth time in as many minutes, they’d taken it from her and told her they’d let her know if anything important came through.
Gwyn didn’t have the strength to protest.
It helped though, to not have constant access to the device. It was just… She didn’t know how to voice that aching need that they had to tell her if Azriel reached out. That she didn’t want to know if Hayden did.
Azriel and her still hadn’t really talked. Gwyn had eventually fallen asleep on the couch that first night. Something restless finally settled within her as they watched some old action movie and whatever played next.
She’d woken up with a headache and stinging eyes, another blanket tucked carefully around her.
Azriel was already gone.
She tried to not think about it. Not too much at least, because Cassian had also left. Both of them were needed at Knight Group on a Monday morning. They had work to do. Just because she couldn’t leave the safety of Nesta’s apartment, it didn’t mean all of them had to stay as well.
On the third day, both Nesta and Emerie had to leave. Gwyn still called in sick. Merrill wouldn’t be happy, there was no one to cover Gwyn’s shift, but it was the least of her problems.
”I’ll be fine,” she’d insisted as Nesta got dressed that morning.
Her friends still refused to leave her alone.
Which was why, on the third day, Cassian stayed with her.
And it was fine. Gwyn liked Cassian—felt safe with him. He still didn’t know every detail of what was going on, but it didn’t stop him from hovering around her protectively.
Even from his place by the dining table—with his laptop open before him—Gwyn felt his watchful gaze. So much so that she had to tell him to stop and focus on whatever work he had to do for the day.
But she couldn’t deny the appreciation blooming inside her chest. How the dread and anxiety melted away just a tiny bit. The knowledge that she wasn’t alone... it meant more than she knew how to put into words.
As Cassian worked, the rhythmic sound of his keyboard clicking gave her a strange sense of comfort. It wasn't enough to stop her wandering thoughts. Gwyn tried to read, but it seemed like no amount of comfort or gratitude could make her focus. Every word written across the pages of her book blurred into unreadable gibberish. All those times she’d felt watched—had that been Hayden? How long had he been watching? How did he find her? Why had he decided to reach out now? What did he want?
“How do you feel about spicy food?” Cassian asked. Gwyn jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, her head snapping toward him as he looked up from his phone.
“Um, I’m not really a fan, weak tummy,” Gwyn admitted bashfully. Cassian hummed deeply, as if in deep thought, before typing something on his phone. ”Why?”
“There’s this great place down by the Sidra,” he answered, still typing. “Their menu is inspired by a lot of Illyrian food, quite spicy and not to everyone's taste, but it’s truly some of the best.”
“Oh... Well if you’re hungry you can get some,” Gwyn told him and glanced over to the clock displayed in the corner of the tv. She hadn’t realised it was well past the time for lunch. She wasn’t hungry, but Cassian probably was. If he wanted to get some food—she wouldn’t deprive him of his favorite. “I can order something for myself later.”
“Az is coming,” Cassian revealed casually and put his phone down again. Gwyn’s heart fluttered. “He’s getting food for us, just wanted to know what you liked.”
That had Gwyn sitting up in an instant. The book in her lap slid off at the sudden movement and landed on the floor with a soft thump.
“What?”
“We should hang out more often Gwynnie.” He didn’t even try to hide his amusement. “I don’t think he’s ever bought me food before.”
“I doubt that’s true,” she replied and leaned down to retrieve her book, mostly so Cassian wouldn’t see the blush spreading across her face.
“Mhm, sure, whatever makes you feel better.”
Heat crawled higher up her neck. She hadn’t been able to sleep properly in days. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t focus long enough to finish a single chapter of her book.
And somehow, despite everything, she still found herself blushing.
Only because Azriel was bringing lunch.
Gwyn wanted it to stop.
Instead she found herself glancing toward the door for the next fifteen minutes.
Cassian, without a doubt, noticed. He was merciful enough not to comment on it, even if that stupid grin played on his lips the entire time.
When the sharp knock echoed through the apartment, Gwyn had picked at her cuticles enough to make the skin around her thumb bleed. What was wrong with her? They hadn’t even talked about their squabble on the patio. About how he ignored her.
He didn’t even know about Hayden. Didn't know about the parts of her she'd spent years trying to bury.
What if Azriel ignoring her was the best thing that could’ve happened? It wouldn’t be fair to drag him into the wreckage that was her life anyway.
All of it felt so overwhelmingly tangled. It felt impossible to sort one emotion from another. The only thing she knew for certain was that the butterflies in her stomach had picked the wrong time to flutter their wings.
She should tell him. Cassian too. It would probably ease some of the pressure crushing her chest. The possibility of them looking at her differently, though, refused to loosen its grip around her throat. If they knew, their opinion of her would undoubtedly change.
They’d know what Hayden had done to her. How long she had stayed anyway. How many chances she’d given him. How many lies she’d told herself. Pathetic.
Nesta and Emerie were both vocal about how none of it had been her fault. Deep down, Gwyn also knew that.
It didn’t help.
And if Azriel learned about her past... would he even be bringing her lunch?
Perhaps even worse, Gwyn wasn’t sure she’d be able to survive seeing the pity in those beautiful hazel eyes. Gwyn sucked in a shaky breath at the sound of the front door opening and closing. Of shoes being removed and bags rustling.
“Finally,” Cassian groaned and closed his laptop, pushing it away from him. “Took you long enough!”
“Traffic.”
And there he was.
Tall. Broad shouldered. Dressed in dark jeans and a black sweater. Sunglasses pushing back the slightly messy hair and exposing the faint flush across his skin from the cool wind outside. Azriel stepped in carrying two paper bags in one hand and a drink tray in the other. A whiff of food followed him inside—herby and rich—and her stomach rumbled unwillingly.
And yet, the scent of cedar and musk stood out the most. Wrapping delicately around her senses.
His gaze swept across the room, then found hers and stopped.
Almost like it had been searching for her the entire time. Speckles of green and gold observed her with the same concern she’d seen the night she arrived at Nesta’s place. She tried to give him a smile, it came out shaky and weak.
“Hey,” he breathed out softly and let his gaze fall over her again, as if making sure she was still in one piece.
Gwyn didn’t get the chance to overthink the fluttering in her belly. Because Cassian was already on his feet, ripping the bags out of Azriel’s hands and breathing in the aroma, groaning in pure anticipation.
Azriel shot him an annoyed glare and muttered something about “fucking manners.” Cassian happily ignored him and went back to the table so he could spread out the food.
And despite not having an appetite, Gwyn found herself sitting down with them both. Her rumbling stomach betrayed her when she tried to claim she wasn’t hungry. Cassian shoved a plate in her direction, expressing the importance of eating—of taking care of yourself—even if you didn’t feel like it.
He also pointed out that she had indeed skipped breakfast and he wouldn’t let her skip another meal.
“Here,” Azriel said gingerly and pulled the plate away from her, giving her one of the smaller take-away boxes instead. “Try this one—it’s not as spicy as the rest.”
Gwyn tried it and nearly groaned as the flavors exploded across her tongue, the tender meat falling apart perfectly. It was good. Probably some of the best. Just like Cassian had claimed it would be.
Her stomach sang happily as she took another bite. And another. Finally giving it something other than just tea and crumbs of biscuits.
It was so good. So good that she didn’t even mind the mild spice, not until she’d nearly devoured all of it and her mouth was burning. Azriel marked the breath of air she sucked in, trying to cool her tongue, and wordlessly handed her some type of yoghurt as he continued talking to Cassian.
Gwyn blushed, but didn’t waste any time before she shoved some of it down as well.
And as her lunch companions talked about work, Gwyn tried to listen. Even asked some questions so that maybe she would finally understand what they did at Knight Group.
“Rhys grandfather founded the company back in his twenties,” Cassian informed her around a mouthful of food. “He did construction, originally. Just one guy and his truck. Went from building apartments, to office buildings and then hotels. Somewhere down the line he started buying the companies instead of just building things for them.”
“And that’s what you guys do?” Gwyn frowned, still confused and glancing over at Azriel shyly.
“Basically,” Cassian continued. “Rhys’s father expanded it even further and by the time Rhys inherited it—Knight Group was already everywhere. We own parts of other companies. Some we control completely. Others we invest in. Hotels. Real estate. Private jets and resorts. Sport stadiums and arenas. Teams. Investment Firms. You name it, and Knight Group probably owns some part of it.”
“Right.” She nodded. “But what do you two actually do?”
Cassian chuckled and leaned back in his chair.
“I make sure everything runs smoothly.” Azriel snorted at that and Cassian waved him off. “Basically I handle the operations. Logistics. Strategy. The day-to-day headaches.”
Gwyn turned to face Azriel. Waiting for him to continue, and it was nice. To focus on something else entirely. Having lunch with the two of them and discussing everyday subjects. Normal things.
If a multimillion company could be considered normal.
“Legal,” Azriel replied smoothly.
“Oh, like Nesta?”
“I do have a law degree, yes,” he confirmed with a small nod. “But I handle more contracts and security issues.”
It was Cassian’s turn to snort.
“He makes problems disappear.”
“Amren makes them disappear,” Azriel corrected with a lighthearted scoff. “I try to resolve things before they become a problem.”
“Please,” Cassian huffed, mirth dancing in his eyes. “You’ve handled every scandal thrown at us. He knows all the dirty little secrets in our company, Gwynnie. Don’t let him fool you. He is actually terrifying.”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
“Do you not handle scandals?”
“Sometimes.”
“The investigations?”
“Occasionally.”
“The nda’s?”
“Yes.”
”The angry politicians?”
”That’s Mor, actually.”
Gwyn watched the exchange, unable to stop the smile spreading across her lips. The first real one in days. With food in her stomach and her mind occupied by something other than Hayden, the weight crushing her chest eased.
Just a little.
”Do you like it?” she found herself asking, directing her question at Azriel.
”I like figuring things out,” he answered and focused on rearranging the empty containers spread across the table. Almost as if he had accidentally revealed too much without meaning to.
”Like I said earlier,” Cassian said and leaned back in his seat, glancing at Gwyn with a look full of mischief before pointing his fork in Azriel’s direction. “Don’t let him fool you. He loves it.”
“Cassian.”
“He once spent three straight days proving a competitor forged documents because he thought one word looked off,” Cassian told her, ignoring the daggers Azriel shot his way. “Refused to sleep before he figured it out.”
Gwyn blinked.
“Three days?”
“Three.”
“I slept,” Azriel grumbled and when Gwyn looked at him again the top of his ears had a faint pink to them.
“For like four hours,” Cassian laughed.
“Still counts as sleep.”
“Not really.”
“It literally does,” Azriel argued and shot his brother a deadpanned look.
At that, Gwyn let out a soft giggle and pressed her lips together to keep herself from grinning. Cassian moved his fork, pointing it at her instead.
”See,” he exclaimed happily. ”Gwyn agrees with me!”
"I didn't even say anything," she protested, but a full laugh bubbled out of her anyway.
Azriel’s gaze flickered toward her immediately. Something in his expression softened. The tension she'd grown so used to seeing in the lines around his mouth eased ever so slightly.
Gwyn quickly busied herself with another bite of food, letting some of her hair fall across her face.
”You didn’t have to,” Cassian continued without a beat, smirking as he lowered his fork to his plate before shovelling another bite of food into his mouth.
”Whatever,” Azriel scoffed. ”Did you get the chance to talk to Amren yet by the way”
“She’s being a pain in the ass, so no,” Cassian sighed, both of them easily switching back from bickering brothers to business. “I swear I have the utmost respect for the woman but her refusal to have meetings digitally is gonna run this company to the ground.”
“You could go into the office,” Azriel suggested carefully and arranged another set of containers on the table. “If you want to.”
“I promised I’d keep Gwyn company for the day,” Cassian replied casually and shot her an easy smile. “And I’m more terrified of Nes than I am of Amren.”
“I could…” Azriel began and trailed off, clearing his throat lightly before continuing. “I could stay. If that’s okay?”
It took Gwyn a second too long before she realized he’d directed the question at her.
“Oh,” she breathed in surprise as heat spread to her cheeks. “Yeah, okay–yeah, that’s okay.”
Which was how, on the third day, Gwyn suddenly ended up alone with Azriel in Nesta’s apartment.
And unlike Cassian, Azriel joined her on the large couch. Sitting down on the opposite side, but still close enough for her to be surrounded by his scent.
Gwyn had expected things to turn awkward as soon as the door closed behind Cassian.
It wasn’t.
Even when she had to pretend to read. Pretend that she wasn’t completely focused on the fact that they were alone. How it was the first time they’ve ever been well and truly alone together. It wasn’t a bustling restaurant. Not a busy gym. None of their friends were there or just around the corner. She wasn’t at work nor were they standing outside on a patio during a grand art exhibition.
It was just the two of them.
Just like their messages.
It was all she could think about. How familiar it felt, despite the fact that they had never spent time together like this before.
But there were still so many things left unsaid between them. She wanted to understand what had happened. Wanted to figure out how they’d gone from messaging each other daily to nothing. It definitely shouldn’t be one of her priorities at the moment. There were more important things she needed to figure out. She should be going to the police. Perhaps she should’ve been on the run, leaving Velaris and everything behind her. Again.
And yet... That was not what she wanted.
And right now, Azriel was there.
And Gwyn wanted to understand.
“About—”
“I want to—”
They broke the silence at the same time. Gwyn blushed. Again. But so did Azriel.
“You go ahead,” he offered quietly and smiled lightly.
“Right.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself for what she wanted to say. “Well, I wanted to apologize for how I acted the other night. At the gallery. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
“What?” Azriel gaped, a deep frown forming between his brows. “No, Gwyn. You have nothing to apologize for. You had every right to be upset. I’m the one who needs to apologize.”
“You already did,” she reminded him softly. “I got your message, and I’m sorry I never–”
“Stop, please. Please don’t apologize again,” he interrupted her gently and sat up straighter. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed nervously. “I shouldn’t have ignored you like that. I–that wasn’t fair of me and I... you didn’t deserve that. And I–fuck, I’m not very good at this.” A heavy sigh fell from him as he looked between them, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “But I am sorry, Gwyn. Truly. It was a shitty thing to do.”
Gwyn nodded once, twice, gnawing at her lower lip nervously before taking another deep breath to steady herself.
“Why did you?” she asked quietly and watched as his body tensed at the question. She swallowed the doubt creeping up in her. “I mean, I... I really liked talking to you. I thought maybe you did too and—did I do something?”
“No,” Azriel replied without a beat, shaking his head. “No, Gwyn, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then what happened?”
Silence stretched through the spacious apartment and Gwyn hoped he couldn’t hear how loud her heart was beating. Azriel scrubbed a tired hand down his face and leaned back against the couch, averting his gaze from her and looking out through the large windows instead. As if an answer would appear out there amidst the clouds.
For a moment, Gwyn was certain he wouldn’t answer.
But then—
“I don’t know,” he admitted with a heavy sigh.
Gwyn blinked in surprise.
“You don’t know?”
He sighed again, squeezing his eyes shut before letting his head fall back against the couch. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he sat quiet and searched for the right words to say. None seemed to find him. Instead a quiet curse slipped from beneath his breath.
“I don’t know how to explain it, and I know that’s not good enough.” Azriel ran another hand over his face, still unable to look at her. “But it’s the truth.”
And perhaps Gwyn should’ve been annoyed by that. That he had nothing more to say, but somehow it said enough. For the time being at least.
For a long moment, she simply watched him. The restless movement of his hands, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly at the scars across one of his knuckles. How his shoulders remained tense, as though he was bracing for something. The way his jaw clenched hard enough for the muscle to tick beneath his skin.
When he finally looked at her, it was almost hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure she’d still be there when he did. It dawned on her then, seeing what she could've sworn was fear lingering in his hazel eyes, that Azriel was perhaps as lost as she was in all this.
Still, he stayed. Sat with the discomfort. Tried anyway.
Gwyn gave him a soft smile. Because how could she blame him for not having the right words, when she didn’t know how to tell him about what was really going on with her?
Azriel surprised her when he suddenly spoke again. “You make things feel... easy.”
And at that, her heart skipped a beat. No one had ever used that word when talking about her before.
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked. Nothing about her life was easy. A sour taste rose in the back of her throat, because he wouldn’t be saying that if he knew the truth.
“No,” he replied and a humorless chuckle followed. “It’s fucking terrifying.”
“Yeah,” she breathed out in agreement. ”It is.”
Neither of them said anything after that. But the silence that followed felt lighter than before. Azriel was right. It was terrifying. Allowing herself to open up her heart again. To look at him and know that he was the reason for the flutters filling her stomach.
Dangerous. Dangerous. Dangerous.
Every part of her kept screaming at her to run.
Hayden had found her. Had watched her and followed. It was terrifying.
Yet, sitting there with Azriel—nothing had ever been easier.
Just being with him felt more comforting than any speech or explanation ever could. The tension she'd been carrying for days slowly began to loosen its grip.
Little by little.
Until her eyelids started feeling heavy.
She blinked, fighting the yawn threatening to come out. She tried to focus on the news Azriel had decided to put on. Blinked again. Moved position so she was sitting up a little more. Shook her legs to get her blood flowing.
It was pointless.
Her sleepless nights were catching up to her. At the first sign of her body relaxing, sleep sunk its claws into her and pulled her under.
“It’s okay, you can sleep.” Azriel’s soft voice wrapped around her like silk, and she wasn’t sure if it was part of a dream or not. There was a brief pause before something warm settled over her shoulders. A blanket. The next words added another layer of warmth. “I’m here.”
Gwyn’s New Year’s resolution was simple, until a man with beautiful hazel eyes walked into her life like he belonged.
Letting him stay should have been easy. Falling for him might have been easier.
If her past wasn’t watching. Waiting. Refusing to let her go.
Modern day- AU.
Part eleven is up on AO3. Read it HERE or down below
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Summary: Azriel is trying to figure everything out and Gwyn is trying not to think too much.
words: 4739
a/n: I think this might be the longest chapter so far, but I've thrown in some Azriel POV to start it off with because it's time for you to see what's going on in his little head again haha. Thank you so much for the love on the previous chapter, I'm is relieved that that you guys liked it after being so nervous!!!
This chapter is not as heavy I don't think, but there are some parts in the second half that have the same type of trigger warnings as the last chapter. There is a specific part after the break off that is in italics that contains brief descriptions of sexual abuse, so if you're uncomfortable with that, just skip those two small paragraphs.
(Also, I did write this before the World Cup started its just a coincidence its happening as this chapter is posted lmao I do want to make it clear-I'm European, so they are watching football as in soccer, but I refuse to call it that!!!! So football it is haha)
As always, I hope you like this one and I can't wait to hear your thoughts. I would love to know what you think is gonna happen next and/or what you want to happen next haha <3
“Ah, c’mon, that’s a fucking penalty!” Cassian groaned at the tv, gesturing wildly towards the screen.
Azriel barely hummed in acknowledgement. For once, he was completely uninterested by the match being played. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to pay attention to which player scored or which team was in the lead. Velaris United against Hewn City—usually he’d be glued to the tv.
Sunday football, it had been their thing ever since they were kids. Him and his brothers. When things were rough, they’d always have football. Just the three of them, teenagers stealing beers from Rhys’s father and locking the door to the basement so no one could bother them.
Even twenty years later, Cassian still claimed he could’ve gone pro if he hadn’t destroyed his knee at seventeen.
But a lot of things had changed since those days in the basement. Rhysand had gotten married. Cassian would’ve married Nesta the first day he met her if she had agreed.
The three of them now sat at the helm of Knight Group, one of the largest holding companies in the country. Originally inherited by Rhys, ownership had eventually been split between them. Rhys still held the majority shares, but Azriel and Cassian each owned twenty percent of the empire they’d helped expand.
All three of them were plenty busy.
Still, they tried to make time for Sunday football. Even if one of them couldn’t make it. Mostly Rhys, who seemed to think that being separated from his wife would cause him to suddenly drop dead. Though, the same could be said for Cassian seeing as they were currently in Nesta’s apartment, watching the game, and Nesta wasn’t even home.
Hadn’t been since the day before. Not since before Feyre’s art exhibition.
Cassian had been insufferable all day.
“Did you see her in that dress last night?” He had complained. “It’s a fucking crime I didn’t get to take it off her.”
Azriel ignored him.
But could not ignore the heavy knot in his stomach. Nesta hadn’t come back home last night. Still hadn’t made it home.
She’d spent the night at Gwyn’s place.
And that... Azriel could not stop thinking about Gwyn. About how breathtaking she’d looked in her blue dress and her long hair flowing freely down her back. How that dress had hugged her curves in all the right places and fueled every lewd thought he’d ever had.
But, more importantly, Azriel could not stop thinking about the heavy gloom that seemed to hover around her. How her teal eyes had lacked that spark that made his heart flutter. He’d watched as she greeted his family, how the smile she’d given them looked robotic almost.
And when she stalked off without a warning, suddenly looking over at him from across the room—only for one brief second—something in him had shattered. Two weeks had gone by since she messaged him and he’d left it unanswered. Tried to keep his distance. It was slowly killing him.
He hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to stop talking to her. It took him by surprise. How badly he missed her. The amount of times he had picked up his phone and almost written back. It was risky. To feel so connected to someone when they hadn’t even spent that much time together.
Azriel found himself unable to stay away any longer, especially when she’d left the main gallery looking so distressed. Mor had been in the midst of some story about the girl she was dating and he had wordlessly walked off, following Gwyn… to discover her talking to Eris.
Eris fucking Vanserra.
Of all people.
He’d frozen, hiding in the shadows and watched the interaction unfold. They’d been close, talking as if they shared some history.
Something sharp and ugly had twisted deep in Azriel’s chest at that. Something dangerously close to jealousy and the realization had hit him hard enough to make him scowl. Ridiculous. It was all so ridiculous. He had no right to feel any type of way about her connection to Eris. Not after deliberately ignoring her—basically running from her at the gym.
Still, the feeling simmered beneath his skin.
But then Eris said something and Gwyn had visibly flinched, and Azriel had been one second from stepping in.
Only Lucien’s sudden arrival had stopped him.
Something felt wrong. It bothered him that he couldn’t figure out what or why she seemed so shaken. Why someone who usually carried herself with such quiet strength seemed to have lost that spark ever since he last saw her.
And Azriel should’ve turned around and gone back to Mor, to the rest of his family, to Feyre’s grand exhibition. Should’ve kept his distance.
He didn’t.
Couldn’t.
And had followed her out to the patio.
She’d been angry. Rightfully so. And he hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking about Eris. He was an idiot. Not only for that, but for everything. He hadn’t meant to upset her further. Definitely hadn’t meant to make her cry. It broke his heart and it took everything in him to stand back.
Until he didn’t.
It was that moment Azriel couldn’t stop replaying in his head. Over and over again. He’d been so careful about keeping his distance. About making sure there were no unwanted touches between them.
The moment his rough fingers brushed against her delicate soft skin—he’d known he messed up. Pure desperation had driven him to grab her, to make her stay. To keep her close enough to fix what he’d already ruined.
The expression on her face would haunt him forever. The fear written so clearly in her beautiful eyes.
“Let go of me. Please.”
Soft. Quiet. Terrified.
Just the memory of her voice made him feel sick to his stomach. He’d released her immediately—not fast enough—and Gods, he would never be able to forgive himself for it. For making whatever scars she carried with her resurface. For making things worse when she was clearly already feeling overwhelmed.
He didn’t know exactly what those scars were, but he could guess. Could recognize it. It made his blood boil just imagining someone hurting her.
And Azriel had made it all worse.
Asshole.
He was such a fucking asshole.
Nesta had taken her home after that and Azriel hadn’t been able to find any words to stop them. Her.
Still hadn’t been able to hours later. Alone in his too large apartment that was too silent, sleep refused to come to him. Wide awake, guilt and shame burned through him and no matter what—Az could not stop replaying their exchange over and over again.
Even his cat, Skugga, had wanted nothing to do with him. Had only hissed lightly when he’d tried to pet him and sneaked off to some secluded corner. Not that Azriel could blame him.
He’d spent hours writing and re-writing several messages to Gwyn.
In the end, he’d only managed two words.
I’m sorry.
Pathetic, really.
It wasn’t enough. Not near enough. They needed to talk more. He’d apologise properly then. For ignoring her. For making her cry. For grabbing her the way he did.
Though, Azriel wasn’t sure Gwyn would ever want to speak to him ever again.
He wouldn’t blame her either.
”You don’t get to ignore me after making me like you.”
That’s what she’d told him. How someone as wonderful as Gwyn could even like him to begin with… He had no idea. It had stunned him to his core when those words fell from her lips. Caused a crack in his carefully constructed walls. Hope, fickle and delicate, trickled through the exposed opening—it terrified him beyond measure.
“Yo, bro,” Cassian said suddenly and whacked him across the chest. “Did you hear a word I just said?”
Azriel blinked and became aware of his brother watching him closely, dark brows knitted together in deep thought. In front of them, the game had gone into halftime, showing highlights from the first half and the commentators giving their expertise. Velaris United had apparently scored a goal right before the whistle.
“Sorry,” Azriel mumbled and glanced at his phone. Gwyn hadn’t replied. Which, fair enough, he deserved her silence. “I’m just tired.”
“Alright,” Cassian sighed heavily and leaned forward to put his bottle of beer down. “What did you do?”
“What?”
Cassian rolled his eyes.
“You’ve been miserable for the past two weeks,” he began, looking at him knowingly. “More than usual.”
“Maybe you’ve just been more insufferable than usual,” Azriel shot back dryly. Cassian didn't bat an eye, only continued as if Az had said nothing.
“And last night, Nes took Gwyn home early because she was upset and also stayed the night.” The image of Gwyn’s tearstreaked face flashed before him again. Azriel clenched his jaw hard enough to hurt. The shame flooding his veins was excruciating. “Also, Nesta mentioned she’s been rather worried about Gwyn—says she’s been distant for the past two weeks... You see what I’m getting at?”
Azriel refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Cassian didn’t need it. He only hummed gleefully before repeating his earlier question. “Mhm, so... what did you do?”
“Nothing,” he grumbled. Which, that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?
He’d ignored her and it had upset her. Then when he’d tried to speak to her again, he’d done too much and hurt her.
Fuck.
“Az, c’mon, talk to me.”
“There is nothing to say,” Azriel started and then trailed off. Because there wasn’t much he could really say, but also, there was too much. He didn’t know where to start.
Instead he let his head fall back to rest on top of the couch with a heavy sigh. “I fucked up.”
There was a slight pause, the commentary from the tv filling the silence between them. Azriel was fully prepared to face whatever taunting gibe his brother would throw at him. Was ready for the ‘I told you so’s and jokes about him never opening up.
However, he wasn’t prepared for the way Cassian’s grin slowly faded and was replaced by genuine concern.
“Do you like her?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Azriel replied, focusing his attention on a small crack in the ceiling rather than his brother’s curious eyes burning into him. Admitting anything out loud—he couldn’t. Even if Az knew that there was really only one answer.
“You should talk to her,” Cassian suggested softly.
“I know,” he sighed again and ran both hands through his hair. If he could rip it out, he would. At least then his headache could be blamed on something more tangible. “I know.”
“For what it’s worth,” Cassian said and reached over to pat his knee. “I think she likes you too. You should let her.”
And fuck, if only it was that easy.
But Azriel didn’t know how to let anyone in. Not after being born into neglect and witnessing his father’s violence. Not after the incident with his biological brothers. Not after spending years convinced he was always the odd one out.
Not after being betrayed by the one he thought he’d grow old with; having his heart be broken into a million pieces.
Suddenly the sound of keys rattling in the front door echoed through the spacious apartment. Cassian straightened next to him. His grin was back as he muttered a pleased, “finally.”
Azriel glanced toward the door and immediately went still.
Nesta stepped inside first, carrying an overnight bag in one arm and the other wrapped around Gwyn’s slumped shoulders. His stomach dropped.
Something was wrong.
Terribly so.
Next to him, Cassian fell silent as they took in Gwyn’s broken frame. Dressed in a long oversized sweatshirt and a pair of black tights, she looked smaller than Az had ever seen her. Her long coppery hair hung loose around her face, tangled in some places as if she’d spent the last several hours tugging at it.
The freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose stood out starkly against skin that had gone far too pale.
Worst of all was the hollow look in her swollen, red-rimmed eyes. The absence of her brilliant smile. It made his skin prickle with unease.
Behind them, Emerie followed them inside, also carrying a bag and wearing an expression that matched the grim atmosphere around the trio.
Azriel’s body moved before his mind could catch up and he stood abruptly.
But Gwyn’s sad gaze flickered toward him and he froze before he could get any closer to her. She quickly looked away again, her slumped shoulders shrinking in even further.
“What happened?” Cassian was the one to break the silence, also standing and already making his way over to them. Nesta held up a hand to stop him, subtly shaking her head. Cassian stopped, looking as lost as Azriel felt.
Was this his fault?
No.
No, this had to be something else.
And yet… guilt clawed at him.
He could only watch as Nesta and Emerie guided her inside and disappeared down the hallway, to where he knew Nesta’s guestroom was located.
Cassian turned to look at him with wide eyes, full of concern and an equal amount of confusion. Azriel fell back to the couch, his pulse racing and head swirling.
Whatever had happened, it was bad. Gwyn’s hollow eyes were enough of a confirmation, but the way Nesta and Emerie had circled her—protective and watchful—made every possible explanation his mind conjured feel worse than the last.
The guilt suddenly faded next to a cold sense of dread spreading through him. He didn’t like it. The lack of light in her eyes. It wasn’t right. Something in his chest tightened painfully as he thought of the way she’d shrunk back as she saw them. Like she was trying to make herself disappear.
Nesta and Emerie eventually came back out into the livingroom. No Gwyn in sight.
It made his heart sink even further.
Cassian was immediately back on his feet again, reaching for Nesta as soon as he saw her and pulling her into his arms. She melted against him with a heavy sigh.
“What the hell happened?” he asked and looked between his girlfriend, Emerie and the direction they’d come from. “Is she okay?”
“Gwyn’s staying with me for a while,” was all Nesta said. Cassian pulled her away from his chest and held her at arms length.
“Yeah, okay, but what happened?”
“I…” Nesta began and looked at Emerie who shrugged, seemingly as lost for words as her friend. “It’s not our story to tell.”
“Is she okay?” Azriel’s throat felt dry as he spoke and he had to clear his throat. All three of them turned their attention to him and the guilt pushed its way back once again. Gwyn’s face as he’d grabbed her last night flashed before him and the way Nesta had stared him down after interrupting.
“Do you even care?” Her words cut into him sharp and cold.
He deserved that.
But...
“Yes,” he replied, holding her scrutinizing gaze with surprising cool. Nesta raised a brow at him, clearly unimpressed by his actions for the past two weeks. Azriel wasn’t very happy with himself either. It didn’t really matter at the moment though. He could only think of Gwyn currently on her own in the guestroom just down the hall.
He cared.
Far more than he should probably.
Something in Nesta’s gaze softened eventually and she ran a tired hand through her tangled braid.
“She’s not doing great right now,” she told them. A sad shadow passed over her eyes, replacing the ice that had been in them just moments ago. “She can tell you everything herself when she’s ready, but... I’m worried.”
“What can we do?” Cassian asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Is it bad?”
Nesta exchanged another look with Emerie before nodding slowly.
“She made us promise not to tell you anything,” Nesta closed her eyes, shaking her head as if she was trying to determine what to do next. “I can’t break that trust. Not with this. Just... Something happened today and I’m scared that she’s in danger. Real danger.”
“Nes—”
“No,” she cut off Cassian immediately. “That’s all we can tell you right now. Please don’t force me to break that promise. I know how it looks and how it sounds, but right now Gwyn needs to know that she can trust us and that she’s safe. I won’t take that from her. So please, can you help me fix the pull-out couch in the office? Emerie is also staying the night.”
Silence fell between the four of them and Azriel felt the air leave his lungs. Real danger? What the hell had happened since they left the gallery?
Nobody spoke for a long moment.
But Nesta marked the worry building within him.
“Az, just so you know… ” Her voice was softer than before. Softer than he’d ever heard her. “This isn’t about you. Whatever happened between you two, this isn't that.”
Azriel wasn’t sure that made him feel any better.
۶ৎ۶ৎ۶ৎ
“Get on your fucking knees.”
Gwyn barely had time to react before a hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her down. Pain shot through her joints as she hit the floor, the soft carpet doing nothing to lessen the impact. She tried to pull away, but the grip only tightened.
A familiar sound cut through the room. Metal sliding against leather. A zipper sliding open. Cruel eyes met hers, lips curled back into malicious smirk.“Let’s see if your mouth can be useful for once.”
Gwyn jolted awake with a breathless gasp.
Her heart was hammering inside her chest as she frantically looked around the room, trying to ground herself back into reality. Taking in her surroundings. The large bookshelf. The silk sheets caressing her hot skin. The distinct and calming scent of lavender and sage.
Nesta’s guestroom.
Just a dream.
She placed a hand over her racing heart, rubbing soft circles on her chest in an attempt to calm it.
“Just a dream,” Gwyn repeated quietly to herself and focused her attention on the book titles she could make out lined across the shelf.
Pride and Prejudice. Jane Eyre. Persuasion. Rebecca. North and South.
The familiar titles grounded her more effectively than just counting her breaths. Brought her racing pulse back down into its normal rhythm. How typical of Nesta to keep those books stored in her guestroom.
Gwyn would bet her last paycheck Nesta had deliberately put them there to ensure anyone staying with her eventually learned to appreciate the classics.
The thought almost made her smile.
But the scent of lilies still clung to the edges of her mind, thick and suffocating. It sat like a heavy cloak around her. Gwyn swore she could still feel the burn on her scalp. Only a dream... but once it had been real.
And the flowers at her door had also been real. The unknown number. It had all been real. Hayden knew where she lived. Knew where she worked. Had watched her. How long?
Gwyn wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Didn’t want the last three years to be tainted by him. But she had been so incredibly stupid to think she was free. He’d once told her she would always be his—she should’ve known better than to think he’d just let her go.
Her skin crawled as his cruel laughter filled her mind and she flung the duvet off her clammy body and jumped out of bed. The room spun around her, the walls quickly closing in, and her breath turned raged.
Trapped.
She felt so fucking trapped.
Trapped in her own skin. Trapped in Hayden’s violent games. Trapped in an endless nightmare.
She stumbled out of the guestroom on trembling legs in search of... something. Gwyn didn’t know. Water. Air. Anything that would stop the crushing pressure building inside her chest.
Nesta’s apartment was dark and quiet. One of the floorboards creaked softly beneath her bare feet as she moved into the kitchen. The refrigerator gave off a low humming sound. Somewhere outside, in the distance, a car hoonked.
Gwyn clung to all of it desperately. The normalcy of it. The normal sounds. Safe sounds.
Maybe things weren’t as bad as she thought. Maybe Hayden just wanted to talk? The flowers could’ve just been his way of trying to reach out. To apologize. Simple flowers. The text message didn’t have to mean anything, maybe he didn’t even realize his number didn’t show up in any search engine.
He’d always said she was too dramatic—always overreacting—and wouldn’t it just make sense that she’d overreacted now?
But… no.
Gwyn knew deep in her bones that she wasn’t overreacting. Knew that any explanation her mind came up with came from the desire of making the situation manageable. Less terrifying.
She knew, better than most, exactly what Hayden Solder was capable of. Had known it since the first time he slapped her. Since the last time he beat her so horribly, she’d barely escaped with her life intact.
And now, Nesta and Emerie knew just how bad it was as well. Every ugly and humiliating part of it. They hadn’t judged her. There had been no anger or disappointment.
Just fierce and unconditional support. As always.
They hadn’t told her she was being dramatic. They had been the ones trying to convince her to go to the police. Had refused to let her spend the night alone in her apartment. Nesta had packed her bag while Emerie shoved the flowers into the trash and ripped the card apart.
They’d held her as she cried and made a list of the next steps they needed to take. It brought fresh tears to her eyes thinking about it—how they’d included themselves in every step. Reassuring her over and over again that she wasn’t alone.
Her friends still wanted her to go to the police, but Gwyn couldn’t think that far yet. It was the most reasonable thing to do. Obviously.
But she had no strength left to tell anyone else her story. Not yet.
Which was why she’d begged Nesta and Emerie to not tell anyone else either. She’d known Cassian would be at Nesta’s apartment when they arrived. Gwyn didn’t want him to know. Didn’t want him to look at her differently. Couldn’t handle the shame of it all. But seeing Azriel there as well… it had nearly broken what little remained of her composure. Her eyes had been drawn to him the moment she stepped inside. As if some part of her had known he’d be there as well.
Then he’d been on his feet. Moving half a step toward her before he stopped himself. But his eyes never left her. For one awful moment Gwyn had expected them to be full of pity and disgust, but there had been none of that. Only concern. Worry. Sadness.
And it was strange. It didn’t make much sense. That the only thing she could think about was what would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped.
Would he have wrapped those strong arms around her? Would she have let him?
It was a dangerous thought.
And ridiculous.
So utterly ridiculous that Gwyn scoffed at herself as she ran a tired hand over her face.
She really was losing her damn mind, wasn’t she?
Moonlight spilled through the large windows in the kitchen, bathing the shiny countertops in a pale silver light. Gwyn grabbed the first glass she could find and filled it with water. Her hands still trembled badly enough that some of it splashed over the rim and dropped down her arm.
She drank anyway.
One large sip.
Then another, before gulping down the whole glass in one go. The cool water helped her overheated body calm down. Just a little.
Not enough for her to be able to go back to sleep. But enough for her to finally get a proper breath of air, and that’s when she noticed that the silver glow didn’t only come from the moon. A small sliver of the glow came from the living room.
Someone else was awake.
And as she rounded the corner a pair of beautiful hazel eyes immediately met hers. A small shiver slipped down her back.
Azriel was still there.
She wasn’t sure what surprised her more. The fact that he hadn’t left or that he spoke first.
“Hey,” he said in a breathless voice, sitting up and running a hand through his already tousled hair.
“Hi.”
Or maybe what surprised her the most was the fact that she didn’t hesitate to join him on the couch.
And if anyone asked, she wouldn’t be able to say what made her sit down.
Azriel let his gaze wander over her, as if checking to make sure she wasn’t physically hurt at least. The sleeping shorts Nesta had packed for her were thankfully long enough to not rise too far up her thighs as she sat down. Gwyn still reached over to grab a blanket to cover herself up a bit as she pulled her knees up to her chest. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized there were more blankets than usual laid out before her. The pillow resting where Azriel had been lying down just moments ago didn't belong with the other decorative ones
He’d stayed.
Was going to sleep on the couch.
She didn’t dare to think about why.
“Are you—”
“Please don’t ask me if I’m okay,” she cut him off immediately and hated the way her voice cracked. She closed her eyes to prevent them from blurring. “I can’t–I don’t want to talk about it.”
Low music from whatever was playing on the tv filled the silence between them. There were so many things she’d wanted to say to him. All of it seemed pointless now. Secondary to everything else.
And yet, she still wanted to understand what had happened.
It seemed silly.
It was silly.
How badly Gwyn had missed him. They barely knew each other. It shouldn’t have brought her any comfort to see him again. Not after how they’d left things on the patio. Her heart didn’t seem to care though.
Dangerous, a small voice whispered in the back of her head.
Yes, she agreed quietly. It was dangerous. To let her heart open up while she was so vulnerable. Foolish to allow herself to want someone when she didn’t even know all of him. She’d made that mistake once and paid for it in the worst ways.
Hayden had been kind to her too. At the start. She’d already been too deep in it all when she realized it had only been a mask.
But Azriel wasn’t Hayden...
Fuck, she really shouldn’t be thinking about any of that.
“Gwyn?”
She blinked her eyes open and met his concerned frown.
Two weeks ago—hell, even two days ago—she would’ve tried to convince herself that she was normal. Might have lingered on the tiny blush across his cheeks. The way his hair was sticking out from the top of his head in different directions. How the dark tattoos inked along his arms seemed to tell a story. She might’ve even been able to appreciate the fact that his pants were folded neatly on top of one of the armchairs. Might’ve sneaked a small look of his bare thighs after the blanket slid off him as he sat up.
Oh, Gwyn desperately wanted to pretend that everything was fine. That the only reason the two of them were awake in the middle of the night was because they’d hadn’t been able to stop talking. That they’d been having a simple movie night, laughing and getting to know each other.
Wanted her biggest problem to be Azriel’s silence over text and their stupid awkward conversation on the patio.
“Can we just…” She took a slow breath. “Can we just sit here?”
“Yeah,” Azriel replied with a short nod, never letting his gaze fall from her. “We can do that.”
She tried to give him a small smile, but wasn’t sure she succeeded. Azriel didn’t comment on it. Didn’t ask any other questions. Didn’t push.
He simply sat with her.
Just like she’d asked.
For now, that was enough. Enough to pretend that everything wasn’t falling apart.
And Gwyn turned toward the tv, nodding slightly at the screen.
I realized something that's been irking me about the way [Insert a certain ship name here] talks about Azriel.
I'm not sure if this is their intent, but the way they always emphasize Azriel's kindness towards Elain and attach a special meaning to it makes it seem like Azriel isn't a kind person in general?
Like it's giving "Doberman boyfriend who's only nice to her". Which is just... inaccurate.
Azriel is canonically kind to many characters, especially females, in the series. This is a non-exhaustive list off the top of my head:
He's so encouraging and understanding when teaching Feyre to fly in WAR. He gets her rare paint from the Continent.
He's so gentle and caring with Nesta in HOFAS when he's trying to get her to take off the Mask. And in the HOFAS bonus chapter, he reassures her that she would be a good mother despite her own upbringing. He gets her a reading light for Solstice.
He's mindful and considerate with the priestesses during Valkyrie training. The fact that he even agrees to train them despite everything else that he has going on is kind. He's very aware of their boundaries and respects them.
He's kind and supportive to Gwyn when he agrees to give her extra dagger lessons.
AND he is kind to Elain. Of course, I get wanting to emphasize the kind moments of your ship as romantic, but then denying any other kindness could also be romantic feels... Off. Kindness from a kind character isn't inherently romantic.
Azriel is someone who is kind with those he cares for. Romantically or otherwise.
He specifically is said to be sensitive to the treatment of females because of his mother.
Like I said, I could be misreading it, but that's how it comes off to me. Not just Them™️ either because I often see people reduced Azriel to the Shadow Daddy Dom character elsewhere. And it's sad, because he has so much more depth than that.
Gwyn’s New Year’s resolution was simple, until a man with beautiful hazel eyes walked into her life like he belonged.
Letting him stay should have been easy. Falling for him might have been easier.
If her past wasn’t watching. Waiting. Refusing to let her go.
Modern day- AU.
Part ten is up on AO3. Read it HERE or down below
Tumblr masterlist
Summary: Parts of Gwyn's past is revealed.
words: 2660
a/n: Alright, this is probably the heaviest chapter of the story so far, and likely the heaviest overall. Our girl Gwyn is not having a good time. As always, I'm a little nervous to post this one, but I really appreciate all your comments and support. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one!<3
A lot of Gwyn's past is finally revealed in this chapter, so I do want to include some trigger warnings:
-Domestic violence
-Physical abuse/violence
-Sexual coercion and brief references to sexual violence
-Emotional abuse and manipulation
-Anxiety/panic attack
Most of these moments appear in flashbacks, which are written in italics. So if you'd prefer to skip, just skip those sections. Take care of yourselves<3
The bouquet slipped from Gwyn’s hands and landed on the floor with a dull thud. One of the lilies snapped from the impact, white petals scattering against the wood. Around her, Nesta and Emerie said something. She could hear their voices, not enough to put the words together though—both of them too muffled under the roaring in her head.
All Gwyn could do was stare at the flowers. Stare at the card that confirmed everything she had tried to deny. The sweet and flowery scent crawled into her lungs, thick and suffocating, and it was impossible to block out every memory that came with it.
There had been so many flowers. Too many.
At first, Gwyn’s belly had swarmed with butterflies.
The small bell above the door chimed softly, announcing a new customer’s entrance. The diner had been busy all morning, even worse during lunch hours, but was slowly calming down. Gwyn hadn’t been able to sit down and rest her feet since her shift started. Blisters had already formed under her feet a long time ago. It had been a terrible idea to wear her new sneakers that morning.
She finally got the chance to take a break, only to be disturbed, and she couldn’t stop the groan that fell from her lips. Annoyed, she plastered on her most charming smile—the one that gave her the most tips—and turned around to face whoever had entered.
Beautiful honey brown eyes, full of amusement, met her teal ones. Gwyn’s face burned and she wiped her hands on her apron before brushing the loose strands from her ponytail behind her ears. Praying silently that she didn’t look as tired as she felt.
“Hayden,” she breathed out, “Hi.”
A big smile stretched across his face as he took in her flustered appearance. Gods, he was so handsome. With his windswept hair falling perfectly across his forehead and deliciously muscular body standing tall and wide before her.
”Bad time?” he chuckled as he walked up the counter. Gwyn quickly shook her head, the smile she had forced before now true and bright.
“Not at all,” she beamed and pressed her lips together in an attempt to hold back her smile at least a little bit. It had only been a month since they met for the first time. Since he had waltzed right in and set a swarm of butterflies free in her stomach.
A month since he had started showing up every day, ordering the same cup of coffee and lingering far longer than any other customer—just so he could talk to her. Smooth and charming and utterly captivating.
Gwyn had fallen immediately, and when he’d finally asked her on a date a week ago—she had agreed embarrassingly fast. Catrin would’ve laughed herself sick from how painfully obvious she’d been.
“Good,” Hayden smiled easily and presented her with a small bouquet of flowers Gwyn hadn’t even realised he’d been hiding behind his back. “Because I wanted to surprise you.”
Handsome, charming and kind Hayden. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. People at the diner turned to look at them, and perhaps she imagined it, but Gwyn swore jealousy swam in their eyes as they ogled Hayden and his sweet gesture.
Gwyn wanted to shout from the rooftops that he was hers.
She didn’t anymore.
Could barely stomach the idea that she had once felt that way. It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet she remembered it all so clearly. Every sweet gesture. Every charming smile and his encouragement.
Only two months after their first date, Gwyn had moved in with him.
She had opened up about her goal of earning a bachelor's degree in English and her dream of publishing a novel one day. About her insecurities of starting university at twenty-three. Of being older than everyone else. Of not having enough money.
Had even told him about the life she’d lived after the loss of her mom and sister. The path of destruction she’d ended up on. The guilt. The loneliness.
Hayden had immediately offered her to move in with him. Convinced her to let him help her.
”You don’t have to pay any rent. You’re my girl, I want to wake up next to you every day. It’s a win-win.”
He had made it all so easy. Smiled so easily. Gwyn had smiled back. Had not questioned anything.
”Gwyn!”
Suddenly Nesta stood in front of her, physically shaking her out of her stupor with a steady grip of her shoulders. Gwyn blinked and only then realized her cheeks were wet with tears.
”Throw them out,” she whispered and her voice trembled in line with the rest of her body. Nesta frowned and tightened her hold, trying to keep Gwyn grounded. An impossible task when one part of her was back in the past. When something inside her had cracked wide open, allowing buried memories to rush violently to the surface.
”Who is Balthazar?"
Gwyn stopped her humming and glanced up from her textbook. Soft piano music filled the large apartment around her, calming her anxious thoughts as the deadline for her assignment came closer.
Hayden stood across the table from her. Dressed immaculately as always in his finely pressed shirt and pants for work. The complete opposite to Gwyn in her sweatpants and stained t-shirt. Her greasy hair in a messy bun, half of it up and half of it down.
“What?” she asked and let out a soft chuckle. “A guy from class.”
“Why are you talking to him?”
“What do you mean? We’re in the same class,” Gwyn said and the pen she’d been twirling between her fingers stilled when she noticed Hayden had her phone in one of his hands. “Did you look through my phone?”
Something dark passed over his eyes at that. It had her shrinking back briefly before she scowled at him. ”You have no right to do that.”
Hayden didn’t back down. Ignored her entirely as he glared at her accusingly.
”Are you cheating on me?”
“Are you serious?” Gwyn gaped at him and stood up so swiftly she knocked over her cup of tea, spilling it all over her books. “Shit.”
“Answer the question!” His loud outburst sent vibrations through her bones and Gwyn froze in the midst of trying to rescue all of her notes. When she met his stormy gaze, she forced herself to swallow the lump forming in her throat.
“Of course I’m not cheating on you, H,” she told him slowly. “He’s a friend. We study together. A bunch of us.”
“I don’t see you texting anyone else this much,” he shot back at her coldly and gestured to her phone still in his possession. “Is that why you’re always at the library? All those late nights studying, you’re just fucking someone else, huh?”
“What’s gotten into you?” Gwyn asked and searched his eyes for a hint of that warm honey brown she loved so much. There was none. “I’m not cheating on you! He is just a friend, and he—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Hayden roared at her. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
“No, Hayden.” She shook her head, taking half a step toward him. He reared back, disgust clearly written across his face, and something broke inside her at the sight. At the rage in his voice. ”I-I don’t think that at all. Balthazar is just a good friend. I promise.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he is,” he sneered. Sarcasm and disbelief dropping off every word.
Gwyn blinked away the sudden tears.
”Hayden, please, what’s going on?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead Gwyn’s eyes widened as he threw her phone across the room and stormed off, slamming the front door behind him as he left the apartment.
Hayden had returned later that night, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes as he crawled into bed. He’d held her close, whispered apologies and promised he would pay to have her broken phone fixed. Had blamed his cheating ex for the paranoia that sometimes took control of him. Had told Gwyn that he was just scared, hurt, and how much he loved her.
How he never wanted to lose her.
Gwyn had believed him. Understood how those insecurities could sometimes cloud someone’s better judgment.
Had understood it the second time he looked through her phone.
And the third time.
The fourth time though, she told him he needed to stop taking her phone.
Hayden didn’t give it back until the next morning that time.
Then somehow, she gave him her phone freely whenever she came back home. Gave it to him to look through. To keep.
At the time, Gwyn had just told herself that it was easier that way.
“Hey, you need to talk to us. Gwyn.” Nesta gently cupped her face and wiped away some of the tears. “What is going on?”
“I... He—Hayden… I can’t…”
“Your ex?” Emerie came up, placing a careful but comforting hand on her back. Before her, Nesta straightened and her eyes sharpened on Gwyn’s crumbling form.
“Is this the first time he made contact with you?” she asked and Gwyn couldn’t stop the whimper that pushed its way up her throat. More tears fell as she shook her head. Nesta breathed in deeply. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I couldn’t,” Gwyn managed to croak out.
“It’s okay,” Emerie mumbled, stroking her back up and down. “It’s okay. He won’t hurt you.”
“He will.”
“We won’t let him,” Nesta said firmly.
Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut, willing all the memories to stop. Praying silently that it was all just a dream. Another nightmare. She would wake up soon, still asleep on the couch with her two best friends snuggling next to her. Wake up and everything would go back to as it was.
No dates. No weird texts. No unanswered messages. No old relatives. No flowers. Nothing.
“Can’t we just order something?” Gwyn asked and turned around to face Hayden in their kitchen. He scoffed roughly.
“You’ve been home all day,” he said, jaw clenched and shirt collar popped from when he’d loosened it a minute ago. “You could’ve prepared something.”
“I didn’t have the time. Midterms are coming up, our exam is this Friday and if I don’t pass—”
“I work all fucking day, Gwyn,” Hayden cut her off. “I pay our bills, our food and all your stupid textbooks, the least you can do is have dinner ready on the table when I get home.”
“And I told you I could get my own books, but you insisted,” Gwyn retorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “I understand that your job is important, but so is my exam.”
“Oh so it’s my fault then?” Hayden chided coldly. Gwyn didn’t even notice how close he had gotten until she had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. “It’s my fault our home is such a mess and we never have dinner prepped in time.”
“I never said that,” Gwyn snapped back. “I’m just saying that right now I have a lot on my plate and I really need to pass this exam. You won’t let me study with my friends at the—”
It happened quickly. So quick that she could almost convince herself it had never happened.
One second she was trying to explain.
The next her ears were ringing. Her face burning.
Silence filled the whole apartment as Hayden looked down at his own hand—the hand that had slapped her across the face—his eyes wide with horror. Gwyn didn’t dare move. Couldn’t even if she wanted to.
“Gwyn, baby, I…”
Gwyn remembered she had been the one to apologize first. That time and all that came after.
She had failed the exam the following Friday. Had dropped out of school all together a month later. Lost all her friends because she wouldn’t text them back. Or rather, couldn’t text them back since Hayden had her phone most of the time.
He had promised to never do it again. Hit her. Like everything else—it had been a lie. There had been flowers. Always lilies and baby’s breath. He’d apologize and promise it would never happen again.
Then she’d do something wrong, say something wrong, or do nothing… and it would happen again.
On the bright side of things, losing all her friends meant she never had to explain the bruises to anyone. Never had to make up lies or excuses.
But, it also meant she had no one but Hayden.
There was no one that could help her. Hayden had given her a home. Paid for her books. Her clothes. Her phone. The food she made sure was waiting for him whenever he came home from work.
He said he loved her. That he was the only one who did.
So Gwyn had stayed.
Stayed as the bruises grew. Stayed as he took her to bed and undressed her even though she’d told him she was tired. Stayed as he told her she’d be nothing without him.
She had stayed because she had no one else and she owed him for all he had done for her. Because he locked her in the apartment and she had no phone. No money.
Because she probably deserved it all anyway.
“What do you need, Gwyn?” Emerie asked and she opened her teary eyes, coming face to face with both her fierce friends. “We’re here.”
“I didn’t think…” Her throat tightened painfully. “I didn’t think he’d ever actually find me... I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” Nesta replied quickly. “You are brave and kind and smart and we won’t let him hurt you.”
“You are not alone,” Emerie added. “Whatever you need—we got you.”
It was all it took for Gwyn’s knees to finally give up. Her strength collapsed under the heavy sobs that broke free from her chest and she fell to the floor.
Nesta and Emerie followed, holding her close between them as she wept. Neither of them made any attempts to get her to move or talk. They just sat with her, letting the grief and fear from the past three years spill out of her. Sat with her and dried her tears using the end of their sleeves. Said nothing when all their legs turned numb from the awkward position they were in.
It took more than an hour before her sobs finally died down and turned into small sniffles instead. It was then that her friends helped her back to her feet and guided her to the couch. Tucked her in under all the blankets the same way they had the night before and sat down with her.
“You are mine, Gwyn. You’ll always be mine..”
Hayden’s voice rang through her mind again. Once, she’d found it sweet. How he claimed her for everyone to see. Since then, she’d learned it had never been more than a threat. A promise that he’d always find her.
“He’s gonna kill me,” she said quietly and swallowed the sob that threatened to come back out again. Her friends tensed beside her and Nesta moved so she could sit straighter.
“Gwyn, you need to tell us everything,” she urged and threw Emerie a quick and worried look. “We are here for you, and nothing will ever change that. But we need to know everything so we can help you. Really, truly help you.”
“She’s right,” Emerie nodded slowly and reached out to squeeze Gwyn’s hand. “Let us help you. You told us before that he was controlling and manipulating, right?”
“Right,” Gwyn mumbled and tried to pull her hand back. Emerie held fast.
“We won’t let you go through this alone,” Nesta affirmed and took her other hand. “You can tell us.”
Gwyn glanced between her friends. Her strong and beautiful friends.
She didn’t deserve them.
Still, she had them. They had her.
She took a deep and long breath, and then she told them.
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