Here’s a master list of all of my fanfictions that no one asked for, but I probably should have made a while ago. Merry Christmas.
Ps, all works are Nessian unless stated otherwise.
Pps, I have an addiction.
Music (Siren au) master list
Cassian is a pirate through and through. When a bad habit of steeling rum and a loose tongue land him rocking in the waves with his brothers, he meets someone that will change his life. Someone with a tale, a some secrets, and a heart just beginning to remember what love really is. Someone not entirely human.
Careful Cassian
Nesta encounters her first period as a fae and it isn’t fun. Luckily, though, Cassian is there to help, although it may not be as easy as he first thought.
Morning
Nesta and Cassian wake up as their first morning as a mated couple. All fluff, kinda smutty, not gonna lie.
Shower
Nesta and Cassian take a romantic shower together when they first get to the camps. Just a short little snippet. (I’m not crying, you’re crying.)
Warmth and Truth
Caught in a storm on their way to the Illyrian camps, Nesta and Cassian find themselves alone, drenched, and cold. Through the night, truths are revealed about each of them yet even more is left unsaid.
Starfall
A year after Nesta and Cassian are sent to Illyria, Starfall comes and Nesta, healed more than she’d ever expected to be, finds she has somethings to say to Cassian.
Hold You
(Starfall sequel) Following the events of the night, Cassian and Nesta sway on the balcony, a little bit of their souls finally locking into place.
Good Enough
Cassian is tired. Tired of having to watch his tongue and coming home to Nesta gone in another person’s home. The only difference tonight is that Nesta is home, and Cassian is angry. Words explode from both ends. Many they needed to hear, and many that meant nothing. It’s up to them to decide.
Sister
Nesta and Cassian return to the Illyrian camps after their mating frenzy. Still half wild, Cassian finds himself caught in a rage, and a full winter spent with Nesta leaves him with some choice words for his brother.
Nesta’s Love
A short description from Cassian’s point of view of how Nesta loves him properly.
Nesta’s Happiness
A short description of how Cassian spots the signs that he’s made Nesta happy.
Bath Time
After training for hours, Nesta is extremely sore and Cassian knows it. Helping her in the bath, however, may take more of him than he’d initially thought.
Lessons on Love
After meeting the General Commander, Nesta is stubbornly attracted to him and he knows it. She lets him teach her the art of love making, and maybe a few things about her heart along the way. This begins in the middle of the extra “Wings and Embers.” WARNING: this is an extremely mature story, not suitable for some readers. Read at your own risk.
A Court of Fever and Frustration
Cassian, ever the idiot, falls ill and it’s up to Nesta to take care of him.
Broken Lines
Put into a position of authority amongst the Illyrian’s, Nesta is only looking for a little respect. Unfortunately for everyone else, Cassian will take fear first, to the chagrin of his mate.
Why Are You Hiding?
At the beginning of their relationship, a few of Nesta’s insecurities are revealed and while Cassian may not be able to fix what she sees in the mirror, but he can give her a nudge in the right direction.
Photograph
In this modern au, Nesta is a model, running late on one of her shoots, so Cassian goes to pick her up.
Forgotten Gods
Sometimes, Nesta forget who she is. Where her power has gone. When she goes looking for answers, Cassian goes looking for her.
Dawn
Just a fluffy morning with a very sleepy Nesta and a slightly frustrated Cassian as he tries to go about his daily routine.
Two Bastards and a Half-breed
In the beginning, it was two bastards and a half-breed. This is their story.
Asphyxiation (Elucien)
Alone with Lucien, Elain has to set her feelings straight. When an innocent hike, turns to something a little more meaningful, she finds it hard to breath.
The Healer and the Soldier (Madja x OC)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Madja learned how to heal Illyrian wings when she spent some time among them. Working beneath an older healer, she finds herself exhausted, exhilarated, and a little bit exasperated.
Wondrous Misfortune
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
The bone carver’s prediction is not all that meets the eye and so Cassian and Nesta meet the struggles of family head on, loving every bit of it with two children possibly more wicked than themselves.
Armor
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4,
A few months after Acofas, Cassian finds out what Nesta does when he’s away. Her rebellion isn’t what it seems, however. WARNING: this is an extremely mature story, not suitable for some readers. Read at your own risk.
Flowers Across a Kingdom
This is my take on the second generation of my favorite Throne of Glass and Acotar ships.
Prompts
“I lost the baby.” “You’re a monster.”
“Get that thing away from me!”
“It isn’t what it looks like! Okay... Maybe it is...”
“The bed is cold without you.” “It’s just a nightmare, it’s nothing real.”
Forbidden kiss and against a locker kiss
Before bed kisses
I almost lost you kiss
Staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in (Elriel)
Accidentally witnessed kiss and against a wall kiss
A hoarse whisper, “kiss me”
Moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed
Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap
This wasn’t meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home
We slept in the same bed for space reasons, but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair. (Elriel)
“I’m not leaving” + “It’s just you and me”
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Have you lost your damn mind?”
“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”
“Make me.”
Fenrys x Azriel masterlist
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It had been five years since Auguste had seen Damianos, Prince of Akielos, but he recognized him instantly.
And he knew Laurent did too.
If Auguste had a breath, he would hold it. Laurent’s boots echoed on tiles, cold and crisp, as he approached the kneeling prince. There was a sneer to his upper lip, as if in disgust.
He should be disgusted. A prince of a foreign nation had been delivered to him as a slave, humiliated, captive. It was unheard of.
Auguste held little resentment towards Damianos. Thus were the ways of war. Men died and made murderers of other men. They were each defending their own countries. They each believed they were right, and the other was wrong. Auguste could see that now.
The question was if Laurent could.
The courtiers parted around Laurent, as if in fear of the supposedly reckless, mettlesome prince. He’d been drinking, an act he hadn’t participated in since Uncle forced wine down his throat as a child.
This was going to be bad.
“Laurent, don’t,” Auguste said softly, as if his dear brother might hear.
“I hear the King of Akielos has brought me a gift.” Again, that slight curl of the upper lip, but Auguste recognized now that it wasn’t disgust: it was rage.
One of the courtiers laughed. “An Akielon groveling on its knees. How fitting.”
Damianos lifted his head and for a moment, Auguste was sure all of the air had been sucked from the room and replaced with ice. Laurent went white as he met those dark eyes.
Then Laurent’s face shuddered. It lasted barely a blink before it was gone and the mask snapped back into place, but Auguste knew.
There was no way he hadn’t recognized him.
In five years, Prince Damianos had lost what little boyishness he’d had at nineteen. He’d filled out his shoulders, sharpened his face. Bound as he was, he looked more savage than man, barely restrained, vicious and unpredictable.
Councilor Guion said, “He is intended as a pleasure slave, but he isn’t trained. Kastor suggested that you might like to break him at your leisure.”
Auguste recoiled. A pleasure slave? This man was born to be king. And Kastor? He was sent by Kastor?
“I’m not desperate enough that I need to soil myself with filth,” said Laurent.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Break him on the cross. I believe that will discharge my obligation to the King of Akielos.”
“Laurent, no.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Auguste watched in growing horror as the handlers reached for the chain. No. No, no, no.
“Wait.”
The word cut through the clang of chain links. Everyone paused, including Auguste, as Laurent came forward.
“I want to speak to him. Remove the gag.”
The handler hesitated and Guion protested, but Laurent was prince and he was obeyed.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
It became immediately apparent that though Laurent might know who this man was, the others in the room did not. For they thought nothing of the question, dripping in malice.
Prince Damianos of Akielos did not respond.
“Perhaps he is defective,” suggested Guion, wringing his fat fingers.
Laurent ignored him and lowered his head as a snake might to get a better look at his prey. He said again, in crude, accented Akielon, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Damianos snapped, “I speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart.”
The room recoiled. Someone backhanded Damianos but Auguste didn’t see it. He was looking at Laurent.
Laurent, who straightened slowly, vertebra by vertebra, the picture of elegant control. The picture of a man on a precipice.
Auguste wished he’d been given form so he could put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, draw him into his chest as he had done when he was a boy.
The handler suggested the name Damen. It went over the heads of most of the courtiers, especially when Laurent didn’t appear to react.
But the reaction came in deliberate comment: “I heard that the King of Akielos may marry his mistress, Lady Jokaste. Is that true?”
The information seemed to hit Damianos like a blow as Laurent spoke so casually of his crumbling kingdom.
Auguste felt the sharp stab of pity, then a bit of relief when Laurent ordered his men to beat Damianos, rather than whip him. Laurent did not stay to watch, so Auguste didn’t either.
He went to his rooms, where Nicaise was glaring at a chessboard.
Auguste’s ghost hovered in the corner of the room as his brother approached the boy and knelt beside the board. Neither said anything, as was the way of many of their interactions, the knowledge that Nicaise would not last much longer weighing heavily in the air between them.
And he didn’t. Nicaise lost to Laurent rather quickly, then pouted, his lower lip jutting out.
Laurent gave a strained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Auguste hadn’t even known he could do that—fake happiness for another person. When Laurent was a boy, his smiles were genuine, crinkling the corners of his eyes, wide and often toothless, knocking the breath out of anyone who saw.
They played another round of chess, where Laurent let Nicaise win. The boy merely thought he was clever.
Auguste’s heart hurt.
A servant arrived to fetch Nicaise, one of the silent ones that Laurent had cultivated to his side so they would not tell the Regent. He collected these little bits of the palace, cultivating them with the grace of a king, earning their loyalty through small bits of kindness. Servants and guards and stable boys all ripened to their icy prince, who protected them in exchange for their secrecy. Those on the outside did not recognize it, only saw what Laurent wanted them to see.
But Auguste caught the small wave the servant gave Laurent before ushering Nicaise away and his heart hurt again.
Auguste knelt in this body that was not a body beside Laurent’s bed, where his brother curled in a ball and cried himself to sleep.
A list of out of context unhinged things my physics professor has said
"Minus the threat of violence- taxes "
"You take an infant, don't let them play for five years, and congratulations, you've made a psychopath. Good job."
"This is a scientific term so I can say it to you: you already jerk."
"Which is really impressive: I'm much slower in a tree."
"And we have the most useless animal in all of Africa: the cheetah."
"Oh that duck died? Probably deserved it."
"If there's a big accident with like 4 or 5 cops, then there's no speed limit for the next 15 minutes."
"It's only a couple of bucks to fall out of the sky and I highly recommend it. You should fall out of the sky at least once."
"I am convinced of a conspiracy in math class to keep you docile. But I don't know, maybe I'm wrong."
"Could you ever be older than your mom?" Then, very quickly, "Nobody has to die."
"If someone has been a crackhead for ten years, they're basically a professional."
"Huge, HUGE pumpkin (a very quiet, additional wow). I tried to make them bigger and now they're HUGE." (They were not huge.)
"Let me erase any trace I was talking to you about crackheads."
"Would you rather punch someone in the face or get punched in the face? You have to chose one. If you're a pacifist, uh, figure that out."
"What's the greatest villain? Ah, a cyclist."
"I haven't priced this in a long time, but that's 250-400 four locos... I'd be king of the homeless camp for a weekend."
"We operate on the assumption that none of us are magical."
"We are completely and unjustifiably terrorizing France."
"Now, it's you're an elf at Santa's workshop, you just... (Proceeds to spin in a slow circle, with a completely straight face, making entirely too much eye contact) I'm not saying this is a practical explanation as to why Santa's elves don't age."
"Again, (looking around very seriously) not advocating for cannibalism."
"I am a frozen hotpocket, I am a frozen hotpocket, I am a frozen hotpocket. (Spins in a slow cirle) How do you explain that to George Washington?"
With the crutch of Mor's magic, Fenrys can understand Prythian because it sounds to him like his own language. However, as he prepares to take on Amarantha and help save Rhys, he must actually learn the language in case Mor's magic is stripped from him. Lucky for him, he's been slowly teaching himself Prythian through books and music. Azriel is more than a little impressed when the magic is removed and Fenrys is more than a little frustrated.
*****
“We need to talk.”
Cassian looked up from his half-wrapped hands, arching a brow. “What’s up? Where’s Fenrys?”
“He’s asleep.” Azriel came forward, his eyes on the horizon.
Azriel braced both hands on the balcony rail. “We need to postpone his departure date.”
“What?”
Fuck. He hated this. He hated saying this while Fenrys was fast asleep in his bedroom, unaware of the decisions being made for him. “At least another month. Maybe longer.” Fenrys was supposed to leave at the end of the week, but he didn’t know that yet. They’d kept the exact date a secret, in case he started getting cold feet.
“Az, he’s ready. Rhys is waiting.” Cassian paused and Azriel felt his gaze piercing between his shoulder blades. “Is this about your feelings for him?”
Azriel turned, mouth open to defend himself, but Cassian held up a hand.
“Despite what you may think, brother, I’m not an idiot. I know you. So please tell me you’re not the one getting cold feet. We’re talking about lives and futures at stake.”
Perceptive as ever. “This has nothing to do with… that. I know Rhys is relying on us, but something came up. Fenrys can’t go for a while now.”
“Why then?”
Azriel didn’t like it one bit, telling Cassian this without Fenrys’ permission, but he didn’t have a whole lot of options and nothing less would convince the General of the Night Court. “He’s not in a good place mentally. There was an incident. I don’t trust him with his own safety right now.”
Cassian blinked. “Oh.” He stepped forward, hands hovering in the air. “Does he—Is he—”
“I’m handling it.” Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think he wants you to know. He didn’t want me to know. So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat him any differently.”
“Of course.” Cassian clasped his shoulder. “Just let me know if he needs anything. Either of you.”
Azriel nodded and rubbed his face. “I know. I just… there’s so much shit, you know?”
“I know.”
“I don’t even know what to say half the time. Or if it’s helping at all.”
“It’s helping.” Cassian put his brow against Azriel’s. “The fact that you're trying is more important than you think.”
Azriel let out a breath and found his throat tighter than it had been. “And he’s so bright all the time it’s hard to imagine that he’s… that he’s thinking like me. Hell, it’s like I’m looking at my past self.”
“Then you know better than anyone how to get to him.” Cassian’s hand slid up to cup the back of Azriel’s neck. “You’ve got this.”
Azriel, unreasonably, felt himself laugh a little. “Familiar, no?”
Cassian pulled back and smacked his ass harder than necessary. “Shut up. Go get the little wolf. We can’t have him slacking off now.”
Azriel turned and went back into the House, pointedly ignoring the stinging in his bottom. Fenrys was indeed still asleep, curled around a pillow, in Azriel’s bed. In the day since the incident, the bruise Azriel had left on his wrist had faded almost completely.
Azriel knelt gingerly beside the bed. Really, it wasn’t fair how beautiful Fenrys was when he slept. He was stunning all the time, but sleep applied a certain boyish vulnerability to his features that was not there when he was awake.
Azriel longed to brush his golden hair back, to trace the bow of his lips, so he curled his hands in fists on his thighs to keep himself in check. Cassian was smarter than he looked.
“Wake up,” Azriel whispered.
Fenrys’ eyes came open, but if he was startled to find Azriel there, he didn’t show it. He blinked sleepily, then rolled over and pulled the blanket up to his ears.
“Fenrys.” Azriel decided, very swiftly, he was done being nice. He yanked the blanket off, then caught the pillow Fenrys chucked at his head. “Up. I let you sleep in, but Cassian’s waiting.”
“Fuck off,” Fenrys growled, voice rough.
“There’s coffee and breakfast in the kitchen. If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’ll drag you by your ankles.”
“Empty threats,” Fenrys muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes.
So Azriel gripped one ankle, then the other, and dragged him out of the bed.
Fenrys thrashed, kicking out of his grip. He was on his feet before Azriel could grab him again and cursed him soundly as he shouldered past.
Azriel couldn’t help the fond smile that threatened his mouth. He waited in the kitchen until Fenrys joined him, now dressed. Sliding a plate across the counter, he said, “Eat quickly. Cassian’s upset I let you sleep in.”
Fenrys slumped in his stool. He frowned at the spread of fruits and meat. “Waffles?”
“No waffles today. We’re gonna work you hard—don’t want you puking everywhere.” Cassian strode into the room.
Fenrys’ frown deepened. He stared at his plate.
Azriel caught Cassian’s eye and shook his head. Poor taste.
“Eat, Fen. We’ll be outside.” Azriel jerked his chin back to the door.
They went over drills while they waited. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Fenrys dragged himself outside, hair still a mess atop his head. He was sluggish as he practiced with Cassian, until Cassian pointed it out and got a nasty right hook to the jaw.
“Good,” Cassian said as he stepped back, “but ow. You’re gonna pay for that.”
This was a new side of Fenrys Azriel was just discovering: this reckless, almost feral behavior. The snapping at a moment’s notice. He had a temper, a dangerous one at that. It reminded Azriel, a bit uncomfortably, of Fenrys’ wolf form. Fenrys had one foot in the animal kingdom, but in a very different way from Azriel.
After their morning training, they went to the library. Fenrys took his usual seat at one of the desks on the lower levels while Cassian hovered near the railings, looking anxiously over the side.
Azriel contemplated pushing him over but thought better of it. He gave a passing priestess a small smile.
She ducked her head and walked faster.
“Do you think it’s still down there?” Cassian asked, trying very hard to hide the tremble in his voice.
“What’s still down there?” Fenrys lifted his head from his notes. He went to the rail beside Cassian and leaned precariously over it.
Cassian’s wings flared as Azriel took a step forward. Fenrys politely pretended not to notice.
Azriel strode to the desk while Cassian explained the monster that lived on the very bottom levels, supposedly. Azriel nosily peered at Fenrys’ notes that he was constantly writing. A book, The First of the High Lords, sat open three quarters of the way through. Beside it, was a notebook.
Azriel picked it up. He thumbed through the worn pages. Fenrys’ handwriting was so loopy and tight it was almost impossible to decipher. Most of it, Azriel assumed, was in Fenrys’ own language, but he caught the words 'carriage’ and ‘centric’ and a few others. The page itself was crammed to the brim, as were all the others. Azriel noted that he’d have to get Fenrys a new notebook.
“You’re such a snoop, you know that?” Fenrys frowned at him and clutched the notebook to his chest.
“It’s literally my job.”
“He also likes the drama,” Cassian piped up.
Azriel rolled his eyes.
Fenrys sat back at the desk, sliding The First of the High Lords towards him. “Fuck off and let me read.”
Azriel held up his hands as he backed away. He joined Cassian at the rails. “He’s teaching himself our language,” he said quietly.
Cassian’s brows lifted. “Really? Isn’t that a good thing?”
“It is. It’s also very hard to do.”
“Az… Are you saying you’re impressed?”
“I am. I’m even willing to bet he can function without Mor’s magic pretty decently. Phonetics might be an issue, but he’s been paying attention to the music lately too.”
Cassian nodded slowly. “That’s really good, actually. We don’t know if Amarantha will notice the magic, so he should be able to function without it. I think we should have Mor remove it for a bit.”
Azriel nodded. “He’s been eating up those books, but he still hasn’t ever had a real conversation. We’ll also need to work on his accent. It’ll be more pronounced once her magic is gone.”
“So, work with him some more. Why not have her take off the magic now?”
“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you to do. Could you talk to her?”
“Of course. We could all have a dinner tonight too, so he can hear the conversation.”
“Yes.” Azriel turned around, leaning his back against the railing. He watched Fenrys scribble something in his notebook. “Have her remove it.”
*****
Fenrys looked up once Cassian left to find Azriel striding towards him. “Oh, what do you want now?”
“Cassian’s going to talk to Mor.”
“Good for him.”
“We’re going to remove the language magic.”
“‘I—what? Why?”
“We don’t know if Amarantha will be able to sense Mor’s magic, so we have to prepare for if it’s taken away from you. You’ll have to speak like a native.”
Fenrys fiddled with his quill. “I don’t think I can do that, Az…”
“You’ve gotten this far with no help at all.” Azriel gestured to the notebook. “I think you can.”
“Speaking it and reading it are two different things.”
“Which is why you need to be good at both.”
Fenrys sighed. “I don’t get a say in this, do I?”
Azriel took a seat across from him. “We probably don’t have too long before the magic is removed. Cassian flies pretty fast.”
Fenrys scrubbed his face. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“The fastest and most efficient way to learn is full immersion. And, who knows? Maybe we’ll pick up some of your language too.”
“Can’t Mor just like, transfer the knowledge onto me?”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“Of course not.” Burying his face in his hands, Fenrys admitted, “Az, I don’t know if I can handle not being able to communicate with you right now.”
Azriel was quiet for long enough that Fenrys glanced up. His face was soft, “I think you can, but how about we come up with a failsafe in case there’s something you need to tell me and can’t. A word that you already know.”
Azriel pulled the book, The First of the High Lords, to him. He skimmed the open page. “Do you know this word?” he asked, pointing.
Fenrys leaned closer. “Yes, I know what a wolf is, jackass.”
“Say it in my language.”
Fenrys did and Azriel’s lips twitched.
“What? Did I say it wrong?”
“Yes. You just called me a shovel. Try again. That accent mark means you roll the r sound.”
Fenrys said it again, haltingly.
“Good. So just say that and I’ll have Mor reapply her magic.”
Fenrys twisted his fingers. “Seems sketchy, but okay.”
“Say it again.”
“Wolf.”
Azriel nodded. “I know it’s not the most efficient thing, but I have faith in you.”
Fenrys snorted. “For once.”
Azriel narrowed his eyes, then began to speak again, but the words were no longer ones Fenrys recognized.
“Wait, wait.” Fenrys scrambled for his notebook, panicked, the words came out in his own language. He flipped back to the first few pages and said, hesitantly, in the language of Prythian, “Can you talk slower?”
*****
Azriel smiled as he felt the last bits of magic seep from his throat. “Yes. I will talk slowly.”
Fenrys blew out a breath. He stood, pacing with his notebook in hand. “Okay, um. Do you… understand this? Know this?”
Without the magic, Fenrys’ accent was almost too thick to discern. Consonants rolled longer than they should have, even though the ends of some words were cut off. His vowels were harsher than they needed to be, more staccato, rather than the smooth roll of language. But it was one hell of a start.
“I understand you.”
“Okay.” Fenrys flipped through the pages. “My name is Fenrys.”
“I am aware.”.
Fenrys’ brows knit. “Slower.”
“I am aware,” Azriel said again. When Fenrys still didn’t understand, he pointed to the book.
“... Aware? You are aware.”
“Yes.” Azriel chuckled. “Good. My name is Azriel.”
“I am aware.”
“Good,” Azriel said again, leaning forward in his seat. He’d start with something easy. “Tell me about the weather.”
Fenrys cocked his head.
Azriel repeated himself.
“The weather?”
He nodded.
Fenrys said something in his own language, then smiled to himself, as if enjoying a private joke.
Azriel was not amused.
Blowing out a breath, Fenrys rifled through his notebook once more. Finding the page, he said in Prythian, “The weather is… ice.”
“Cold. The weather is cold.”
Nodding, Fenrys scribbled down the different version of the word. “The weather is cold. There is snow.”
“What is it doing?”
Fenrys gave a slow blink in the few seconds it took him to understand. “...what is it doing?”
The beginning wasn’t in Prythian. Azriel certainly wasn’t a linguist, but he liked to think he understood what the fuck do you mean in any language. “What does snow do?”
“It… fall?”
“Yes, but… fuck.” Azriel tried to figure out what he was trying to say himself. “The other way.”
“The other way,” Fenrys repeated. “Oh! You want me to say that it’s snowing! It’s snowing!”
“It is.” Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Bracing his elbows on the table, Azriel gave in to the twisted part of himself. “You look very beautiful today.”
Fenrys sat down across from him once more. “More.”
“Tell me another word.”
“That’s not… what you say.”
“Another word for more.”
Frustrated that he wasn’t repeating his previous sentence, Fenrys spouted, “Again, repeat, more.”
“Okay.” Azriel would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. He met Fenrys’ gaze and said, “You look very beautiful today.”
Pursing his lips, Fenrys’ eyebrows formed a little divot.
Azriel wasn’t lying. Fenrys was fucking stunning, especially when he got that expression. He was also a lot smarter than he let on if he understood this much through just books and music. It both thrilled and terrified Azriel.
“You say, ‘look’ and, uh, a… a degree word. Like fuck.”
Azriel chuckled as he recalled the conversation they’d had about such a word just a few days ago. The world rolled off Fenrys’ tongue differently now, almost as if his new accent made it more vulgar. “I didn’t say ‘fuck.’”
“No, but… similar? Same?”
“Similar. A similar word. It does the same thing as ‘fuck.’”
Azriel choked. Why the hell did he know so many words for fuck? Just what kind of books was he actually reading? “No, no. Same purpose. Not a…”
“Not a what?”
“Not a same word.”
“Not a…” Fenrys skimmed the open page of his notebook. “Not a syn…onym?”
“That’s right.”
“It is a synonym. Okay, um, copulate?”
“No, it’s not a synonym.”
Fenrys was confused. “Not a synonym?”
“You called it a ‘degree word.’”
“Oh! So like, very?” His whole face seemed to light up with triumph.
“Yes.”
“Say the… sentence more.”
“Again.”
“Again,” Fenrys said, exasperated.
Azriel said, “You look very beautiful today.”
“You look very… bounty?”
“Yes, that makes perfect sense.”
Fenrys’ brows knit again. “That makes perfect sense?” he repeated.
“No.”
“No?”
“No. That was right. The sentence was not.”
Fenrys held up a hand, turned the page in his notebook, then said very proudly, “I am confusion.”
“Confused.”
“I am confused.”
Azriel sighed. He said, “Let’s try something else.”
Fenrys said something in his own language, then in Azriel’s, he repeated the sentence.
Azriel nodded and stood. He went around the table to drag Fenrys out of his seat. “What is this?” he asked, fingering Fenrys’ shirt sleeve.
“A… tunic?”
“What else?”
Sucking on his teeth, Fenrys tried to grab his notebook, but Azriel held fast. “Answer me.”
Fenrys squirmed, muttering something Azriel could understand. After a moment: “Fabric? Fabric!”
“Yes.” Azriel pushed said fabric up, revealing the bare skin of Fenrys’ wrist. “And what’s this?”
Fenrys blinked slowly, eyes on Azriel’s hands. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. “It’s… uh. Book!”
“No.”
“I want book.” Fenrys tried to reach for his notebook again, and once again, Azriel held him back.
“I want my book,” he corrected.
“No, my book.”
Azriel flicked his forehead. “Yes, your book, Cauldron. What do you say?”
“I want my book,” Fenrys repeated confidently.
Azriel waited.
Squirming some more, Fenrys glanced about the room, but didn’t seem to come to any particular solution.
Sighing, Azriel let him go. Fenrys went for his notebook while Azriel grabbed the copy of The First of the High Lords. It took much longer than necessary, but he eventually found the word “please” and pointed to it.
“Please? You want my to say please?”
“You want me to say please. And yes, I do.”
“Please.”
“Very good. Ask me again.”
“Please, I want my book.”
“A question. Can I…”
“Please, can I have my book?”
“No,” Azriel said and took it away from him.
The pout on Fenrys’ face was almost comical. “My book…”
Azriel put it back on the table. He took Fenrys’ arm again, rubbing his thumb over the delicate skin of his wrist. “What is this?”
“Body. My body.”
“What part of it?”
Fenrys peered at him. “A… a arm.”
“An arm. Whose arm?”
“Me arm.”
“My arm. What part of your arm?”
“Slow.”
Azriel repeated himself. Slower.
“Flesh.”
“No.”
“It is not flesh?”
“It is, but that’s not the answer I’m looking for.”
“But…” Fenrys looked down again. “Skin?”
“It is skin. Still not what I’m looking for.”
Fenrys shifted. “Know not this.”
“I do not know this.” Azriel’s hand slid down lower. “That’s your wrist. Now what is this?”
“Hand.”
“Excellent.”
“... what?”
“Very good. Excellent means very good.”
“Oh.”
“Now what are these?” Azriel asked, tapping Fenrys’ fingertips.
Fenrys chewed on his lower lip. “Small hand… part?”
Unable to stop himself, Azriel smiled and shook his head. “They’re fingers.”
“Oh, yes! Fingers!”
“And knuckles and nails.” Azriel turned Fenrys’ hand over in his own. “What about this?”
“P…palm?”
“Yes. What about—”
“What are you two kids doing?”
Azriel looked up as Mor strode towards them. His shadows had warned him that she was here a few minutes ago, but he didn’t mind if she overheard.
Fenrys let go of Azriel’s hand, taking a step back.
“Hello, Fenrys,” Mor said.
“Hello.”
She grinned. “Your accent is beautiful.”
Fenrys glanced at Azriel, as if he expected him to explain. Azriel just cocked an eyebrow.
Sighing, Fenrys asked, “Slower, please?”
Mor repeated herself slowly.
“What is… accent?”
“How you are speaking. It is beautiful.”
“And what is beautiful?”
Mor thought for a moment, then said, “Very pretty.”
“Oh.” Fenrys said something in his own language, nodding to himself. “Like… good?”
“Similar.” Mor took a seat at the table and pulled Fenrys’ notebook towards her. “I’m gonna be totally honest, I don’t know how to do this, but we’re gonna have to figure it out one way or another.”
Fenrys blinked.
Mor waved her hand dismissively.
“No,” Azriel said. “Walk him through the translation. Watch.”
Mor shot him a strange look, but indeed began to repeat her words slowly. It took him a few minutes, but Fenrys eventually got it and beamed to himself.
So, for context, in all of these headcannons, Fenrys accidentally fell into Velaris while working for Maeve (pre-Aelin) and while Rhys was still under the mountain. He doesn't speak the language, so Mor uses her magic as kind of an automatic translator that doesn't work on writing or music.
*These are not in order. Some of them may also occur after Fenrys leaves Velaris and finds his way back fifty years later*
Read more on Ao3
Migraine
Fenrys knows something's wrong, and he's not about to let Azriel suffer without help.
Better?
Fenrys Moonbeam was accidentally teleported to Velaris fifty years ago. Finally, he has the chance to return, with his lover in tow, only Velaris has a few more characters than he remembers.
Speak my language
Fenrys explores the restraints of the magic Mor uses to translate everything for him in Velaris.
Howl
This is the moment that Azriel and Fenrys fall in love with each other. Well, maybe not the moment, but the realization.
Woof
They're falling for each other. They both know it. There's no going back now. On the evening of Fenrys' birthday in Prythian, Azriel takes him out to a secret spot.
They're falling for each other. They both know it. There's no going back now.
On the evening of Fenrys' birthday in Prythian, Azriel takes him out to a secret spot.
*****
Since Azriel had shown it to him, Fenrys spent much of his time in the theater. The director didn’t mind when he sat in the audience with his notebook and had even given him copies of the lyrics to follow along to.
The music here was haunting. Deep and soulful, Fenrys was only beginning to understand it. Translating it was a near impossible task, but one that kept his mind pleasantly busy. It was strange to actually hear the words he’d been learning these past months. His notes were now filled with pronunciations as well as definitions and grammar.
The technicians were changing out the curtains between songs when Azriel came in. Fenrys was alerted to his presence by the shadows, darkening at his feet as their owner drew closer. Azriel leaned over the back of his seat. “What are you doing?”
Fenrys suppressed a shudder at his voice so close to his ear. “Learning more about your culture.”
Azriel peered at his notes. “Your head is always in that damn book.”
“It's far more interesting than anything you have to show me.”
“Then maybe I’ll find someone else to execute my evening plans with.”
At that, Fenrys looked at him at last. He narrowed his eyes. “What plans?”
“I have somewhere I’d like to show you.”
Interest piqued, Fenrys closed his notebook and stood. Azriel tilted his head to the entrance. “Shall we?”
“Do I get to know where we’re going?” Fenrys followed him outside, blinking against the light of the falling sun.
Azriel shook his head. He held out his arms.
Fenrys sighed but stepped forward to be lifted. Azriel shot into the sky.
The flight was short and by the time Fenrys realized where they were going, it was too late.
“Oh, just fucking drop me.”
“Hush.” Azriel dove down into a clearing.
Fenrys groaned as he was set on his feet. “I thought we were going somewhere interesting.”
“This way.” Azriel set off through the trees.
“We already trained today. I’ve got the whole moving quietly thing down.” Fenrys didn’t point out that it was still light out, if just barely. They were near the peak of the mountain, facing the ocean, so he could see the orange painted sky.
“We’re not training.” Azriel reached back and grabbed his hand. “You said it was your birthday today.”
Fenrys blinked. “I don’t really celebrate my birthday. I was just trying to get you to be nice to me.”
“I’m nice to you.”
“You are not.” Still, Fenrys let him lead him by the hand over one last hill.
And before them… it was a pool of pure starlight. It glittered in the falling sun rays, stretching nearly to the edge of a cliff and the sea beyond.
“Holy shit.” Fenrys stepped forward and dipped his hand into the liquid. It was like touching silk. “This is beautiful.”
Azriel set down his pack on a rock, then sat to work the laces of his boots. “There are pools like this scattered all over the continent, but they are kept secret. There are rumors that the waters can heal the injured, make wishes come true, make mortals immortal… stuff like that.”
“Let me guess: it doesn’t do any of that.”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
“Why does it glitter?”
“No idea.” Azriel stood, barefoot, and shrugged out of his jacket, fluttering his wings to slide it down them so he could undo the clasp between.
Fenrys watched him. “I was always wondering how that worked.”
Azriel turned. “The shirts don’t have the middle panel. There’s just a clasp on top.” So, half of his spine was revealed, as well as a line of tattoos between his wings.
“Are you going to… swim in it?”
Azriel’s belt dropped onto the rocks. “Yes.”
He stripped of his pants too, then sank into the water.
Fenrys went to the very edge. “Is it cold?”
“No.” Azriel dunked his head. He emerged, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.
“How can you swim with those wings?”
“Well enough.” They were tucked tight to his body. “Are you coming in?”
Fenrys arched a brow. “Are you sure it won’t turn me into a frog or something?”
“It hasn’t done anything to me.”
“Except magically turn you into an asshole. Oh, wait.” Fenrys grinned and narrowly avoided getting splashed.
He shed himself of everything but his undershorts, reasoning that Azriel had seen him plenty of times. Stepping into the water, he found that it was warm indeed and no deeper than his chest. He ran his hands through it in wonder, bathed in the orange light of the falling sun.
“Fenrys.” Azriel’s voice was hoarser than it had been a moment ago.
Fenrys turned to him and threw the water in his face.
Azriel blinked as glittering rivers dripped across his face.
Fenrys laughed, which earned him his own mouthful of water. He tried to splash Az again only to find his wrists caught in each of Azriel’s hands.
“That’s cheating!”
Azriel shoved his head under the water.
Sputtering as he rose, he bombarded Azriel with he could manage. Azriel gave as good as he got.
By the time the war was over (Fenrys won) the sun had slipped all the way down past the sea. Without it, the pool seemed to glow brighter, as if in recognition of the stars overhead.
Fenrys pushed his wet hair out of his eyes as he stared up at the night sky. He took a breath. “Az, can I tell you something?”
“Of course.” Azriel pushed away from the edge of the pool where he’d been watching the sea. He faced Fenrys.
Fenrys couldn’t look at him. “I don’t think I want to go home.”
Azriel was silent for long enough that Fenrys glanced his way. He’d moved closer without Fenrys realizing. “I don’t want you to go home either.”
Fenrys turned fully towards him. “Does that make me a horrible person? I know my brother is suffering in my wake, but surely… surely…”
“His suffering is not your fault. It’s hers.” Azriel caught his eye. “And your brother is just as capable of making it here too.”
“Connall wouldn’t, though. He wouldn’t betray Maeve like that.”
“Then the results of his actions are not your fault either. He chooses where he puts his loyalty.”
Fenrys nodded, even if his heart sank a little in his chest.
“Don’t think about that right now.” Azriel drifted closer.
“What should I think about instead?”
There was a moment of heavy silence before Azriel lifted a hand, dripping in starlight, to cup Fenrys’ face. “Close your eyes.”
Fenrys closed his eyes.
His heart was pounding, arms limp at his sides. He knew what was coming—what had been building these past few weeks. He didn’t know what to do about it, but he certainly wasn’t about to step away.
Azriel, who had seen the ugliest, darkest parts of him. Azriel, who had offered him a way out. Azriel, who had been nothing but honest, even when it stung.
Even when it didn’t.
Fenrys tilted his face. Azriel exhaled, the breath rushing across his skin.
Then his mouth met Fenrys’, soft and warm and everything he’d imagined. He kissed him, leaning in close so their chests brushed. Fenrys’ hands slid around his waist beneath the water. It was unfamiliar. He’d never kissed a man before, never touched one like this. He liked it, he decided. Azriel was solid, unmoving. He made Fenrys feel small, but not in a bad way. Protected. Coddled.
Azriel’s fingers drifted across the nape of his neck, his other hand settling on the small of his back. He broke the kiss before Fenrys was ready, pulling back bare centimeters.
Fenrys opened his eyes.
Neither of them said anything. There weren’t words anyway.
Fenrys leaned in this time, rising up onto his toes before Azriel met him. His arms slipped from Azriel’s waist to wind around his neck.
The kiss deepened. Azriel’s tongue was hot in his mouth, demanding. It was like a leash had snapped and Fenrys suddenly felt himself being devoured, pressed against the stone at the edge of the pool. He loud out a noise of surprise that had Azriel jerking back.
“I’m sorry. I—”
“It’s okay.” Fenrys kissed him again, but Azriel didn’t allow it to deepen.
“No,” he said, pressing their brows together. “I want to do this right with you. You deserve that much at least.”
Fenrys licked his lips. He’d have to do some research, he decided. He knew the basics of sex between two males, but just that. He’d never had the urge to invite a male into his bed, but he’d also never really thought about it. Very rarely did Maeve allow him to seek pleasure in other avenues and when she did, he usually just got as shit faced as possible. Sex wasn’t something he did for himself.
But maybe with Az…
Another day. Fenrys knew if he pushed hard enough, Azriel would give in, but it could wait. They had time.
Azriel lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Fenrys’ brow. “I brought you some of that wine you like.”
“Really?”
“In my pack. Ah, ah, I’ll get it.” Azriel caught his wrist when he lunged for the bag. He was smiling.
Azriel hadn’t brought glasses, so Fenrys swigged from the bottle. The wine was so sweet it was hard to believe there was any alcohol in it at all. In fact, even if it was just bubbly juice, Fenrys would still drink it.
Azriel took his own sip before setting it back on the rocks. He reached for his bag again. “I have something else for you. It’s just something small, really…”
Fenrys drifted closer peering over his shoulder.
Azriel offered him a small rectangular parcel, horribly wrapped in brown paper.
“Did you let a toddler wrap this?” Fenrys asked as he took it.
Azriel scowled. “I wrapped it.”
“I see. So, I’ve found a weakness of the great shadowsinger: wrapping gifts.”
“Just open it, jackass.”
Smiling so hard his face hurt, Fenrys tore through the paper to reveal a small leather-bound book. A tie held it closed and pinned one of the charcoal pencils Fenrys preferred to its side.
Azriel was rubbing the back of his neck. “I noticed you were running out of room in the other one and I thought…”
“I love it,” Fenrys interrupted. He kissed Azriel on the mouth. “Thank you.”
“Cassian bought you some new quills to go with.”
“Spoiling his gift like that? How cruel.”
“It was my idea,” Azriel said around a pout.
The thought warmed Fenrys to the core: the two greatest warriors in this land, whispering behind his back about a birthday gift.
Azriel put the notebook back in his bag away from the water and drew Fenrys back in. “Your Prythian is getting better.”
“You’re damn right it is.”
“Given that you never shut up, I suppose you do practice a lot.”
“Oh, fuck you.” Fenrys pushed him away. “Let’s see you learn a new language.”
“I could. I mean, I would.” Azriel cocked his head, his hair glittering blue. “You could teach me yours.”
“I think you might be too old. What’s that saying about old dogs and new tricks?”
Azriel crossed his arms over his chest. “I bet I could teach you a few new tricks, puppy.”
Fenrys grinned. “Woof.”
Azriel reached out and took his wrist, drawing him back in. He tucked his hair behind a pointed ear and applied his mouth to Fenrys’ throat. “I could have you yapping for me like a proper lap dog.”
Fenrys shuddered and all his confidence bled from him, replaced by the blush that took over his cheeks. He didn’t even have a witty comeback.
“Come on,” Azriel said as he pulled back. “Let’s go home.”
This is the moment that Azriel and Fenrys fall in love with each other. Well, maybe not the moment, but the realization.
*****
Mor sighed obnoxiously as she collapsed in her seat. “Did somebody curse me or something? What the fuck is going on?”
Fenry popped an olive into his mouth, grinning. “Tough break?”
“Gah. I’m practically being ignored.” Mor groaned, dropping her head onto the table.
“Oh dear, Fen, what have you done to Mor?” Cassian asked as he slid into the seat beside Mor.
Azriel took the seat across from him and beside Fenrys, passing out the new round of drinks he’d collected.
“Apparently, everyone’s too busy staring at my beautiful face to look at hers.” Fenrys sighed piteously.
“I even tried flirting!” Mor cried. “Do you know how bad I am at flirting?”
Cassian rolled his eyes. “It’s not that hard.”
“Really? I doubt you even know how to— girls just throw themselves at you.”
“Of course I know how. Watch and learn.”’ Cassian slid closer to her and wrapped a lock of her golden hair around his fingers. His voice lowered. “You busy tonight, princess?”
Mor burst into laughter while Azriel snorted loudly. He was drunk, Fenrys could tell. There was a slight flush to his cheeks, and he’d swayed a bit when he set down their drinks.
“Got something to add, shadowsinger?” Cassian crooned.
“There’s no way that would work.” Azriel sat back, gesturing to Mor. “Look at her. She’s not even blushing.”
“Like you could do any better.”
“Watch and learn, brother,” Azriel purred before turning to Fenrys.
He put a hand on Fenrys’ thigh, dangerously high, and leaned in, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear so he could whisper, “Leave your door unlocked.”
All thoughts flew from Fenrys’ head as he blanched, cheeks aflame. He’d never… Nobody had ever…
Azriel chuckled softly as he withdrew, throwing Cassian a smug look. “That’s how it’s done.”
Fenrys’ tried to control his face and failed, epically.
Across from him, Mor laughed. “Oh, Azzy! I think you broke him. He’s blushing like a virgin.”
Fenrys put his elbows on the table so he could bury his head in his hands, mortified by his own reaction. Az was just joking, for gods’ sake.
Azriel patted his shoulder, which wasn’t very comforting at all. “That’s how you know it worked,” he told Mor and Cassian.
“Don’t tease the poor guy like that. Look. He’s about to have a conniption.” Cassian pushed Fenrys’ drink into his line of sight, which he greedily accepted.
Azriel slung an arm over the back of Fenrys’ chair as conversation moved on.
Cassian jerked his chin to the bar. “Why don’t you show us in the field, Az? For all we know, Fenny could just have a crush on you.”
Azriel chuckled again as Fenrys choked on his drink. He tilted his head, eyeing the brunette Cassian had indicated. Fenrys’ gaze was drawn to the hard line of his jaw as Azriel leaned closer. The movement pushed his side into Fenrys’ shoulder, warming him. “Not my type.”
“Right,” Mor purred. “You’ve got a thing for blonds. Two seats down, in the black dress.”
“I do not have a thing for blonds. Also, she came in with someone.”
Cassian elbowed Mor, wiggling his brows. “He’s been watching her, then.”
“I’ve been watching everybody.” Azriel’s fingers danced absently over Fenrys’ shoulder. “Or have you forgotten my job description?”
“Oh, come on, Az. Indulge us.” Mor propped her elbows on the table, pouting. “We all know you haven’t taken anyone home in months. That is, unless someone is waiting for you there…”
“Stop digging, Mor,” said Azriel, his voice lowering a fraction.
“Ha!” Mor slammed her hand on the table. “I knew it! Fen, you owe me ten marks.”
Azriel looked offended. “Fenrys, you’ve joined in their shenanigans?”
Fenrys sheepishly handed over the money. “You never talk about your lovers, and if you’re getting all pissy over the mention of one, that means…”
“I don’t have one.”
Fenrys snatched his coins back from Mor. “Pay up. Both of you. I told you I could get him to admit it.”
“Goddamnit.” Cassian dug around in his pockets.
Azriel sighed. “Why are you all so invested in my love life?”
“Because it’s so damned boring,” Mor groused. “How long has it been since you got laid, huh? With how bitchy you’ve been, I suspect a month at least.”
“I thought he was normally like this,” Fenrys said around a grin. “There’s some other state beyond absolute grouch?”
“There's a slightly more tolerable grouch.” Cassian sipped his drink.
Azriel rolled his eyes.
Fenrys, who relished any reaction whatsoever from the shadowsinger, couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of triumph.
Triumph, and something else.
*****
Conversation moved on. Azriel was only half-paying attention. He blamed it on the alcohol, but the real culprit may have been Fenrys, laughing at his side. He looked more handsome when he was happy, Azriel thought.
They left an hour later. They still had to train tonight, Azriel had reminded Fenrys when he grumbled about leaving.
As they flew, Fenrys pointed to the mountain peak. “Can we go there?” he shouted over the wind.
Azriel glanced at him, but shrugged. A new terrain wouldn’t hurt. A few minutes later, they landed on the very tip of the mountain.
Fenrys grinned, looking out over the city.
“Why here?” Azriel asked from a few paces away.
“I don’t know.” Fenrys went to the very edge. “Do you ever just want to scream?”
“What?” Azriel came to his side, close enough to grab him if he tumbled.
“Like, just… let it out, you know? Just scream.” Fenrys gazed out at the city. “I guess you’ve never had a desire to be loud. It would be against your dark and mysterious nature.”
Azriel snorted. He had the desire to be loud, to scream and cry and rage, but those were emotions better suited to a saner man. He wasn’t sure if he started yelling that he’d be able to stop.
Fenrys blinked at him. “I don’t think you really get it. Shall I demonstrate?”
Azriel waved a hand. “Go ahead.”
Fenrys tipped his chin to the sky, drew in a deep breath, and roared.
The sound was instantly swallowed up by the wind, torn from Fenrys’ throat. It didn’t sound like anguish or rage or any good reason to be roaring. It was just… sound for the sake of sound.
The last notes vanished as quickly as they appeared. Fenrys turned to Azriel, his cheeks flushed with more than the alcohol. “See?”
“Does that make you feel better?” Azriel asked, honestly curious.
“More than you’d expect. Try it.”
Azriel shook his head. “I think I’m good.”
“Come on.” Fenrys poked him in the ribs. “It’s not going to hurt anything.”
“There’s no point.”
“And does everything you do have to have a purpose? What kind of life is that?”
Azriel crossed his arms over his chest and said pathetically, “Ahhhh.”
Fenrys laughed. “Gods. That’s going to live forever in my mind. Not like that. Like… like a howl.”
“Not everyone is half wolf,” Azriel reminded him.
“Hey, the wolves got this one right. I promise.” Just to show off, Fenrys tilted his face back to the moon and howl, low and loud. This one was different: the haunting bay of an animal rather than the pure emotion of a man.
Azriel couldn’t help but be transfixed.
Fenrys’ eyes opened, as dark and depthless as the earth itself. “What?” he asked.
Azriel shook his head. “Fine.”
Fenrys waited.
Rolling his eyes, Azriel tried not to feel a little shy. He hesitated, then turned away from Fenrys, hands fisted at his side. He didn’t close his eyes like Fenrys and let out a shout like thunder.
The shadows went wild, leaping and quivering, almost as if they were surprised. They licked into the air, devouring the sound almost as quickly as the wind did.
Azriel opened his eyes wide, a hand going to his throat, where the shout had died. And it… it felt good. He felt almost… lighter? That wasn’t the right word. Some things can’t be described by words.
Fenrys chuckled. “How was it?”
“It…” Azriel’s gaze slid to Fenrys’ mouth without his permission. He wanted to consume that grin and all the noice that came from it. Wanted to eat Fenrys alive. “It’s cathartic.”
“It is.” Fenrys sat down on the very edge of the mountain, feet dangling, completely unaware of where Azriel’s thoughts had turned. It was a long few moments before Azriel sat beside him.
“How often do you do this?”
Fenrys tilted his head. “Not as often as I’d like to. It’s hard to find places where you can just scream.”
Azriel’s wings splayed out behind him, curling protectively around Fenrys’ shoulders. The lights of Velaris were a night sky themselves, as breath taking as the first time he’d seen them.
Fenrys leaned against Azriel’s shoulder and yawned. “Do we really have to train today?”
“No,” Azriel said quietly. For his mind was still catching up, still trying to explain the haunting image that had scorched the inside of his brain:
A boy, eyes closed, head back, howling to a moon that was not his own.
Okay so I'm obsessed with Fenrys being with Azriel now because can you just imagine how much they would help each other. Fen gives Az a reason to laugh and pulls out the brighter side of him. Then Az helps fenrys through some of his darkest moments and teaches him that he doesn't have to be the kind of person that everybody likes all the time.
Like in what I'm working on rn, fenrys gets accidentally teleported to velaris while he's still working for Maeve and while Rhys is under the mountain. And he feels so guilty enjoying himself there while his brother takes his punishments at home but he also hates that he can't do anything to help them. So the inner circle decide to train him to go get Rhys because he can go through the wards and he and az slowly fall in love
And can you imagine fenrys having nightmares and az just pulls him closer and doesn't say anything and just lets him cry because he misses home and he misses his brother but fuck that bitch maeve and then Az makes him tea and lets him just spill everything out and kisses his wrists and cups his head because sometimes the world doesn't need more words and az can't actually fix anything but damnit he can make it hurt less
And then can you also imagine fenrys making the absolute worst jokes until Az has literally no choice but to laugh and fenrys will do literally whatever it takes to hear that sound. And az hates that he's so happy around fen at first because hes still focused on getting Rhys back and he doesn't think he deserves it but then fenrys gets him to talk about Rhys and it gets EASIER
But then fenrys gets dragged back into his world and nothing actually changed but they loved each other damn it and that was enough. And az still has dreams of him where he wakes up and forgets he's gone for a second but then the grief hits him like a tidal wave. And fenrys has to go back to Maeve and he can't tell anyone about Az because Az is just so precious to him and he can't risk Maeve trying to go back to their world so he just misses him in silence and goes back to being the cocky little shit that hides his emotions
And just... What if they loved each other on purpose what if they knew there was an end date but they still both put their whole hearts into it and they would do it over and over and over again because knowing each other for a limited amount of time is better than having never met at all and never been held like that and never laughed like that
But then one day they find their way back to each other because a love like that cannot be caged by something as pathetic as the universe
And anyway I just thought I'd rant because I need other people to talk about this crack ship with and I'm making a mood board and if I don't say anything about how beautiful they would be together I might explode
