Ignite

I wasn’t going to for a little while but then your ask came through and I though ‘oh maybe in the next week then’ - and then this beauty from an anon came through

and your unknowingly combined effort has persuaded me - so thank you. Knowing that people still like my writing even after months away is such a big confidence boost - so thank you again. And I hope you enjoy!

PART 1

—

They stare at each other for a moment, breathing heavily, both frustrated and curious and needing so much - but Cassian’s cry of frustration and Feyre’s yell of success spark them into action immediately.

It does nothing to break the tension.

Elain wonders if this is what being a magnet must feel like, constantly being pulled towards its counterpart, having to struggle and fight to ignore that attraction.

There is a heat at her back, the brush of his hand as they quicken their pace.

They are rushing, scrambling towards something - and she doesn’t know what it is, but her body almost trembles with anticipation. And want.

Waiting in the main lobby is excruciating - and yes, she is being dramatic, but she thinks the situation calls for it. Az stands at her side, arm brushing her shoulder, pretending to find ease and comfort in Cassian’s jokes and Rhys’ taunting - but Elain can see the tension in his quiet smile, the way his eyes dart down to her every now and then, how his jaw clenches and his eyelashes flutter when her fingers brush his.

This is completely new territory. Elain is diving in blind, adrenaline building at the thought of exploring the unknown. And oh, how she does want to explore. She finally wants to run her fingers across the scars she knows marks his tan skin, wants to kiss his neck and dip her tongue into the crevice of his collar bone and -

“We all ready to go?” Feyre asks, watching her curiously. It makes Elain’s heart stammer, stop briefly in her chest. She probably knows. Elain curses her sister’s uncanny ability to read the people in the room.

“I just want to head to the toilet, if that’s okay?” But Elain doesn’t wait for anyone to comment. She dashes to the ladies bathroom, walking as quickly as she can without running, and only stops when she reaches the sink.

Every thought in her head is completely obscene - completely unlike her. Obviously she isn’t immune to flights of fantasy like this, but never has she been so consumed. She runs the tap, splashes cool water on her cheeks and with closed eyes finds herself slipping back into a few moments ago.

She wants to blame the dark, the intensified emotions, the way her adrenaline was already coursing thanks to the game. But she knows it’s just the tension that’s been building for months. His lips had been so close - so, close. She touches her own lips, briefly wishing she knew what they felt like.

A cough interrupts her reverie, and Elain’s eyes flash open. Az stands behind her, meeting her gaze in the mirror, and Elain freezes. His eyes drop to watch a bead of water follow the curve of her lip - she automatically licks it away, his jaw clenches.

“You alright?” It sounds rough, low, unsteady - it makes it harder to breath.

“This is the ladies.” She states in return, shutting off the tap, rushing to come up with some excuse - something far from the truth.

“I asked if you were okay.” His voice is a little clearer now, but his arms are still crossed and his posture is still tense. Elain turns, ready to reply that yes, she is completely peachy, when she realises how close he is - and in hindsight, it isn’t actually that close. But the bathroom isn’t exactly big, and bottling that much tension into one, small space is like waiting for a cauldron to boil over. She is painfully aware of how few steps she would have to take to be toe to toe with him.

“I’m-“

His eyes drop to her lips.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

And then they flash back up to meet her eyes.

“What?” He sounds strangled, completely unprepared for this conversation. But he shuffles towards her slightly, and definitely doesn’t sound offended by the idea of kissing her - so Elain continues, growing more frustrated by the second, and moves forwards until they stand close, sharing the same air.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Az is silent for a moment, arms hanging down by his sides but with clenched fists. Like he’s stopping himself from touching her. She wishes he would just give in.

“I just didn’t think you’d want to.” He finally admits, and Elain feels everything at once. Respect: for the man that is clearly prepared to wait. And frustration: for the man that is so observant yet so totally oblivious when it comes to her. “Look, El, I’m sorry for what I pulled back in the game and I understand if it freaked you out-“

She definitely wasn’t raised to be rude, or to interrupt other people when speaking, but listening to Azriel be even slightly self deprecating is hard enough to hear at any time - and she just really, really wants to kiss him.

So she does.

It’s just a light peck, and Elain even manages to miss his lips slightly, instead landing on the corner of his lips. But it lingers, and it makes him fall silent.

She pulls back, smiling softly up at Az who is still adorable stunned.

“Sorry - it’s just you think too much.” And she is taking a step away, towards the door - but she doesn’t make it far, because Az is already cupping her chin and pressing her close and finally, finally pressing his lips squarely on hers.

She always thought kissing Az for the first time would be like licking melting ice cream, melting in the sun - steady, light, delectable. But this - oh, this is frantic, like two people who have been waiting for so long to finally kiss each other, like they only have seconds to enjoy each other’s touch.

Elain is backed up against the sinks, lifted, pulled back against Az by her thighs. His lips are just as soft as she imagined - a softness that is broken by the nipping of teeth and the harshness of heavy breath.

He pulls away, travels down her jaw to her neck.

“You never, ever have to apologise to me.” The breath and words against her skin leave a soft whimper spilling from her lips and have her legs tightening around his waist. His hands grip her tightly in return - but never tightly enough to bruise. It makes her chest ache, the way he always cares enough to keep her safe. Th

Then his fingers are dipping under her shirt again, simply exploratory, without aim or intent - and hers do the same. He breathes in sharply, only to press his teeth lightly against her neck. It feels like a game of cat and mouse, except the roles are constantly reversing and Elain never wants to stop.

She is about to force is head away and turn her attention to his neck when a sharp series of knocks at the door has her pulling away from him. Az’s head remains pressed against her shoulder, breathing heavily against her skin.

“El, you guys okay in there? It’s been a while.”

It’s Feyre - and she must know, must have figured it out by now if her previous curious gaze in anything to go by. But if she’s figured it out, then she’ll also cover for them, so Elain quickly replies - even if she sounds out of breath.

“Yeah. I just felt a little nauseous. I’ll be out an a sec!”

Feyre is quiet for a moment, and Elain has to bite on her lip when Az places an open mouthed kiss to her collar bone. She digs her fingers into his hips in retaliation, and soon feels his smirk.

The bastard.

“Okay. Cool. I’ll let everyone else know.”

And then Elain hears Feyre’s retreating footsteps, and lets out a sigh of relief.

Az soon raises his head, pressing his forehead against Elain’s and brushing his nose against her own. He is smiling so widely at her, so contently that Elain can’t help smile back. His happiness is intoxicating. He is intoxicating. She wants to pepper kisses across his cheeks and take a photograph of that smile to keep it in her memory forever. Not that she could ever forget.

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” It comes out as a whisper, but she has never been this sure of anything else. His fingers trace her cheek and he laughs, breathily, happily.

And Elain has never felt so content.

——

you can read more about it here, and here- this excerpt sums up what information Hum will send: 

It tells the user what sites/apps you’re going on, for how long you’re on them, and WHERE YOU ARE ON AN UPDATING MAP.

So you know if you’re in an abusive household and use sites like tumblr to escape and talk to friends, you could be cut off from that.

we LOVED writing this prompt! And, of course, we chose Elorcan because we’re trash. Enjoy this fluff written by @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty and myself. ;)

Elide had slipped on an old tee shirt, ready for bed. Her hair was thrown up into a bun on the top of her head and she walked down to her kitchen, getting the coffee maker ready for the morning. She yawned and smiled thinking of the next day. A Saturday, with absolutely nothing planned.

Just the way she liked it.

She’d just turned the tv on when she heard her name being yelled from outside her front door, then a loud, obnoxious knock.

She threw her blanket to the side and ran to the door, just as her name was called again. She couldn’t tell if it was in agony or annoyance, but she opened the door with trepidation anyways.

And found Lorcan bracing his arms on either side of her door frame. Even so, he still towered over her.

“Hi,” he said, laughing. “Whatcha doin?”

Elide blinked, then looked over her shoulder at the clock on the microwave. “Are you…drunk?”

He smirked and said, “I might have had a few shots.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “And by a few, you mean?”

His eyebrow furrowed, which could only mean he was trying to count in his head. “I lost count after number seven.” When Elide’s mouth dropped open, he pointed at her. “But! Whitethorn said I couldn’t out drink him. That bastard owes me $50.”

Elide said, “Oh my god,” and rubbed her temples.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

She looked up and saw genuine curiosity — even if it was a little hazy — in his gaze. “Of course, I am, it’s just- how did you get here, Lorcan?”

His eyes narrowed as if trying to remember. “I think I took a cab.”

Elide shook her head. “Just…come in.”

He did, and toed off his massive boots off without Elide needing to ask. They landed by her tiny pair of Vans, absolutely dwarfing them.

He strode inside, throwing his long hair back over his shoulder. “Hey.”

She shook her head and chuckled. “Hey, you.”

He stopped and looked around, sniffing. “Do I smell popcorn?”

She laughed. “Yes, you do. Come on.”

“Were you watching a movie?” He asked, plopping on the couch.

She watched him, slowly closing the door behind him and following him into her living room. “Yes. I was going to. I have tomorrow off.”

He began eating her popcorn. “Oh. I want to watch.”

“Okay,” she laughed, and walked around the back of the couch. “Do you want something to drink?” Before he could answer, she cut him off and amended. “Something non-alcoholic.”

He huffed. “You’re no fun. Do you have a water bottle?”

“Sure do.” She made her way into the kitchen, coming back with a water bottle and a glass of red wine.

“Hey!” He protested, reaching for the wine.

“Ah ah, nope.” She slipped the bottle into his hands. “Mine. You’ve already had at least seven shots. I’m cutting you off.”

She took a sip of her wine and he pouted, blowing a lock of his hair out of his face.

“What movie are you watching?” He asked, a moment later.

She shrugged, taking a sip from her glass. “Romantic comedy. It was a long day. I need some laughs.”

Lorcan raised a brow. “Bad day at work?”

She sighed. “I spilled a tray of drinks on an elderly couple after tripping over my own two feet so, yeah, something like that.”

He snorted, earning a glare from Elide. “You should’ve gone out for drinks with us.”

She had gotten the invite from Aelin a few hours before, but had ignored it. She shrugged. “Wasn’t really in the mood at the time.”

He nodded and leaned back on the couch. A comfortable silence filled the room while the movie started, and Elide tucked her legs underneath her on the couch. She set the glass of wine on the coffee table.

With grace that a man of his size and inebriation should not have, he quickly snatched it up and brought it to his lips.

“No, no, noooo,” she drawled, grabbing it back. “This is mine. And I don’t share.”

“Not even with me?” He asked, a hand to his chest.

She had always found Lorcan ridiculous when drunk, mostly because he was typically far more serious.

Even though he had always had a soft spot for her, and her alone.

“Not even with you,” she said, smiling. “Especially when I can smell your whiskey-coated breath from all the way over here.”

He propped his foot up on her coffee table and brushed his hair, once again, out of his face. “You wound me, woman.”

Summary

Cassian and Nesta are existing tenuously side by side in the Illyrian camps when Nesta finds a stack of letters addressed to her that he never sent.

AO3 | tags: angst and idk what are tags anymore when all you write about are feelings

*****

Illyrian males rarely suffered from illness, but Nesta cursed the Cauldron that put her in the path of a one who should suffer so thoroughly due to his own stubbornness.

After days of hiding a cough and pretending that his allergies were oddly unseasonable this year, Cassian had nearly passed out on a training field. Straggling to the cabin he shared with Nesta, he had collapsed onto his bed, muddy shoes and all.

Nesta hadn’t bothered to say she told him so. Instead, the moment he stepped a foot indoors she had pointed to the stairway leading to his bedroom, and gone to prepare food and medicines. She wasn’t adept at dealing with sickness, either as a mortal or as, well, whatever she was now. But she did know men when they fell ill, and that Cassian’s aggressive dedication towards routing out the rebellion in the camps would have pushed him nearly to a breaking point.

They barely spoke to one another on a normal day. Nesta’s rage was clamped down to the point that at any moment, she knew her anger at her exile might come bubbling up in unexpected ways, and she would make Cassian so very, very sorry that he had ever thought to be her keeper.

Another oneshot written alongside my beautiful BFF, @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty . Enjoy. :)

Nesta stood outside his door, the sound of the rain intruding her thoughts.

She’d been there for ten minutes, getting soaked, unable to find the courage within herself to knock.

She’d been a bitch.

She was always a bitch.

It wasn’t even that she wanted to be, but she couldn’t help it. It was a sickness. A disease. Part of herself that she loathed.

She wouldn’t blame him if he hated her.

She wouldn’t blame him if he never spoke to her again.

He’d given her chance after chance, and she let him down every time.

Letting loose the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, she lifted her fist to the door to knock.

The door swung open before she could make contact.

As he sized her up, looking at her drenched hair, the way her clothes clung to her body, she looked at him.

The suit he wore was cut to fit his strong frame perfectly. The black bow tie laid untied against his chest. His hair had even been combed and pulled back into a loose bun at the back of his head, pieces hanging loose around his face.

She said, “You’re busy, I’ll come back later” at the same time he said, “You’re soaked, come inside.”

They stared at each other for another moment before she walked inside, placing herself just within the threshold.

She wanted to tell him she was sorry. Wanted to tell him that he was right, about everything. But nothing came.

And he didn’t push her. He simply shut the door behind her with a quiet click.

Nesta stood there, rain dripping onto the small rug in his entryway. They stared at each other, the eventual chill settling into Nesta’s bones, and she began to shiver.

Cassian walked down the hall into the bedroom. He returned a moment later, clothes wadded up in his hands and held them out for her. She took them and stepped into the small bathroom across from the master bedroom.

She sloughed off her sodden clothes and laid them over the side of the tub. She found he had given a pair of fleece lined leggings and one of his football t-shirts from the University of Velaris. And a lacy black pair of panties.

She didn’t know why the underwear caught her so off guard. She’d left him almost 6 months ago, left him on one knee in the middle of the revelers at the Starfall Gazing Festival, a ring in his hand. It was only normal that he’d have found someone new, that he’d have moved on, in the most physical of ways.

She pulled the dry clothes on and threw her dripping hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head. She dug through the cabinets until she found a pack of makeup removing wipes and rubbed it over the lingering mascara smudged under her eyes.

When she made her way out of the bathroom, Cassian was lounging on the couch in a hoodie and sweatpants, flipping through the t.v. stations on mute.

“These panties fit nice,” she mumbled, a hint of jealousy controlling her voice.

The corner of Cassian’s lips quirked upward. “They should. They’re yours.”

Nesta froze, suddenly feeling stupid. She said nothing more as she sat opposite him in an armchair.

“You look good,” she said, quietly, at last.

“You only say that because I was wearing a tux,” he joked, but his heart wasn’t in it. This was as painful for him as it was for her, seeing each other.

“No, I-.” She took a deep breath and looked at where her hands were pressed together between her thighs. “I just meant that it’s good to see you.”

“Really, Nes?” he asked, and she didn’t glance up towards him, knowing he’d be looking at her. “It’s good to see me?”

Silence filled the room and she tucked her legs underneath her. She cleared her throat and he looked at her. The words she’d been preparing to say shriveled in her mouth. Instead she said, “The house is coming along nicely.”

“What are you aiming for here?” He asked, not unkindly, but it was clear he was on his guard.

“What do you mean?” She looked up at him then, she saw the barely concealed pain in his hazel eyes.

“You’re asking questions about me, about our hou-.” He stopped and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. “About the house. You’re being kind.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Kind,” he repeated. “The one thing you can never be. That’s what you told me, remember? That you couldn’t be with me because you weren’t kind, because you weren’t fit for my life.” He was standing at this point, pacing around the dark living room. “So help me understand, Nesta, what’s going on. Because I can’t figure out what’s happening when I open my door to leave, to go on the first date I’ve had since you left, since you destroyed me, only to find you standing on the front step, looking so heart-stoppingly beautiful that it causes me physical pain.”

Nesta couldn’t breathe.

He had been about to go out on a date. A nice date, too, judging by his attire.

And she had ruined it for him.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

And he laughed. He actually laughed. “You’re sorry?”

All she could do was look up at him, at the rage that simmered in his eyes. She stood and turned towards the door. “I should go.”

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

The way his voice broke nearly crumbled her resolve.

Her voice came out as a whisper. “Everything,” she breathed. “I’m apologizing for everything.”

He stepped in front of her. “What does that mean?” He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “What are you doing here, Nes?”

She wanted so badly to tell him, but there were so many emotions running through her mind that she could hardly sort them.

She was sorry.

She was sorry she had left him, rejected him, had made him believe that she hadn’t loved him.

Because she had loved him.

She had loved him so much that she didn’t want him to waste his life on her.

“I’m not good, Cassian,” she whispered. He groaned and pulled on his hair, freeing it from the tie at the back of his head. “You are good and kind and you love so hard and I’m not good for you. You deserve someone who is as bright and wonderful as you are. I’m just…” She struggled with the words. “You’re the light that makes the room glow. I’m the shadows that the darkness cowers into.”

He stared at her for a long time, silent, unmoving.

She felt like she was going to puke. “Please,” she whispered. “Say something. Anything.”

“I wanted to spend my life with you,” he said, voice low, weak. “I was ready to spend my life with you and you rejected me because that’s what you think about yourself?”

She hadn’t realized there were tears streaming down her pale cheeks until the sweet, salty taste could be felt against her lips.

She hung her head and the tears dripped onto her bare feet. She wrung her hands in the front of his t-shirt, the shirt she hadn’t worn in 6 months. “I was going to take that light from you. You wouldn’t have been happy with me.” The silence settled between them. “Not forever.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are to decide that for me?” He breathed.

She looked up, met his gaze, the fire igniting in her eyes, her spirit. “Don’t speak to me like that.”

He barked a humorless laugh. “You can trash yourself but when I call you out, calling bullshit, suddenly I’m the bad guy? Nesta, I know who you are! I know every little damn thing about you, and there is not one thing I do not love.”

Not did. But do.

She didn’t ignore the way his voice broke on that last word.

Love.

“Why?” The one word was cracked, shattered like her spirit. “Name one thing about me that’s worth it.”

Cassian crossed the space between them, cradling Nesta’s tear-stained face in his hands. “You.”

Nesta blinked, waiting for him to go on.

“You are worth it, I need no reason to love you, but if you want them, I’ll tell you.”

Nesta couldn’t believe that he was touching her, that his lips were so close to her own. She gripped the front of his sweatshirt, terrified to let him go, fearing that he would step back if she did.

“I love you because your heart, despite what you believe, is so full of love for your sisters. You would do anything for them.”

He pressed a kiss to her right cheek.

“I love you because you aren’t afraid to call me out on my bullshit.”

He pressed a kiss to her eyelid which had just fluttered closed, as a tear fell.

“I love you because you love so fiercely, nothing can stand between you and those you care about.” He stepped back. “Except for yourself.”

She shook her head, but no words came.

“You are worth so much more than you believe,” he said, his breath warm against her skin. “You deserve happiness. If it’s with me, Nesta, then let me love you. Let me love you.”

The tears began anew and again, she shook her head, her tears falling onto his sweatshirt, darkening the places they landed. “I’m not worth it, Cass. I’m not worth your love.”

His lips pressed softly against hers.

He had always known how to shut her up.

“Don’t,” he began, kissing her once more, “ever say that.”

It was not an order, but a plea.

His weak voice shook with every word.

She wanted him.

Had never stopped wanting him.

“I love you,” she breathed. “But I am so scared to do so, so scared to give myself, heart and soul, over to someone. To give someone that power over me, that power to destroy me.” He began to step back, hurt wiping any emotion from his face. She gripped the front of his sweatshirt tighter, holding him in place. “But there is no one I trust more to protect my heart than you, Cassian.”

He froze, then his eyes drifted from her’s to her lips, then to where her hands were gripped in the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Fear.

She had always been fearful, had always been unsure of how to handle that fear.

But Cassian was the opposite of fear.

He was her light, her comfort, her salvation.

He pried her hands from his sweatshirt. The noise that left her was one of despair, but he pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

She looked up at him, saw the sincerity in his hazel eyes, and nodded, sitting in the chair behind her.

He backed out of sight and down the hallway. Nesta sat there, nothing but the television and a small lamp in the corner illuminating the dark room, and closed her eyes. She listened as the clock ticked, counting every second he was gone. She listened as Cassian dug through something in his bedroom, the bedroom they used to share. She listened as the rain beat against the glass of the windows, wondering how exactly she had walked the miles between her run-down apartment and Cassian’s house. She listened as his footsteps padded back down the hall. She listened as she heard him stop in front of her. And when she felt something metallic and cold press against the tip of her ring finger, her eyes shot open.

He was down on one knee, just as he had been months before.

“Cassian,” she breathed.

“Don’t speak,” he said, holding her hand, the ring he’d proposed with months ago, poised to slip onto her finger. “Don’t say anything, just…” He brought her other hand up, pressing a kiss to her palm, before resting it against his cheek. “Just be with me, Nesta. I love you more than I can put into words, but I’m willing to prove that love for you every day. Yes, I can be a stubborn prick, but you love that about me.” She quietly laughed, though it also sounded like a broken sob. “I love you. Be my wife. Be by my side. Forever. Please.”

The words halted on her lips.

The feeling inside of her was one she had rarely felt throughout her life.

Until she’d met him, loved him.

It was a beautiful feeling, but one she had run from once before.

And here he was, asking again. Loving her through her faults. Down on one knee, still wanting to love her, forever, unconditionally.

Her voice was nothing more than a whisper as she said, “Okay.”

“‘Okay’?” He laughed. “I don’t even get a ‘yes’? I get an ‘okay’?

She grabbed his sweatshirt and crashed his lips to her own, kissing him like she’d been dreaming of for months. Breathlessly, she asked, “How’s that for a yes?”

I’M CRYING HE’S STANDING IN THE ASS-TITS POSE

surprise edits: the carstairs meet the internet for @ariadnebridgestock

❝Sometimes a family is a hundred and fifty year old ex-silent brother, a shadowhunter-warlock hybrid, their baby, the angsty 15 year old they adopted, and the ghost of the the aforementioned warlock and silent brother’s dead husband.❞