Lovely, Chapter 1 {ACOTAR}
A new joint project we’ve been teasing you with for months! @tacmc and I will be writing this mullti-chapter together. The posting will be similar to our last joint fic, Tending to the Fire. Just like TTTF, we will be alternating when posting chapters and there will be links on both of our Master Lists, so you’ll be able to read the whole thing, no matter who’s page you visit! The main difference from TTTF is the writing style.
Rather than trade off on writing chapters, every chapter will be written together. Whether that’s different POV’s, brainstorming via FaceTime, or literally picking up in the middle of the sentence the other was just working on, this entire story will be written as a team. We’ve talked about doing this for years and I’m so glad we’re finally getting the opportunity to make one of our dreams come true!
Now please, enjoy the first chapter of Lovely!
The sun was slowly creeping along the floor when Azriel’s alarm went off. As he rolled over to stop the incessant chirping, a small form stretched out from under the blankets and emitted a quiet noise of contentment. He lifted the sheet to see his small, black cat snuggling back up against his side. He gave the cat a light scratch on the back of her head and she opened her golden eyes a crack to look up at him before rolling over and snuggling back under the covers. Azriel laughed before throwing the covers off of the bed and standing up.
As he made his way down the stairs, he heard Nyx’s small paws hit the floor as she jumped from the bed and followed him, her bell jingling the entire way. The bell was an absolute necessity, seeing as the cat seemed to be made of shadow, appearing only when she wanted to. Reaching the kitchen, he scooped some food out of the bag and refilled her near empty bowl. She immediately set to devouring the food, the only noises her tiny bites and her bell clinking against the glass bowl.
As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he turned on the tv and mindlessly flipped through the channels, settling on a news station that was currently showing the traffic in Velaris.
One of the perks of owning your own business? You got to make your own hours. One of the perks of owning a tattoo parlor? Those hours were usually later in the day than most people. He never had to deal with traffic, especially since he only lived a mile and a half from his shop, but since he had some things that had to be done this morning, he’d be running around town and didn’t want to get stuck behind the accident that was currently causing a backup on I-24.
He decided to forego breakfast for a shower and headed back upstairs, still hearing Nyx’s bell ringing dully as it tapped the glass bowl. When he walked out of the steam filled bathroom and headed to his closet, he found her fast asleep in the same spot she’d been in earlier. His lips quirked up in a half smile as he dressed in his normal attire of all black, but rather than the hoodie and jeans he usually wore, he put on his black suit, with a black button down beneath. He gave Nyx a quick scratch behind the ears, much to her delight, and made his way back downstairs, stopping only to grab his keys and was out the door.
Sliding into the driver seat, he popped open the mirror and ran a tattooed hand through his messy hair one more time. He couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to be different, that something monumental was going to take place. He didn’t know what it was, but he was going to be prepared for anything.
“Mr. Draeven, my client isn’t going to give up any of her days with your son, but is willing to give you an additional visit, supervised, of course, once every other week.”
It took everything in Azriel not to slam his fist onto the mahogany table before him. He lifted his eyes to the prick in the suit before him. It was designer, high end. The lawyer was clearly paid for by her father. Even with the ridiculous amounts of child support he paid each month, she wouldn’t be able to afford this man’s hourly rate on her own. Before he could say anything, his own lawyer spoke up.
“Azriel has done nothing but lost visits with Asher since Ms. Hamadi started this pointless custody battle,” Helion said, standing and walking around to the other side of the table, looking out the window at the Valeris skyline. He turned his back on the Armani clad man and Azriel watched as his face turned a bright shade of red. He had to stifle a laugh.
Azriel was absolutely lost in the midst of this custody battle, something that should never be happening if his son’s mother wasn’t hellbent on keeping Azriel from Asher. Helion had gone to high school and college with Rhysand and had become a friend of his own. If it wasn’t for him, for him being willing to take his case on pro bono, Azriel would lose any chance he’d have at time with his son.
When the papers has been served and Azriel didn’t know what to do, he called Helion and his friend immediately dropped what he was doing and was at Azriel’s home within minutes, looking over the papers with him.
She was trying to take Asher away from completely, no visits, no contact, on the grounds that he was unfit. Nevermind the fact that Azriel was a business owner, made charitable donations to the city, and actually had a job, unlike- unlike her.
Helion encouraged him to counter her, to claim that she was an unfit guardian. He knew she still went out and partied, spent most of her time at the bar, club or anywhere she could get fucked up. If she hadn’t still been living with her parents, parents he was sure were really the ones taking care of his son, she wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.
Rhys told him what he already knew, that she was still out drinking and leaving with different men every night. He didn’t like using his best friend as a spy of sorts, but since he was a bartender at her usual spot to pick up her latest prey, he did what he had to to build a case against her.
That was how all of this had started, how he even had Asher in the first place. He’d been drinking at Rhys’ bar, enjoying a long weekend with his family. Her teal eyes captivated him from across the bar. He was drunk enough that he silently slipped away from his group of friends, new shots being poured in front of him, and made his way over to her. He learned her name and asked her to dance. He’d spotted them watching him as she ground against him, Mor’s eyes burning into his own, but he was too far gone to care. She’d asked him to come home with her after that and he agreed, deciding this was a one time thing.
He didn’t meet random girls at the bar. He didn’t let them touch him like he was letting her do. He didn’t go home with them. But he made an exception that night.
And it was only once. They were only together once, but they awkwardly exchanged numbers the next day as he fumbled to get his clothes on and get out the door. Both claiming they would call, both knowing they never would. Azriel thought he’d never see that mess of blonde hair again. But he was wrong.
She came into Rhys’ bar all the time, somehow not realizing that the bartender was his best friend. She even hit on him quite a bit, an invitation Rhys politely but firmly turned down. Azriel always made eye contact with her but never acknowledged her, and she never seemed to even act like she recognized him. He knew it was better that way. No strings. It was done and over.
Until she stopped showing up at the bar for a few weeks and then one day his phone rang.
She was pregnant. She was pregnant and she was sure it was his.
He’d been at Rhysand’s when she called, had stepped out to the back porch to take the call. He’d vomited his lunch up onto the concrete slabs. His family - because that’s what they were, closer than friends - rushed out and watched him, his skin white as death, as he finished the conversation and ended the call, slipping it into his pocket.
“She’s pregnant,” was all that he said, and none of them had to ask who he meant. They had all seen them together that night.
So began an extremely frustrating 7 months for Azriel. He wanted to be a part of his child’s life, but she did everything in her power to keep him out. He’d call her almost daily, to find out when her next doctor’s appointment was. She’d lie, tell him a bogus date and time, and he’d show up at the OBGYN, only to find out her appointment had been the day before. She’d just claim she’d gotten the dates mixed up. He constantly asked what she needed for the baby and she’d say her parents had it covered. When he asked about the gender, she went ghost. He couldn’t get ahold of her for weeks and he nearly went out of his mind. She even kept him from the birth of his son, only finding out when a mutual friend shared a picture on Facebook.
He never tried to have a relationship with her. He didn’t want one and it was clear that she didn’t either. But just because he didn’t want a relationship with her didn’t mean she could keep him from having one with his son, his own flesh and blood.
After his meeting with the lawyers, which she just happened to never be able to make, he headed off to his parlor. He pulled off the interstate and started through town, passing Rhys’ bar and his apartment. The open sign was on and he debated stopping in, not for a drink but just to see his friend, to tell him about the latest mess she’d caused for him. He kept driving though and when he was less than a mile from his shop, he saw a red convertible pulled over on the side of the road. The hood was up and smoke was pouring out of it. The girl leaning against the trunk with her head in her hands looked so downtrodden that he felt it in his soul. He’d had a shitty day, too. Maybe he could help someone else’s be a little better.
He pulled his truck over to the side of the road behind her. She immediately lifted her head and looked up at him. This wasn’t a girl. This was a young woman. And she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
His hand froze on the door handle and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. They were mesmerizing. Her hand fluttered to her chest and that small movement spurred him into motion. He hopped out and asked her, “Are you okay?”
His words seemed to snap her out of a trance of her own. She blinked once, twice and glanced back towards her car. “I- Yes, I’m okay. I was on my way back to work and my car just…stopped. It died.” She ran a hand through her brown hair, the sun bringing out the strands of gold. “I have to get back.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and Azriel’s eyes snapped to her lips.
“I can give you a ride, if you want,” he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder, towards his truck. He saw the hesitation on her face and gave her what he hoped was a soft smile. “Or I can take a look at it, if that would make you more comfortable.”
“Would you?” She asked, excitement ringing through her light voice.
“Of course,” Azriel said, removing his suit jack and tossing it in the passenger seat. He rolled his sleeves up, revealing the black ink that covered almost all of his body. He saw her eyes snag on whirls and swirls and made his way to the front of her car.
“I’m Elain, by the way,” she said, holding out her hand. He took it, shaking it once. “Better to do the introductions before you get all dirty.”
He laughed and nodded. “Agreed. I’m Azriel.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel. Thank you so much for helping me.”
He blushed slightly. “It’s no problem. I couldn’t very well drive by without seeing if you were okay.”
She rolled her eyes and a small snort left her mouth. “It didn’t stop the rest of Velaris from doing so. I’ve been stuck here for almost 30 minutes”
He couldn’t explain why that made him angry, so instead of responding, he began exploring her car’s engine. He wordlessly moved hoses and opened caps carefully, letting the steam out as slowly as he could. He saw the gaping slash on the hose and stepped back, leaning a hip on the fender. “Well, do you want the good news or bad news?”
Her face paled. “Bad. Always start with the bad.”
He nodded. “Your radiator hose is busted. Not a hard thing to fix, but you definitely won’t be driving this back to work. The good news is it’s a really cheap fix.”
She groaned, face up-tilted towards the sky. “Of course.” She glanced back down at him, watching as he carefully lowered the hood. “Is that offer for a ride still available?”
He smiled at her and opened the passenger door. Elain glanced at the height into the cab and Azriel raised his brows, understanding dawning across his features. “Oh, sorry. It’s kind of a climb.” He grabbed a rag out of the back seat and whipped his hands off. After making sure his hands were absolute clean, he glanced to her waist. “May I?”
“Oh,” she blushed. “Sure.”
His hands wrapped around her slim waist and he lifted her up onto the bench. He made to shut her door and she said, “My purse!”
“Where is it?” He asked, already stepping toward her car.
“In the passenger seat, would you also grab the bouquet from the back?”
His eyebrows rose. “Sure.”
Heading to her car, Azriel thought of the reasons she would have a bouquet of flowers with her. She didn’t mention that she was on the way to the hospital, so condolences didn’t seem right. Same for the cemetery, though it wasn’t too far from here. He tried not to think of the most obvious reason, especially with how heart-stoppingly gorgeous she was: that she had a boyfriend. As he opened the rear passenger door, it became clear that had to be the case. The fluffy mass of peonies and buttercups was so lovingly made he knew it had to to cost a fortune. Only someone who cared for another so tenderly would be willing to pay that much for flowers.
Opening the door and stepping up into the truck, Azriel handed Elain her purse and flowers. He suddenly didn’t know what to say. Not that the short conversation they’d had was stellar by any means, but it had been easy.
“So,” he began, starting the truck. “Where am I taking you?”
He mentally slapped himself as he realized how rude that sounded. It didn’t seem Elain noticed though, gazing at the flowers, adjusting petals here and there.
She answered cheerfully, “You can just drop me off at Nova Café. I was planning on stopping there for lunch anyways, and I can walk to work from there.” She looked up and beamed at him. “Would you care to join me? My treat, for the ride and for looking at my car.”
Azriel only blinked at her. “I don’t want to cause any problems.” Now it was Elaine’s turn to stare blankly at him in confusion. “With your boyfriend,” Azriel clarified.
Elain laughed, placing a hand on her chest and blushing. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Azriel turned to look at her. “I just figured- With the flowers …” he trailed off.
“Oh, these aren’t for me,” Elain said, awkward laughter causing her the pitch of her voice to raise slightly. “No, I’m just delivering them. I did make the bouquet though.”
“You made that?” Azriel didn’t hide the surprise in his tone.
“Yes, that’s what I do,” Elain laughed. “I’m a florist. I own Bespoke Floral Boutique.”
The name was familiar in Azriel’s mind, but he couldn’t pinpoint how he knew it. “That’s amazing.” A genuine smile graced his features. “Lunch would be great.”
Nova Café wasn’t far from his shop, so it worked out well. They grabbed a quick bite to eat and chatted, the conversation flowing easily between them. Before he knew it, he looked down at his watch and noticed it was nearly 12:15. Elain had barely made a dent in her sandwich.
“I have an appointment at 12:30, so I’m going to have to get going” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Elain had been taking a bite of her sandwich and covered her mouth as she chewed before asking. “Appointment? Are you a doctor?”
The incredulity on her face didn’t offend him, it just made him laugh. “Definitely not. I’m a tattoo artist.”
“Oh,” she said, understanding lighting up her brown eyes. “I can definitely see that. I don’t have any tattoos.” She lifted her arms up, showing off perfect, pale, creamy skin.
“Well if you ever want to change that, gimme a call.” He smiled at her as he stood.
Elain blushed but looked down. “How can I do that when you haven’t given me your number?”
Azriel’s eyes went wide. A blush began to creep across his face as well. Elain pulled a pen out of her purse and scribbled her number onto her napkin before she handed it to him. “It was nice to meet you, Azriel.”
“You too, Elain.” He gave a her a dazzling smile, and a wink as he slid the napkin into his pocket, before heading out to his truck and heading to the shop.
As he parked the truck and looked back to make sure it locked, he saw why her flower shop had seemed so familiar.
Across the street, in a building so unlike his own, hues of pink and yellow and orange contrasting the black and greys of his own, was Bespoke Floral Boutique.
Cassian had a love/hate relationship with the night before he went back to work for the school year. He loved the idea of getting his instruments out of the closet, cleaning them all up, and setting up his room for the months to come. He loved the excitement that thrummed through his veins when thinking about the hopeful students that would be walking through his door in a week’s time.
But, he hated that Summer would be ending and he couldn’t sleep in until noon or spend his days by the lake with his friends.
He decided to spend his last night at the bar, sitting alone, on his third beer, chatting with the bartender.
“Where’s Az?” Cassian asked, taking a tip from the cold, glass bottle. “Have you talked to him? I called about an hour ago. Never answered.”
Rhysand shook his head while he poured a dozen shots of tequila for the bachelorette party a few seats down. “No, which probably means it didn’t go well this morning.”
Cassian grunted. He hated that Azriel couldn’t see his son. The whole situation pissed Cassian off to no end. Azriel didn’t like to talk about it, though. None of them pushed him to talk about it, but they could see the toll it was taking on him.
“Maybe I should go check on him,” Cassian said, draining his bottle and tapping the bartop for another.
“Don’t,” Rhysand said, popping the top off another and placing it in front of his friend, his brother. “He doesn’t want to be bothered. Enjoy your last night of freedom.”
“You make it sound like I’m going to prison.”
Rhysand chuckled as he dismissed his friend to tend to a tall blonde at the other side of the bar. Cassian checked his phone. Still no text from Az, and it was getting late. He had to be at work at eight.
After a brief wave to Rhysand and a quick chug of his beer, Cassian was hurrying out the door and was tossed into the bustling streets of Velaris.
Although a Sunday night, the city was still crowded with groups of friends and giggling couples captured by the beauty of the Sidra.
Cassian breathed in the fresh air, shoving his hands into his pockets. He had a high alcohol tolerance but still liked to walk to and from the bar, just in case. Besides, he didn’t live too far away from the building in which he spent most of his nights - at least the nights that Rhysand worked.
The stars were bright, shining through the quickly growing crowds. Typically, in the cities, the stars were diminished by the bright lights of the streets and the buildings, but not in Velaris. Cassian tilted his head back and watched as he strutted down the sidewalk.
Cassian felt it before he saw her.
His eyes darted down to his foot, which was on top of a small, heeled black boot. When he met the eyes of its owner, he cringed.
With eyes like ice, a young woman about a head shorter than him was glaring.
“Sorry,” he said, stepping back. “Wasn’t paying attention.”
“Obviously not,” she muttered.
She attempted to step around him but he followed her lead.
She took a deep breath as Cassian asked, “What’s your name?”
“Can’t your overly large feet take you somewhere that isn’t an inconvenience for me?”
Cassian grinned. “You know what they say about big feet.”
“They’re attached to idiots?”
As Cassian laughed, the woman once again stepped around him but this time, Cassian watched her go.
“It was nice to meet you!” he called.
She gave him a vulgar gesture before turning the corner behind Rita’s, into an apartment building.
Feyre didn’t even realize, as she picked at her boring salad, that she was tuning Tamlin out. Something about hearing him gloat about the major investment he secured at work for the thousandth time wasn’t as exciting to her as it was to him.
“Isn’t that right, Feyre?”
She jerked her head up, looking around at the table of his colleagues. His grass green eyes were boring into her own. She could read the annoyance in them, the aggravation that she wasn’t fawning over him like the other broker’s wives and girlfriends were. She’d been content to sit this dinner out, to stay at home and paint.
Tamlin had told her, in less than sincere terms, that wasn’t an option.
“I was just telling Dagdan,” he motioned to a dark haired man down the table, “that one more deal like this and there will be a ring on your finger.”
A year ago and that thought would have filled her with joy. A year ago and nothing would have excited her more than the prospect of being Tamlin’s wife. But things had become different between them lately. More strained. More tense.
He had begun to treat her more as an object than as the object of his affections.
The declaration drew her up short. “We’ve never discussed- Tamlin, I-.”
The woman sitting directly to Dagdan’s left, Brannagh, if her memory was correct, chuckled under her breath. The woman was near identical to Dagdan. Twin, sister, lover? Feyre couldn’t tell.
“Is something funny?” Feyre asked, setting her fork down.
Brannagh’s eyebrows rose and she looked like a cat that had just spotted a fat mouse to play with. Play with, before it consumed it bite by bite.
“Nothing is funny,” Tamlin interjected, quickly turning the conversation into safer territory. As they spoke about their work, Feyre again tuned the group out. She moved her salad to the side and began to pick out a piece of chocolate cake. She didn’t eat it, just mashed it to pieces and began to use her fork to make intricate swirls of icing on the plate. She brought the fork to her lips to clean it off.
The fork was snatched from her hand, the plate removed from in front of her before she could realize what was happening. She looked up to find Tamlin moving it down the table. His coworkers were all finishing up and it seemed as if they’d finally be leaving soon.
“What are you doing?” She asked, incredulity slipping into her tone.
“You don’t need that,” he said, and threw a brazen glance at her body. “You should probably start running with me in the mornings, too.”
That quiet chuckle from Brannagh again and Feyre was seeing red.
“Excuse you?” she whispered.
“Need to take care of your body, especially if we’re going to be getting married. I need you to look your best, baby.”
In a flash, Feyre was on her feet, glass of wine in her hand. And then…it wasn’t.
Then it was in Tamlin’s face. And his hair. And his crisp white shirt.
Without a word, Feyre grabbed her purse and walked out of the restaurant.
Her phone started buzzing before she’d even made it 20 feet from the door. She let it it ring and ring, surprised he hadn’t physically come after her. She continued to walk, trying to put as much distance between herself and the restaurant before he could decide to follow her.
It wasn’t long before the clouds that had been rolling in all day decided to finally open up and all at once, it began to pour. Feyre cursed and looked around, trying discern where she could go to get out of the rain.
A doorway was nestled into an alcove and Feyre saw the neon open sign was lit. She ducked inside and leaned against the wall.
She was drenched. Absolutely and totally drenched. Water dripped off of her dress and ran in rivulets down her legs. She ran a hand over her face and looked around. It was only then that she noticed she was in a bar. A completely empty bar, not even anyone behind the counter to mix drinks.
A glance at her watch told her why. It was 8:45 on Sunday night. Most people were at home with their families. Most people would be gearing up for the work week or ready for school.
The thought had Feyre walking farther into the room and sitting at the bar itself. She held her head in her hands and tried her hardest to keep the tears from sliding down her cheeks.
“I’m never one to assume, but I think you could use a drink.”
The alluring voice a few feet to her left startled her and she quickly sat up, looking in its direction. Violet eyes stared back.
He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
“Do you want a drink?” He asked, quietly, hesitantly.
Feyre’s voice cracked as she whispered, “Please.”
He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask what she wanted as he turned around and poured two quick shots of whiskey, a glass of Coke, and set them down in front of her. He picked one of them up. “What’s your name?”
She picked her shot glass up and said, “Feyre.”
He clinked his glass against her own and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Feyre. I’m Rhysand,” and tossed the shot back.
