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rarephloxes · 8 months

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A Feeling So Peculiar

Elain Appreciation Week, day 7 - Free Day

Hi friends! Long time no see:))))

I've been extra busy with life and med school, but this fic has been brewing for some time now, and what better moment than @elainarcheronweek to share it? This is part 1 of what I endearingly call the Healer!Elain story. It's officially my first fic with a Taylor lyric as a title and I'm very proud!!!

Anyway, here is this fucking thing <3

(1)

A ghost slides through the flaps of a tent into its cold, vacant interior.

The space is cramped, a rough bed of furs, a small table filled with piles of heavy tomes, ink-splattered journals, and clothing. The heavy smell of mold, grass, and candle wax permeates the air, almost tangible like dust through a shaft of yellow light.

There’s a slight tremble to the hands which reach for the half-burned candles sitting sadly on the far end of the table, lighting them with slow, feeble movements, the only survivors of a dreadful day.

Hands that are not blue and translucent, but pale and corporeal, numbed from the cold but filled with blood.

The ghost doesn’t contemplate any of it, set in her chore. There are things to be done, still. It is night and she’s gone inside. Yet it repeats, a loop inside her mind, there are things to be done.

A swoosh of breath sparks a coal-smudged piece of timber which quickly develops into a sickly fire. It barely warms the minute space. It’s necessary, nevertheless. Like her, it does its job.

Tent.

Light.

Wash.

Lay.

A book with its spine cracked allows a weary mirror to lean on it, a lonely figure moving through it. The specter in the mirror finds a copper bowl, frigid water inside, a ring of humidity staining the book cover used as its resting place. A smudge of soft pink and crimson reflects on the rust-speckled surface. A braid of what used to be bright brown hair lays limp on a tired, curved spine, brown eyes with deep purple half-moons underneath - the only hint of color on once flushed features.

Her face remains impassive as her hands dip a cloth beneath the icy surface tinting the water brown.

The amount is insufficient to wash away the grime and blood of the day, but Elain will not leave her tolerably cold tent for more, so she makes do.

Alone she lingers in her chair, the only creature inside, water dripping from her hands and drawing patterns in the dirt powdering her arms.

An image intrudes her mind, for a few seconds. Warm tan hands bringing a deep bucket of water they would heat themselves with a careful touch. She thinks of the thankful smile she’d give for it. She wonders, the thought whispered like a swish of butterfly wings, of what his face would say as he cares for her. Maybe his scar would reflect firelight just so, and she would forget where she is and allow herself to blush. She welcomes it, for the minute it sparks until the next when it fizzles.

As predicted, the water is only enough for her arms and face. Once, the disgust alone would be a reason to risk outside, maybe dare the nearby stream, or else sleep would escape her stench, running away with a hand plugging its nose.

Elain plops down on her pallet, fur covers warming her body, her tight muscles consoled by the rough structure beneath. It is in no way comfortable, only it’s reliable and quiet. One of the best tents in their camp, the one privilege the High Lady’s sister has, if only because it is the only one to be had.

Most importantly, it doesn’t die or spray contaminated blood into her face. It does its job as it is, with all its faults. It stays still through the night and belongs to her.

There’s sleep to be had. Poor, fitful sleep. But it does its job as it is.

Tomorrow, she knows, she’ll immerse herself in the unforgiving cold from the stream, and a faerie will emerge, dress, and present herself to her duties at the main healer’s tent.

There’s always work to be done.

(2)

The first time Elain sees a healer, there’s a woman screaming. Loud, painful bellows that have harried maids coming in and out of heavy wooden doors with buckets of steaming water, clean and in turn, bloody towels. Nesta holds her shoulders, small fingers digging absently into Elain’s clavicles through her pink cotton nightgown. Barely a year older than Elain, yet she sees such wisdom in her eldest sister’s eyes, as if Nesta knows all the secrets of the universe at the soft age of 7. There’s no place in Archeron Hall Nesta could go where Elain wouldn’t follow. They’re supposed to be asleep, but there are no dreams to be had during a storm like the one that has been pouring down, soaking the garden soil into swimming pools for frogs and threatening to bring down even the wisest and sturdiest of oak trees.

Soon, there will be a deafening quiet, quickly followed by a babe’s booming cries. Elain thinks it just like the noise that sounds right before one of her father’s ships is about to leave the shore, taking fairy dust and bright-colored jewels to the continent, where they will be sold to queens and wizards. She knows it because Nesta is always explaining the world around them to her.

It’s Feyre, born in the bleak hours of the night, lighting tearing down the sky like a claw through silk.

Their governess catches them, huddled by an alcove, spying on the birth of the smallest of them as if they are as inconspicuous as flies on a wall.

“Come,” she demands, a small smile on the tough line of her lips, “Your sister awaits you.”

It’s the only time a healer was the bringer of fortune and good news.

(3)

Madja had her fingers pressed around Elain’s wrist.

The ancient healer’s brown eyes were focused on the time counter ticking on the wall, steady knobby knuckles cradling Elain’s palm.

If Elain had feeling in any part of her body, if even a single inch of soft, hollow skin wasn’t as numb as a reflective glacier tip, she would have been able to feel her own heartbeat fighting against the High Lord’s favored healer’s fingertips. Her wooden eyes, however, remain filmy, like coffee sat still cooling outside for too long.

The bedding should have been the downiest she ever felt, the warm hug of a thousand sheep who only survive in the mountain range closest to Dawn Court. Called Woolen Peaks, because during spring one would be hard-pressed to find a stretch of land free of the bleating creatures, also known for secreting iridescent mucus from their blue snouts. A sea of endless white.

Elain should’ve loved to have known that, should’ve giggled, and maybe even requested to see such charming animals.

Once, she might have.

There were no sounds in the bed chamber but those of instruments being enclosed in a lovingly used leather bag, which promptly vanished into the fold between worlds for later use.

“I believe tea is in order” Madja said in the rough monotone of age, voice traveling through the air, her gaze watchful like a wise tree, leading Nesta and Feyre to exit the sunlit room.

Elain was profoundly grateful for the silence, the stillness of her mind, her whole being stripped down to understanding the heat around her, registering the passage of time solely through decoding the illumination, no previous knowledge guiding her thoughts, images of old folded into drawers, only an amalgam of threads in her mind, the fear to pull at any of them curbed, until any will was pressed so flat it vanished into particles. The effort, like stopping water with a barrage of hands, to tune out rhythmic drumming in her ears.

There were the dreams, of course. Sad. Unavoidable. Drenched in foreign sentiments that left her dizzy and breathless, trembling through the aftershocks of a rumbling earth no one else seemed to notice. Those came and scrambled her meticulous system of calmness. Elain, in her excruciating bouts of clarity, hated them with a strength her strange body found unfamiliar, hated how they made Nesta look as though she was watching a duckling swim into a waterfall through a looking glass. How they made Feyre’s face contort into hopelessness.

Hated how they made her see.

Those are not mine; she’d plead silently on particularly violent nights; I would know, I once would have known.

Elain closed her eyes and searched for the wall of dark swirling steel delimitating her mind. The ivy branches were nearly covering every inch of cold metal now, blooming in sleepiness. Her closed lids allowed the sun breaching the skin to paint her vision a newly comforting shade of red.

Red had always been Nesta’s color. Nesta’s dresses, Nesta’s fire, Nesta’s anger. Or the insubstantial maroon of the fire in her family’s frozen cottage, the violent crimson of the carcasses Feyre brought home. Those had never awakened thoughts of safety before. Protection, maybe, like a cage made of thorns and spikes. But never the safety of a hearth, of burgundy crackling fire.

Now, when her thoughts gently explored the unknown paths in her mind, red would forge itself into crisp Autumn leaves. Bergamots and warm skin

Elain buried herself deeper into the covers.

She left before contemplating any of it.

⠀

(4)

There is a house on a land that is surrounded by ivy-covered iron walls.

A wrap-around porch cracked open by vicious thorns that sprout from the ground, the rotten wood gouged open, foliage like teardrops on every crack, splinters shimmering on air, spores in the wind.

A felled roof, with a mighty willow trunk through it - a stab wound on a soft, white underbelly - warms the rain inside in a mother’s embrace, a shroud of dark green moss slipping from the gable into the stillness inside

The front door is open, a beckoning hand of wispy white smoke so thin one wouldn’t be sure whether it is only a trick of the pressing nebulous light.

If a breeze like the grey finger of an ancient hand were to curl around it and move the hinges in a half-moon motion, a woman would be seen on the inside.

She is tucked upon herself, sleeping on disintegrating wool and dye, the remnants of a beautiful rug. The slope of her waist breathes up and down like the rolling of a hill.

The room around her is filled to the brim, clocks covering an entire wall, some pointers spinning madly onto themselves, some turning with the patience of a grandfather reading a book to his lineage.

Rain, it reads on the chipped blue label of a numberless clock, a hand circling in a rhythmic tick, a mass of angry black clouds where midnight should be, the drawings changing around the wheel from April showers to jolly drizzle.

There are rusty gardening tools beneath a boarded-up window and opened sacks of humus bleed into the abandoned floors. Unnervingly arranged dead seeds form a stream towards the shadow beneath a hand-painted chest of drawers.

An open portmanteau rests on the wall framed by rays of moribund light squeezing through rickety walls; lavish ragged dresses and dusty stuffed bunnies swimming within; pink baby shoes and over-washed underskirts having a tea party at the bottom.

Lined-up novels on bookshelves lay on top of each other in the comfort of touch, interspaced with torn childish letters in alphabetic order. A tiny cloak made of velvet hangs on a chair as if a visitor dropped by for tea.

A precarious chandelier hovers watchfully over the lonely sleeping woman, unsafe chain links repaired with strong white threads that spread unevenly on the whole ceiling.

Guarded by an unnatural radius of clean floor, a white gown lies.

Sewn to perfection, beaded with gleaming pearls and the most delicate of laces. Impeccable seams, regal lines.

A dress made mindful of love, of promise. A dress fit for a future princess.

A rumble of thunder shakes the house as the pointer in the blue clock approaches woeful clouds.

Next to it, a black clock with eight bent lines shooting from the sides of its mechanism box moves from sleepy lids to the daunting indication of bug wide eyes in a resounding clang.

Come see, flurry black bodies with milky white eyes descend on long lines of silk hanging from the ceiling. Siblings, mothers, and children crawl over the mold, spidery legs fortifying supporting beams, the walls, covering memories in a shield of white.

Come see come see come see come see

I do not wish to open my eyes; she mumbles.

I do not wish; she rolls to her side; her nightgown catching in the shards beneath.

I do not want; she covers her face with a feeble palm.

I do not feel; she insists.

You must, the wind howls, rattles her clothes, scrapes down her skin. Your house is dying.

The hearth coughs soot, black and filthy like a diseased lung.

I do not see; she screams, eyes sewn shut, tears fighting to slip through the sutures, cracked fingernails pulling at the roots of her hair, weeds from soil. I am no longer this body.

The unstoppable hand of time reaches midnight.

Storm water slides down the walls in a furious current, washing away the grime and dislodging all the clocks. Those crack and splash onto the rising puddles on the floor with various clangs, cuckoos flailing madly in their springs before falling into final silence.

The bookshelf cracks under a stretch of ceiling that collapses, books losing themselves from each other, weeping in their solitude as they drown in now waist-deep water, loose papers with family drawings (Mum, Dad, Nesta, Me, and Feyre) soften and rip, the colors bleeding and blending into undistinguished blobs of ink.

Seeds of all shapes twirl wildly in whirlpools, and a window box of dead flowers floats aimlessly in the chaos. In the aquatic graveyard beneath them lays a dress of snow, pulled until it is trapped below the floorboards; a bunny covers itself in an old velvet cloak, lingering tragically hopeful underneath the hand-painted dresser.

Cobwebs are unwoven by each violent raindrop, supporting beams breaking like bones.

The woman stands limply in the midst of it all, eyes unseeing, unaware of the fatal torrent around her.

There is a cause to her silence, just as there is a cause to a collapsed house.

I am made of fear, she mulls under the debris, quiet in the wreckage, silent in the aftermath

There’s nothing else for me but forever.

(5)

The House of Wind’s library was the biggest private collection Elain had ever seen. Rows upon rows of carefully curated stories, some ancient with cracking leather covers, tell-tale signs of use staining the spines, dented with the accumulated pressure of readers’ hands. Other books seemed new, the residual smell of press machine oil and ink lingering on the pages, spines unbroken.

Nesta had smuggled romance books from their old village’s dusty bookstore for years, kept them below a loose floorboard in their cottage, discreetly wrapping them in old, moth-eaten clothes to prevent damage. Nesta had cherished those books, had wished for them, and would come into a nasty mood when it was time to return them to the store to avoid the wrath of a deceived salesman with the law by his side.

Old habits die hard, Elain discerned, as her sister slipped a pocket-sized, pink-covered booklet into the folds of her dress. Even with permission to own the piece, Nesta still chose to take it for herself like a criminal. Never conceding, never compromising.

Elain eyes remained unmoving while she made her inspections, the unbending lids to the husk which sheltered her thoughts. She had been counting the organized shelves, internally categorizing books within her eyesight.

83 with single-worded titles, 6 – 12 letters.

102 with double-worded titles, the first being predominately articles.

329 with three words in the title, a maximum of 27 letters.

A small fold in her brow flattened into the clear glass of her forehead, all the muscles in Elain’s face relaxing as the shallowness of her research settled her bones.

Elain was perched on the window’s nook, manufactured lightness to her sentience, while Nesta was lounging straight-backed on a velvet armchair, both hawk-eyed towards their worries. Biscuits grew stale and tea turned cold in gleaming silver trays between them.

There was one volume, Elain noticed, with undisguised and not yet restrained annoyance, which clashed horribly with her elegant system of grouping books by minimalist names. There’s control in succinct titles. There’s calmness in brevity. No space for subterfuge, for mazes or threads leading to somebody else’s memories, eyes not of her own.

A raging woman made of flame, screaming screaming screaming-

One blink of cavern-like pupils.

514 publications with respectable construction.

Not that one, though.

Norton’s Concise Manual for Swift Diagnosis and Treatment of Battlefield Injuries

First, it blatantly lied. There was no brevity of title or length, the heavy-looking tome glaringly thicker than a closed fist. A deceiving book. Elain’s head moved to the side, instinctually, the skin of her neck folding into the unpracticed movement.

A deception not even attempting to remain cloaked. What a disagreeable structure.

No balance, no harmonious restraint.

11 words in the name, what indisputable distaste.

70 letters made tiny to fit into its obnoxious shelf back.

Elain wanted it gone.

(6)

The guest room was soft, like the lingering feel of worn leather.

There was light everywhere, reflecting from mirrors and vanity vials, bleaching the dark wood floors. It created the most delightful shapes under her eyelids if she gazed out the window just right.

Incandescent.

Perfectly blinding.

Elain could stay inside all day, motionless above uncreased bed linens.

Frozen in the armchair with a book resting in peace on her lap.

Unless, of course, it was night.

There was nothing uncovered beneath revealing starlight.

No cave, no shelter, only the stoic awareness of a seasick mind.

Melting snow; ethereal crestfallen swans; the breakage of a woman who would have never begged; a lake so deep it is bottomless.

Bottomless black eyes, all-seeing, swirling, a current so strong it is the hands that push you down, down into the whispering voice that loves you while killing you.

The shards of porcelain on the floor were still beautiful, if only someone mended them.

Elain grabbed each one and placed them delicately on a tray, using a finely made doily to sweep the warm tea spilled on the floor

She padded slowly down the stairs, nightgown dragging around her feet.

Broken china rested on the kitchen countertop, Nuala would take care of it, see to it with the loving touch of an artisan who was ageless and immortal.

Elain reached for the multicolored leaves inside a mason jar under the window, setting them inside the copper pan with boiling water over the stovetop.

Only her hands, if she blinked, started to wither with age, and a black box of fury appeared between them-

The coolness of the counter beneath her young, translucent fingers.

Her mind stalled for half a second, hesitating, unsure, then searched until it found it.

Anger for the unpalatable book.

Elain had something to do.

⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ

Libraries are known for their solitude. A place for reflection, for diving deep between words, for biting into a book and spitting out a seed-shaped thought.

Elain walked barefoot on the soft expensive carpet beneath her feet. Sangravah patterns, she noted, not quite sure of how she had known so.

The book still stood where it always had, after Navigation for Beginners (3 words, 23 letters). It was just… there. Like its existence wasn’t a disrespect to the Mother herself.

Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared, clumsy and irritated hands grabbed the dark blue cover and, unprepared for its weight, let it fall with a muted thud.

The pages fell open, a warm invitation, into the carefully drawn figure of a lacerated spleen. ( when the pages fell open, her eyes couldn’t help but see)

Mindful of the spleen’s vascularization, a Concentric Mending Spell (page 278) must be placed using the middle, ring and little finger, pinpointing the magic into the gash and closing it quickly thus avoiding fatal hemorrhagic shock. The healer’s pointer finger and thumb must only locate the laceration, while the palm concentrates the spell, and the latter three fingers expel it. Previous use of whole-hand magic in repairing interior cuts has led to unwanted tissue adherence and is advised against when in treatment of internal organ damage (see Index for Whole-Hand Magic).

Elain blinked once, then twice.

Smoothness replaced the furrow in her brows and with a short tilt of her head, Elain brushed back her golden curtain of hair with an absent hand as she ran the pad of a curious finger along the lines, her knees completely pressed down on the rug.

Those instructions sounded nothing like the healing she had experienced from Madja.

The ancient fae had only felt her, placing her palms on either side of her head or using unfamiliar copper tools to measure some information she deemed important but escaped Elain’s logic. Madja had moved her hands over Elain’s body as she had once seen a Child of the Blessed do over a clear glass orb during a town square fair.

A quiet, expanding bubble of pressure grew from the pit of Elain’s belly until it lay underneath her skin, soft light shimmering behind once dulled, wooden eyes.

The intricate directives from the book were precise and sure, based on wisely curated knowledge and the pure need to guide those who could be good to others. Save them, even.

Elain held the book kindly in her hands, resting it on her arms as she skittered over to her room in fastened steps so as not to attract unwanted attention.

Under the shy rising sun of the following morning, a side lamp - a friend to a sleepless, captivated woman in a sunlit room – rested with its oil completely burnt.

(7)

The townhouse was empty when Elain woke up.

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, most of the house’s occupants were busy, political figures with a multitude of urgent daily tasks.

Not that Elain was particularly aware.

She had been furtively reading every healing book she could get her hands on, and the more fascinated she became, the less she seemed to register the comings and goings of the routine around her.

She could barely help it, could she? It was an entire world she was becoming privy to. It had never occurred to her as a human to be curious about such things. In fact, she doubted anyone in the Human Lands had any notion of the delicacy and potency of Healing. The healers back home had to rely on herbs, cold or warm wet cloths, and wishful thinking to cure someone, if they were even able to achieve such a feat.

Not home anymore, she would think, instinctually, and remember the towering walls she longed to be housed within, of luxurious balls, of blue eyes so bright they were sapphires, of a simple band of iron on a delicate finger.

Elain turned to her books.

Mending charms, diagnostic spells, potions. Instruments with the most varied, peculiar purposes. Special needles could be used to draw blood, and expertly assembled lenses could reveal what lay within it. Armbands imbued with magic could indicate the strength of a patient’s blood pressure.

The body was made of such intricate systems, which worked together magnificently to perform delightful, orchestrated functions. She was mesmerized by all of it.

Elain had also taken to helping in the kitchens as well. Nesta and Feyre tended to worry and watch Elain much more closely whenever she stayed in her room too long, and it was exponentially harder to read what she wanted when they were around.

You shouldn’t concern yourself with these things, she feared they would say, the shadow of a winged male behind them. Maybe you should try reading something else, something with nicer pictures, or lighter stories to ease your mind.

Those kind words, seemingly thoughtful advice, and concern would dwindle her precious books one by one, and then she would have nothing again.

Elain hated it too, how they were always looking at her with disheartened gazes. Not only her sisters but of all the Inner Circle. They never understood anything of what she had to say, would never credit any of her thoughts. Even the fox twitched its nose and bent his head to the side with confusion - on the occasion his face wasn’t drenched in pain and longing.

But she had tried. She had told them of the changed woman with feathers set aflame. Warned them of the tempestuous owner of the onyx box, only for it to fall on seemingly deafened ears, her speech only another line added to Feyre’s forehead, another bolt of iron in Nesta’s spine, another worry for someone else had to deal with.

Only Elain could see, and for that, she remained invisible.

The dough flattened smoothly under the roller; Elain’s arms loosened into the motion. The floured surface of the worktable was crammed with little jars of sugar and jams, multipurpose cloths, and an open cookbook. She would finish her pastries, leave them resting on the windowsill then hurry upstairs. Hopefully, her sisters would see them and take much longer to search for her, allowing Elain to have the afternoon she was carefully crafting for herself.

With the soft ding of an egg-shaped time counter, Elain took out a tray of perfectly golden crusted squares and placed them on the cleared table.

There was, if she was honest, a soothing quality to baking. The gentleness of each step lulled her mind and made it easier for her to tune out external and internal frictions, focusing only on the motion of her body.

As she dried her hands in her apron, pastries gleaming with homemade poisonberry jam, Elain heard the soft padding of boots down the hallway, a slithering shadow curling around the doorframe and disappearing as quickly as it came.

With haste, she fled the kitchen and went to her room to find the singularity of calmness.

⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ

Dinner was a loud affair, as it always was, so Elain waited until they were all overtly satisfied and tipsy to approach her sister in the drawing room. The looming threat of war had yet to diminish the utter happiness Feyre’s return had on Rhysand and his friends.

Feyre was sprawled on the couch, the spot next to her newly vacated by a stumbling Mor, who had claimed the need for beauty sleep.

“How are you feeling today?” her sister asked, her long fingers dragging lovingly over Elain’s arm. A caress she is sure her sister would have never allowed herself to even try, if it weren’t for the drink-induced fog on her mind.

“Just fine,” Elain said, and then with the planned drop of her chin and the openness of seemingly unsure eyes, she continued “I was wondering if you could call for Madja again,”

Fey sat up in alarm, which could attract Nesta’s piercing, preoccupied gaze, so Elain hurried to add “She mentioned some sort of sleeping draught the last time, I believe I could make good use of it,”, watching the other side of the room with the corner of her eye to make sure Nesta was still in her hushed conversation with Amren.

“Oh,” Feyre visibly relaxed, and some of the tension harbored between Elain’s shoulder blades loosened. “Of course, I can send for her,” her youngest sister confirmed, and the tight fist of anxiety in Elain’s gut released its tight grip, replaced by tentative anticipation.

“I’m so glad you’re taking care of yourself.”

⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ ⠀ ོ

The calendar on the wall indicated the start of the weekend.

I believed it Monday still, Elain thought to herself.

She was sitting in the living room, having a late breakfast by the window.

An odd sight, the antonym of the barely acknowledged empty chair below early sunlight, collecting the friendly conversation around. There was no one else to notice so.

Feyre had told Elain the previous afternoon – while hurriedly moving down the hallway, rushing outside for some appointment she didn’t even consider explaining - that Madja would come to the townhouse at ten o’clock in the morning, and that she would try to join the appointment, but was unsure if she would be able to.

Nesta was, as she so often was those days, in Amren’s apartment, strengthening her magic. Elain thought she’d heard why that was but couldn’t remember.

Maybe a dream, then.

Distantly, something in Elain longed to also have that privilege. A tutor, someone to guide her in learning this well of uncharted territory inside, but that consideration was swiftly swept under a sodden rug.

A knock on the front door had Elain on her feet, shaking her head as if staving off an unseen fog.

It had been considerably hard, trying to maintain herself awake. She had reached and held so strongly to the absence of her mind that it had become nearly impossible to keep herself lucid on the rare occasions she had wanted to. There was a particularly interesting book on the history of Healing Magic, thankfully written in the common tongue – unlike a large part of the Medicinal Section in the library – that had Elain repeatedly dozing off, either proverbially or literally, in the same way, she had gladly done numerous times. Before it had been a welcoming state, the static of nothingness, but it was consuming her now in a way she hadn’t understood, glad as she had been for the reprieve from her life.

These epiphanies often came and went like waves. Sometimes she would allow the ships to go in with the high tide and return with small storytelling orbs of white light. Sometimes the boats would be swallowed whole by the tyrannical sea, drowned to the bottom until only a clear empty surface stretched on, the reflective glow of crystal spheres crushed in the sand below.

Now, she wanted something more.

There were things she wanted to know.

Madja stood on the front steps in her healer robes. The magic surrounding her was cool and soothing, the relaxing breeze on a perspired forehead. Elain wondered if the old fae is the type to enlighten a room simply by standing in it.

Elain ushered her into the already prepped sitting room, an open notebook, its pages organized in scribbles, sat on the arm of the host’s armchair.

“You seem to be in better spirits,” Madja began once they were both comfortable sitting, pleasantries exchanged. “But I was called in to see the need to prescribe sleep medication.”

“I asked my sister for your presence, yes” Elain stammered. “I have questions, and was hopeful you could aid me in finding the answers,”

Madja sipped her tea with steady hands and eyed Elain with a look she had seldomly encountered directed at her.

Interest.

“My time is yours, Lady Elain.”

The leather-bound notebook was humid from the sweat in her hands, some ingrained sense in her mind making the back on her neck pinprick and her knuckles curl as if afraid of a straight ruler.

“Well,” she breathed in once, then blinked. “In most medical texts, there are numerous examples and experiments on healing fae bodies. I found in one of Joseph Norton’s books many references to the need for quick healing, done with moderate care, and modest effectiveness rates yet high survival chances. Practices are much more rudimentary than the ones from Annabelle Rite’s manuals. She maintains through all her works the extreme need for balanced, methodical, time-consuming procedures, which allows her to utilize whole-hand magic with minimal side effects, and it seems so curious to me that she would even attempt to do so with so many predecessors discouraging it so deeply...”

She shook her head again, blushing – truthfully! - in a fashion she hadn’t for years,

“But I am unsure of why would fae people even need healing practices, if there are entire collections dedicated to explaining the varied ways in which the body heals itself, at higher rates than any other known species. Wouldn’t the spells muddle the body’s own magic? It sounds unnecessary, why isn’t it enough?”

Madja settled her teacup down and laid back further in her armchair, eyes crystalline and lips tugging at the side for an aged smile.

“It would depend on what sort of injury we’d be discussing. Internal bleeding, for instance, if small enough will be dealt with by the body’s own magic. It is noticeable in the evolution of hematomas, as they change colors as the blood is reabsorbed and the blood vessels are restored. Now, when internal bleeding comes from blunt trauma – falling from a high distance, for example - the body would not be effective in healing itself quickly enough. The simplest reason for that is, as much as some try to state otherwise, faeries aren’t perfect. The healer’s job, in this case, would be to work with the patient’s own natural healing magic, potentialize and organize it to ensure they would be able to regain all their functions. It can often, in presentation, be much more complicated. Norton’s protocols would be a particularly safe choice, seeing as they prioritize promptness, and in high-risk situations, those are inevitably what a healer with a multitude of variables to solve will likely tend towards.”

“A stab wound, on the other hand, is much more critical, and with hemorrhage comes the diminishing of the natural magic. Then, suturing charms or manual stitching might be required with the danger of losing the patient completely if not done in proper haste.

Rite’s protocols, I’ve found, are much more appropriate for long-term care. You seem to have read her book, so perhaps you may remember that most of her case studies and examples center around lasting injuries or chronic illnesses. I’ve seen impressive improvements in previously immobile limbs, once from almost permanently dormant to near full range motion from her Wavelength Spells.”

“Mind Injuries, which differ greatly from both, are perhaps the most elusive sort of healing. It tends to be intuitive, and it takes considerable skill to allow the healer’s magic to run unbound in the patient’s body without any harm, and an even greater amount to ensure recovery.”

“I would add that Faeries, High Fae or otherwise, tend to see themselves as infallible due to their perception of immortality, but healing magic and healers came from the tested and true knowledge that there is much frailty in being fae, to the utmost displeasure of the others of our kind. A healer’s job, as I’ve discovered, lies in giving them a second chance.”

“Oh,” Elain said still flushed, and resisted the urge to press her palms to her cheeks.

She could barely believe she had dragged this female from her prior, likely much more important engagements to come and explain to her the seemingly most logical and obvious concepts she had ever heard.

No wonder no one took her seriously if even with the amount of literature she had consumed in the past days (weeks? or months?) she couldn’t make sense of the most common of concepts.

How could she think— How delusional she must have been to even consider herself able to understand such a complex subject –

“Thank you, sorry for taking up so much of your time.” She made herself say, prying her stiff knuckles from her notebook, five crescent moon shapes on the once plain black leather cover. Her teacup clattered mortifyingly on its plate as she moved to pick it up, brown eyes irreflective.

“That was quite refreshing, Lady Elain. I haven’t had a chance to mull over healing in such a long time… Most of my protocols are so inherent to me, I find myself doing them instinctually.”

Elain wouldn’t learn this about herself for many years, but her ears twitched most daintily, disturbing some strands of her golden-brown hair.

“That is very kind.”

“There is a Healing Program here in Velaris if you find yourself with time. It is mostly lectures and debates. There is a selection process, but from what I gathered, you’ll have no problem enrolling.”

“I want,” she whispered, half dazed, teacup clutched tightly in her hands.

“If you believe I could… Yes, Ms. Madja, I want it.”

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Thank you for reading! I would LOVE to know what you feel about it ;)

I'm working on part two, if you want to be tagged to find out what sort of crazy shit imma put my baby Elain through, let me know.

Special thanks from the bottom of my heart to @bittermuire and @sunlightsage for being the sweetest most supportive and most amazing beta readers I could have asked for! You mean the world to me :)

#elain week #elain archeron #elucien #if you squint #you guys i love this one ok #elain archeron fanfic #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #acotar fic #ana writes #i went full nerd mode on this #elain archeron week

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dottielovegood · 1 year

Note

for solstice prompts: elain babysitting while everyone (-az) go to the court of nightmares for solstice celebrations or something, and az comes back from a mission to see her playing with nyx and he just can't help imagining her with a winged baby

also weird tension ensues because it's the first time they are completely alone since last solstice

bonus: they end up kissing and nyx just giggles in the background

thank you so much for these!

Hi anon! I loved this prompt and I sat down to write this fic as soon as I read it! I decided to post it today since it's the first of advent.

I hope you like it <3

───── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

Advent

Azriel trudged through the snow, his footsteps light and soundless as his shadows covered every sound. He shouldn’t be here. He knew that it was wrong, but he didn’t care. Not tonight.

It was almost Solstice and Velaris was already decorated for the festivities. On the streets, he passed groups of people singing merry songs and children playing in snow. He tried to force a few smiles but he imagined that all they could see as he passed was a tortured expression on his face.

He had just come home from a mission and he hadn’t planned on being back so soon, which is why he hadn’t joined his family in the Hewn City tonight. They never celebrated Solstice there, but sometimes, during the first of Advent, Rhys made sure to pay them a visit, just to remind them who their master was.

Actually, the fact that Azriel was supposed to be away was just one reason. He hated going there, maybe because he was the one person in the inner circle who went under that damned mountain the most, and it was never a pleasant time. Not only because Keir and his people were awful, but because his job brought him no joy. The mask he had to wear every time he brought someone to The Court of Nightmares was not a mask he enjoyed wearing. For centuries, it hadn’t bothered him. He had worn it just like he wore his shadows. He had tapped into the darkness of his own soul to find the cold nothingness that he needed to wield as the feared spymaster of the Night Court. He had been darkness and death, and it suited him. After all, that’s what his soul was made of.

But then she came along. She came along, and something within him changed. In the darkness, a light had begun shining through all the darkness and horror. He had sought out that light; had clung to it as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Whenever he was near her, it was as if his shadows could finally rest. Ever since she entered his life, he had come up with countless excuses just to be close to her. He carried her when she needed to leave the House of Wind. He brought her to the garden when she needed sunlight. He let his hands graze hers for just a fraction of a second now and then, just to feel her warmth spread across his skin at the light touches. She was warmth and light and life and Azriel was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Which explained why he was currently making his way over to the River Estate.

Cerridwen and Nuala had told him that she had stayed behind. It was their duty as his spies to alway tell him everyone’s whereabouts if he wasn’t home, yet they always seemed extra careful to tell him exactly where Elain was and who she was with. It was as if they knew all the desires that lived in his heart. They never said anything about it, but from the way they sometimes looked at him now, he understood that they knew more than they should.

He couldn’t - wouldn’t - blame them, though. They were her friends, and cauldron knows she needed friends. She needed someone who could be there for her in ways he couldn’t. She needed someone to talk to, someone to trust. He knew that they had been training her. Her powers were growing stronger and she was beginning to be able to control her visions. He wanted to tell her how proud she was – and how scared. Scared for all the things to come. For all the things that could never be.

It had been almost a year now. One whole year since that night when they met in the dead of night, his shadows their only witness - until they weren’t. He still remembered that night. Still dreamt about it. The sound of her footsteps coming down the stairs. The soft skin of her neck against his fingertips. The way she had looked up at him, offer and permission so clearly painted on her face. And the scent of her when he…

He didn’t let himself think of that night too often. It didn’t do him any good. He had been called away before anything could happen and he had just left her there. No explanation, no apology. He just left like a fucking coward.

He understood why she handed back that necklace. He was surprised that she didn’t throw it in the river like her sister had done with Cassian’s gift. Although, Elain had always been a more gentle soul. She kept all of her feelings close to her heart, careful to not bother anyone with her own worries. Once upon a time, Azriel had imagined that he could be the one she would turn to. He hoped that he could be the person that she would open up to, and for a short while, he had been just that. And then…

He gritted his teeth as he walked down the pathway leading up to the house.

He should turn around. He should go away, leave her alone. But he couldn’t. He had to see her. Nothing more. He just… he had to know that she was okay. During all these months, he had tried his hardest to stay away. He had gone with Mor to the continent for a few months during summer. He’d gone on more missions than usual. He had even lied about going on missions just to get out of the city. But every single time he came back, he went looking for her. He always stayed in the shadows, making sure not to be seen. But he could see her. He could always see her.

She was always on his mind and in his dreams.

Faelight shone through every window of the estate, casting a warm glow on the glistening snow outside. Azriel quietly made his way over to the house, stopping just outside the door. Rhys had told him to stay away, but he never specified exactly what he meant. If he didn’t knock, Azriel reasoned, he was technically staying away. And he had technically been staying away for months. He had barely uttered a word to Elain since last Solstice, even though he sometimes wanted nothing more than to kneel before her and ask for her forgiveness. He noticed the way she looked at him now. The happiness, comfort and light had been replaced by sadness and confusion. He had never hated himself more than during those moments, which was the real reason why he stayed away. He couldn’t stand knowing that he had caused her light to dim. That he had caused her pain.

God, he was such a bastard. A selfish, fucking bastard. A bastard that was peeking through a window for just a glimpse of her. Clearly, he was also a creep.

He caught movement behind the curtain and shifted sideways so he wouldn’t be seen, making sure to keep his wings close to his body.

And there she was. Elain walked into the living room, carrying Nyx on her hip. He knew that Elain had offered to stay behind to look after the baby. Still, the image before him took his breath away. Her beauty was like a constant surprise. Even though he thought of her constantly, his own mind could never do her justice. It could never recreate that spark in her eyes or the way she sometimes scrunched her nose when she laughed. She was truly the most magical being he had ever seen.

She was wearing a simple lilac dress, her golden hair unbound. Just like it had been that night when she had lifted her hair for him and asked him to put the necklace on her. The necklace he had bought for her weeks earlier. It had been the perfect gift, and still, he had ruined everything.

Nyx was in a blue onesie with tiny dots on it. Although Azriel couldn’t hear anything from where he stood, he could tell that Nyx was babbling merrily. Elain smiled and kissed the top of his head. The tiny Illyrian wings flapped as he reached for his aunt's face with his pudgy hands. Elain pretended to bite Nyx’s hand and it made him giggle in that way only babies did. They were a picture of pure joy.

Azriel wasn’t prepared for the feeling of longing that slithered down his spine just to settle somewhere deep inside of him. He stopped breathing and just watched the life he so desperately wanted for himself through that window.

The life he could never have.

He was destined for a life in darkness and shadows, but sometimes, in the dead of night when sleep finally came for him, he dreamt of this. When he slept, his heart showed him his deepest desires. Only in his dreams was he able to imagine another life. A life full of warmth and love. A home. A family.

All the things he could never give her.

Azriel had seen enough. She was safe, and she was happy.

He was just about to step into his shadows when Elain suddenly turned around, her eyes focused on the window. Focused on him. He didn’t dare move. He stayed completely still and hoped that she was just looking at her own reflection in the glass, but then she raised her eyebrows in question and mouthed his name.

A shiver ran down his spine. She had yet to call him by his name, at least not when he had been around to hear it. He was glad for that small mercy. He imagined that his life was much easier if he didn’t know what his name sounded like on her lips.

Elain held his gaze through the window and he knew that he couldn’t just leave again. He had to come up with some sort of plausible excuse as to why he was there. With her arms tightly wrapped around Nyx’s small body, she nodded her head towards the door – a silent invitation.

With a deep breath, Azriel stepped back into the darkness to steady himself before he made his way to the door. He had no idea what to expect as he entered the house, but he hadn’t expected to be greeted by a smiling Elain.

He didn’t deserve her smiles. Not after how he had treated her during this year.

“Hi,” she said as he closed the wooden door behind him. Nyx turned his little head to see who had entered the house and as soon as he saw Azriel, he started to wriggle in Elain’s arms.

“Azza,” he said, stretching his arms towards Azriel.

“Hi, little guy,” Azriel greeted the child and walked over to where Elain stood. She was still smiling at him, but now, when he was this close, he could see that the smile didn’t reach her eyes. He shouldn’t have come here. She was perfectly fine without him interrupting her evening.

He ruffled the boy's hair and met Elain’s gaze. “Hi.”

Nyx tried to reach for the siphon that adorned Azriel’s right hand. He hadn’t taken the time to change when he came home since he hadn’t planned on actually seeing anyone. Or, he hadn’t planned on being seen. He had definitely planned to see. His treacherous heart was too weak to stay away for too long.

“I think he wants to go to you,” Elain said and stepped closer. Azriel looked from Elain to Nyx as she shifted the child from her arms to his. He cradled him close, breathing in his scent. As he did so, he caught a whiff of her scent too, and had he been a weaker male, it would have brought him to his knees.

They stood like that for a while, both of them focusing on Nyx and the way his small hands played with the scales on Azriel’s Illyrian leathers. A lifetime ago, Elain’s hair had caught on those same scales after he had flown her down from the House of Wind. That day, she had looked at his darkness and scars and called him beautiful. It was the first time in his life a female had made him blush.

“I didn’t think you were getting back until tomorrow,” Elain said, breaking the silence.

Azriel shrugged, his eyes still focused on Nyx. It was safer that way. “I was able to come home earlier. I came here to talk to Rhys.”

A pretty lie, and he knew that she could tell. Mercifully though, she just nodded in answer. “He’s not here. They went to the Hewn City a few hours ago.”

Azriel swallowed and dared a glance at her. By the cauldron, how did she get even more beautiful by the day?

“Yeah, I guess I forgot,” he lied.

“I guess you did.”

Once more, silence stretched between them. It made Azriel uncomfortable as he noted how awkward it felt to stand here with Elain. It didn’t use to be like this. Silence with her used to be easy. He never felt a need to fill it. But now… Now everything was different. And everything was his fault.

“Dada,” Nyx cooed and pressed his forehead against Azriel’s chest and for a fraction of a second, Azriel felt his heart skip a beat. He knew that Nyx was just babbling, but that word still made something inside him break just a little. Probably because he knew that it was one of those words that didn’t belong to him, and never would. It didn’t matter how much he wished for it. Longed for it.

“It’s probably the leathers.” Elain gestured to his clothes. Did she notice his reaction? Could she hear his heart?

“Probably.”

“He seems to think that only his father wears black.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Could hear just how much she loved this little child. She knew the details of his life and understood him in a way Azriel didn’t. He wasn’t around enough to learn the little quirks of this tiny being. And he hated himself for it. He wasn’t just letting her down. He was letting his family down. Staying away from Elain also meant staying away from everyone else – including Nyx.

Nyx continued to babble and Azriel was glad someone filled the silence. He reminded himself to thank Nyx for this moment when he was older. It was definitely a little bit less awkward with him there.

“Are you hungry?” Elain asked, her voice careful. As if she knew that he would say no. That he would leave, just like he always did.

Azriel shook his head. “No, I just came to see Rhys. But if he’s not here…” he couldn’t even finish the sentence. The look on her face was enough to shatter his heart all over again.

And as if on cue, his stomach growled. He wanted to sink through the earth. Stupid body.

Elain raised an eyebrow in amusement then, a small smile playing on her lips. “Your stomach begs to differ”.

She didn’t say a word as she turned around and headed for the kitchen. With Nyx still in his arms, Azriel could do nothing but follow.

He slid onto one of the stools at the counter, watching her as she prepared a plate for him. He wanted to tell her to stop. Wanted to tell her that he could do it himself, that she needn’t bother.

But there was also a part of him that desperately wanted her to serve him food. It was a part of himself he wasn’t proud of. He knew that it meant nothing when she set the plate down in front of him, yet he couldn’t help but imagine what it could have meant, if only…

If only the cauldron had been kinder. If only fate was on his side, just this once. But hoping and wishing was useless. She served him food because he was hungry and she was kind – there was no deeper meaning. And there would never be.

“I’ll trade you.” Elain reached for Nyx and set down a fork and knife next to the plate. Azriel reluctantly let go of Nyx. He had missed his nephew, and he hated himself for missing so many important milestones in his life.

Hated Rhys for making him stay away.

Elain walked around the kitchen and talked to Nyx while Azriel ate. The chicken was tender and the mashed potatoes were perfectly buttery. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from moaning at the flavors. When he was on missions, food was his last priority. He ate because he needed energy, and that was that. But this… this food was a work of art.

“And this is a spoon,” Elain said and handed Nyx a wooden spoon. “Can you say spoon?”

Nyx put the wooden spoon in his mouth in answer.

She glanced at Azriel and he realized that he was already looking at her. When he wasn’t guarding his features, his gaze always went to her.

“He’s teething,” she explained. “He puts everything in his mouth.” She bounced his tiny body on her hip. “Don’t you? You even put a dirty sock in your mouth yesterday,” she cooed. Nyx just looked at his aunt, spoon still in his mouth.

Azriel let out a soft chuckle at the mental image of the small winged baby with one of Rhys’s dirty socks hanging from his mouth.

“He’s gotten so big,” Azriel said, because there was nothing else to say.

Elain shrugged. “I guess he has. But if you see him everyday, you barely notice until you find one of his old onesies. Then you really realize just how much he’s grown.”

Azriel pretended as if that comment didn’t hurt him and wondered if that was her intention. He definitely deserved it. He was just about to say something when Nyx started to cry. He threw the spoon to the floor, his tiny wings flapping with frustration.

“Shh,” Elain tried to calm him. “I know, I know. You’re tired.” Her voice was soothing and warm, like the caress of a spring breeze. It didn’t work on Nyx though. He just cried even harder. “Such a fussy boy.” Nyx was kicking his legs and trying with all his might to get out of Elain’s grasp.

“Shit,” she swore under her breath and Azriel was next to her in an instant, reaching for Nyx.

“May I?” he asked, and she just nodded.

Azriel took the winged baby from her and quickly carried him to the living room. Nyx was still crying, looking up at Azriel with tear filled eyes. He knew that the child was tired, yet something primal in him hurt when he saw the tears fall down his cheeks.

Azriel sat down in one of the armchairs, cradling Nyx in his lap. “Have you been fussing all day?” he asked Nyx as if he could understand him. Nyx’s bottom lip wobbled a bit before he let out another wail.

“He has,” Elain commented from where she stood, leaning against the door frame. “I think he’s going through some sort of phase.” She sighed and walked into the room. “One minute, he’s the happiest child in Prythian, and the next…” she gestured to Nyx, “he’s acting as though the world is about to end.”

Azriel smiled at her. “He usually sleeps by now, right?”

She nodded. “I tried to put him to bed earlier but he just refused. He usually can’t sleep without Feyre.”

“It can be hours before they’re home.”

“I know. I thought that maybe he would just pass out from exhaustion sooner or later.”

Azriel chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through him as he caught the smile on Elain’s lips. Nyx’s screams had turned into quiet sobs and Azriel held him close, rocking his body in a way that felt oddly natural.

He looked down at the winged baby in his arms and wiped away his tears. “I get it,” he whispered, “I don’t sleep much either.” He kissed the top of his head. “But you really need to sleep now. We don’t want your aunt to be sleep deprived tomorrow, do we?”

Nyx blinked at him, his breathing finally returning to normal, though his eyes were still wet. He looked as tired and sad as Azriel felt. Nyx leaned his little head against Azriel’s chest, his hand playing with the black leather once more.

As if on instinct, Azriel started to hum. He didn’t dare look at Elain. This was a part of himself nobody ever got to see. He didn’t sing in front of people. Didn’t even hum. But for Nyx… for Nyx he would do anything.

And for her.

He hummed a lullaby his mother used to sing to him. That lullaby had kept him company for so many years in the darkness he had been forced to endure. It had been a lifeline some nights. Tonight, it was his gift to Nyx. To Elain, even though she wouldn’t understand the meaning behind it. He still couldn’t look at her.

Nyx’s breathing slowed and within minutes, he was fast asleep. Azriel reached for a small muslin blanket thrown over the other armchair and wrapped the small body in it, careful not to wake him.

“We should put him in his crib,” Elain whispered.

He followed her up the stairs to the nursery. Carefully, he put Nyx in his bed. One small wing twitched as Nyx turned to his side and reached for one of the stuffed animals in the bed. It was an ugly thing that Amren had given him. She said that it was an octopus but Azriel thought that it looked more like the Kraken. Nyx pressed his lips to one of the eight arms, finding comfort in the familiar toy.

Elain stood beside him, looking down at the sleeping child. Azriel rested his hands on the side of the crib. His siphons gave off a muted blue light, a clear indicator of his own exhaustion.

“I’ve never heard that song before,” Elain whispered, her voice barely audible.

“It’s an old Illyrian lullaby.”

“It was beautiful.”

Beautiful. There was that word again. Spoken so softly in the darkness. He was happy she couldn’t see the warmth spreading across his cheeks at the memory of the last time she had said that word to him.

They stood like that for a while, just looking at Nyx’s sleeping form. Elain’s body was warm next to his and he had to grip the crib tighter just to keep himself from reaching for her. The scent of her invaded his senses and he knew that it was time to leave before he did something stupid.

He just couldn’t move. He was frozen there, his body refusing to leave her side.

“Why did you come here tonight?” There was no accusation in her voice, but Azriel could hear the careful question behind the words. She knew that he had lied about seeing Rhys, and she wanted the truth. She deserved the truth. She deserved so many things that he couldn’t give her.

“I don’t know,” he lied. It was safer that way.

“Yes, you do.”

Azriel looked at his scarred hands. Her hand was resting next to his on the dark wood. It was such a contrast – his dark, maimed skin looked wrong next to her pale, immaculate hands.

He didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve. Didn’t…

But he wanted. He wanted too many things and he was so fucking tired of living like this. So tired of lying and staying away and hurting her. Because that’s what he did - he hurt her. Every lie and every dinner he didn’t attend hurt her, he knew that. And he was tired of being the thing that caused her pain.

He steadied his breath, calling on his shadows for comfort. “I just wanted to make sure that you were safe.” He was surprised at how easily he said those words – as if the words had wanted to be spoken. As if the truth needed to come out. Even if it wasn’t the entire truth.

He waited for her to answer. One second. Two…

“And at the market this summer, were you just making sure that I was safe then too?”

Azriel stiffened, his head turning to meet her gaze. She was already watching him, assessing.

“You saw me?”

The corner of the mouth lifted into a teasing smile. “Nuala and Cerridwen have trained me well.”

And thank the cauldron for that. She needed to be able to protect herself, and if she noticed him that day, she would be able to see many things that might be hidden to other people.

Silence stretched between them again, and this time it wasn’t awkward, though it wasn’t comfortable either. The air was thick with all the words unspoken between them. A year worth of words.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the dark. It was the only words he could find in his heart even though they were far from enough.

Elain stiffened beside him, her heart skipping a beat. He wished, just this once, that he could read her mind. He needed to know what she was thinking. He hoped that she could understand the deeper meaning of those words. He hoped that she knew that if he could, he would beg for her forgiveness.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her. So many words that he had held on the tip of his tongue for a year. A year that somehow felt like an entire lifetime.

Time moved differently without her.

Elain said nothing as she returned her gaze to Nyx. His breathing was even and he was still clutching that horrible toy in his small fist.

Azriel didn’t dare move. He just waited. Waited for her response. Waited for any reaction that she would give him. He wouldn’t blame her if she decided to slap him. Wouldn’t blame her if she dragged him out in the hallway just to give him a piece of her mind.

He would gladly take the pain. If he could, he would take all of her pain and carry it with him for the rest of his days, just so she could be happy.

Azriel didn’t notice the shift in her body, but he felt her touch when her fingers gently brushed against his. Shivers ran down his spine at the sensation. It had been their secret language once. A slight brush of hands just to check in. Just to be near. Just to feel something.

And here, hidden in shadows and darkness, Azriel let his walls down. Without a single word, he turned to face her. She was looking up at him already, her face full of questions that needed to be answered.

Later. All the words could wait. Their language was something else entirely and no words could convey all the things he was feeling right at this moment.

Azriel turned his hand, palm up. Elain slowly explored his skin there with her fingertips, the touch making him ache for so many things. He lifted his other hand to her neck, gently stroking his thumb over her soft skin. This was exactly where they left off that night.

“Elain, I…” He began, feeling the need to say something. Anything. He needed to explain. Needed her to understand, even though he was unable to tell her everything.

But she just shook her head and rested one palm over his heart. “Later,” she whispered as she stood up on her toes and closed the distance between them.

__________________________

Advent [noun]: 1. the beginning of an event, the invention of something, or the arrival of a person 2. the period of four weeks before Christmas

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fic #elriel fanfic #elain archeron fanfic #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #solstice prompts

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casuallivi · 1 year

Text

Yellow Carnations

I’ll admit elriel is more of a background here, since this is part of my Her Ladyship's Garden collection, where I tell little stories about Elain. Set post ACOSF. Word count: 2016

For Elriel Month 2023. Prompt 3: Happy Solstice @elriel-month

The High Lord confident steps halted as he passed by them, a frown marring his face.

“You are here.”

Elain lifted her eyes from the tome she was reading, dark circles in her pale face, her freckles less prominent now that she spent less time under the sun.

“Am I not aloud anymore?”

“Don’t be silly,” he recovered quickly, “I’m surprised to see you home, that’s all.” Too late. The oddness of his initial tone sent her alert.

Elain watched Rhysand like a hawk. She could now interpret all the subtle changes in his posture, the quirk in his lips when he came across information he found relevant, the twitch in his left ear when his attention was actually settle in a different conversation than the one he was having, the slight grind of his molars when the information was not to his liking, the unguarded rub off his chin when he found something amusing. Amren was right. Translation was a game of patient, its own brand of art. Observe a language for long enough, and you'll find the patterns. Observe a male for long enough, and you'll find his weaknesses.

“Early day?”

“Late night.” Amren corrected.

The night began in the opulent dinner table, where they had more space to work. As the hours went by and their eyes grow tired, they moved to the sofa, seeking a bit of comfort, later sitting on the rug, cushion spread all over the place. Now the sun was high in the sky.

Amren slouched back on her hand, sipping wine from her enchanted gold goblet that never emptied. Her latest gift from Varian. “Sunshine here, is surprisingly good with languages. I’m thinking of keeping her.”

Cunning violet eyes scanned the mess spread on the center table, crinkling the smallest bit at the corner while he exchanged a silent conversation with Amren. Elain pretend not go notice the use of his daemanti powers.

“Is that so. Had I known that earlier I’d not have let you move out. It's good to have reliable people close by." He grinned at her, joking. Elain had no doubt he was trying to mask the truth with pleasantry.

Rhysand was not happy with her decision to leave. Not when he and Feyre went above and beyond to build her a room that could rival a small house. It was certainly bigger than the cabin they lived in. A cage was still a cage, no matter how big the antechamber was. She smiled at him.

“A lady never tells.”

“Is that another of your human costumes?”

“No. A feminine one.” She could not help but notice how his smile did not reach his eyes.

“Well, best of luck, ladies. Don’t let Amren drink on an empty stomach. She gets cranky.” He waved them goodbye.

Amren squinted at Elain, as if daring her to take her goblet. Elain only rolled her eyes. The people in this household had a level of love and tolerance for alcohol that she could not understand. More than once she witnessed Cassian downing entire barrels, by himself, and still remember vivid details of the night. It was mesmerizing and worrisome.

Their books were staked in high piles in a vain attempt to gain space. It was no use. The surface was covered with a variety of tomes written in a dead tongue, accompanied by dictionaries and encyclopedias. Although her fingers were cramping from the long hours spend writing, Elain used the piles to her advantage, the books creating a makeshift hideout. With the help of her acute fae-sight, Elain caught a view to Rhysand's map room, Cassian and Azriel already inside, their back to her, waiting on their High Lord.

Azriel.

Her heart ache at the sight of him. Sleep hardly came by these days, her mind too busy in replaying the moment he rejected her. Elain did not even had the luxury of remaining his friend, for Azriel made his presence scarce, shutting her down completely. No more walks along the Sidra, no more sitting by the garden, no more exquisite seeds left in the shed, no more tiny trinkets from his trips, no more shopping at Rainbow, no more breakfasts at the breaking of the day, no more sage carefully applied to the cuts in her hands. Azriel was gone.

Yet, he had come to see her father.

Every month Elain visited her father’s grave. Taking her time to tend to his tombstone, pluck the weed that insisted in climbing the stone, replacing his flowers with fresh one, gently polishing the jaded letters forming his name while murmuring new memories made by her and her sisters. Sometimes they went with her – Feyre more than Nesta – whether they choose to go or not, there was someone who never failed to accompany her, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, wings tucked tight, keeping a respectful distance at the foot of the hill. The first time she voiced her wish to visit her father, back when her family was still careful of her mood swings, Feyre volunteered to take her. To their surprise, Azriel was waiting for them outside, implying his High Lady flying skills were not good enough to carry others. Feyre gasped at the audacity, threatening to punish him with frontier duty, and Elain thought it was endearing how he hide his smile behind her tresses.

When the following month came, Elain descended the stairs to find him waiting in the foyer, a placid smile in place. They exchanged no words as he took her basket, safekeeping it in a pocket of shadows, and off they went. Another ritual was born of silent agreement, as all the ones created before it, because that’s how they worked, inexplicably attuned to each other.

Or so she thought.

The solstice mistake haunted her all day long, Elain returning to her sleepless nights, mind running a thousand miles, recreating every interaction she ever shared with Azriel, cataloging all the touches and glances and suggestions of something else. Something more. No matter how hard she thought, the conclusion was the same: Azriel felt for her as she did for him. Then why, why, reject her? Elain rubbed a hand under her breast, caressing her ribs, disappointment settling over her very bones. It saddened her that she was used to people validating her bond more than her, but to have Azriel doing the same was like having her heart ripped out of her chest. Again. She tossed and turned in her bed. Maybe it was for the best. If she was just another woman, they would have freedom to explore their relationship, but she wasn't, and things were complicated. Elain was tired of complications. Perhaps she could use this event to distance herself as well, easier to bury her feeling. As Nesta's romance books said; out of sight, out of mind.

The problem was Azriel didn't get the memo, reappearing when she finally settled her mind in forgetting him, therefore ruining her plan.

To see Azriel standing outside the River House, waiting for her, after the solstice fiasco, was a bucket of cold water putting out the fire of her resolution. Damn him. No, she would not go with him. He had been avoiding her like the plague, forgone their friendship as if she was nothing, disappeared from her life without giving her a proper reason, a goodbye. Elain had more self-respect than giving him a free pass after all he had done. She’d rather walk all the way to the mountain than submitting herself to be in the company of a man who called her a mistake.

That's what she told herself as she looped her arms around his neck, Azriel taking up to the sky seconds later. Elain was a fool for love. Elain was a fool for Azriel. She could barely focus on cleaning the grave, apologizing to her father and promising to come another day to talk properly. Contrary to her other visits, the was no placid smile waiting for her downhill. His silence was different now, tense, guarded, as if he was stopping himself from spilling words. It made her jittery. When he brought her home, Elain could swear he tightened his hold on her, burring his nose in her hair before settling her back on her feet. Her heart thundered the entire time.

Her stare meet the one of her brothers-in-law, Rhysand noticing her watching. He winked at her, the door closing with a hit of night-kissed power.

A powerful, heavy, slap hit the back of her head, jerking her body forward, her breast hitting the corner of the center table.

“Focus.” Elain straighten herself, rubbing her aching tits. Her eyes remained fixed at the door. The scent of jasmine thickened, burning the oxygen in the air.

“Amren.”

“No talking.”

"Listen,"

“Girl, I do not care for how cauldron-blessed you are, if you do not concentrate, I'll smack you with that book.”

The threat did not detained Elain. She had long learned to identify the humors of the small female sitting beside her. Despite her words, Amren was calm and relaxed, carefully translating the parchment in front of her with her dubious calligraphy. Elain’s expression was a block of stone, showing nothing of the havoc in her mind, a swirling of thoughts she had avoided for a long time taking a hold of her tongue, obliging her to ask a question she had never dared to voice out loud.

“What if his mate comes?” The scribbling stopped, the metal tip of Amren’s feather pen piercing the pager.

Goddamn tears rimmed her eyes again, and Elain couldn’t know if they were from anger or frustration. Or sadness. Elain was so tired of crying. She rubbed them off.

“What if she comes for him. For Varian.”

The pen broke under the strength of her hold, dark blue ink smearing the translation. The hairs in Elain's arm stood up, her senses getting alert to the scent of danger spreading in the air. Then it was gone, masked with perfection. Amren scrunched the paper carelessly, throwing it over her shoulder.

“It won’t happen.” she said with conviction.

“It can happen.”

“It won’t.”

Elain shook her head, placing her book down. She knew denial when she saw it; had learned to identify it in the mirror.

“You don’t know that. She can be out there, and at some point, they might meet,”

The slam of a fist cut her words, shaking the table, splintered wood forming veins in the dark wood. Grey eyes smoldered, a snarl escaping the ferocious female. Amren snapped her head towards Elain, her grin savage, her words hushed and deadly.

“Then be my guest and try me.” Another fae would have flinched, instinct urging then to cower in front of the great predator snarling at their face. Elain did not balk, did not blink, she faced the other female head on, cunning brown eyes tracking the passionate possessivity hiding behind the maddening outburst. “Do I look like I give a fuck about some fae-made mystical rope of destiny? I’m not from this world, girl. Where I come from, you want something, you take it. I wanted this world, I wanted this body, and I want that male. Varian is mine, and mine alone. Mine. If someone, anyone, thinks they can steal him from me, they are welcome to try.”

She slammed the book into Elain’s chest.

“Stop spouting nonsense and finish this shit.”

In her heart of heart, Elain had always thought that being made gave them a sort of comradery, but seeing the ferocity in Amren’s eyes today proved they shared more similarities than the middle Archeron imagined. She took a deep breath, purging all the other scents lingering in the house to focus in one and one alone, when she found it, Elain breathed it in, holding it down in her lungs the longest she could, exhaling it slowly.

You want something, you take it.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Elain returned to her book. Amren’s words ringing in her ears. Maybe the former angel of death was put in the seer’s way to teach her more than dead languages.

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thefangirlofhp · 2 years

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for years or for hours (my hand in yours)

(in which the two most insomniac students at Hogwarts happen to be the best of friends and Azriel has a Quidditch match coming up the next morning that Elain can’t let him stay up for alone.) Ravenclaw!Azriel and Hufflepuff!Elain Word count: 1,997

“You really are a creature of habit, aren’t you?”

“Merlin’s fucking saggy tits!” Azriel screeches, stumbling on a step and simultaneously ducking.

Elain cackles quietly into her palm while Azriel recovers from the scare by slumping against the banister and clutching a hand to chest in a rather dramatic show of telling Elain off for sneaking up on him. She shrugs her schoolbag higher on her shoulder and sidesteps him on the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, feeling only a little smug for one-upping the notoriously impossible-to-jumpscare man.

“Thought you were Rhys coming for my arse again,” Azriel mutters, picking up the pace as he follows her. “Don’t do that again.”

“Someone might figure you’d be a little more cautious when sneaking out past curfew. Nope,” she shakes her head, her long ponytail swishing across her back with the motion. “This little Puff girl manages to sneak up on you without even trying to be quiet.”

“This little Puff girl’s a menace to society, and an abnormal.”

“Last I checked, you’re society’s outcast.”

“Touché, Archeron.”

Elain reaches the landing with a jump and strides across the floor to the balcony, inhales the crisp cold late November air deep in her lungs until a smile blooms on her lips and she turns to her friend standing still and quiet.

“Try to get some sleep tonight,” she advises before sliding her wand out of her sleeve and digging out a single bean from her bag. After setting it on the floor, she points her wand and with a little transfiguration spell uttered softly, Elain conjures a large bean bag that she leaps onto.

“Handy,” Azriel remarks, vocally impressed as she digs out her Potion’s textbook and writing utensils for her due assignment. “Who does homework on a Friday night?”

“An abnormal,” she quips back smartly and is answered with a scoff.

“Can I have one?”

“Nope,” she decidedly replies and Azriel skulks away to the balcony after that. Elain sinks into her seat, jean-clad knees pulled up to her chest and textbook propped against her knees, settling in for a night of reading and drafting her essay. She’s up to her ears in her thick sweater, and in no time misses the warmth of the Library that usually makes her drowsy.

The cold makes her fingers tighten on the book and keeps her eyes wide open and alert.

Azriel takes his time ‘mediating’ at the balcony in the biting cold like any madman would and Elain, as any madwoman is wont to, keeps him quiet company as he prepares himself for tomorrow’s Quidditch match. Usually sane people made sure they got a good amount of sleep prior to competing in a dangerous airborne game, but Azriel is notoriously ‘other’ in many senses.

But he is still human and an idiot who forgot to properly dress against the cold—sometimes Ravenclaws really loved to challenge their stereotypes by aiming for the severe opposite end of the intelligence spectrum. Thirty minutes later, he’s rubbing his scarred hands together and ducking back inside.

“I’ll probably die before figuring out why you always keep me company,” he pipes up, crossing his arms as he stops before her. She glances up before sighing and shuffling aside as gracefully as she can on the bean bag. Azriel joins her with a sigh that also wheezes out of the bean bag.

“To look after your idiot self, why else,” she pulls out a folded blanket from her bag, earning his raised brows as she unfolds it and spreads it across their laps. “You’d freeze to death on your own.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be plotting my demise seeing as I’m going to beat your house tomorrow?”

“Ha,” she mocks. “We Hufflepuffs earn our winnings fair and square, I don’t need to sabotage anything because my house has been hard at practice. The Quidditch Cup is going to be ours this year.”

“Funny, didn’t Beddor fall off her broom last practice?”

Elain rolls her eyes, fixes them on the fine print and diagram before her. “She’s an idiot.”

“Apparently so am I.”

“I love this journey of self-awareness, please keep it up.”

“Lain go to bed, it’s honestly pointless.”

“Oh Lain, thanks for sticking out these cold nights with me. You’re such a great friend, let me treat you to Butterbeer next Hogsmead trip. Thanks for not telling Tarquin about this dumb habit—he’d kick my ass to the moon and back if he found out I’m compromising the team’s win, they should give you the Best Human Award.”

“If it’s praise you want, Slughorn’s got a very obnoxious praise kink.”

Her snort is very violent and inappropriate. “That’s so wrong,” she giggles. “But he sort of does, doesn’t he?”

“I swear to God he gets a hard-on whenever sometime brews Wound-Healing right on the first try,” Azriel mutters, eliciting a laugh from her she should have held in. “I’m scared to do well in his class, swear to God. Every time he thinks I got it right on the first time, honest to God, I see him get so excited it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Stop it,” she mutters through a grin. “I got his essay to finish. I can’t be reading too much into his ‘Excellent work, Archeron’.”

“Keep your essay exactly twelve inches and I promise you that parchment’s coming back stained.”

“Shut up!” Elain shrieks, clamping her hands over her ears and screwing her eyes shut against the disturbing image. “No! No I don’t want to think that.”

“Oh Miss Archeron you’ve been a very, very good girl,” Azriel imitates their wiry haired, bespectacled Potions professor with a very disturbing facial expression of satisfaction and a low hoarse voice. “Writing my essay according to my exact instructions. What a good girl.”

“Shut. Up!” Elain ducks beneath her arms. “Now I have to botch this up on purpose.”

“Sweet, the competition is eliminated.”

“Oh you’re one to talk,” she snaps back. “What happened to fear of success in the dungeons?”

His lips clamp shut tightly together, fighting back a laughing smile as he holds in his laugh. “Come to think of it, him living in the dungeons does him no favors.”

“No,” Elain moans.

“Now we mention it, Wagner did disappear an entire evening there and came back all ruffled up. He hasn’t scored anything higher than a C since, Slughorn’s face keeps falling when he hands out the homework back.”

“You’re a menace,” she jabs her index into his chest. “An absolute pest who loves gossip and trash talk.”

“Can’t help it, can I?” he shrugs, holding out his hand where a shadow slithers to his palm. Elain’s never really gotten used to their mysterious nature, still feels awed every time she sees his shadows at display.

Not having anything to say to that, Elain turns back to her textbook.

“I’m serious, get some sleep,” she pipes up. “It’s time you got used to it. I don’t know why you go through this every time.”

Azriel folds his arms over his abdomen, thinks for a moment before piping up. “You know, I was scared of flying. Then turns out I’m a genius flier, and it took a proper minute for me to handle that.”

She does know; she was there at their first flying lesson.

“I just never expected that one day I’d be out flying and hunting a snitch, you know? Reminds me of Father’s house, how I never knew the sky even existed, much less stars. It’s just a thing, stargazing, that tells me I’m out and safe now. And…I don’t say this often, but when you’re here, and I get to remind myself I’ve got this brilliant girl for a friend—it’s almost too good to be true.”

She blinks tightly, tells herself the prickling of her eyes is from the cold weather and her sleep deprivation, but there’s no fooling around with the lump in her throat and her prickly nose. She sniffs and tightens her clutch.

“Damn right you’re friends with a brilliant girl,” she manages to say. “Best appreciate her better and count yourself lucky, if you’re smart.”

“I do,” his soft serious admission catches her off guard. “Every day I’m thanking my lucky stars I’ve got you in my life.”

Elain blinks, her eyes hunting down his somber face for a flicker of falseness in his admission. She pulls at her lip when she finds none and her gaze flickers away momentarily before she tugs a wide smile onto her lips.

“As you should,” she pats his shoulder. “Maybe you’re less of an idiot than I decreed.”

“Still hope for me left.”

“Only a little,” she squints with a smile.

“Hey, speaking of Slughorn reminded me—”

“Oh no,” she mutters as he bends and reaches for his bag.

“Jokes aside, I don’t want you hooked on this, all right?” he pulls out five precious vials of vivid purple potion swishing about in their hold. “It’s harder to get off these than muggle drugs.”

“I get it,” she mutters and holds out her hand. “I only use it when I’m desperate.”

“Remember—”

“Two sips for nine hours of dreamless sleep, a whole vial would knock me out for two days and two together would put me in a magical coma there’s no waking from. I do pay attention in Potions.”

His fingers curl around the vials before he puts them in her palm gently. “Sweet dreams. Best use ‘em when you’ve worked your magic too much.”

“Gotcha,” Elain pockets them carefully. “Thanks a bunch, Az.”

“Anytime,” he replies. “Just don’t rat me out when the Aurors lock your insomniac arse up. Already got a bad track record.”

“It’s not a crime,” she rolls her eyes. “They wouldn’t teach us to make it if it was.”

He shrugs, sinking deeper into the bean bag. Elain closes her book with a soft snap and stuffs it back inside her bag before folding her arms over her chest and leaning against his side.

“You know your Mum would be so proud of you,” she quietly assures him. “Just how far you’ve gone is enough to make anyone proud of you. You’ll definitely crush it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Lain.”

“Anytime,” she echoes faintly. “By the way, if you were to accidentally knock Clare off her broom tomorrow, I wouldn’t be particularly sad about it, you know.”

“Roger that. Anyone else you need with a fractured skull?”

She snorts, her eyes sliding shut slowly. “You’re making it sound like ‘m ordering a hit on someone.”

“Twelve-year-old drama never died out, did it?”

“Excuse you, I was accused of murder.”

“Looking at you now, Archeron, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did kill that rabbit.”

“Do not mess with me.”

“Roger that.”

“Az?”

“Yeah?”

“If I end up with a cold tomorrow, I’ll kick your sorry arse all the way to London.”

He softly laughs, and she is next aware of his arm winding around her shoulders and tugging her close for additional warmth. Elain doesn’t close her eyes, or mean to fall asleep, but when one is sleep deprived and a sixth-year student at Hogwarts, one must salvage what sleep they can whenever the opportunity presents itself.

She ends up falling asleep at his shoulder, and Azriel tucks the blanket around her while he fetches her Potions textbook and writes her essay for her; he knows she won’t hand it in, or copy it in any sense, but she’ll give it to someone else struggling with the work after reading it and getting a rough idea of what to write. It’s an honest gesture of gratitude to a well deserving friend—the least he can do after brewing her Dreamless Sleep potions to get her through the night.

She must be incredibly tired to fall asleep like this, so soundly that he moves her to his lap instead of his shoulder. That, or his company is just mind-numbingly boring.

Tired it is.

Taglist: @tswaney17 @julesherondalex @mis-lil-red @gorl-power @thesirenwashere @stars-falling @trying-to-read @dreamerforever-5 @hail-doodles @eloeloeheheh @i-am-lost-in-my-world @abraxos-is-toothless @queen-of-glass-acosf-screaming @elrielllll @negativenesta @b00kworm @harmonyindark245 @ducksmurf135 @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @thewayshedreamed @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @maybekindasortaace @maastrash @courtofjurdan @ireallyshouldsleeprn @gracie-rosee @bookstaninthesoul @elriel4life @fawnandshadows-main @123moiaussi @impossiblescissorspeachpaper

#elriel fic #elriel #hogwarts!AU #elain archeron fanfic #azriel fanfic #been a hot minute since i wrote hasnt it #in which hufflepuff!elain and ravenclaw!azriel will always own my ass #enjoy peeps!#heard there was a fic drought :)

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impossiblescissorspeachpaper · 2 years

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✨Happy Elain Week!✨

So excited to share what I’ve got in store as well as see what everyone came up with for our girls’ appreciation week! I’ll be linking all my Elain week works on this post & updating as we go along. Enjoy! 🥐🤍🌸

Day One: The Heart of a Wanderer II

Day Two: Elain in Velaris

Day Three: The Day We Met

Day Four: Mixtape

Day Five: The Heart of a Wanderer- Letters

#elain archeron week 2022 #masterlist #t writes #acotar #writing #elain archeron fanfic

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protectorofvel · 2 years

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About Sisters and Legends

Hi! Happy Elain Archeron Weeks to all Elain stans! It's the third day of the week today, and I've just scribbled a short feels about this day. I was still scribbling about it in the morning hours and voila! It turned out to be a good moment. I hope you'll like it!

PS: English is not my native language so i'm so sorry in advance for any mistakes. love ya!

Elain Week Day Three, Family & Friendship | @elainarcheronweek

Word Count: 2048

Summary: Elain recall an old memory.

AO3 click there! <3

The crackle of the fire burning in their little cabin filled the ears of the young girl, who was just starting to mature. She placed the stale bread on the side of the table on the small kitchen counter so that they could eat it later, and covered it with an old cloth. What was left of her father's great and mighty fortune was almost gone, and they had to be frugal. The secretive silence of her father and sisters sitting around the burning fire left her soul in pain.

Looking at them from the outside of the picture, what she saw was complete destruction. Once the richest man in this land and his orphaned daughters. They sit in icy silence in a sweltering cabin. Nesta had an old book in her hand that she had brought from the mansion. Her frown was an indication of her focus. Feyre was sitting in the cabin furthest from them. She was busy drawing on their wooden table with her brush and can of blue paint. At first, Nesta was very angry with her for this, and Elain always tried to prevent them from fighting by getting between them. 'Let her draw.' She used to say to her sister, 'Let her draw, isn't it bad? The cabin is colouring.' That's how she would stop her. Although the young woman stopped getting angry after a while, she continued to roller her eyes whenever she saw Feyre drawing.

Elain remembered that her father had asked for a glass of water, and she poured water from the pitcher into the pottery glass. She received a warm smile from the old man as she handed the glass to her father. The older version of her own eyes couldn't help but wonder as she stared at him. Would she be in better shape than her father when she got older? Or will she stay here with him forever?

It wasn't a problem for Elain to stay in this cabin, really. She had lived in a mansion for most of her life, and it wasn't all that beautiful. It was not without its good points, even there were many things that she missed. But somehow she still felt happier than she was there. More comfortable. She slowly sat down next to her sister in the old and worn chair where Nesta was sitting. Elain was upset that her father had gotten older over the past few years. Their mother was more concerned with Nesta's bright future than with her or Feyre, so she didn't seem to have felt much of her absence. But her father was different for Elain. She was her favorite parent, and the prospect of losing her always made Elain feel terrible.

Nesta sighed and closed the book firmly. She was obviously tired of reading for hours. She leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing her arms. Their father cleared his throat as her piercing blue eyes focused on the fire.

“Did I tell you about The Nyx, Goddess of Night before?”

Feyre, sitting at one end of the table, asked without letting go of her brush. “The Night Goddess?”

Their father smiled softly at his daughter. “According to an ancient belief, the sole ruler of the Night was a goddess named Nyx. When the day was ready to surrender itself to the night, the goddess appeared and dominated the 'Fast Night'. She would repeat this at the end of each day, giving people peace and quiet. People were soothed by she's darkness when night fell. She was so powerful that even the King of Gods feared her. She had big black wings and long black hair. When people saw her, they knew that night had come. It is said that some nights she travels through the starry sky in a chariot drawn by winged black horses. Legend has it that whenever a star falls in the sky, the Goddess Nyx passes by.”

Elain listened with a smile to the goddess that her father had told them by pointing to the sky with his hands. She loved to listen to the legends of her father, who had seen many places and knew cultures. Deeply she wished that one day she could travel the entire continent like him. She wanted to travel to many places, meet new people, try new dishes. Holding onto that dream gave her hope. Maybe it would never be possible, but dreaming and hoping were the best options left.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Whenever the night goddess brings the night, I feel more cold instead of finding peace.”

Elain nudged Nesta's stomach lightly with her elbow. Nesta shrugged her shoulders. Fascinated, Feyre sat at her father's feet and placed her arms on her father's knees. "Tell me more about her."

"Elain?"

Elain was finally able to persuade herself to fall asleep when Feyre's voice, barely a whisper, reached her ears. ''Yes?''

“Do you think the night goddess is real?”

Elain turned towards Feyre as Feyre on her right and Nesta on her left tried to sleep on a made-up mattress. Her sister's curious blue eyes caught Elain's. She silently replied as she tucked the cheeky lock of hair covering Feyre's face around her finger and tucked it behind her ear. "I don't know, what do you think?"

"I think she's real. Last night I saw multiple shooting stars outside the cabin. It was so beautiful… Such a beauty can only happen if it is divine.”

"Well, it still doesn't change the fact that it makes the cabin even colder."

Elain and Feyre shared silent chuckles, while Nesta tapped Elain's leg with her foot. “You two, shut up and sleep!”

As Elain spun in the middle, Feyre lifted her head and spoke. "You wouldn't have lost anything if you pretended to believe even a little bit of what my father said."

"Our father is an idiot."

“Nesta!” Elain's silent warning didn't seem to have worked for Nesta at all. Because his sister kept talking. "You're also stupid for believing him. Get your head out of the fantasy world and come back to reality. You are no longer princesses in the mansion. Don't forget to thank our stupid father for it."

Feyre frowned. "Don't you have any dreams?"

''Of course there is. A bed that I won't share with you two idiots is my dream. But as you can see, little sister, some dreams never come true."

Elain put on a playful smile and nudged Nesta's shoulder with her own shoulder. “Come on, tell us about a real dream.”

Looking at her face, Elain saw the young girl's features soften in the moonlit bed. Nesta was always kind and protective towards her. She wasn't going to ignore her request. She looked at Elain, then at Feyre, and then she stared at the wooden ceiling. "A real house. Better home than here. A house with a library. It must have a huge library.”

"I'm sure you'd be old and dead before you could read them all."

''Who knows? Still, having that many books would have made me feel good.”

The honesty in Nesta's voice hurt Elain. The only place her sister couldn't leave when she moved out of the mansion was the house's library. There she knew how much she loved getting lost in books. She took her cold hand on the bed into her warm one and squeezed it three times. She gave the same answer in Nesta. Then she laughed mischievously. "Also...I want a handsome lord."

Elain and Feyre giggled in surprise. Feyre must have loved this game so much as the youngest sister asked eagerly. “How handsome is your dream lord?”

Nesta shrugged. “I'm pretty. I want the man I'll marry to be handsome. Preferably tall and muscular.”

Elain's cheeks flushed. Feyre chuckled, while Nesta accompanied her with a quiet smile.

Both of her sisters were worse than each other.

Nesta turned to Feyre. ''It's your turn.''

Feyre stared solemnly at the ceiling. "I want to see the goddess of night one day."

"The night goddess is not real, Feyre."

Feyre shrugged. "I want to see her one day. I want her to fly me through the night sky, bring me closer to the stars and the moon. I have to be so close that I can almost touch them.” Just then, Nesta was about to open her mouth to say it was bullshit, when Feyre rested her head on Elain's chest and continued talking. "I want you to be safe. Our father and you. I want us to have no pain in our lives, let us live in abundance. I want to see you happy. I want you to find good husbands and live and die in peace.”

Elain couldn't help the warmth inside her in response to her younger sister's sincere wishes. Feyre always put them before herself. Feyre was the most self-sacrificing among them. She stroked her sister's hair lovingly. "These are beautiful dreams, Feyre."

Feyre looked up into her eyes. "What's your dream, Elain?"

Elain smiled at her sister. “I want to travel across a whole continent. I want to explore new places, meet new people, learn new cultures. I want to bring you different paints from everywhere I go and collect interesting books for Nesta. Different flower seeds for myself as well.”

"Seeds?"

“Yes, to make a new garden. It'll be the most beautiful garden in the world. It'll be so beautiful that you'll sit down and paint that garden.”

''Really?''

''Certainly. It will come true one day. If you believe enough."

Nesta pulled Feyre, who was lying on Elain's chest, from her arms and took them in their midst. "And if we get enough sleep."

İki abla kardeşlerini sevgiyle kucakladı. Birbirlerine iyi geceler diledikten sonra, üçü uzun bir aradan sonra ilk kez birlikte huzurlu bir uykuya daldılar.

Elain entered the warm living room of the River House with Nyx in her arms. The painting of Elain's garden, which her sister had drawn this summer, hung directly behind the large dining table. She carefully seated the little batling with his rustling wings beside his toys and smiled broadly as his blue eyes, a reflection of her sister, looked at her. After stroking her niece's hair, who returned him with a sweet smile, she sat down in her usual single seat to join her family, chatting and having fun.

She glanced at Rhys and Feyre, their faces glowing as their little son entered the room. Her sister happiness was evident in her eyes, and Elain thanked Mother a thousand times for this moment. Sprawled across the sofa, newly mated couple Nesta and Cassian were flirting with each other, chatting in their happiness that they didn't even try to hide. Elain recalled the memory from a distant past.

In their old cabin, three sisters were hugging each other on a cold night, talking about their dreams. 'How strange are the fate,' she thought to herself. They had a life that they had never thought of or taken into account. They had fathers gone. An old wound inside Elain ached with grief. 'I wish you could witness their happiness, father,' she thought. The young woman was as confident as her name was that her father would embrace her grandson with love and tell him the tales and legends that were told from far away.

She looked around the room quickly to hide the tears that were rushing to her eyes. Despite everything, there was a bittersweet happiness in her. Her family was happy, her nephew was healthy and very sweet. The wounds of her soul were getting better day by day, albeit slowly. She had to stop worrying about her unfulfilled dreams.

She quickly turned her head in that direction when she saw a glass of brandy being handed towards her. Mor handed her the glass and smiled. Elain accepted the glass with a silent thank you in her eyes. The sincerity on Mor's face made Elain feel at home as she clinked her own wine glass against his and brought the glass to her lips.

It felt good to know that she had a home even when she wanted to go far away.

#elainarcheronweek2022 #pro elain #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #archeron sisters #elain archeron fanfic

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thehighladywrites · 1 month

Text

— “You were flirting with me?”

pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

summary: You leave Azriel mid-makeout to debrief with your girls

warnings: suggestiveness, the ic being nosey, miscommunication, rhys and cassian knowingly riling az up, the girls get drunk and interrogate reader, the boys get drunk and interrogate az,

amara’s note: this might be the funniest thing i’ve ever written. also sorry for my absence i’m posting more soon💗💗

You’ve had a massive crush on Azriel since the day you met him. He didn’t really notice you and was somewhat nice to you.

Really, you had no idea how you started crushing on him, I mean he paid you no special attention or anything. Maybe it was because he was quiet, handsome, tall, dark, mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He also cracked jokes and flashed grins that made your heart flutter. The Mother knows how much it grated your nerves whenever a male tried to hit or talk to you when you clearly had no desire to.

Azriel was the complete opposite and you started worrying that you were the one who grated on his nerves everytime you tried speaking to him.

“Hi Azriel, how are you doing?” you noticed him sitting at the dining table, collected yourself and asked him.

“Good,” he said staring straight into your soul before he realized his answer wasn’t really socially appropriate so asked you, “How are you?”

You just smiled awkwardly and nodded, “I’m fine, thanks.”

And that was how 90% of your conversations went. There was no further comments or extra questions and fuck if it wasn’t awkward. You really wanted to get to know him but you also knew how impossible it was since even the people he had been friends with for half a millennium often considered him a mystery.

Sensing the weird energy in the room, you just swiftly said goodbye, not bothering to stay to hear his goodbye.

He wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to do something, perhaps eat brunch at the restaurant you talked about to Cassian but you were moving before he had the chance. Azriel got extremely annoyed with himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t ask you out like a normal person.

With determination, he promised himself to try the next time.

—

The girls all knew about your very obvious crush on Azriel and encouraged you to approach him often. They were all mated and happy and you wish it was you, you that had a mate, you who got loved and kissed and hugged and fucked.

But you just had to be obsessed with a man that paid you no attention… Maybe that’s why you wanted him, you viewed him as a challenge, and you loved challenges. Despite wanting his attention and wanting to get to know him, you still had self-respect and didn’t act like a pathetic, desperate, love-sick puppy infront of him.

So you went from always greeting him and smiling at him, trying to initiate conversations to flat out ignoring him. I mean, he never talked to you first so maybe it was time to accept it and just admire him from afar.

—

Azriel began to sense a dullness in his days, a void he couldn't really pinpoint. He realized he hadn’t talked to you, or rather, you hadn't talked to him while he played it cool, trying not to make his beating heart obvious. He noticed the absence of your chatter, questions and lovely voice, realizing that his days grew more mundane and boring without someone asking about his shadows, what his plans were, where he got Truth-Teller.

Azriel observed during dinner that you didn't glance at him once; your attention was solely on the girls or his brothers. You chose to stand up, walk across the dining room and grab the bowl of potatoes beside him instead of asking him for it, and it really irked him. Was he not worthy of passing a simple bowl of fucking potatoes?

He wondered if he had done something to make you avoid talking to him. Despite not being the most talkative person, he paid very close attention to everything you said, even if it seemed unnoticed. Azriel loved your presence and he thought he made his interest in you very clear when he looked at you.

Cassian had said girls like eye contact, still everytime he stared into your soul, you only looked weirded out. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he wasn’t keeping eye contact long enough.

He had grown extremely fond of your talking and felt empty without it. Finding you alone in the kitchen while you prepared a quick breakfast, Azriel decided it was time to talk. The others had already headed to the training grounds as you had slept in. You were cooking your breakfast, not noticing Azriel.

“Hey.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as you slowly looked up at him. Was he really talking to you? But why?

“Yeah?”

He stayed quiet for a bit, just staring at you in that weird way he always did. Even though he wasn't sure if you liked him back and was afraid of rejection, he still wanted to talk to you.

“How have you been?”

You fight the urge to furrow your brows in confusion. Since when the hell did Azriel care? You were truly baffled and tried to act normal.

“Uh, I’ve been good, you?”

Azriel didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Usually, you'd spontaneously share every detail of your morning routine, even without him asking. He fucking loved to listen as you talked about your broken hairbrush, the struggle of choosing clothes, the snug fit of your leathers due to gained muscles, and the morning hassle with your hair, prompting you to wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual.

“I’m okay. Have you done anything else today? How is your hairbrush?”

A stupid question really, but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to see that familiar spark in your eyes as you talked about anything and everything. No way would he ever forgive himself if he ruined something between you.

Your face heated at the fact that he remembered such a minuscule detail about something you said weeks ago.

”Oh, the hairbrush? It broke so I got an enchanted one. Heard it's like a hair miracle, tried it, and it really worked. By the way, your hair looks good. Did you cut it lately?”

Azriel couldn't help but warm up at your rambling. His eyes widened at first, and then he threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound was familiar, yet it never failed to feel like the first time. It was a beautiful and joyful melody that always managed to make you melt on the inside.

"I really missed you," he admitted, feeling your heart pound in your chest, unable to meet his gaze.

"You did?" Azriel's soft smile warmed your heart, the one you'd nearly missed.

"I did. I enjoy being around you and hearing your voice," he confessed.

"Oh, I always thought you didn’t." You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief.

Stepping closer, Azriel's presence loomed over you, his hand gently lifting your chin.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m sorry that my silence ever gave you that impression. I thought I was making my interest clear, to be honest,” he murmured, sincerity gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Okay, I promise I won’t misunderstand again. But why did you think you made yourself clear?” you whispered, feeling a rush of energy as you locked eyes with him.

“Because I made a point of holding prolonged eye contact, thinking it was a clear signal of my interest,” he explained matter-of-factly.

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. “So, all those times you were staring at me, you were actually flirting?”

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, yes. I thought you knew.”

Suppressing a giggle, you bit your lip and glanced away, not wanting to offend him.

“Ah, not exactly crystal clear, but I understand now. Let’s go for a walk and chat some more,” you suggested, linking your arm through his.

"Sounds perfect. Now, tell me about those new leathers you got," he said, his playful demeanor easing the tension, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.

—

Over the next few months, the bond between you and Azriel deepened. He trusted you with secrets of his life that remained hidden from everyone else. These private conversations became the pillars of your connection, sweet moments for you only.

As the months went by, an unspoken desire for more lingered between you and Azriel. Yet, despite the magnetic pull, something kept you from going the final step.

You've had countless close moments where you almost kissed, where just a tip-toe closer would have sealed the deal. But it never happened. So close, yet so frustratingly far away.

—

Mor's question disrupted the laughter and gossiping of the girls' night, the clinking of wine glasses punctuating the anticipation in the air.

"Remind me again why you and Azriel aren’t a couple?”

Mor's curiosity hung palpably, shifting the mood from gossiping to an interrogation.

“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you replied, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts.

“We have a great connection, but there's this unspoken understanding between us. It’s like there's a boundary we're afraid to cross.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes observing you closely. “Unspoken understanding? Fancy fucking excuse”

Elain giggled and nodded in agreement.

You chuckled, “Maybe it is, but it’s like we're both tiptoeing around something, afraid to ruin what we have. I mean, do I want to be with him? Yeah, I do. But we might fuck something up and I think we have too good of a relationship to throw it all away.”

Nesta leaned back with a smirk, “Sounds like a case of unresolved sexual tension. Maybe the only cure would be to finally get a good dicking.”

You shot her a look, “You make it sound like a medical condition. Also that has got to be some plot from your smutty books.”

Feyre chimed in, “Maybe it is. Maybe it's time you took a bold step to see what happens. Who knows, it might get you laid.”

The group erupted into laughter, but underneath it, you couldn’t ignore the truth in their words. You liked him, there was no denying it. But did he like you as much?

—

“Is she dating anyone?” Rhysand’s casual question caught Azriel off guard as he browsed his big wine selections with Cassian while the girls where out of the house.

Azriel feigned ignorance. “Who?”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a knowing look. “Y/N. Is she dating anyone?”

Something about the question irked Azriel. “Why the hell do you care?”

Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. I might set her up with someone.”

Azriel's jaw clenched as he fought to mask his frustration. Rhysand's casual tone grated on his nerves, igniting a simmering jealousy he hadn't realized he harbored. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to respond evenly,

“She's a grown female, Rhys. She doesn't need you playing matchmaker for her.”

Cassian chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. “Easy, Az. No need to get defensive. I think little Y/N might want a lover of her own, no?”

Azriel's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I'm not being defensive. I just don't appreciate your implication. And no, she doesn’t need some lover.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk bordering on mischief. “Interesting. And why is that?”

Before Azriel could formulate a response, you had returned with the girls, your laughter echoing through the room, shifting the focus away from the questions. Azriel sighed, silently cursing Rhysand's annoying questions and the unresolved feelings stirring within him.

—

You turned off the tap and brought the glass of water to your mouth, much needed after the amounts of wine you and the girls had downed. It was honestly a miracle Mor had the energy to winnow you to the house of wind.

As the girls walked to the library for more drinking, you snuck into the kitchen for some water.

You put down the tall glass of water, swallowing the refreshing and cool drink before your body tingle.

Your stomach flipped, blood heating as your skin broke out in goosebumps.

His presence was undeniable.

Azriel was here.

Turning around to leave the sink, you saw him standing there behind the island, looking at you with a soft look that made your stomach flutter and cheeks heat.

"Hi," Azriel greeted softly as you approached him.

"Hi, Az." you replied, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of him.

"Did you have fun with the girls?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I did," you answered with a smile as you looked down.

Azriel's lips twitched, and he gently lifted your chin with his pointer and thumb. He looked down at your midnight blue dress and raised his brows

"You look absolutely breathtaking."

Your heart beat faster and faster and you were damn sure your friends upstairs could hear how hard it drummed against your chest.

You leaned into his touch, the move careful and intentional. Azriel’s thumb rubbed against your jaw, your eyes glistening in awe at his handsome self.

”Thank you. It’s nothing special, I just like the color.”

Azriel's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "It's not just the color," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you. You’re beautiful."

A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip nervously, unsure how to respond to such sincerity. But damn, he looked good, and the alcohol in your system made you feel bold enough to speak your mind.

"You look really good," you said, your voice a little breathless. "This shirt suits you."

Stepping closer, you let your hand rest on his sturdy chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension between you palpable. Slowly, your hand traveled down to the planes of his stomach, each movement filled with anticipation.

As you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you played with his belt, the air crackling with the electric energy of the moment. His reaction was immediate, his gaze flickering with desire as the tension between you reached its peak.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. The sudden proximity caught you off guard, making you gasp softly.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with desire. "Let's not do things we can't handle."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his proximity sent electric sparks coursing through you. “That sounds like a challenge, Azriel,” you taunted, your voice barely a whisper.

Azriel’s smirk widened, his gaze burning with intensity. “Consider it an invitation.”

You looked at each other, breathing shallowly. Azriel’s intense gaze softened gradually as his eyes traveled further down to your lips. He swallowed, pupils wide with lust.

"May I-"

"Yes."

It was a tender, sweet kiss that caught you off guard in the best way possible. You didn't expect him to be so gentle, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

His touch was tender yet reassuring. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You melted into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness. Your hands found their way to his neck, clinging to him as if you never wanted to let go.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around you lazily, one trailing up your calf and causing you to twitch in surprise. Pulling back, you were met with his clouded, lustful eyes. A mixture of concern and confusion cleared up his hazy gaze.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Here you were, in the kitchen, making out with Azriel—the very male you'd had a crush on for what felt like an eternity. Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine, just give me one second,” you managed to stammer out before turning on your heel and practically stumbling out of the kitchen.

With your heart racing and your mind in a whirlwind, you burst into the library where the girls were lounging, each with a glass of wine in hand. Feyre perked up at your arrival, offering a lazy smile.

“There you are, was wondering where you went,” she mused, clearly already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Without thought, you blurted out the bombshell news. “Guys, Azriel and I kissed.”

The revelation seemed to sober up the entire room, and suddenly, you were bombarded with questions and reactions from your friends.

“Oh my gods, finally,” Mor exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat

“Is he a good kisser? Was it rough or soft? How did he hold you?” Nesta fired off questions, her curiosity piqued.

”All of you owe me 10 cold coins each. I’m always right,” Feyre slumped back in her seat, sipping the wine as she nodded happily.

“I knew you were up to something while we were in here,” Amren chimed in with a knowing smirk.

You grinned widely as you shared all the details with the girls, who were just as excited as you were. They leaned in, eager to hear every bit of the story.

As the questions swirled around you, Elain’s confused expression brought the conversation to a halt.

“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be kissing right now?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

You froze, the weight of her words sinking in. “Well, yes, we were just... making out, and I had to come here. I panicked.”

In response, your friends practically shoved you back outside, Nesta taking the lead. “And don’t you dare come back until your legs are shaking and you have a big smile on your face,” she declared with a mischievous grin.

You took a deep breath, suppressing your smile as you made your way back to the kitchen. Azriel stood there, leaning against the kitchen island with his feet crossed and arms over his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

You softened at his words, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him down slightly, you gave him a loud kiss that ended with an audible "mwah."

"I really couldn't be more comfortable. I love you, Az. Like a whole lot," you confessed, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Azriel's eyes softened at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can put into words."

You felt a rush of warmth flood through you at his admission, your heart fluttering with happiness. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him again, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers down your spine.

Azriel grabbed your hips and slowly backed you into the kitchen island. You yelped when he picked you up and put you on the counter, deeping the kiss.

“Let me take you on a date. I want to do this properly,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You put your hands on his chest lovingly as you nod, smiling up at him. “I’d love that.”

—

extra scene where rhys and cassian visit azriel in the kitchen:

Azriel stood frozen as you left, his mind going into overdrive, worrying if he had done something wrong. Just as he was about to follow you, Rhys and Cassian popped their heads into the kitchen.

"Yo. Where did she go?" Cassian asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the pair, or rather their heads.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Go before she comes back," he urged, shooing them away with his hand.

Rhys leaned against the kitchen island, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's about damn time."

Cassian nodded in agreement. "Fuck yeah, took him long enough. But hey, better late than never."

Azriel frowned, feeling the weight of their words. "You guys make it sound like it was some kind of mission."

Rhys chuckled. "In a way, it was. And you finally completed it."

Azriel sighed, "Stop talking like that, you sound fucking ancient.”

Cassian smirked at him, arms over his chest as he said “Y’all kissed?”

Azriel's cheeks flushed slightly at Cassian's question, but he maintained his composure. "Yeah, we did."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And?"

Azriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "And it was... nice."

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. "Nice? Come on, tongue?”

"Yeah, tongue,” he said trying and failing to suppress a smile.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I knew it, you little freak. What else?”

Azriel's expression turned guarded. “Okay, that's all you dickheads need to know. Now, get the fuck out before she comes back.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up, a finger wagging in Azriel’s face. “You better not fuck in my kitchen, I swear to the Mother, I’ll make you both scrub every inch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and ushered them out, leaning against the kitchen island, waiting for you.

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utterlyotterlyx · 1 month

Text

Moth To A Flame

Summary - Azriel has a new friend in the form of a diary to talk to, and you are completely enchanted to find out exactly what they talk about.

Warnings - F L U F F F F F F F F F F, pining, wholesome all round

Word Count - 4.1k

Based on this ask

Winter Solstice was a magical time of year, one that had become even more meaningful with the additions of your ever-expanding family.

Before Feyre, it had just been you decorating the house and instructing Cassian to help you, scolding him when he would inevitably pop open a bottle of wine and find a nice couch to perch on whilst he barked unhelpful comments in your direction. The only good thing about Cassian's laziness was that Azriel would always show up to help you, whether that be resting his hands on your hips to keep you steady as you strung up the garlands, or getting on a ladder himself to reach the higher points that were beyond your reach, he was always there to assist.

Since Feyre, you were gifted with a band of women who wanted to help, Feyre reached the highest corners of the room, Elain made fresh garland rings from whatever she could find in the gardens of Velaris, and Nesta was meticulous in the placement of all of the decorations. Wine flowed and music played, and your heart had never felt so full and content.

That solstice had marked Nyx's fourth year within your special little family, and each year, the gifts had become more extravagant for the little one.

You had opted to stay in that morning and skip the annual snowball fight, choosing to watch it from the window with Elain as you both spent the morning preparing the meal you were going to feed to three huge Illyrian bats a few hours from then. Lucien had also opted to stay behind, his reason being to make sure that your wine glasses stayed full which earnt him a teasing glare from Azriel before his eyes flickered to you in silent conversation.

Snow floated down softly from the skies and you watched with a quiet giggle as you noticed Nyx reaching his little limbs upward to the sky in Feyre's arms, grasping at the flakes that were just in reach for him to capture. Then your watchful eye moved to Azriel, the male you were so irrevocably in love with who had no idea of your affections.

It was odd, for Azriel, a male who dreamed of a mate so badly, of real true love, to not see what had always been right in front of him. Though you had to give it to him, you weren't exactly forthcoming with your feelings in fear of being rejected.

Presents had been neatly arranged in piles, thanks to Lucien, and you had made sure to make everyone aware that each person had a certain coloured wrapping paper, you had told them it would make life easier since the family was too big now to spend time reading labels. Rhys had rolled his eyes at you, but pecked your cheek with a smirk at your usual perfectionist antics before agreeing and stalking off to make sure it was imperative to your plans that they do as told.

Life hadn't always been so perfect.

You had come from nothing, no family or title were bestowed to you, and you had unfortunately found yourself being sold to the Illyrian camps to entertain the males there before Rhys and his brothers had found you and taken you in. There was something about you that captivated them, and the more time they spent with you, getting to know you, the more they fell in love with everything that you were. Kind. Selfless. Loyal. Fierce. Their family wouldn't feel nearly as complete without you in it.

Azriel had smirked when they had re-entered the house, basking in the glow of another victory whilst you barked the exact place where they all needed to sit in front of their towering piles of presents. You had gone overboard again, you always did every year, showering them all in gifts which you never expected to be returned. That was the gift of you, all you wanted was for everyone else to be happy.

The house smelt divine. Baked chestnuts and cranberries, pine and candied oranges, and whatever honey you had put on the meat. All of their mouths were salivating at the thought of sitting down at that table and turning into feral beasts at the platter you had spent weeks planning and preparing.

A seamlessly planned gap had been created, a perfect moment for you all to sit down together and open your gifts before you bolted back into the kitchen and ordered Rhys to keep your wine topped up. It was the least he could do after all.

Your pile was nestled between Azriel and Mor's separate towers, the space on the deep seated sofa between them left free for you also. Azriel's eyes roamed your figure as you dipped into the kitchen and returned with a fresh glass of red wine, your bare feet padded along the floor and the short silver chrome dress that you had chosen to wear swayed with each step, grazing against your naked thighs.

Azriel thought that you were absolute perfection, to pure for their world, too pure for him to foolishly believe that he stood a chance with you.

Your scent drifted past him as you shimmied through the gap between his knees and the table, molten caramel apples and basil, a smell he could scent from any place he stood, no matter how far or near he was from you.

All of the piles were as you had ordered, in specific coloured papers, and the beaming smile on your face made all of the hassle of running about town worth it.

Everyone began opening their gifts in turn. Mor had flung her arms around you when she had opened a glittering red floor length dress that you had custom made for her. Feyre was beyond happy at the paintbrushes that you had inscribed her name into, Nesta was thrilled with her books, and Elain's bright eyes sifted through the cookbooks and ornate garden tools you had imported from Dawn. Another jewel for the firedrake and she was content, Cassian was audibly grateful for the armour you had gotten him which held a bit for flare than his current leathers, with golden sockets for his siphons which melted into the taut black leather of the skin.

Azriel shouldn't have been surprised when you went as far as to import delicacies from the Spring Court for Lucien, an assortment of baked goods and herbs that almost brought a tear to his eye. You knew how much Lucien missed being able to have a home, and you knew that Spring was the closest thing to a home he had ever had bar Elain.

Rhys howled in laughter when he unwrapped his matte black lint roller with a violet handle, promising to use it often before opening his real gift, a piece of art you had commissioned of himself, Feyre and Nyx at Starfall a year prior, covered in stardust and smiling brightly. Thoughtful as always.

Then you turned to Azriel, noticing he had opened most of his gifts apart from the ones that were clearly from you by the state of the perfectly wrapped edges and cobalt blue ribbons. He felt your eyes on him, pools of adoration he always found himself searching for, and he met your gaze as you handed him a small square box that rested in his palm.

Unwrapping it, navy velvet welcomed his eye and he looked at you with a small frown, listening to your silent urge to open it to find a thin onyx leather bracelet with a hot white glass pendent at its centre. The light swirled and danced like it was alive, growing more active as he inspected it. "What is it?"

Smiling, you took the bracelet from the box and secured it around his wrist, your touch alone sending electricity coursing through his veins, "I've been experimenting with my power," you told him softly as the room continued unphased in its own conversation like neither of you existed, "It's a piece of my soul," your fingers rested on his wrist and he felt his heart thump in his chest, "It's just so you know that you know I'm with you to light the way whenever you need it."

Azriel exhaled with disbelief, feeling unworthy of such a gift. A piece of your soul. So that you would always be with him.

"Y/N," he breathed, "This is- Thank you," he would give anything to be able to lean forward and capture your lips in his, but instead he restrained himself and reached for your own gift from him in your pile, wrapped in shiny silver paper with intricate embellishments of flower petals.

You hadn't opened a single gift yet, too entranced in everyone else to take a moment for yourself, but you obliged the man you adored so much and ripped open the paper that encased a long box.

Opening it, your eyes widened as you took in the blade in your fingers, an exact match to Truthteller but with a hilt of diamonds and beautifully forged embellishments, "I realised that you didn't have your own, I hope you never have to use it but just thought you'd like one," your stunned silence made him fidget with his fingers and he watched you carefully pick the blade up and turn it in your hands, "Do you like it?"

"I love it," it was beautifully lethal, just like you, "Thank you, Az. Really."

The afternoon continued and you couldn't stop glancing to the open lidded box on the table as you sat nestled under Azriel's wing, sipping from your wine as he opened his last gift, from Nesta, who was busy placing the new hairpins you had gotten her into her staple coronet. Azriel tore open the paper and tilted his head, looking up at the eldest Archeron sister who raised a brow and smirked, "It's a diary, Az. People use them to write down their thoughts and feelings, some people draw in them," you snorted at the condescension in her tone to which Azriel nudged your knee playfully before thanking her and thus wrapping up the present exchange.

It had shaped up to be the most perfect solstice any of you had ever seen.

In the weeks that followed solstice, the snow melted away to give new life to the earth below, and the sun peeked out from the mountains to cascade Velaris in its heavenly glow.

During those weeks, you noticed a subtle change to Azriel, how he would fly away at dusk with his diary secured to his side, to only return an hour or so later seeming lighter and more determined. The subtle changes and the increases of his affection only made you more intrigued to find out exactly what he was writing in that book.

He had caught you far too many times tiptoeing into his bedroom, curtly telling you with a smirk that the diary was nowhere to be seen before pecking your forehead and sending you on your way.

Azriel had been much more attentive since solstice, he rarely took off the bracelet that you gave him, and you liked to think that the glow of your soul coaxed him into sleep, a thing you knew he struggled with often. Even Rhys had told you that Azriel had left his door open one night, only slightly ajar, but enough to Rhys to see him reaching to the ceiling and looking longingly at the pendent which contained your essence atop his pulse.

It was frustrating for your family to see it, to see your mutual pining but watch the other be clueless to it. Azriel had brought you flowers, brought back trinkets from his travels, he would brush up behind you and allow his shadows to feather across your lower back, he'd even cooked for you, something no one had ever seen before. Then there was you, giving a literal piece of your soul to the male, and even that wasn't enough for Azriel to see how in love with him you were.

"I'm calling it," Cassian panted as he rested on the stone pillar of the training ring beside Nesta, watching Azriel jog to catch up with your retreating form and his shadows drawling over your shoulder, "They're mates. They have to be."

"You're too late to that bet," Nesta quipped, wrapping her mate's hands up tighter in the leather straps, "We've all put money in, we bet on how long it would take for them to realise and for the bond to snap."

"And you didn't tell me?!"

Nesta scowled playfully, "You'd cheat," she prodded his armoured chest with her finger, "It has to be natural. They deserve that much."

Weeks ticked by and the group were getting restless, even Nesta, who was stubborn to let the pining play out, was getting annoyed.

Nesta knew exactly what Azriel wrote about in his diary each day, he wrote of you, she had caught a glimpse of a passage when he had stupidly left his diary in the library one night and he had sworn her to secrecy since then, but also sought her out to speak about you, about what he should do.

And Nesta no longer saw a problem in nudging him in the right direction.

"Is she still sniffing around your diary?" Nesta had asked, they were splayed across the seating area in the River House whilst you and Mor had disappeared to Rita's for the evening.

Your essence glowed on his wrist, he heard the whispers of your voice emit from it and sighed with a faint smile on his lips, "Everyday," he told her, looking upward at the ceiling and wondering what you were doing in that moment, "She's too good for me, Nes."

Humming in disagreement, Nesta sat up and craned her neck to look at her friend who was clearly thinking of the woman dancing the night away in the centre of Velaris, "Azriel," she deadpanned, "Y/N gave you a piece of her soul so that she would always be with you. Show her what you wrote. I assure you it can only go in the way you want it to."

Hint? No. Spelling it out for the dumb Illyrian? Yes.

Realisation hit him and he bolted upright, he gathered his diary in his fingers and raced upstairs, stumbling past a confused Cassian who stared after his brother before turning to his mate, mouth full of one of the cupcakes you and Elain had baked that morning with wide eyes and a accusatory tone muffling his words, "You cheated!" Crumbs flew from his mouth and Nesta flipped him off.

"You know the money is ours right?"

Cassian flopped down beside her with a grin, "I knew there was a reason why I loved you."

Painful throbs growled at the balls of your feet as you walked up the path to the house with your heels stabbing at your thigh. Intoxication hadn't found you but you still had an amazing time dancing the hours away with Mor and Feyre, giggling and talking about men until you were all talked and danced out.

Golden firelight greeted you, and your dreary eyes scanned the room to find Azriel sat before the fire but turned toward the door where you stood in a floor length black dress, with two long slits that kissed your mid thigh and a plunging neckline held up by two thin ropes.

Azriel's hair was tousled, his hazel eyes were warm pools that beckoned you to dive in, his skin was golden and glowing in the light, and he sat there with a look of wonderment that you had never seen before.

"Az? Are you alright?" You closed the door behind you and made you way over to him, noticing his neck crane to keep his focus on your face as you approached him.

Azriel had pulled the table toward him and a familiar black leather bound book lay open on the table in front of him, "Come here," his voice was low but soft, pleading but not commanding, he patted the space beside him and you sank down into it, "I wanted to show you something. I know I've been hiding this from you, but I want you to see it now."

The book was soon in your hands, and closed, the thing you had been after for so long, "Are you sure?" The idea of his diary in your hands felt wrong, like a delicious invasion of privacy.

"More sure than I've ever been," he nodded downward, giving you the permission you needed to open it.

The pages were filled with words and charcoal sketched, and you took a moment to flick through the filling book before you focused on certain pages.

Bright eyes, unbound hair, and a toothy smile greeted you over a two page spread, your eyes followed the curves of black, and you gasped when you noticed what, or who, you were looking at. It was you. Azriel had drawn you on the pages of the diary Nesta had gifted him. In the time he had disappeared at dusk to be alone with his thoughts, he had chosen to let them wander to you.

You looked to him and noted how he had shuffled closer to you, the warmth of wing draping over your smaller form and his shadows dancing across your shoulders.

"I think in a way this diary is for you," he urged you to carry on, watching carefully as you flipped through to the beginning and scanning the words he had littered on the pages.

To anyone else, they were just a bunch of randomly littered words across the page, a waterfall of sayings and phrases that had come from your lips. Words and phrases that you said often enough for Azriel to take the time to write them down.

On the next page was two lists, one of the things you loved and another of the things you hated with small scribbled beside certain ones depicting when exactly Azriel had noticed.

Flicking through, it dawned on you that the entire diary was full of you, your jokes and mannerisms, the things that made you laugh, passages of your favourite poetry, drawings of you.

"Az, I-"

"Keep going."

So you did, you kept flipping the pages, allowing your fingers to graze against his written word as you read through his thoughts until you reached one page in particular.

Y/N,

I may never have the courage to tell you how I feel, and maybe writing it down will give me the courage to let you finally see what I have been hiding.

I tried to remember the day when everything in my life began to make sense. I went so long feeling lost and alone, of feeling destined to a life of solitude, and then you happened. You brought a joy to my life, to all of our lives, that we didn't know we were missing. I don't think you realise just how amazing you are.

I am in love with you, Y/N.

When you're around I know everything is going to be alright, and when I'm away, all I think about is you. I look at that damn bracelet all of the time, hoping that it was just some thoughtful gift, but a sign of something more. You are fluent in me, you speak my language in ways that even I cannot, and I can't walk this earth without you by my side. I refuse.

I may not tell you everyday that you mean the world to me but you do. The day you entered my life, even when you were petrified, you changed my life into something so beautiful and meaningful, you make me feel seen. I may not be the first man in your life but I intend to be the last, I intend to be the only one who can make you feel loved to your core.

There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I will love you in your weakest moments and brightest of days, I will love you when you don't love yourself, I will love you even when you don't want me to, I will love you until the earth swallows me and even then I will follow you to the next life. There is nothing on this earth that can take me from you, not even death can force us apart.

Between universes, oceans and moons, I am so lucky that I got to step onto the same land and dream under the same stars as you; and I'd choose you in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of any reality, I would find you and I would choose you.

I love you, Y/N. I'll write it and say it as many times as you need me to, whether that be verbal or not, in whatever way you need me to say it, I will.

You have me, until the last star in the galaxy perishes, you have me.

You didn't realise that you were crying until you saw your tears splatter onto the page. In an instant, Azriel was cupping your face in the hands that only you found comfort in, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks as he felt your longing and love flow through him.

Felt your longing and love flow through him.

Azriel tensed, his eyes went wild and wide as he searched your soul for a sign for anything to confirm what he had just felt pang in his chest. The pressure was building and his actions confused you, he was panting, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.

You reached for him, resting your fingers over his heart and feeling the world flip on its axis at the singular contact, energy exploded around your forms, white oceanic waves rippling with intertwining shadow, shrouded in a golden shimmer.

The sight was beautiful, so beautiful that it stole your attention and you watched as your essences danced with one another, and his shadows rallied to join in the celebration. Azriel's breath was warm against your cheek and you tore your gaze away from the display above your heads to meet his tearful eyes.

"We're mates," his voice was soft, so gentle, and he ran his fingers down the side of your face, sighing with a smile when you nodded.

"Nesta is going to be thrilled that she won the bet."

Azriel threw his head back and laughed, tears of pure happiness spilling from the corners of his eyes as he fell back to your level, "Bet?"

"They all betted on how long it would take us to realise that we love each other. They thought I didn't know."

"Beautiful smart creature," Azriel purred to you and you felt a blush creep to your cheeks, a blush that was soothed by his shadows curling over it, he slowly closed the gap between you, his lips hovering just before your own. "How rude of us to keep them waiting."

Azriel noticed your line of sight flicker between his eyes and downward at his lips, "Extremely," you breathed and Azriel wasted no time in pulling your face toward him and connecting your lips in something that could only be described as universe shifting, like the entire galaxy was holding a collective breath and watching you fall into one another.

There was a hunger behind it as his tongue danced with your own, you felt those golden threads snap into place, you heard the string connecting your souls hum in appreciation and yearning for what was no doubt going to occur behind closed doors.

Just as Azriel was about to scoop you into his arms and take you somewhere more private, a shuffle of feet and a groan sounded by the stairs.

Pulling apart, you saw Cassian stood there with giddy eyes, "GUYS! NESTA WON!"

The house and its inhabitants collectively snarled, "FUCK!" Rhys cursed from somewhere upstairs followed by Nesta's victorious chuckle whilst Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at you both, you buried your head into Azriel's chest to contain your red cheeks.

Azriel shrouded you with his wings, forcing you to look up at him, "Let's get out of here? I'd like a night alone with my mate."

"Say it again."

"Mate," he kissed you, "My perfect, incredible mate," he mumbled onto your lips with a smirk, cradling you to his chest and growling at Cassian for whatever crude remark he had made before soaring into the sky with you pressed to his chest with plans to make you his over and over again.

Authors Note

Got a little carried away but this has given me life x

I'm drafting the next parts to some of my series tonight for tomorrow, what do we want prioritised? New Pages? A Fate Inked In Starlight? Can't Keep My Hands To Myself? When I Kissed The Teacher?

Let me know x

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quinzzelx · 1 month

Text

Shadows and Starlight

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Starfall and with Starfall come some unpleasant memories. But your excitement to finally see Azriel again wins you over. Catching up with your family, you find that the evening is approaching fast. What happens when Azriel returns and you finally see each other again?

Chapter 01 // Chapter 03

Word Count: 8.8K Well, this is a lengthy one.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Trauma, Flashbacks of Torture, Mentions of SA, A lot of Family bonding, Angst, Teeth rotting Fluff, and Sexual content. I have not proofread this yet, since I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible. A/N: Oh my god, GUYS!!! I am overwhelmed by the positivity and love you showered the first chapter with! You have honestly no idea how happy this makes me. I'm so glad people seem to enjoy it and I truly hope that this part will do the first one justice. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, come chat with me in my inbox!

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As you wake up on Starfall morning, a sense of weariness washes over you, the remnants of a night spent tossing and turning, haunted by dreams of the past and the phantom pains that still linger in your scars. Despite the soft caress of your satin nightgown against your skin, every movement sends a twinge of discomfort coursing through your body, a reminder of the battles you've fought.

Tracing your fingertips over the pale, jagged carvings that mar your stomach, you're transported back to the horrors of Amarantha's trap, the allure of her twisted game pulling you deeper into her web with each passing moment. Rhys had begged you to stay home, his instincts warning him that something wasn't right about this meeting, this gathering, but something inside you knew that you couldn't sit idly by while he faced danger alone. And so you insisted on accompanying him, despite the protests and the danger it posed to you both. There were moments of doubt, fleeting glimpses of regret that whispered in the recesses of your mind.

Especially in the darkness of those colder, harsher nights. Nights when even the simple act of opening your eyes felt like an insurmountable task, weighed down not just by the heavy iron chains that bound you to the ground, but by the imposing weight of impending death that hung heavy on your shoulders.

Turning onto your side, you wince as you feel the numerous scars on your back, traces of the lashings you sustained at Amarantha's hands. She was cruel in her efforts to use you as a tool to hurt Rhys further, inflicting pain upon pain in her relentless quest for power. But despite the physical scars that mar your skin, it's the emotional scars that run the deepest, the memories of your shared trauma with Rhys threatening to pull you back into the depths of despair.

Your wounds festered, infected by the cruel hands of Amarantha, who took perverse pleasure in keeping them open and inflicting new ones upon you, layering pain upon pain with each lash of her whip. Faebane slowed your healing, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold that seeped into your bruised body, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of agony. On one such night, Amarantha's rage burned brighter than usual, her fury directed solely at you. Bound naked to her bedpost, your emaciated form contorted in unnatural ways, the strain and angle of your bindings causing one shoulder to scream in protest. She carved vile curses into the soft flesh of your stomach, taunting you with each cruel stroke of her blade.

And then Rhys entered, his horror evident in the fleeting glimpse you caught of his face before the mask of stoicism fell back into place. But his appearance ignited something within Amarantha, sparking a twisted idea that would haunt you for years to come. Forced to watch as Rhys administered the next lashes, forced to endure the searing pain as he used his Deamanti powers on you, you felt a sliver of relief amidst the agony as his apologies echoed in your mind, his powers soothing the raw edges of your suffering. He tried numbing your pain, taking away the searing heat that your wounds imposed. But Amarantha wasn't satisfied with just inflicting physical pain – she wanted to break you completely, to strip away every last shred of dignity and humanity. And so she made you watch as she rode Rhys, fucking him without hesitation, with favor, your body still bound to the bedpost, blood dripping down your exposed skin, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. She got off on it, the hot tears running down your face, leaving streaks in the dried blood on your face. Even in your state then, your eyes beheld a promise of death. But never had you felt this helpless, having to watch as Amarantha used Rhys as her personal sex-slave. Rhys was your family, your High Lord! And all you could do was watch.

It was a night of unspeakable horror, one of the darkest moments of your life. And yet, amidst the despair, there was a glimmer of hope – She was this mad because of Feyre, because she wanted to break the curse. As you lay there, on the floor of your cell, embracing the cold arms of death, Rhys hurriedly came barging in. He knelt beside you on the cold stone floor, tears streaming down his face as he cradled your head in his hands, offering what little comfort he could in the face of such unimaginable pain.

"Gods, what have I done?" Rhys whispered, his voice choked with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted any of this." His words were like a knife to your heart, each apology cutting deeper than the last as you struggled to cling to consciousness. "Rhys," you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." But he shook his head, his tears falling freely now as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen to you."

You reached up, weakly grasping his hand as you tried to offer him what little comfort you could. "It's not your fault," you repeated, your voice growing fainter with each passing moment. "I love you, Rhys. Please... don't blame yourself."

But Rhys's anguish only seemed to deepen at your words, his sobs wracking his body as he pleaded with you to hold on, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume you both. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with emotion as he called your name. "Don't leave me. I can't bear to lose you. Please, stay with me." And as you felt the cold embrace of death drawing ever closer, you clung to his hand, drawing strength from the love and warmth that radiated from him. "I'll try," you rasped, your voice barely audible now. "I'll try, Rhys. I promise."

And with those final words, you drifted into darkness, leaving Rhys alone with his grief and his guilt, his tears mingling with yours as he prayed to the Mother for a miracle, for a chance to make things right.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you try to calm your mind, to push aside the memories that threaten to overwhelm you. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, a time to put aside the pain of the past and focus on the joy of the present.

As someone knocks at the bedroom door, you groan, burying your face in the pillow, exhausted and emotionally drained from the tumultuous memories that still linger in your mind. Calling out for the person to enter, you brace yourself for the intrusion, the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders. To your surprise, it's Rhys who enters, his presence like a balm to your weary soul. As if sensing the chaos within you, he seems equally stressed by the preparations for the day, Nyx cradled in his arms. Your eyes soften when they land on the toddler, his small wings flapping excitedly as he spots you, extending his arms out in a silent plea to be held. Rhys sits down beside you on the bed, a gentle look on his face as he takes in your tired form. Nyx immediately pounces on you, his laughter filling the room with infectious joy. Despite your exhaustion, you can't help but smile at the sight of the young boy, his innocence a welcome distraction from the weight of the world.

"Hey there, little one," you murmur, scooping Nyx into your arms and showering him with kisses. He giggles in delight, his tiny hands reaching out to touch your face with a sense of wonder. Rhys watches the exchange with a soft smile, his violet eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I thought Nyx might help cheer you up," he says gently, his voice laced with concern. "It's been a rough morning, hasn't it?" You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since you woke up. But as you hold Nyx close, his laughter echoing in your ears, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, if only for a fleeting moment. Rhys leans closer, his hand finding yours on the bed, offering silent support. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, concern etched in his eyes.

You manage a weak smile, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm... trying to be," you admit, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "It's just... a lot, you know?" He nods understandingly, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. "I know," he murmurs, his gaze softening. "But we'll get through this, together. I promise." The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the bond that binds you both, even in the darkest of times. "Thank you, Rhys," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

He smiles, a gentle expression that lights up his features. "Anytime," he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

As you settle into a more comfortable rhythm, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, a welcome distraction from the weight of the morning's emotions. "So," Rhys begins, his tone lighter now, "did you hear about Cassian's little mishap with the ladder this morning?" You raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Oh? Do tell," you urge, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Rhys chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, apparently he thought he could single-handedly take on the task of putting up the decorations," he explains, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But Feyre and Elain had other ideas."

You laugh at the mental image of Cassian attempting to navigate a ladder while Feyre and Elain guided him from below, their laughter echoing through the halls of the House of Wind. "And then," Rhys continues, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "just as he was reaching for the top, the ladder slipped out from under him, and down he went!" You can't help but giggle at the thought of Cassian tumbling to the ground, his pride wounded but otherwise unharmed. "Poor Cass," you tease, shaking your head in mock sympathy. "I hope he's okay." The Highlord says, his smile widening. "Oh, he's fine," he assures you. "Just a bruised ego, I think."

Before you can respond, Nyx interrupts with a babble of his own, his tiny hands reaching out to grab at Rhys's hair. You laugh, gently untangling Nyx's fingers from Rhys's locks as you listen to the toddler's excited chatter. Rhys grins, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at his son. "I spoke to Azriel yesterday," he says casually, shifting the conversation back to more serious matters. "He should be back today, just in time for Starfall."

You feel a surge of anticipation at the mention of Azriel's return, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing him again after his absence. "That's great news," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I'm sure he'll be relieved to be home." He nods, a knowing glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm sure he will be," he says cryptically, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "After all, there are certain people who have been eagerly awaiting his return."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile at Rhys's playful teasing. "You're incorrigible," you tease, giving him a playful shove. "But I'm glad Azriel's coming back. It's not the same without him." The conversation ebbs into comfortable silence as you play with the toddler sat on your lap. When you notice Rhys’s eyes glaze over, the violet of his eyes dulling just slightly, you look at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Is our Highlord required somewhere?” You ask with a small smile on your lips. “Yes, I fear duty calls.”

As Rhys leaves with Nyx in tow, a sense of tranquility settles over you, the bustling energy of the morning quieting to a gentle hum. With a sigh of relief, you make your way to the bath, the promise of warm water and solitude beckoning to you like a beacon in the storm.

Sinking into the soothing embrace of the bath, the warmth seeping into your tired muscles and easing the knots of tension that had been building within you. With each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to slip away, replaced by a sense of peace and calm that settles deep within your soul. With each passing moment, you feel yourself growing lighter, the weight of the morning's emotions gradually fading into the background as you focus on the simple pleasure of being present in this moment. Only when the skin on your hands starts to wrinkle, do you decide to leave the comfort of your bath.

After drying off, you quickly set about getting ready for the day ahead. With practiced ease, you slip into your clothes, the fabric smooth against your skin as you dress. You run a brush through your hair, smoothing out any tangles and pulling it back into a simple yet elegant style. With one last glance in the mirror, you nod in satisfaction, a sense of determination settling over you. Today is a new day. Starfall to be exact. You would not let the past control the present.

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As you make your way downstairs, noon is just beginning to unfold, the soft light of the early sun filtering through the windows of the House of Wind. The air is filled with the gentle hum of activity as preparations for the evening's festivities are underway. You take a moment to admire the decorations that Cassian had so painstakingly put up, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips as you remember his earlier mishap with the ladder. Despite the chaos of it all, there's a sense of excitement building in the air, a unmistakable energy that sets your heart racing with anticipation.

Making your way to where Feyre and Elain were sitting in the kitchen, you exchange greetings with them, falling into easy conversation. The smell of freshly brewed tea fills the air, and you can't help but relax as you sink into a chair at the table. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" Feyre asks, pouring a cup of tea for each of you.

Elain smiles softly, her doe-eyes lighting up with excitement. "I was thinking of spending some time in the gardens," she says. "I've been working on a few new plantings, and I'd love to show them to you." You nod eagerly, honestly intrigued by Elain's passion for gardening. "I'd love to see them," you reply, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Whilst you sip your tea, the conversation turns to lighter topics, and you find yourself laughing and joking with Feyre and Elain. It's moments like these that remind you of why you cherish your time with them. Suddenly, Elain's voice breaks through your thoughts, her tone soft and earnest. "I'm so glad Azriel is returning today," she says, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've missed him." A pang of jealousy and irritation shoots through you at her words, catching you off guard. You quickly brush it off as simple irritation, unwilling to acknowledge the twinge of envy that lingers in the depths of your chest. Elain, oblivious to your internal turmoil, continues to speak, her words pulling you back into the conversation. "And I've missed you too," she adds, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I missed you too." But inside, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of Elain's closeness with Azriel. Before the awkwardness can settle in, however, Elain changes the subject, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she again talks about the new plants she's planted in the gardens of the Riverhouse.

"That reminds me," you say suddenly, a spark of delight igniting within you. Your eyes sparkle as you remember the gift you brought back for Elain, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small packet of seeds. "I found these at a market stall on the continent and thought of you. They're seeds for a flower called... um...“ you stumble over the name for a moment before recalling it. "They're seeds for a flower called Moonlight Blossoms. I thought they might be a nice addition to your garden."

Elain's eyes widen with delight as she takes the seeds from you, her expression one of pure joy. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't wait to plant these in the garden. They're going to be beautiful."

After spending a pleasant morning and noon catching up with Feyre and Elain, you accompany Elain to the garden to see her new plants. The garden is a riot of color and fragrance, and you spend a blissful hour wandering among the flowers and chatting with her about her latest botanical discoveries. As you bid Elain farewell and make your way back inside, you realize that the day has flown by in a rush of activity. You quickly run a few last-minute errands for Starfall, picking up some supplies and making sure everything is in order for the evening's festivities.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like grains of sand as you hurry through the bustling streets of Velaris, the excitement of the day building with each passing moment. Before you know it, the sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city as evening approaches.

With a sense of urgency, you hurry back to the House of Wind, eager to get ready for the evening ahead. Mor had promised to get ready together, and you don't want to keep her waiting. As you enter your room, the blond is already there, surrounded by an array of dresses and accessories strewn across the bed. She looks up as you enter, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Hey there, gorgeous!" she greets you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Are you ready to get glam for Starfall?" You return her smile, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of the evening ahead. "Absolutely," you reply, crossing the room to join her. "I can't wait to see what you've picked out." Mor gestures to the dresses laid out on the bed. "I've narrowed it down to a few options," she says, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. "But I think I already know which one I'm going to choose." You chuckle, knowing that Mor always has a flair for dramatics when it comes to dressing up. "Well, let's see them then," you tease, eager to get started.

Together, you sift through the dresses, examining each one carefully and discussing their merits and drawbacks. There are dresses of every color and style, from sleek and elegant to bold and daring. Finally, Mor settles on a stunning gown in deep maroon red, its flowing skirts and intricate beading catching the light as she holds it up.

"This is the one," she declares, a satisfied smile gracing her features. "What do you think?" You nod in agreement, admiring the dress's beauty. "It's perfect," you reply. "You're going to look absolutely stunning." Mor beams at your praise, clearly pleased with her selection. "Thanks, love," she says, reaching out to give you a quick hug. "Now, let's get you sorted out. I have a feeling you're going to steal the show tonight."

As you slip into the dress that you had bought the day before, a soft sigh escapes your lips, the sensation of the fabric against your skin sending a shiver of delight down your spine. The deep midnight blue hue wraps around you like a lover's embrace, casting an delicate glow that seems to illuminate the room. The neckline plunges low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. With each movement, the dress seems to come alive. Mor's eyes widen in admiration as she takes in your appearance. "Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with genuine awe. "You look absolutely stunning."

A soft smile graces your lips as you meet her gaze "Thank you, Mor," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't have found this without your help." She beams at your words, her pride evident in the curve of her lips. "It was my pleasure," she replies, her tone warm and sincere. "But really, the dress suits you perfectly. I almost forgot how it looked on you overnight."

Shortly after she also put on her dress, Mor expertly braids your hair, her nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns, you can't help but admire her skill. With each twist and turn, your hair transforms into a work of art, cascading down your back in elegant waves. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch, the gentle tugs and pulls lulling you into a state of relaxation. "Your hair is like silk," Mor remarks, her voice filled with admiration. "It's going to look stunning tonight." Once your hair is styled to perfection, Mor moves on to makeup, applying each layer with precision. The dark, alluring makeup enhances your features, accentuating your eyes and highlighting your cheekbones.

Whilst the blond puts the finishing touches on your makeup, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The sultry gaze staring back at you sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air. "Ready to turn heads?" Mor asks, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Absolutely," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's make tonight unforgettable."

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As you and Mor descend the grand staircase, the sounds of laughter and music fill the air, signaling the start of the evening's festivities. The House of Wind is alive with energy, the vibrant atmosphere drawing you in as you make your way through the bustling crowd. Mor heads straight for the wine table, her graceful movements drawing the attention of those around her. She expertly pours two glasses, handing one to you with a knowing smile. "To a night to remember," she says, raising her glass in a toast. You clink your glass against hers, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "To a night to remember," you echo, taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine.

While mingling with the other guests, you can't help but notice the admiring glances and whispered compliments that follow you wherever you go. Cassian whistles at your appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he offers a playful wink. Even Amren, usually reserved and stoic, can't help but be impressed. "Not bad, girl" she remarks in her typical deadpan tone, her lips quirking up in a rare smile. "You look good." While chatting with Cassian, his easy grin and infectious laughter filling the air, you can't help but feel at ease in his presence. He regales you with stories of past Starfall celebrations, each one more outrageous than the last, and you find yourself laughing along with him, caught up in the magic of the moment and the memories.

Amren stands beside him, her sharp gaze surveying the crowd with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She interjects with the occasional dry comment or witty observation, adding her own unique perspective to the conversation. Cassian nudges you playfully, a naughty glint in his eyes. "So, have you seen Az around yet?" he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes at his question, knowing full well where he's going with this. "Not yet," you reply with a smirk. "But I'm sure he'll make quite the entrance when he does," you add, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Cassian chuckles, his grin widening as he leans in conspiratorially. "You know, I heard he's been practicing his dramatic entrances," he whispers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Amren, who had been silently observing the exchange, scoffs in amusement. "Practicing? Please, Azriel was born with dramatic flair," she interjects, her voice dry as ever. You can't help but laugh at Amren's remark, nodding in agreement. "True," you concede, unable to deny the truth in her words. Cassian's grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. "You know, Y/N, if you keep talking about Az like this, people might start to think you have a crush on him," he teases, his tone light but teasing. Mor joins in on the teasing, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh, come on, Cass," she chimes in, "we all know Y/N's got it bad for Az. I mean, who wouldn't? He's mysterious, brooding, and let's not forget those dreamy eyes."

You roll your eyes at their teasing, but heat creeps up your neck nonetheless. "You two are insufferable," you mutter, trying to play it off coolly despite the warmth you can feel in your chest.

They share a knowing look, their grins widening. "Oh, don't be shy, Y/N," Cassian says with a wink, "we all see the way you light up whenever Az is around."

You sigh in mock exasperation, knowing there's no escaping this. "Fine, you caught me," you admit with a chuckle, "but can we please focus on something other than my nonexistent love life for once?" Mor and Cassian exchange a glance before bursting into laughter.

With an exaggerated sigh, you down the rest of your wine in one swift motion, the cool liquid soothing the annoyance bubbling within you. Setting the empty glass down, you grab another from the nearby tray, filling it to the brim with wine. Cassian and Mor exchange amused glances as they watch your reaction, but you pay them no mind, determined to drown out their taunting with copious amounts of alcohol.

As the night wears on, the rhythm of the music pulls you onto the dance floor, the enchanting melodies winding their way through the air and into your soul. Lost in the music, you move with grace and elegance, allowing the melodies to guide your every step. The lights overhead cast a warm glow on the dance floor, illuminating the faces of those around you as they sway to the music. Couples twirl and spin, lost in their own worlds of love and passion, while laughter and joy fill the air. You watch as Nesta and Cassian sweep over the dancefloor together, having the crowd watch in awe.

With each passing moment, your gaze darts from one corner of the room to the next, hoping to catch sight of him. Your heart beats faster with every shadow that moves, every figure that passes by, as you search for the one person who has occupied your thoughts all evening.

Dancing with an attractive Fae male, his presence envelops you, his hand warm against the small of your back as you sway to the soft, slow tunes. Despite your initial reluctance when he asked you to dance with him, you find yourself enjoying his company, lost in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his gaze. His blond hair were neatly combed, his bright green eyes gentle and kind as they take in your facial features.

But as his hand begins to wander over your scarred skin, trailing dangerously close to where the fabric of your dress starts again, a shiver runs down your spine. The heat of his touch sends a jolt through you, igniting a familiar sensation. Just as you feel yourself becoming lost in the moment, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Without even turning around, you know he's here. As the music continues to play, you can sense him drawing closer, his presence casting a spell over you that leaves you spellbound and breathless. Just as you're about to step away, you sense a familiar presence behind you. The scent of cedar fills your senses, and you turn to find Azriel standing there, his tall frame looming over you.

Before you can even process his presence, he reaches out, gently touching your arm. "May I cut in?" he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. You meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. "Of course," you reply, unable to tear your eyes away from him. As the Fae male steps back, Azriel takes his place, his hand finding yours as he pulls you close. The music shifts to a slower, more intimate melody, and you find yourself swept up in the moment. "It's been too long," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music. Azriel's gaze softens, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "I've missed you," he admits, his voice low and filled with emotion. A surge of warmth washes over you at his words, and you find yourself drawn closer to him. "I've missed you too," you confess, your heart racing in your chest. As you continue to dance, the tension between you and Azriel is palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. His hand lingers on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't believe you're finally back," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't believe it either," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It feels like it's been an eternity." Azriel's eyes soften, a hint of sadness flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you returned," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I wanted to be the first one to welcome you home."

You reach up, gently touching his cheek. "It's okay," you assure him, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I know you had your duties to attend to." A faint smile plays at the corners of Azriel's lips then, and he leans into your touch. How he had missed it to feel your gentle reassuring touch. "Still, I wish I could have been here for you," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. As the song comes to an end, you stare at each other. Reluctantly, Azriel releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he takes a step back. The music fades into the background, drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the space between you. Then, with a soft smile, Azriel breaks the silence. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, his voice gentle and inviting.

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd like that," you reply, returning his smile. Together, you slip away from the dance floor, the night air cool against your skin as you step out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out before you, its lights twinkling in the darkness like a sea of stars.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you can't help but shift slightly under his scrutiny, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize just how closely he's examining you. You bite your lip nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of every curve and contour of your body that's on display in the dress. As Azriel's eyes linger on your figure, you can't help but notice the way his gaze seems to heat up, his breath catching in his throat. A thrill shoots through you at the intensity of his stare, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. Then, with a slight cough to clear his throat, Azriel tears his gaze away from you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "I didn't mean to stare." You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reply softly. "I... I don't mind."

You reach out tentatively, your hand finding his arm in a comforting gesture. "Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you." He turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his every word. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage. “I-“ Before you can finish your sentence, the door to the balcony swings open, and Feyre steps out, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees the two of you standing there together.

"Oh, sorry," she stammers, quickly averting her gaze. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Azriel clears his throat, stepping back slightly to give Feyre some space. "It's alright," he says, his voice a little strained. "We were just... talking." she nods, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes as she looks between the two of you. "Right, well, I'll leave you two to it then," she says, retreating back inside. You and Azriel exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between you. It seems that fate has other plans for your conversation, at least for now.

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When Azriel winnowed into Rhys's study earlier that day, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his brother sitting behind the desk, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Rhys's gaze meets his, and Azriel's eyes widen as the scent of you fills his senses, sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. It wasn’t dull and faded, not like the pillows in your bedroom. No, you had to have been in this room today. Rhys raises an eyebrow at his brother’s dumbfounded face, his smirk growing more pronounced. "Took you long enough to notice," he says, amusement lacing his tone.

Azriel's lips twitch into a half-smile as he strides further into the room, his movements fluid and graceful. "I was preoccupied," he replies, his voice gruff. "But I'm here now." Rhys chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I can see that," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, how was your mission?" Azriel takes a moment to compose himself, his mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with your scent. "Successful," he replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. His resolve snapped. "But I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, I have other matters to attend to."

Rhys arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he says, his tone teasing. "Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?" Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at his brother's teasing remark, but he maintains his composure. "No," he says, his voice tinged with determination. "I wouldn't."

As Azriel takes flight for the House of Wind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement courses through his veins, an unexpected thrill at the thought of seeing you again after nine long months apart. He hadn't dared to hope that you would be back, hadn't allowed himself to entertain the possibility of your return. And yet, here you were, your presence filling him with a sense of longing he just started to realize he'd been harboring.

The memory of your scent lingers in his mind, haunting him with its intoxicating sweetness. It's a scent he knows all too well, one that has the power to drive him to madness with desire. Even now, as he flies through the night sky, he can't shake the memory of you, the way your scent wraps around him like a warm embrace. Only yesterday had he thought about that exact smell while fucking his hand wishing it was yours instead.

Cursing himself for his wayward thoughts, Azriel frowns, attempting to push aside the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume him.

As Azriel lands gracefully on the balcony of the House of Wind, he braces himself for their reunion. He had just made his way here in record time, flying like his life depended on it. His heart pounds in his chest, the anticipation of seeing you again after so long almost too much to bear. With each step he takes, his eyes scan the crowded room, searching for your familiar form amidst the mass of guests.

And then he sees you.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes you in, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of you. You’re wearing a dress, and it clings to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve and contour of your body. His gaze lingers on the scars that trail across your back, a witness to the battles you had fought and the strength you possess. But it's not just your appearance that captivates him. It's the way you move, the grace and confidence with which you carry yourself, as if you own the very air around you. And you do, completely oblivious to the hungry and captivated stares you gain, turning heads everywhere you appear. Then his attention finally shifts to the Fae dancing with you, his hand lingering dangerously close to your exposed skin, and a surge of possessiveness courses through him. You’re wearing his colors, he realizes with a jolt, a flicker of irritation igniting within him at the thought of someone else daring to touch what belongs to him. A growl rumbles in Azriel's chest, low and threatening, as the surge of jealousy within him reaches a fever pitch. He takes a step forward, hazel eyes blazing with anger, his wings flaring out instinctively behind him.

But before he can make his move, Mor appears at his side, a knowing smirk on her lips as she nudges him playfully. "Easy there, big guy," she says, her voice low and playful. "No need to start a brawl on Starfall."

Azriel grits his teeth, torn between his desire to protect what's his and the knowledge that Mor is right. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to reign in his emotions. While Azriel briefly exchanges pleasantries with Mor, his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. He can hardly focus on their conversation, his attention drawn inexorably back to where you stand across the room. He can feel his Illyrian instincts surging to the forefront, urging him to claim what's rightfully his. Shadowy tendrils dance around him frantically, pushing, pulling, as if they too wanted him to whisk you away from the other male’s embrace.

Finally having had enough, he excuses himself from Mor's company. Azriel prowls across the room with purposeful strides. His presence alone is enough to send a ripple of unease through the crowd, his menacing aura palpable as he approaches. When he reaches your side, the Fae male dancing with you seems to shrink back in fear, intimidated by the intensity of Azriel's gaze. But Azriel pays him no mind, his attention wholly consumed by you.

His shadows whispering words of possession and desire in his ears, chanting “Beautiful, beautiful” over and over. ”Ours, ours” Azriel can hardly contain the primal urges that surge within him. All he can think about is claiming you, marking you as his own for all the world to see. And as he draws closer, the air crackling with anticipation, he knows that he won't be satisfied until you��re in his arms, where you belong. He just wants to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Suppressing a groan, he twirls you around, his hands easily finding their way onto your hips, softly squeezing them while leading the dance.

When the song came to an end, he felt like he was stood in the summer courts afternoon sun again. He needed some fresh air, some more quietness, and he selfishly wanted to be the sole bearer of your company.

By the Cauldron, as you made your way onto the balcony, him trailing behind you a few steps, he silently swore under his breath. Suddenly he was questioning his decision to be alone with you. Again, he asked himself why. Why have the last nine months been such a torture? Why did it feel like there was no oxygen left in his lungs when you and Mor had winnowed away and departed for your mission? And only now could he breathe again, truly breathe. And with every inhale, the scent of sweet lilies and freshly fallen rain assaulted his senses, clawing into the very essence of his being.

Only as you shifted on your feet slightly did he notice that he was straight up staring at you. Shit. As a soft blush made its way onto your cheeks then, he wanted to melt. Did you like the way he looked at you? Had the past nine months felt as maddening for you as they had felt for him? Questions upon questions infiltrated his mind as you looked upon Velaris together. And when you spoke again, wanting, no, needing to tell him something, he felt his stomach drop. Had you found someone on the continent?

When Feyre interrupted you mid-sentence solely by appearing, he didn’t know if he should curse or thank her for the disturbance. But the way your brows furrowed and how the light in your eyes ebbed out a little bit, made him feel a pang in his chest.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension that had settled between you. And as Feyre excused herself again, he spoke up. "What were you saying?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed to know, needed to hear your words, even if they shattered his heart into a million pieces. You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat as you searched for an excuse, anything to deflect from the truth. "It's nothing," you replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just... something I've been thinking about lately. But it's not important." A lie.

He studied your expression, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a small smile of his own. "Alright," he murmured, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your words than you were letting on. Turning back to Azriel, you couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight danced across his features, casting a soft glow around him that made your heart flutter again.

"You know," he began, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I never expected to find you here tonight. It's... a pleasant surprise."

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the gentle breeze. "Well, it's not every day that we get to celebrate Starfall together," you replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." There was hidden meaning in your words that he didn’t fail to miss.

His eyes softened at your words, a silent understanding passing between you. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Wearing a tender smile, Azriel reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A soft blush crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears. "High praise coming from you," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You laughed, a light and carefree sound that echoed in the night air. "Well, I do have good taste," you quipped, nudging him playfully.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, your fingers grazing lightly against his cheek as you traced the contours of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into your caress. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive at your gentle caress, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a depth of emotion that words could not express. In that moment, he felt as though he could drown in the ocean of your eyes.

With a tender yet sure touch, Azriel pulled you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. The scent of cedar and winter air surrounded you, his presence filling every corner of your senses. Azriel can't help himself, his urge to feel you pressed against him. He had missed you too much, and the way you just looked at him had him questioning why the hell he waited so long to do this. His hazel eyes glint as he lets them roam over your face, examining the gentle curve of your full lips, dipping down to follow the line of revealed skin, ending where your breasts are pressed firmly to his chest. The intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with a delicious combination of desire and longing.

With each passing moment, the space between you seems to shrink, until there is barely a breath of air separating your bodies. You can feel the heat emanating from him, warming you from the inside out. His eyes, darkened with lust, hold you captive, their intensity rendering you speechless. You can't help but shiver under his gaze, your entire being yearning for the touch of his lips against yours.

As he leans in closer, his brows furrowed in concentration, you can't help but tremble under his touch. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, a subconscious gesture. You feel the gentle pressure of his body against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as he presses you back against the railing. Unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, a soft whimper escapes your lips. "Azriel." His name leaves you sounding more like a soft whine than anything else. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he savors the way his name rolls off your tongue. "say it again." he pleads, his voice husky with longing, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Azriel..." You breathe out again. A sinful moan escapes his lips at the sound of his name spoken by you, his head bowing forward as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands claw at his chest, fisting his shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel’s voice sounds strained as he asks you. All you can manage is a whimpered “Please.” And that’s all he needs, as if your words just shattered his restraint, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You melt into each other’s touch, lips slanted over another, one of Azriel’s marred hands comes up to cup one of your cheeks, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss. You press into him more, gasping when you feel a muscled thigh lodged between your legs, the friction causing you to shake slightly. Azriel swipes his tongue over your bottom lip then, venturing further as you gasp, tasting you. Both of you, completely tangled into each other, breathe heavily when you part. Only then do you realize that the stars had begun their journey, thousands upon thousands of bright streaks flashing through the sky.

The sparkling light of the falling stars reflected in Azriel’s eyes, making them shine even brighter than they already were. You followed his gaze as you saw his orbs wander to look behind you. The night sky shone with glittering starlight, painting Velaris in a colorful bright hue. In complete and utter awe, you shift slightly, watching the stars make their way to whatever destination. “Breathtaking.” Azriel mumbles huskily and you can’t help but agree. When you turn to face him again, you realize that he was still looking at you. A soft blush makes its way onto your already flushed face.

Azriel was a warrior, the Night Court’s Spymaster and Shadowsinger, he had fought plenty of battles before, always coming out on top and alive. But as he stared at you then, his heart rapidly beating in his chest, he found himself on his knees for the first time, loosing his restraint, loosing his composure. Because when he looked at you then, face bathed in the soft lights of the falling stars, skin flushed and lips swollen, it snapped. And when it did, everything made sense.

His eyes were wide and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. As you feel his lips crashing against yours once more, any words you might have spoken are lost in the fervor of the moment. The intensity of the kiss leaves you breathless, your mind swirling with a heady mixture of desire and adoration.

When you finally break apart, your chests heaving with the effort of controlling your racing hearts, you find yourself lost in the depths of his wide, expressive eyes. There's something in his gaze that speaks volumes, something you can't quite put into words but can feel deep within your soul. "Your face is a work of art," you whisper, the alcohol lending a soft haze to your words. Excitement clouding your head, the compliment spills from your lips. Azriel's features, sharp and defined, seem to glow with an ethereal light in the dimness of the night. His hazel eyes, like pools of molten gold, capture your gaze, drawing you in.

"Yeah?" he hums in response, his hands finding their way to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume every inch of your being. And when he inhales deeply, the scent of your Arousal hits him with full force and he snarls lowly. "Your legs should frame it then,"

Your breath hitches at his words, eyes widening at what he suggests. Speechless you try to regain your composure. Then, with a coy smile, you lean in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Careful, Azriel. You're playing with fire." The teasing tone in your voice betrays the longing that simmers beneath the surface, aching to be unleashed.

As the flames of desire engulf you both, Azriel's lips part in a husky whisper, his voice dripping with primal need. "I don't mind getting burned," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. With a trembling hand, you reach up to cup his cheek, your touch gentle yet filled with an intensity that mirrors the blaze in his eyes. "Then let us burn together," you whisper.

In a raw display of desire, Azriel's demeanor shifts, his jaw clenched with a fierce determination as he gazes at you with narrowed eyes filled with unbridled hunger. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, his hands roaming possessively over your body as he pulls you close. With a soft gasp, you wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you press closer together. The sensation of his hands wandering to your ass, squeezing firmly, sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

In the blink of an eye, Azriel winnows you away. The world blurs around you, the sensation of movement disorienting yet thrilling. Before you can fully comprehend the transition, you find yourselves standing in the intimate sanctuary of his bedroom. Around you, the air is charged with anticipation, heavy with the promise of what is to come. Azriel's gaze meets yours, smoldering with desire as he sets you down gently on the bed, his hands still lingering on your hips. And as he looks at you then, looking deep into your eyes to search for any hesitation or regret on your part, you speak.

“Claim me.” Your voice is confident and soft. “I’m yours, Mate.”

With a primal growl, Azriel's restraint shatters, consumed by the raw, unbridled desire coursing through his veins. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, a fierce hunger driving his movements. In that moment, there is no holding back, no inhibitions—only the primal instinct to claim you as his own.

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I Can't believe it!! What do you guys think? Let's just say Part 3 will be very steamy. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this.

Tag-list:

@impossibelle @paleidiot @tele86 @namelesssaviour @sstrohma @that-one-little-soybean @mybestfriendmademe @durgenyx @shinyghosteclipse @katherinejess

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #reader insert #imagine #rhysand #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #elain archeron

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dawneternal · 2 months

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Take the World in Your Hands | Eris x Elain | Eight

Summary: Eris's brothers catch wind of his proposal to Nesta. They plan to find and deliver her to their father as a gift, surely winning his favor. Their plan takes a turn when they kidnap the wrong Archeron sister and Eris finds her in the Autumn Court dungeon.

Notes: we're nearing the end, friends 💛 there's a couple more parts and then an epilogue. I've thought about writing an alternate ending bonus chapter, let me know what you think. Sorry this one isn't as polished.

Warnings: 18+, smut (it's kinda filthy srry)(did someone say Mr Eris Bodice-Ripper)

Word Count: 2.8k

Ao3 Link / Masterlist

Elain laughed, head fuzzy from whiskey, dizzy from spinning around and around. Eris laughed with her, holding her tight against him as they danced.

The night had turned around, transforming into something sparkling with alcohol haze and dazzling with the rush of being seen. Perhaps it was terrible for her to feel so high on the wicked thing she'd done. But at the moment, she couldn't find it in herself to be sorry. She was not even sure if it was the deed that had thrilled her, or just the fact that she'd managed to do it.

Eris had taken full advantage of the cut of her dress, constantly finding her bare skin as they sat at the long table. His touch was reckless, pulling a deep blush from her every time he ventured a little too far. Rhysand glowered as if he knew exactly what was happening under the table. Because he did know, and it was exactly what he would do in Eris's position.

This was a gift that Eris had not anticipated. Watching Rhysand attempt to swallow a bitter spoonful of his own medicine. It was a gift he savored.

Same as he savored the glittering gem of a girl in his arms, her laughter like a song as she danced and spun. This was turning out to be, perhaps, the greatest scheme he had ever thought of. He had twirled her away from the others a few times, into some little alcove to kiss her and drink in her giggling and teasing.

It was in one of those alcoves that he discovered she had foregone underwear. Of course, she blamed it on the cut of the dress. If she had worn any, the high slits would have shown it. Then she had smirked at him and practically skipped away, knowing he would be at her heels chasing her.

Eris intended to whirl her back into that unsupervised corner as soon as the current song had ended. His desperation was growing and his standards were dropping at the same rate. He felt that his hands had touched every inch of her skin but the place he wanted most.

But before they could begin something truly scandalous, Eris was swept away by some political nobody to a dull conversation with other representatives.

Had his senses been a bit sharper, he could have avoided it. But he had downed one too many fancy drinks, garnished with sugar stars and mint leaves. The taste of revenge and Elain and sweet mint all together was intoxicating on its own without the alcohol. Thus, he found himself pulled away and Elain found herself standing alone.

"Elain," Rhys's voice drifted to her and she turned to find him staring down at her.

Hands in his pockets, face cold and emotionless. It stung, just a little, to be on the receiving end of that mask. She had seen it used on many others. But never her.

"Rhysand," She said, too aware of her slightly slurred speech and pink cheeks. Perhaps she should not have had so much to drink before he had singled her out. She knew he was going to. At least Feyre had not joined him.

"You look lovely," He said, the sincerity giving Elain a pang of guilt.

"Thank you," She blushed and cleared her throat. Trying to remember what she had wanted to say.

"Why Eris?" He said, voice quiet. "I understand you were upset with me. And I wish things had happened in a different way. But I was only trying to do what was best for you and Azriel-"

At the sound of Azriel's name, Elain's anger returned. Her mind cleared.

"I should have some say in what's best for me, shouldn't I?" Elain snapped, finally looking into his midnight eyes. They did not muddle her thoughts as they had when she first met him as a human.

"Of course," Rhysand spoke through pursed lips, "But I'll admit I don't understand your choices. What of Lucien? What of Mor?"

"Lucien will know nothing, unless you tell him," Elain gritted out, "And you are making a good deal of assumptions, Rhysand. You know nothing of what's happened the past few days."

"Mor may not forgive you," Rhys said, ignoring the rest of her statement.

His words did not seem to be as cleverly thought out as usual. Perhaps she had flustered him more than she anticipated. He appeared to be grasping at whatever he could to affect her in some way. Elain had triggered an anger that was beyond reason.

"There are many things you don't know," Elain drew herself to her full height. Barely rising to Rhys's shoulder. If he had asked honestly, kindly, she may have told him the truth. But not now.

"Enlighten me," Rhysand drawled, rather predictably.

"You know the rumor, Rhysand. But I know the truth. Tell her where I've been and note her reaction. Is her concern for me or for her own feelings? Perhaps you should finally ask her to tell you the story herself."

Elain did not hate Mor. She was not mad at Mor. She softened her tone before adding, "I would hope she understands what it is to make difficult choices to get your loved ones to hear you. She should know how it feels to be drowning in the need to be seen as you truly are."

Rhysand must know there was some truth in her words. His fury had cooled to a mere simmer. But he hadn't calmed enough to sort through what she had said, just yet. Instead, his eyes flicked down to the dagger strapped to her thigh, and Elain wondered if he recognized it as Eris's.

"Do you even know how to use that?" He said, tone one of disdain.

In one swift motion, just as Eris had taught her, she unsheathed the dagger, gripped it in her hand, and had it hovering an inch from the High Lord's neck. He did not flinch, did not move in the slightest as he stared at her, darkness and anger swirling in those violet eyes. Behind it, something else glimmered. Something that looked like pride.

"Very well, Elain," He placed a gentle hand on her wrist and lowered the blade away from his neck. "Point taken."

He turned on his heel and disappeared, hands clasped behind his back. Elain stared after him, trying to unravel her emotions. Then Eris was at her side, a firm hand wrapped around her waist.

"Are you alright?"

"I think," Elain sighed, letting her body slump against him, wondering how much he had heard, "That if this does not make them listen, then perhaps they just don't want to hear me."

"Come," Eris pressed a kiss to the top of her head, tightening his grip around her, "You're in need of desserts."

Desserts turned out to be kisses in that hidden corner. He was not wrong in assuming that it would cheer her up. Though the heat between them was rising to a dangerous height. Whatever had been settled between Elain and Rhysand would be undone if they were caught this way. Pressed against each other, Elain's leg hooked over Eris's hip as he held tight to the bend of her knee. Lost in a deep and feverish kiss.

Eris pulled away and grasped her chin, thumb pressed against her lips. Elain captured it and pulled it into her mouth, caressing the pad of his thumb with her tongue.

Eris made a low sound deep in his throat. Then he dipped his head to her chest and began to trace the line of lace over the swell of her breasts. The hand around her leg held firm and the other ventured under the velvet skirt yet again.

"Eris," She breathed, grasping fistfuls of copper hair and pulling his head away.

"Yes, darling?"

"I'm done here," She whispered, chest heaving. Eris eyebrows drew upwards. "Take me somewhere else and finish what you started."

Eris eyes darkened, his grip on her tightened, and then they were winnowing.

Eris winnowed them to a dim, stone corridor, arched doorways at intervals as far as the hallway stretched. This must be some hall of guest rooms in the Hewn City, as the marble floor matched the one in the ballroom.

He grabbed her hand and led her to one of the aged wooden doors, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking it.

The room was large and cozy, lit by candles and sconces housing fae lights. A large bed sat centered on one wall, draped in soft sheets and fluffy blankets with a velvet canopy hovering overhead. A fire blazed in the stone hearth and a doorway on the back wall led to a washroom. It was all warm colors, maroon fabrics, cobalt rugs, and dark wooden furniture.

"I didn't think about where we'd stay tonight," Elain said, toeing off her shoes and feeling the plush carpet under her feet.

"I did," Eris flashed a wry smile. "And I thought of something else, too."

He padded to one of the nightstands on either side of the bed, one with a lidded silver tray resting on it. Eris lifted the lid with a flourish.

"Desserts!" Elain cheered. She crossed to him and threw her arms around his neck. "You're too good to me."

"Oh, I'm not done yet," Eris chuckled, replacing the lid and wrapping his arms around her.

He kissed her fiercely, charged with the wicked energy of the evening. Elain kissed him back, hands in his hair, standing on her toes to press her body into his. Eris's lips were everywhere. On her neck, her jaw, the hollow of her throat, the expanse of her pale chest. Elain's head still buzzed with the remains of the alcohol and it only added to the heat in her stomach. She pulled and met his gaze, wild-eyed and disheveled from the revelry.

"There's something I want to do," She whispered, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

His eyebrows drew up as he helped, unfastening each button with more precision than Elain could muster. She pulled at his belt instead, much easier to undo. When he had been released from his clothes, she pressed her hands to his bare chest and kissed him before he could begin on her dress. She smiled against his lips as her thumbs brushed his nipples and pulled a delicious shiver from him.

Then she pushed him, hard, and watched him stumble back against the bed. Eris watched her, enamored, pupils blown with desire. Elain locked eyes with him and sank to her knees between his legs. Her hands went to his thighs and wandered, noting which tender places made the muscles in his jaw twitch.

Then her lips and teeth replaced her fingers and she left a trail of punishing bruises on the inside of his thighs, relishing the groans and whimpers that left him. She soothed each spot with her tongue and kissed it softly. Finally, she drew his length into her mouth, running her tongue over the arousal dripping down the tip.

Eris moaned her name and threaded his fingers through her curls. Elain arched her back at the sound of it, hips grinding against nothing as she bobbed her head and wrapped her hand around the length that wouldn't fit. She pulled away, swirling her tongue over the underside of his cock, tightening her grip. It was too slow, too teasing for the desperation that had gathered within him.

He let his head fall back, his eyes close, and he grasped handfuls of her hair to pull her in closer. He urged her into a faster rhythm, fingernails scraping against her scalp and spreading goosebumps across her skin. His groans became closer together, a long string of cursing and pleading. Elain sucked her cheeks in tight around him as her eyes watered and he fell over the edge. Heat bloomed in her throat, each erratic thrust of his hips releasing more against her tongue. Elain swallowed, gazing up at him while he watched.

"Fuck," Eris breathed, loosening his grip. He stared at her, the tears gathered in her eyes, her lips red and swollen, the self-satisfied smirk she wore. Her dress was rumpled and her hair was a beautiful mess. It was enough to heat his blood all over again and he grabbed her chin to pull her up toward him.

He kissed her, tongue in her mouth tasting the remnants his release. Then he returned the favor of her marking bruises, nipping with enough force to pull little yelps from her throat. But she did not stop him, only held on tight.

"Eris," She breathed, as his teeth nipped at her collarbone.

"Tell me what you want, dove," Eris purred, returning his tongue to her skin.

"Fuck me," She whispered, pressing herself tighter against him. The first time she had ever spoken the word in his presence.

Eris paused, heart jumping into his throat. Then he grasped the front of her dress in both hands and ripped. Beads scattered, bouncing to the floor with a shower of clinking sounds.

"Eris!" Elain gasped, holding onto the fabric at her waist to keep the dress from falling off completely.

"I paid for it," Was all he said before his mouth was on her exposed breasts.

Elain had determined to remain indignant, but the scrape of his teeth against her sensitive nipples was enough to undo her resolve. She moaned and pushed her chest further into his mouth. Eris gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists and pulled her hands away from her waist, letting the dress flutter to the floor and reveal her body.

Then Eris removed his mouth from her and stood back, admiring. The fae lights carved out her form in golden slivers of light, illuminating her soft curves. He was memorizing, saving the image in his mind.

"Make sure you admire both sides equally," Elain admonished and flipped over, bending over the tall bed and presenting her backside to him. She was more than ready. She was burning from a night full of secret touches, Eris's terribly behaved hands always reaching for the exposed skin of her back, her thighs, her cleavage. He had never ventured between her thighs and discovered her soaked skin, ready and warm and aching. So she would show him.

Eris made a desperate sound and she felt his warm hands at her waist, running over the curve of her back, the swell of her ass, every inch of skin she presented. He spread her thighs apart and admired her glistening folds, waiting for him. There was a pause as he grabbed his length in his fist and aligned, and then he thrust into her in one motion, hips pressing firmly against her bottom.

Elain gasped and grabbed a handful of comforter, pushing her hips back against him. Eris moaned, unmoving.

"Patience, dove," Eris murmured, spreading her even further apart to push in deeper.

He could feel her pulse around his cock, warm and desperate. He relented to her body's pleas, pulling out almost all the way and then slamming back in. He repeated it a few times, relishing her cries and the way her back arched.

"Please," She begged into the blanket, "Fuck me."

Eris obeyed, beginning a ruthless pace, skin slapping against hers. He hoped that if the High Lord had stayed in the Hewn City tonight, his room was nowhere close enough to hear Elain's sounds. Or at least, maybe no one would not recognize the sound of innocent Elain begging harder faster more.

"Do not stop," He gritted out, voice low, "I want to hear you."

Eris reached underneath her and circled her bundle of nerves, rewarding him with a chant of his name. She pinched a nipple with one hand, the other attempting to brace against the mattress as her body was shoved backward and forward by his movements.

"Come with me?" Eris groaned, feeling too intensely every time she pushed her hips back against his.

"Yes," Elain sobbed, feet finding purchase against his on the floor.

"Good girl," Eris breathed as his release crashed into him, whole being trembling with the force of that pleasure. Elain's hums and cries were muffled by the comforter, her legs trembling against his. He could remain in that world of bliss forever, so aware of every place their skin touched. He chased the feeling as long as he could. It never lasted long enough.

Eris pulled out, seed leaking down Elain's legs. She did not notice him leave, gathering her wits as she remained bent over the bed. Arms curled underneath her, golden hair silky against her bare shoulders, she let out a contented sigh. Pleasure still coursed through her, like her body singing thanks for its release after hours of teasing.

Elain jumped at the feeling of a damp towel against her skin, relaxing as Eris cleaned her thoroughly. When he was done she flipped over and flashed him a breathless grin.

"Alright?" Eris asked, climbing into the bed beside her.

"Almost," She said, wriggling under the sheets. She pulled the tray of desserts onto her lap and handed him a fork. "Now I am."

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azrielwingspan · 2 months

Text

A 'TEA' PARTY (AZRIEL X READER)

Summary : The prince of Montesere was a heartthrob with his exceptionally good looks and charismatic words. You were raving about him to the girls but Azriel was having none of it.

Warnings : Nooone

A/N: You guys have no idea how EXCITED I was to write this. This is definitely one of my favourites. Enjoy !

"And he said 'I'll make time for you. Always.' I DIED. LITERALLY DEAD DIED." You said waving your hands animatedly.

The girls oohed and aahed while clutching their drinks. Feyre pretended to swoon, Mor was holding a hand to her heart and Elain went starry eyed. Nesta remained stoic but you could see the hint of a smile gathering at the corner of her lips. You would bet a 100 marks that it was straight out of one of her romance books.

"What's going on ?" heads whipped to the door where Gwyn and Emerie stood holding more snacks.

"Just in time! Get over here. You guys are missing out on top secret information." Mor helped them out with the snacks, sharing a shy look with Emerie.

"The Prince of Montesere is what is going on." Nesta said, a sly smirk on her face.

"Ooo..I've heard he's quite the charmer." Gwyn piped in and everyone nodded their heads enthusiastically.

"We think he has a crush on Y/N." Elaine said making a stupid grin crawl onto your face.

"What the fuck? Details PLEASE." Emerie grabbed the bowl of popcorn placing it on her lap to share with Mor.

A rush of joy consumed you as you looked around the room. All the girls were finally taking some well deserved time off and you were glad that you could spend it with each other.

"Okay." leaning forward as you channeled your inner storyteller. "Sooo...let me just start off by saying he looks DIVINE. Dark hair, dark eyes and don't even get me started on his voice...UGH. I think my ovaries might have exploded."

"Wait hold on." Feyre carried a confused look on her face. "Are we talking about the Prince or our shadowsinger?"

Silence engulfed the room.

Someone snorted and the entire room descended into laughter. Your face heated up. From embarrassment or from laughing you weren't sure of.

"She definitely has a type alright." Nesta said setting off a new round of laughter.

"OKAY LISTEN IN MY DEFENSE---" you shouted over the chaos.

"Don't even try." Mor was clutching her stomach, slightly wincing at the pain.

"OKAY SHUSH. Y/N CONTINUE !" Gwyn came to the rescue and you shot her a grateful smile.

"Anyways as I was saying.." you shot a pointed look at the girls daring them to say something. All of them had shit eating grins on their face.

Emerie and Mor had already finished half the popcorn.

"He showed me around the city and took me to all his favorite spots. It was very---"

"Did you make out?" Emerie interrupted and the girls leaned forward their eyes twinkling in anticipation.

You were about to respond but your face had already betrayed you , turning a scarlet red. Elaine and Mor squealed , almost falling off their seats. Feyre had a wide eyed expression on her face, her drink long forgotten.

"You should have STARTED with that, you idiot !" Emerie shouted, an incredulous look on her face.

"OKAY SHUSH. The most important question. How was it?" Gwyn made everyone settle down again as she awaited your answer.

You'd just opened your mouth to respond when Nesta asked "How big?"

Spluttering in shock, you smacked Nesta's arm. "I didn't sleep with him!" You hissed in a whisper. "We just made out. He is a really good kisser. I'll give him that."

"Tell me what this male is bad at. Why aren't you with him already?" Elain asked taking a sip of her tea.

"Honestly, he's too good to be true but.."

"He isn't a certain someone." Feyre finished for you, eyes softening in understanding. You'd never told the girls about your infatuation with Azriel but they knew. Somehow, they just knew.

You didn't bother denying it and just shrugged nonchalantly. A wave of understanding passed through the room. Almost everyone had been in a similar position before. Sometimes your soul craved another's so violently, it made you blind to anyone else.

"Well..it was fun while it lasted." you said breaking the silence.

"For two days." Emerie laughed softly.

"You should tell Az---" Mor was interrupted by the opening of the door. Seven pairs of eyes focused on Azriel as he stood at the door , looking sheepish.

"Look who's hereeee." Feyre said playfully, a blush rising on Azriels cheeks as he bowed his head.

"Rhys wanted me to grab a book." he muttered softly, edging towards the wall and trying to ignore the six pairs of eyes with a mischievous twinkle in their eyes.

You were just utterly mortified. Did he hear everything?

I put up a sound barrier. Wouldn't want the Illyrian babies snooping around. Feyre's voice echoed in your mind.

You shot her a grateful smile which immediately fell as she shot you a wink. Oh no. She was upto something.

"Az, tell Rhys I'll be there as soon as Y/N finishes telling us about her Prince."

Both you and Azriel stiffened, his back still facing you. Emerie dissolved into a fit of laughter that she was trying to hide behind her palm. Nesta's eyes twinkled at the prospect of messing with Azriel.

"I can't believe you're going to be a princess, Y/N !" Elain played along. You swiped a hand across your throat repeatedly, indicating at them to cut it off.

"He basically professed his love to you already. I don't know what you're waiting for." Nesta said looking like she was ready to plan the imaginary wedding if she had to.

Azriels shadows were growing a little agitated, rapidly bouncing off bookshelves trying to find the damned book.

"If he had wings, I'm sure he would have the biggest---" Mor cut off , finishing her sentence by widening her eyes and looking down.

Emerie choked on her tea, making it go up her nose. Mor rapidly hit her on the back trying to help and stop laughing at the same time. In her urgency to move, she'd knocked over the tea pot spilling hot tea over Gwyn's leggings.

Gwyn stumbled out of her seat fanning her hands at her legs like it would help. Elain grabbed the jug of water and threw it on Gwyn's leggings soaking the carpet beneath her. Feyre who had been about to fill a glass with water for Emerie stared at her empty hand where the jug had been.

Nesta watched the entire scene unfold before her eyes with mild interest , sipping on her tea.

You just stared, absolutely and completely horrified by the turn of events.

A tendril of shadow made its way over to you and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes behind your ear. You shivered from the sudden coolness and turned your head towards Azriel.

Wearing a cool mask of indifference, he walked out of the room pretending like nothing ever happened.

A/N: AHHHH, this entire thing made me feel some type of way.

Please take a min to leave a comment and let me know if you liked it as much as I did !!

818 notes · View notes

dottielovegood · 1 year

Note

Dottie’s Solstice Prompts 🎄

Secret Santa Elriel 🎅🏽❤️

Thank you for the prompt!

Tags: office romance, modern AU, Secret Santa and a little nod to Solstice and the necklace. Rating: Explicit Word count: 9059

I hope you like it! <3

───── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

Secret Santa

Elain walked around the office with a giant burlap bag, collecting all of the Secret Santa presents for the office party that evening. Since it was her last week at Shadosinger Records, she made sure to stop at every desk and make small talk with her soon-to-be-former colleagues. She would miss most of them a lot, but it was time for her to leave. Working as a personal assistant had never been her plan and she had stayed here long enough.

After graduating culinary school, Elain had been in desperate need of a well paying job. She had just broken up with her boyfriend and moved into her own apartment. She had applied for a few jobs at a few bakeries but none of them paid well enough. So when she found the listing for a PA position at Shadowsinger Records, she had sent in her application without really expecting to hear back. She had no experience as a PA, and she knew nothing about music or the music industry. She knew that Shadowsinger was a small music label with a great reputation though, and when she googled them she actually recognized a few of the artists that they represented. That only made her doubt herself even more, but to her surprise, they called her in for an interview just a few days later. Apparently, they really needed someone to begin as soon as possible and they didn’t care about her nonexistent music knowledge since they just needed someone who was very organized and wouldn’t mind working long hours.

Elain got the job after a second interview and started that very next day. She had been told that the job consisted mostly of answering emails, planning meetings and keeping track of her new boss’s schedule. It sounded easy enough, and Elain was just happy to be able to pay her bills while also being able to save some money each month.

Elain hadn’t expected that she would end up actually liking the job, but she did. A lot. Mainly because she really liked her co-workers. She especially liked the marketing managers Cerridwen and Nuala who had become Elain’s best friends during these years. But it was time to leave. She couldn’t stay here. Not only because she needed to actually follow her own path in life, but because she couldn’t stand seeing him every single day.

It was such a cliché. How many movies and romance novels had she read about a young personal assistant with a crush on her older boss? Not that Azriel was much older – he was only 32; only five years older than Elain. But still, it was embarrassing. It was embarrassing how his voice made her melt and how she always worked extra hard just to get his approval. At first, she had just found him ridiculously attractive. Most women would. He was very handsome and at first glance, he looked a bit dangerous. He was tall and muscular and only dressed in well-tailored suits that hugged his body in just the right way. But that’s not why Elain liked him so much. No, that came later.

As his personal assistant, they obviously had to spend quite a lot of time together. At first, it hadn’t been a problem. Sure, his appearance had always been a bit distracting but Elain could handle that. But then he started asking her about herself. When they were going through his schedule, he would ask her about her plans for the weekend. After telling him that she usually spent the weekends in her kitchen, he had asked her to bring something for him. And she did. Of course, she did. She brought him a slice of her favorite chocolate cake. She hadn’t imagined that he would eat it in front of her, but he did.

Oh, he did.

Elain had watched his lips close around the fork. Had watched his throat as he swallowed. Had watched him close his eyes to savor that first bite. And then, he had looked straight at her and told her that it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

No. Those were not the words he used.

“This is the best thing I have ever had in my mouth.”

That’s what he said. And that made Elain focus on his mouth once more. On his lips. And she thought about all the things those lips could do. Was he a gentle kisser? Did he like to tease his lovers with his mouth until they were asking for more? She really shouldn’t think about her boss like that, but she couldn’t help it. Looking back, she probably should have quit that very day.

But she didn’t. Instead, Elain brought him a sweet treat every single Monday. They would start their weeks in his office, going through the schedule for the coming week while eating whatever she brought that day. And in between all their talk about work, he asked her about herself. And once or twice, he even answered some of her questions about himself. And with each passing day, Elain grew a little bit more in love with Azriel.

Azriel. That’s what he asked her to call him. It was odd, at first. It felt very disrespectful to not use his last name when talking to him, but everytime she slipped up, he corrected her. “Please, call me Azriel.” And so she did.

She even called him Azriel late at night when she touched herself to images of his lips exploring her body. She called him Azriel when she imagined what those scarred hands could do to make her come undone. She called him Azriel when she fantasized about the way he would praise her when she came for him.

And that was exactly why she had to quit. The more she got to know him, the more she liked him. Sometimes, she even imagined that his eyes lingered on her when she walked past him. Sometimes, his hands accidentally grazed hers when they reached for the same paper on the desk and she could feel shivers run down her spine at those small touches. And when he told her that she was a great asset to his company and that she was doing a good job, she knew without a doubt that she really had to get another job. Praise from her boss shouldn’t make her press her thighs together to relieve the ache there.

It was wrong. It was so wrong and she couldn’t continue like this. So when her friend from culinary school had messaged her to ask if she wanted to work as a pastry chef at his new restaurant, she had decided to just go for it. This was the opportunity she had waited for and even though she would miss working at Shadowsinger Records, it was time. With some time and distance, she hoped that she would forget all about Azriel and the feelings he invoked in her.

He hadn’t seemed surprised when she handed in her two weeks notice, nor had he seemed particularly upset. He had just taken her letter of resignation and nodded when he finished reading. There hadn’t been a single emotion on his face.

“I’m glad you’re putting your talents to good use,” he said when she told him about her new job, and that was that. She was leaving and she would probably never see him again. It was for the best.

–----

She had organized this small Christmas party as a way to say goodbye to everyone, and she had been slightly surprised when Azriel had told her that he would join in on Secret Santa this year. Azriel never joined them for After Work Fridays and he seemed to only go to parties if they were a requirement. She had no idea why he wanted to come to this silly little party, but she was very happy that he would.

They were planning a big party for all the employees, artists and other important people in the industry next week, but Elain would be gone by then. And in all honesty, she didn’t care that much about hanging out with celebrities. She just wanted to spend a lovely evening with the people she had worked with for the past couple of years. When she had collected everyone’s gifts, she made her way over to Azriel’s office. She smoothed her hand over the red velvet fabric of her dress. Elain had decided to dress up for the occasion. She was wearing a short red dress with a white fake fur trim. She had matched it with white tights and a cute little santa’s hat.

Nuala had given her a once over when she stepped out from the bathroom. “You look like a sexy Mrs. Claus.”

Elain had blushed at the comment. She wasn’t used to being called sexy. Cute, pretty and beautiful, yes. But sexy? No, that wasn’t her. As someone who mostly wore circle skirts and cardigans with floral prints, she definitely identified more with being called cute. But she appreciated the comment nonetheless.

Elain raised her hand and knocked on the door. Three knocks, just to let him know that it was her. It was their secret message.

“Come in,” his deep voice called from behind the door. Elain let herself in.

Azriel was sitting behind his desk and the room was as immaculate as always. There wasn’t a single pen out of place and Elain wondered if he kept his own home just as tidy.

She shouldn’t be thinking about his home. She shouldn’t be thinking about him at all.

With a small smile on her lips, she walked up to his desk and held up the bag. “Just collecting the gifts for Secret Santa,” she said. His eyes were still glued on the computer in front of him.

“Hmm?” he asked, and she knew that he hadn’t heard a single word.

Elain bit her lip to keep herself from laughing at his intense focus.

What would it feel like if he was that focused on me?

She shook her head as soon as the thought entered her brain. Stupid, stupid brain. And stupid, stupid heart. You shouldn’t want things you can’t have.

She put the bag on his desk and that finally got his attention. His eyes met hers and then they traveled lower. Elain felt hot all over.

“Elain,” he said and she was certain that he was taking in her ridiculous outfit. “What are you wearing?”

She shrugged as if she wore this every day. “A festive dress.”

“Festive,” he murmured under his breath as if that was the last word he would use to describe it.

Elain patted the burlap bag on his desk. “I’m just here for your Secret Santa gift.”

Elain could have sworn that he looked at his desk drawer for a split second before his eyes returned to her. “Shit,” he said and scratched his neck just the way he always did when he was uncomfortable. “The Christmas party. That’s today?”

“It is,” she laughed. “Did you forget to buy a gift?”

“Something like that,” he muttered. He still held her gaze and Elain could barely breathe. “I’ve been a bit busy. I’m sorry.”

Luckily for Azriel, Elain was the greatest personal assistant in the world and she had a feeling that he might forget, which is why she had bought two Secret Santa presents. One from her, and one from him. She obviously had no idea who he had gotten, so she had bought something gender neutral that most people could appreciate. She pulled out the gift she had been hiding behind her back.

“No worries,” she smiled and gave him a playful wink. She regretted it as soon as she did it. “I– I got one from you. You can just write the name of the person the gift is for on the label, and no one will know. It will be our little secret.”

Why did it sound like she was flirting with her boss? Was she flirting with her boss? Maybe that single glass of prosecco Cerridwen had given her earlier had gone straight to her head?

Azriel made no move to reach for the gift. “Our little secret, huh?” He gave her that little smile she loved so much and leaned back in his chair. Elain was definitely not looking at his chest and the way his shirt stretched over the muscles there. “How do I know that you didn’t buy something ridiculous just to make a fool out of me?”

Elain put her hand over her heart and feigned a hurt expression. “I would never.”

“Uh, huh. So when the person I should have bought a gift for opens that gift,” he nodded to the present she was holding. “They won’t be horrified?”

Elain shook her head. “Nope. It’s actually a pretty nice gift, if I might say so myself.”

“Will you tell me what it is?”

“I think your punishment for not remembering to buy a gift is to not know what’s in here.” She handed him the gift. “Just write the name on it.”

“You’re punishing me?” He was grinning when he reached for a pen and his eyes never left hers. There was a playfulness to his tone that Elain loved and she wanted more. More, more, more.

She had no idea what to answer though, so she stayed quiet and motioned for him to write. Azriel cupped his hand over the label so she couldn’t see the name he wrote down before putting the small gift in the bag. Elain followed his every move, her eyes transfixed on his hands. They were covered in scars and Elain had no idea why, but she knew that whatever had happened must have been painful. But even with the scars, his hands were graceful. Beautiful.

She wanted them on her.

“Elain?”

She cleared her throat and met his gaze again. She forced a fake smile and prayed that he hadn’t noticed her staring. “Yes?”

“Was there anything else?”

She picked up the bag and slung it over her shoulder. “No, that’s it. See you at six.” And with that, she hurried out of his office. His stupid office that smelled like cedar and night-chilled mist and him.

God, she was pathetic.

–-------

The party was a success. Azriel had been 30 minutes late but Elain had barely noticed. Everyone was having fun and most people were a little bit tipsy, which was perfect. Nuala and Cerridwen had arranged a music quiz and Elain didn’t stand a chance when most people in the room actually lived for music. But she did win the gingerbread decorating contest.

When it was time for the secret santa gift exchange, everyone gathered around the tree, excited to see what they would get, and equally excited to find out who their secret santa was. When Elain picked up the bag from underneath the tree and started to hand out the presents, Nuala changed the music to “Santa Baby” by Eartha Kitt. Elain glared at her but Nuala just smiled at her and wiggled her eyebrows. “Sexy Santa,” she mouthed and Elain rolled her eyes at her friend. God, she would miss her friends. She would miss hanging out with them everyday.

“And this one is for you, Varian.” Elain handed him a gift wrapped in red paper with a green bow on it. Varian took it and started to unwrap it and Elain couldn’t help but glance at Amren, who had been his secret santa. They had some sort of weird relationship going on. Everyone knew that they were having sex, but Amren still acted as if he didn’t exist half of the time. And oddly enough, Varian seemed to like it.

Elain wasn’t one to judge, but it was weird. It was also a bit weird that Amren had bought him an electric toothbrush. “Eh, thanks,” he said, but there was no hiding the confusion on his face. “Sorry if my breath stinks.” Everyone laughed at that comment. Everyone, except Amren.

“It’s from me,” she sighed. “You can keep it at my place. I know that you are particular about cleaning your teeth.”

“Aren’t those more than 20 bucks?” Balthazar asked. “I think you might have gone over budget, Amren.”

She shrugged. “I was getting him a gift anyway. It felt unnecessary to get him something he didn’t need.”

“Always so practical, Amren,” Mor laughed.

Elain reached into the bag again and pulled out one of the biggest presents in there. “A big one for you, Cerr. I guess you’ve been very nice this year.”

Without missing a beat, Nuala chimed in, “It’s probably just a big box of coal.”

Cerridwen narrowed her eyes. “If you’ve given me coal again I might murder you.”

“Don’t worry,” Nuala laughed. “I didn’t get you.”

Cerridwen unwrapped the gift quickly and beamed at the puzzle she was now holding. “A puzzle! I love puzzles. Thank you.”

“I know,” someone in the back said. “Other people show pictures of their babies or cats, you show people pictures of your puzzles.” Apparently, Eris had been Cerridwen’s secret santa.

“Puzzles are way cooler than children,” she said and smiled at him brightly. “I’ll make sure to send you progress photos.”

“Please don’t,” he muttered, which only made Cerridwen smile even more.

Nuala received a book from Mor. “Is this the book you told me about last week?” she asked, a big grin spreading across her face.

“Perhaps,” Mor answered with a little wink.

Cerridwen reached for the book. “What is it about?”

Nuala handed the book to her sister so she could read the blurb. “Oh, it’s just lesbian smut.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

The next gift was for Mor. Elain had bought her a gift set of bath bombs from Lush. “This is perfect, Elain. Thank you so much,” she beamed and smelled the box. “They smell divine.”

Eris’ gift was a small book with the title “500 dick pics” written by Phil McCock. Every single person doubled over with laughter when he held up the gift. “Who the fuck bought me this?”

Nuala raised her hand, unable to speak through the tears of laughter.

“You can have it back,” Eris said and tried to hand her the book. She just shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m not into that.”

“And I am?”

“Open it.”

“I’d rather not,” he muttered and looked down at the book with disdain.

Mor reached over and opened the book for him. “See, it’s blank. It’s just a notebook.”

Elain dared a glance at Azriel and was surprised to see him smiling. “I dare you to bring that to a meeting,” Azriel said in challenge.

“You guys are the worst,” Eris sighed when Mor returned the book to him.

The next gift was for Azriel. Cerridwen had given him blue light blocking glasses, which Elain knew even before he opened his gift. She had helped her friend with that one after Cerridwen told her that she was planning on buying him a pair of festive socks. Elain had helped her find something more suitable, and since he was in front of a screen most of the time, these glasses had seemed perfect. And she wouldn’t mind seeing him in glasses…

“Thank you,” he said and smiled at Cerridwen. “That’s very thoughtful.”

Elain continued handing out gifts until there was only one single gift left in the bag. Her heart sank when she held it up in front of her. It was the gift from Azriel. The gift she had bought because he would forget.

And it was for her.

Azriel was her secret santa.

Or, in this case, she was her own secret santa. It hurt more than it should. It was just a silly game. Elain plastered on a smile as she started to unwrap the present. She didn’t dare look at Azriel so she kept her eyes down as she peeled away the last of the paper.

“A USB coffee mug warmer!” She hoped that her surprised expression seemed genuine. “Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, “You’re welcome.”

She could feel Azriel’s eyes on her and she took a deep breath before meeting his gaze. She smiled at him and held up the gift. “This is perfect. I love warm tea.”

I love warm tea? Who the hell said that? Elain wanted to sink through the ground.

“Don’t you have one of those already?” Nuala asked and Elain wished that her friend could have just kept quiet for once.

“Yes, but now I can have one at home and one at work.” Elain still smiled. She hoped it was convincing.

“But you’ll be working in a kitchen after Christmas. You won’t be able to use a…”

“Who wants eggnog?” Mor shouted and Elain could have kissed her right then and there for bringing everyone’s attention away from her. Mor gave her a small nod and a sad smile before walking into the kitchen and Elain hurried after her. She didn’t want to end up alone in a room with Azriel. Someone changed the music to a weird Norwegian Christmas song and within minutes, the cheerful and festive spirit was back. Elain put her gift on a table and decided to not think about it for the rest of the evening. It wasn’t that big of a deal, anyway. Azriel was her boss and he clearly didn’t think about her the way she thought about him, which was a good thing. Anyone could forget to buy a gift. She didn’t care. And she actually really liked warm tea.

She tried to not notice the fact that Azriel slipped into his office as soon as people started singing along to the music. He didn’t come out until the party was over.

Not that she cared. She didn’t care at all.

–-----

“We're going to Rita’s.” Mor draped her arm around Elain’s shoulder. “You’re coming, right?” Mor was already a bit more than tipsy and Elain could smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Maybe some other time. I’m too tired.” It was true. Elain was tired. And anxious. And she had a restless feeling in the pit of her stomach and she really didn’t want to go to a club right now. She just wanted to go home and stuff her face with chocolate.

“But it’s your last day,” Mor pouted. “What if we’ll never see you again?”

Elain couldn’t hold back her laughter. “I’m not moving to Mars. I’ll come visit. And you can come and eat at the restaurant any time you want.”

“Will I get a discount?”

“Anything for you, Mor.”

Mor kissed her cheek and walked away. Elain started to clean the paper plates off the tables.

“Do you want to get a ride with us?” Nuala asked. “You live pretty close to Rita’s, right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Elain said and motioned for them to leave. “I’ll just clean up here and then I’ll get an Uber.”

Nuala stared at her. “You are not going to clean up this mess all by yourself.” She had already removed her hat and her gloves when Elain noticed that someone was standing behind her. She knew who it was before he even spoke.

“I’ll help with the cleaning. You guys can go.” There was a softness in his voice that Elain had never heard before. She had no idea what it meant but she suddenly wanted to beg Nuala to stay. But Nuala had already put her hat back on. She walked over to Elain and hugged her close. “Call me tomorrow, okay?”

“How about you call me when you wake up?”

“Deal,” Nuala laughed. “But send me a text when you get home tonight, okay?”

Elain nodded before saying goodbye to the rest of her former colleagues. She wouldn’t call most of them friends, but she would miss them nonetheless.

“Don’t be a stranger,” someone shouted before the door slammed shut behind them and Elain waved to the closed door with a silly smile on her face.

And then she remembered where she was. And who she was with.

When she turned around, she found Azriel leaning against the wall, his eyes focused on her. Suddenly, she was very aware of her body and the fact that she was still holding a trash bag. Azriel said nothing and Elain couldn’t stand the awkward silence.

“I’ll take the kitchen if you…”

“The cleaning crew will take care of it.” Azriel made his way over to her and took the black plastic bag from her hands.

“The cleaning crew doesn’t come in until Monday.” Elain had no idea why she cared. She wouldn’t be there on Monday. She was going to have a long Christmas break before starting her new job.

Azriel shrugged and put the bag down next to the door that led to the small kitchen. “I called them earlier. They’ll come in tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” Elain stroked her hands over the soft fabric of her dress again. It soothed her. She tried to ignore the fact that Azriel followed her every move because his intense gaze made her even more nervous. “I guess I should leave then.”

She made to leave but Aziel reached out for her. When his hand wrapped around her wrist she almost forgot how to breathe. “Wait,” he said and it sounded like a demand. And then he said it again, but softer this time. “Wait.”

Elain faced him but didn’t dare to look him in the eye. She kept her gaze focused on his tie. Black, as usual.

“I’m sorry.” Azriel let go of her wrist and Elain had no idea if she wanted to run away or ask him to touch her again. Maybe both? Elain had no idea why he apologized now. Was it because of the gift? Or because he had touched her? Everything was confusing and she needed to leave.

“Don’t be.” She tried to get her body to move again but she couldn’t. She just stood there, staring at his stupidly perfect chest. “It was an honest mistake.”

Azriel let out a breath and scratched his neck. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Anyone could forget to buy a gift. I know you’re busy. And I really do like warm tea.”

Hello, universe? Yes, it’s me, Elain. Please open up the ground and swallow me whole.

Silence stretched between them and Azriel let out another breath. “Come with me.”

Without another word, he started to walk towards his office and like the lovesick puppy she was, she could do nothing but follow.

He led her into his office and closed the door behind her, which was odd. There was no one in the building. Elain stopped right inside the door and Azriel walked over to his desk and opened the top drawer. She followed his every move as he took something out. It looked like a small black box.

“I didn’t forget.”

Elain was staring at the box in his hands, completely oblivious to what he was saying. “What?”

Azriel placed the small box on his desk and used two fingers to push it toward her. “I didn’t forget.”

Elain looked from the box to Azriel and then back at the box. “You–” she took one step closer to the desk. “You got me a gift?”

“I did.” Why was he so good at hiding his emotions? Elain felt as if she was burning up and he was standing there, looking as if he just asked her to go over next week’s schedule.

“Why?”

“I was your secret santa, remember?” he smiled at her now, and there was something so careful in the way he looked at her. As if he didn’t want to scare her. She had no idea what to make of this situation.

Elain held his gaze this time. “Why didn’t you give it to me earlier? Why didn’t you just put it in the bag when I came in here?”

He shrugged and picked up the box again when he realized that Elain wasn’t going to reach for it. “I might have gone a bit over budget.”

“So did Amren,” Elain blurted out.

Azriel let out a soundless laugh. “Yeah, well, this isn’t a toothbrush.”

“Good, because I have one of those too.”

Azriel winced. “I deserve that.” He walked around his desk until he was standing right in front of her again. Was it warm in here? He held up the box. “Go ahead, open it.”

Elain stood frozen. It looked like a jewelry box and that scared the shit out of her. Why would he buy her jewelry? But then again, it might not be. It could be something else that’s really small. Like a rare coin, or a stamp. But then again, why would he buy her those things? Why would he buy her anything at all?

When she didn’t move to take the box from him, Azriel reached out and took her hand in his. His touch was so soft, so careful. Like she was something precious. His scars were rough against her skin and the feeling of him was almost too much, yet not enough. He placed the box in her open palm and closed her fingers around it.

“You shouldn’t touch me like that,” Elain breathed.

“Why not?” he asked and he sounded almost as breathless as she felt.

“Because you’re my boss.” You’re my boss and I have a crush on you and you are not making things easy for me.

“Actually, I’m not. Not anymore.” He looked at his watch. “Your last work day here ended more than four hours ago.”

“Okay?” Elain had no idea why he was telling her this. It’s not like it changed anything.

He gave her a gentle smile and tapped her hand. “Just open it, Elain.”

God, she loved it when he said her name like that. Her name sounded like poetry on his lips. She closed her eyes for just a second and took a steadying breath before opening the small box.

Elain held her breath as she took in the content of the little box. It was certainly not a rare coin or a stamp, no. It was a necklace, and a beautiful necklace at that. On a gold chain was a small rose amulet that looked to be made of glass. It shimmered in the light – such a stark contrast to the darkness of the box.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, unable to really believe that this was happening. She met Azriel’s gaze again and he regarded her with such carefulness. Her entire body ached with feelings she didn’t understand. “I can’t accept this.”

She tried handing the box back to him but he didn’t reach for it. “I can’t accept this.” The words were barely more than a whisper this time.

“Yes, you can.”

She shook her head, suddenly unable to speak. It was too much. Too much and she didn’t understand. “Why?” That small word held so many questions she didn’t dare speak.

With a gentleness she didn’t know he possessed, he stroked one of her fingers holding the little box. “Because I want you to have it.”

“But,” Elain shook her head in confusion, “Why?” Suddenly, why was the only word in her vocabulary. Why did he get her a gift? And why did he get her something so beautiful. This was the kind of necklace you gave to someone you cared for. A friend. A lover. Not your assistant.

“I bought it because it reminded me of you,” he gave her a gentle smile. “You always wear those cardigans with the flowers on them, and you told me once that you love roses.”

She did love roses. Especially pink roses, just like the necklace.

“But, I…”

“Do you like it?” he interrupted before she could even get the words out.

Elain swallowed the lump in her throat and looked at the glass rose again. It was truly beautiful. A work of art. “Yes, but..”

“So take it. Please.”

She had never heard that word from him before. Please. It sounded so foreign on his lips and she wanted to hear it again and again and again.

She had to leave.

She really should leave.

But when she met Azriel’s eyes again, there was a new kind of warmth there that she hadn’t seen in him before. His entire demeanor right now was so different from the no-nonsense boss she was used to. She had only caught glimpses of this side of him before and she had no idea what to make of it. She wanted it to mean so many things. And maybe she had a weak heart, or maybe it was the eggnog, but she couldn’t say no. Not to him. Not now. If this was the last memory she would ever have of him, she wanted to cherish it forever. With an unsteady hand, she held out the box to him again and for a fraction of a second, she could see something like pain in his eyes. He didn’t reach for the box straight away, so Elain said, “Put it on me?”

Azriel let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. Without another word, he took the necklace from the box and asked her to turn around for him. In this moment, she would have done anything he asked.

“Hold up your hair for me.” His voice sounded raspy, deeper than usual. Elain twisted her hair in her hands and gave him access to her neck. In the window on the other side of the room she could see their reflection. He was like a dark shadow looming over her, and she shivered at the image. She knew that this moment would plague her for weeks. Months, even. She knew that she would conjure up this very image in her mind in the dead of night when the darkness was her only witness. And then his fingers were on her neck and Elain had to bite her lip to keep herself from whimpering at his touch. His fingers were careful as he fastened the clasp and his fingers seemed to linger there at the nape of her neck, as if he was trying to make sense of this situation too. His touch sent shivers down her spine and she wanted nothing more than to lean into it– lean into him. But she couldn’t, so she just stood there, looking at their reflection in the window. When their eyes met there for a fleeting moment, she realized that he had been doing the same thing. She wondered what he thought of it all.

As if he could read her mind, he murmured, “I’m glad you decided to quit.”

It was probably the last thing she expected him to say right now and the comment caught her off guard. Hadn’t he been happy with her performance? Why hadn’t he said anything?

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” he continued, his voice calm and low. He met her eyes in the reflection again. “I’m just glad that you’re following your dreams, and that I won’t be your boss anymore.”

Elain’s hand traveled up to her neck where the necklace now rested between her collarbones. It felt so delicate against her fingertips. “Why?” she asked for the millionth time tonight. God, she should probably wish for a dictionary for Christmas because this was getting ridiculous.

When Azriel didn’t answer, Elain turned around, unable to stand the tension any longer. His eyes dipped to her neck. “It looks good on you.”

“Why are you happy that I’m quitting, Azriel?” She needed to know. Needed him to answer. Her mind was currently making up all kinds of answers and she just had to know the truth. She had to understand.

He lifted his gaze again and when he did so, she almost stopped breathing once more. She had no idea how to interpret the heat she found in his eyes, but she knew that she had never seen him look at her like that before. Unless you counted her dream. In her dreams, he had looked at her exactly like that so many times.

Was this a dream?

“Because,” he said, and then his hand was on her again, traveling up her arm, “I’ve been wanting to do this since the day you stepped into my office for the first time.” His hand was now resting against her neck and Elain leaned into his touch. There was nothing else she could do.

“Do what, exactly?” she whispered.

He took one single step closer and then her body was pressed against his and this was all of her dreams coming true and it was too much and not enough and oh god, what was happening? His thumb stroked her jaw gently before he moved his hand to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. She couldn’t have held back the moan that escaped her lips even if she wanted to.

He said nothing but she could clearly see the question in his eyes, asking for permission. Slowly, as if in slow motion, Elain nodded, just once, but that was all he needed. Before she could even register what was happening, he was leaning down and she stood up on her toes just to get even closer.

“This,” Azriel murmured and she could taste the word on his breath just before he closed the distance between them. The kiss was tentative at first, his lips just barely grazing hers. Elain closed her eyes and placed her palms on his chest just to keep her balance. She was getting light headed and the soft way he was kissing her right now wasn’t helping. But as soon as her hands were on him, something changed in him. His hand in her hair tightened and his lips became more determined. His kisses were nothing like she had imagined - they were out of this world. When his tongue teased her bottom lip she heard herself whimper and then she was the one asking for more. Elain wrapped her arms around Azriel’s neck and pulled him closer. He groaned when she moved her body against his and she could feel just how much she wanted her.

She was kissing Azriel.

She was kissing her boss.

She was… shit. What was she doing? They shouldn’t…

“Azriel,” she breathed and placed her hand on his chest again. This time, she pushed him away. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were dark when they met hers. “What are we doing?”

A smirk played on his lips. “I thought it was obvious what we’re doing.”

“Yes,” she shook her head as if that would help her gather her thoughts. It didn’t. “But, we shouldn’t. You’re my…”

“I’m your what, Elain?”

“My boss.”

He shook his head, his hand still resting on her neck. His touch was driving her crazy. She was going mad – that had to be the explanation for all of this.

“I’m not, though. Not anymore.”

Elain huffed a breath. “Well, hours ago, you were.”

“And now I’m not.”

She let out a shaky breath. “What does that even mean?”

He angled her face so she was looking up at him. “It means that I no longer have to pretend as if I’m not attracted to you. It means that I don’t have to ask you to bring me cakes or go through my schedule just to spend time with you.” He raised his other hand until he was cupping her face in his palms, holding her as if she was something precious to him. “It means that we can both stop pretending as if there’s nothing between us.”

Elain was speechless. She had lost every single word she had ever known. Was this really happening? Did Azriel really like her back?

“You– you like me?”

Azriel caressed her cheeks with his thumbs and she could almost feel his answer in the touch. “Yes, Elain. Very much so.”

She couldn’t hold back the smile that lit up her face then. “I like you too. Very much.”

“Good.” And then his lips were on hers again. This time, he wasn’t as gentle. This time, she kissed him back with a hunger she hadn’t known she possessed. He walked her backwards until the back of her thighs hit his desk. “Taste so sweet,” he murmured against her lips. He stepped even closer, forcing her to sit down on the desk. His body moved with hers, never breaking their kiss. She spread her legs for him just to get him even closer.

One of his big hands grabbed her thigh and she wanted to ask him to put those hands all over her. And his lips, she wanted them everywhere too.

“You feel so good, Elain,” his hand traveled up her skirt. “Better than I could have ever imagined.” He trailed kisses down her throat and Elain was certain that she was in heaven right now.

“Don’t stop, Azriel,” she moaned when he kissed that sensitive spot just behind her ear.

“Fuck, I love hearing you say my name like that.” She could feel him smile against her skin.

“I say your name all the time,” she laughed but her laughter got stuck in her throat when he moved that hand even further up her skirt.

“Not like this.”

And then he kissed her again. Elain pulled on his tie and tried to move her body just to get the friction she so desperately needed. She was more turned on than she thought possible.

“Do you want…” he began to ask her but she didn’t let him finish.

“Yes!”

He chuckled. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“I want whatever you will give me.”

He stood up and looked down at her, his eyes dark with arousal. “Good to know.”

And then that hand moved even further up her thigh, his fingers just inches from where she wanted them. “So, you want me to touch you?” he asked, that sinful grin was back on his lips.

Elain nodded. Yes, yes, yes, touch me.

He leaned down and kissed her temple before whispering in her ear. “And if I want to taste you, would you let me do that too?”

Another nod. Her entire body was on fire and she just needed more. Whatever he would give her, that’s what she wanted. Needed.

“I need you to use your words, Elain.” The command in his voice made her want to do whatever it took to please him.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”

“So polite,” he murmured and she could hear the smile in his voice. He was teasing her and she loved every second of it.

“Please,” she said again when his other hand started to make its way up her skirt too.

With a wicked little smirk, Azriel moved to kneel between her legs. “Can I take these off?” he asked and drew small, teasing circles over her tights.

“Yes.” She almost said please again. Almost begged him to undress her.

Azriel kissed her knee and reached for the edge of her tights. Slowly, he started to move them down her legs and Elain could do nothing but stare at his head between her legs and his hands on her thighs. He removed her shoes and tossed the white tights on the floor behind him before kissing his way up her calf. Elain had to place her hands behind her on the desk for support when he reached the inside of her thigh.

With his other hand, he stroked up her other thigh until he reached the edge of her panties. She knew that he could feel how wet she was but she was too turned on to care. With his thumb, he stroked her over the thin material and Elain had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

“Don’t,” he all but growled. “I want to hear you.”

Elain released her bottom lip and watched him kiss his way closer to her aching core. He placed one soft kiss right there. “So sweet for me.” One more kiss, and then another and Elain was panting. She was throbbing with need and she needed him to stop teasing her.

“Azriel,” she moaned when he licked her through the fabric and that was all the encouragement he needed. Finally, he reached for her panties and started to inch them down her legs. She held her breath as she watched him watch her. She was still wearing her dress but somehow, she had never felt more naked in her life. She wanted this man to devour her.

And devour her he did.

His hands reached underneath her and pulled her pussy closer to his face. At first, it was a teasing kiss, a gentle swipe of his tongue. “So fucking good,” he growled and when his lips closed around her clit for the first time, Elain let out a sound she had never heard from her own mouth before. It was heaven and hell and everything she had ever wanted. When he pushed one finger inside, Elain let go of the table with one hand and reached for his head. She threaded her fingers through his soft hair and asked for more. He added a second finger and Elain was seeing stars. He ate her like a man starved, like she was his last meal. He brought her to that sweet edge and kept her there. He was licking and sucking and fucking her and she was so very close. “Please,” she whimpered when he curled his fingers inside her and found just the right spot. “I’m gonna–”

Before she even had a chance to finish her sentence, her orgasm crashed over her. She threw her head back and grabbed his hair, unsure if she wanted to pull him closer or push him off. She came with his name on her lips and from the growl he let out, it seemed to please him.

Elain had to lean back on her elbows to catch her breath when Azriel started to kiss his way down her thighs again. He looked up at her from where he sat on his knees, her pleasure still coating his lips.

“That was…” she started to say but she couldn’t find a single word good enough to explain what she was feeling.

He raised one eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Very good.”

“Good, huh? Before this night is over, I hope I can get you to use a few more adjectives.” He smirked and stood up again. He was still fully clothed, but Elain could see the bulge straining against his pants. See just how much she wanted him. It pleased her immensely to think that she was doing this to him.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before he bent down to kiss her again. She could taste herself on his lips and she had no idea why she liked that so much. With one hand, she reached for his tie and pulled him closer. His cock pressed between her thighs and she stroked her hand over his stomach. She started to undo his belt, but it was an impossible task with one hand. She let out a frustrated sound and Azriel chuckled against her lips. “Greedy little thing.”

“I want to feel you,” she whined, which seemed to have to have the desired effect because Azriel replaced her hand with his, tugging on the leather.

“I wasn’t planning on fucking you tonight,” he whispered. “I was just going to give you the necklace and ask you on a date.” He laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“You still can, you know,” Elain teased.

Azriel pulled his belt free and started to undo his pants. “Can do what?”

“Ask me on a date.” Elain smiled at him sweetly.

“Oh, believe me, I will.”

Azriel kissed her again, and reached behind her to rummage through the desk drawer. When he stood back up, he was holding a condom. “You sure you want this?” he asked, and Elain had never been more sure in her life.

She took the foil packet from him. “Yes, Azriel. I’m sure. Very, very sure. I want you.” She had a feeling that he needed to hear those words. He seemed to let out a sigh of relief and finished unzipping his pants.

Elain focused on his hand as he reached into his boxers and pulled his cock free. She had never understood why some romance writers called the male appendage beautiful; a dick was a dick and Elain had never felt the need to call one beautiful or pretty or anything of the sort. But now, with Azriel in front of her, she finally understood. All of him was beautiful, and big, and tonight, it was all hers. She reached between their bodies and wrapped her hand around his length.

“Fuck,” he groaned when she started to move her hand. Her hand looked small around him and Elain had no idea why it pleased her so much.

“I need to be inside you.”

Elain didn’t need more encouragement than that. She tore the wrapper and started to roll the condom on. He was watching her every move as if it was some sort of religious experience.

Once more, he cupped her face and kissed her tenderly. She positioned his cock at her entrance and wrapped her legs around his hips. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed inside. Elain gasped at the size of him; at the way he stretched her so completely.

When he bottomed out, he hugged her close and held her still, even though she was trying to move on him. “You’re perfect,” he whispered. “So fucking perfect for me.”

“More,” she managed to gasp. “Please, Azriel.”

He kept one hand on her neck, the other moving to hold her hip as he started to move. Elain moaned into his mouth. It was perfect. He was perfect.

They were perfect.

Elain moved her hands to his neck and pulled on the dark strands there. He fucked her slowly, at first. His hips moving against hers while telling her how good she felt, how good she was. Elain could probably come from the praise alone.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Elain whimpered when he hit a particularly good spot, and those words seemed to shift something inside Azriel. His hand tightened on her hips and then he was really fucking her. There was nothing soft about it.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he growled and Elain felt her eyes roll back in her head. She was so close already. So close and so needy and so desperate for anything he would give her.

Azriel reached between their bodies and pressed his thumb against her clit. “You’re gonna come for me again.” It wasn’t a question; it was a demand. Elain felt herself clench around him. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

He was fucking her so good and his cock was stretching her and he knew exactly how to touch her to make her come undone.

“Please, please, please” she babbled, completely lost to the pleasure coursing through her veins. Azriel’s mouth was on hers again, drinking up every sound she made. She was so close, so, so…

When he moaned her name, Elain could no longer hold back. Stars danced before her eyes when she came and Azriel fucked her through the most intense orgasm of her life. She had no idea what was real anymore. The only truth she knew was him and the way his hands felt on her body and how his lips tasted hers. She felt him pulse inside her when he came and for just a moment, Elain found herself disappointed that she couldn’t feel him come inside her. She had meant what she said; she wanted everything he could give her. She wanted to feel everything.

She wanted him to make a mess of her.

She was very glad he couldn’t read her dirty little mind.

–---

When Elain’s brain finally started working again, it hit her that she had just fucked her former boss in his office. All of the dirty little fantasies she had about him had somehow come true – and it had been better than she could ever imagine.

Azriel zipped himself up again and scooped up Elain’s tights and panties from the floor. He handed them to her and she winced when she felt the cold, damp fabric against her legs.

It didn’t take long to dress, and when they were done, Elain suddenly felt a bit self conscious. She had never done anything like this before. Never been reckless. Never given into that side of herself.

As if he could see that she was starting to doubt herself, he walked over and wrapped her in his arms. He kissed the top of her head. She felt better instantly.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For accepting my gift.”

Elain leaned back so she could look at him. “That’s all you’re thanking me for?” she gave him a playful smile.

“Well, I could thank you for the amazing sex.”

“Amazing, huh?”

“Amazing, wonderful, spectacular. Take your pick.”

Elain smiled and leaned her head against his chest. “Now you’re just showing off your adjective skills.”

She felt him laugh and it was the greatest feeling in the world. Well, the second greatest. The greatest feeling in the world was probably the two orgasms she just had.

“Azriel?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to ask me on that date?”

He kissed the top of her head again. “I will. Soon.”

“Soon?”

“Yes, but right now, I’m going to ask you to come home with me.”

Elain looked up at him again, her eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Do you really think that I would just let you go now that I have you?”

Smiling, she answered, “I guess not.” She didn’t want to let him go either.

“Also, if I can make you feel this good when we’re still dressed,” his voice was low, teasing. “Just imagine what I can do when I get you naked.”

#elriel fic #elriel #elriel fanfic #elain archeron fanfic #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #elain archeron

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casuallivi · 2 years

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I. The Delusional Focused Boy

At the cusp of eighteen, Elain Archeron was going on her first date. It wasn’t like boys haven’t asked her out yet, Elain simple wasn’t interested in dating. Being poor with two sister and an alcoholic father meant Elain had to work part time, the rest of her daily hours being used to maintain her academy scores. Nesta would kill her if she flunked out.

If Elain wanted to brag, she could flaunt her math awards in anyone’s face, but her aptitude for calculus was not what gave her fame Velaris High, that honor was reserved to her looks and ability to reject boys. They called her the Ice Princess, because when Nesta attended the same high school two year ago, she was crowned the Ice Queen. Talk about family legacy.

Elain huffs in annoyance. The bangs Nuala gave her are making keeping the hair away from her face nearly impossible, the strands keep finding their way out of the hair clips, stressing her out. Her sisters were not helping either.

“You have to dress sexy! Use my miniskirt,” says Feyre swaying the teeny skirt in the air. To which Nesta quickly opposes with, “you’ll look like a hooker. Put the sun dress, is more modest.”

She rolls her eyes. If he calls her names because of a skirt, that would be their first and last date! Not that she could imagine him saying anything similar, he had always treated her with gentleness. Elain watches her sisters sprawled on the bed, fighting about what she should or not wear, the mini skirt being tugged back and forth. The image makes her smile. Who would have thought that Elain would miss their daily fights? Now that Nesta had gone to college and Feyre was admitted in a fancy boarding school, the queen-size bed they shared for most of their lives felt a lot bigger. Elain ducked down abruptly, the pillow her little sister threw at Nesta hitting the wood-carved ornaments on top of their old dresser.

With a shake of the head, Elain put them back in place, ignoring their heated argument by pulling her favorite pair of jeans adorned with a cute floral pattern, a comfortable brown knitted jumper and her lucky socks, which she hides inside the safety of her boots in the speed of light, taking a peek at Nesta to guarantee she didn’t noticed the choice.

Nesta hated her colorful socks. Elain loved them. If Stevie Nicks could cast spells with her voice, Elain Archeron could perform magic with her sock. She had worn a pair of colorful socks every time Nesta won a spelling bee, later moving on to debate club contests, she also worn them every time Feyre won a painting competition, her latest contest guaranteeing her a full scholarship in the best arts high school of the state. Needless to say, Elain’s positive vibrations were doing wonders during her cheering gigs, so why not be her own cheerleader during her first date?

Elain moved their mirror around, trying to look at her complete outfit, the small cracked thing marred with black spots proving to be an unreliable tool as ever. With a sigh she placed it back on top of the dresser, planning to check herself in a car outside. Taking one last look at her hair, Elain added the lip gloss little sister received as gift from her new roommate. She always came home with gifts these days. Elain would not comment until Feyre decided to share, but she suspected her sister was being courted.

Someone knocked on the door. Elain looked at the girls, two mischievous grins greeting her back.

Shit.

They ran at the same time, the space of the tiny two-bedroom apartment being covered in seconds. Outside, a loud shriek startled the visitor. Inside, the sisters pulled each other by the arms, the waist, the hair, each one trying to slow the other during their maniac sprint to see who would get to the door first. Feyre won.

“Hi Az!” she greeted excitedly.

“Hi Fey.” He said to her smirking sister, his sparkling hazel eyes glued to Elain, who was rearranging her jumper. He smiled at her, a dimple getting visible in each cheek. She smiled back. “Hello Elain.”

Was it embarrassing that her first crush was younger than her?

“Hello.”

Azriel Shadowbrook was a sophomore attending the same arts school as Feyre, their love for modernist painters and French music uniting them. Elain was introduced to Azriel during one the school many festivals to display the student’s talents. Feyre couldn’t stop talking about her new best friend, and Elain found herself smiling during the whole time she spent around the polite boy with a sharp sense of humor. When it was time to leave, he offered to drive her back, claiming he had recently taken his license and need every chance to practice.

Elain knew nothing about cars, her family never even had one, but she knew that fancy red machine had no business being in her sketchy neighborhood at night. Once they got to her place, Azriel walked her to the door and asked her out. Elain laughed and laughed. She laughed so hard her belly hurt, thinking is was another one (of the many jokes) he played that night. It wasn’t. Elain had liked the kid, and he being Feyre’s best friend meant she was bound to see him a lot in the future, so she canalized her best conciliatory tone to shot him down, explaining she had no time for dates or boyfriends, plus, he was too young for her. At that, he blown an exasperated breath.

“I won’t stay sixteen forever, Elain.”

“But you are sixteen now.”

“So that’s your main reason? My age?” he asked after listening to her list of reasons. By then they have sat on the curb, Azriel replacing every reason not to go out with him, for a reason to go out with him.

“I won’t have time for you.”

“My school keeps me busy too.”

“I’ll be going to college soon.”

“So will I.”

Underneath the boy with cute dimples trying to woo her lived a fierce negotiator. That night they parted ways with her agreeing that if he still wanted to go on a date when he was older, he could ask her again, and she would answer him without prejudice against his age. They shook on it.

Over the course of the next six months Elain saw Azriel frequently, weather her little sister was around or not. At friday nights, he would call her house religiously to ask about her week, on the weekends he was free he’d drive her to her shifts at Cerridwen’s Dinner, other times to babysit Helion’s kid. Every time Azriel saw Elain, he brought her a rose, his newfound way to subtly express his crush.

On the day of her eighteenth birthday, Elain and her sister, plus an overly excited Azriel, met for their annual birthday donuts. The girls never had money enough to pay for birthday parties, but they did make sure to eat donuts together. She told him "no gifts!" Azriel, the sly boy that he is, said gifts were only gifts when given forever, and he was only "lending it" to her. She opened the bright blue package to find a handmade calendar containing the days from the next four and a half years, ending unexpectedly in May 8, lots of tiny heart drawn around the date, the rest of the page occupied by the painting of a very hunky, very naked man lying on his side, flexing his giant muscles, his lower bits censured with ivy.

She cocked a brow at him.

Azriel placed both hands behind his neck, a display of pure smugness. "That's when I'm officially legal."

She pointed at the painting. “And this fella?”

He flexed his skinny arms. “Yours truly.”

Elain couldn’t hold back anymore, she busted out laughing.

“Az, in four years you’ll be in a new phase of your life, this crush long gone.”

“Pretty sure I’ll be “crushing” you,” he made quotation marks with his fingers, “even more once we are in college together.”

“Where are you going?” she asked sliding the calendar carefully into her backpack.

“Where are you going?” he repeated her questions wiggling his brows. Elain ignored his playful insinuation. She was pretty sure his rich folks would not send their precious boy to community college when they had others options ahead.

“You’re delusional.”

“I rather the term “focused”.”

“Shh, I'm trying to enjoy my milkshake.”

“Admit it Elain, you won’t go out with me because you are afraid of my charms. Young me has old you shaking her knee-ee-ees.” he sing-songed using a spoon as a microphone.

“You are spending too much time with your brother.”

“I’m kidding, you’re not old, you’re young and smoking hot!” Azriel placed another donut in her empty plate, licking the bit of frosting that clung to his thumb. “I’m telling you, one date with me and you’d want to be my girlfriend like this,” he snapped his fingers in her face. She slapped his hand. “You know is true.”

Elain swallowed the rest of her donut between angry bites, cleaning herself with a napkin to snarl.

“Let’s go.”

Azriel blinked at her. “What?”

“Let’s go on a freaking date!”

It was a whim. She intended to give him the worst date in the history of bad dates, make him eat his smug words, then move on with her life. Elain just didn’t count that while getting ready for their date, she would start to feel nervous. Now, watching Azriel sporting a fancy leather jacket with his hair slicked back and a bouquet in his hands, her heart was beating out of control, her hands clammy, her resolution to be nasty nowhere to be found.

“You look beautiful,” he breathed with a smile, extending the flowers to her.

“You do too.” She had never received a full bouquet before, in fact, she had never received flowers until Azriel started to give them to her all the time. Maybe his parents owned a flower shop? She needed to ask him more stuff.

“You ready?”

Good lord, was she really going a date with this kid? Elain open her mouth to say “yes”, only to be interrupted by Nesta.

“Where are you taking my sister?” Elain glared at her. Azriel did not budge, used to the meddlesome ways of the older Archeron.

“That’s between me and my date.”

Nesta gave him a lazy grin.

“Did you grow some balls to ask my sister out?”

“I always had them. Do you want to see?” he jerked his hips, moving his hand to his pants.

Beside him, Feyre laughed like a maniac but Elain jumped to action, bumping Nesta to the side, beating his hand away to avoid a disaster. “No one’s showing anyone anything. We’re going, now.” Saying a quick goodbye to Nesta and Feyre, she grabbed his hand and pulled him outside.

Good lord, she was going on a date with this kid.

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