#acomaf au fic

[tadpolesonalgae]

Mer!azriel x reader: The Dregs of Tragedy - Part 3

A/N: Finished writing this and now I want to do another part to please… because soft touches make me melt

Warnings: mentions of torture

Word Count: 6,561

-Part 2- -Part 4-

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You don’t know how long you’d spent like that—just floating gently in his arms, allowing the water to soothe the ache of your bones.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, the sea lapping at the lip of the cave, his tail occasionally brushing your legs, as if checking your pulse, monitoring small changes as they occur. Like the narrow slits forming along your ribs, gills beginning to push from your skin.

Scarified hands graze your sides, skin fluttering with tiny muscles reacting to the stimuli. Air bubbles in your lungs, and you cough suddenly, throat constricting. Your fingers raise to your neck, spluttering as the muscle spasms with the new airways opening, not entirely sure how to process the evolution.

“Close your mouth,” he instructs, palm splaying across your back, keeping you steady and the gills unblocked. “Don’t breathe through your nose. Try to open the airways.” You do as he says, features scrunching as tears prick the the edge of your lashes. You follow his directions, but struggle upon feeling the burning need for breath, instinctively parting you lips.

Azriel shifts, raising his hand to place it over your mouth, fingers parted enough to let air through if you try, but not enough to properly survive on. Still, some problems arise. The tubes are sensitive and tingling with awareness, making you squirm at the odd sensation. Your nose scrunches with concentration, managing a few shuddering breaths before reverting to your preferred option.

“I’m going to take you under,” he says, hand still blocking your mouth and nose. Your eyes pop open, gleaming from the tingling sensation as you peer up at him, trying to shake your head. “It’ll help,” he says quietly, “just focus on your gills.” Your brows pull together as you try to convey the mix of doubt and fear, concern shimmering in steadily darkening eyes.

But the sea level rises as he brings you below the surface, water raising your hair from your shoulders, swaying freely, tickling your cheeks. Lids automatically slide shut, blocking out the sea salt, lips sealing shut as water presses in, and then you’re entirely cut off. His hand pulls away from your mouth, instead dragging his fingers firmly around the soft, split skin, encouraging them to dilate like his. After a few rotations they stutter to life, parting to allow water inside, capillaries picking out the oxygen that’s dissolved in the sea.

Breath eases through your body, filtering in and out as you adapt to the strange sensation. The odd tingle of sensitivity, awareness tightening and prickling at your skin, suddenly taking on waves of new information—the temperature, the weight, the direction of the weak current. Your nose remains scrunched as you concentrate on breathing, taking it slow until it’s less foreign. Until it begins to feel natural, and fade into the background mechanics of your body.

Rough skin gently thumbs across your lids, and a strange prickling sensation takes over behind your eyes, a new filmy layer manifesting, allowing you to peer beneath the briny sea water. Slowly, your eyes open, cracking apart, testing out the new development. Blinding light filters in, and you immediately squeeze them shut again, kicking your legs to tell him to go up. Dutifully, Azriel swims to the surface, and you splutter, body confused with the switch in airways.

You take a minute to shift back to manual breathing, inhaling deeply while he holds you patiently. Lungs ache a little from conscious use, but the ticklish sensation has dulled in your ribs, as if gills have always been set in your skin. Your throat rolls as you swallow, blinking heavily to get the film to retract.

“What else is going to happen?” You manage to ask, pushing strands of hair from your face. “Your legs will seal together to form a tail. That will likely be the most difficult part,” he rasps in answer, hands still splayed across your waist. Eyes flick to charcoal black, nerves wriggling in your stomach. “You said it would have been easier at the quarters in the moon’s cycle,” you recall, peering at him. “Why is that?”

“I told you the new moon is when we’re at our weakest,” —you nod— “and the full moon is when we’re at our strongest,” —nod again— “so the stages between those are when a transition would be most painless. When the time between a new moon and a full moon are equidistant.”

“How painful will it be?” You ask quietly, still feeling the faintest throb pulsing within your ankles and knees. The mer is quiet for a spell, the only sounds in the large cave the swishing of water against the rock’s edge. “It will likely last a night,” he says at last. “The more disproportioned the gaps are in the moon’s cycle, the longer it will take.” Dread ices across your skin, cold fingertips pressing into his warm skin. “A night?” You repeat breathlessly. “Six— Eight hours?” The words tremble from your mouth.

Azriel’s lips press together before he answers, but the expression alone has tension tightening in your belly. “Most likely ten,” he says softly, “until the sunrises.”

“Until the sun rises,” you echo absently, staring into onyx eyes. “You couldn’t have timed it better?” You ask quietly, but your tone is sharp. His gaze narrows, and you’re briefly reminded of the shredding teeth in his soft mouth. “There wasn’t time to waste. I needed to take you then or you would have been taken back to your town, and would’ve had worse to deal with than this.”

Your brow narrows, but you don’t deny what he’s claimed. “Anyone would take rain over thunder,” you mutter instead. He raises a brow, peering at you with those large onyx eyes of his. “Anyone?” The edges of your mouth twist down into a scowl.

“It’s an expression. Rain makes a deck slippery but at least there’s little chance of being thrown over board and left to your kind.” The pads of his fingers press a little firmer into your skin, such a slight difference in pressure you wonder if he’s even aware of it. “Our kind,” he corrects, equally softly. “And we don’t sink to torture when it comes to humans.”

“So you give them air and return them to shore?” You ask pointedly, aware of how the acoustics of the cave make your voice swell. “Such a pretty diversion,” he murmurs, large, dark eyes glinting. “We kill them once they enter our territory. We torment the ones wearing our scales.”

Something sharp glitters in his charcoal gaze, and a shiver trembles its way down your spine. “We turn to the sea because it’s our only source of food. We would starve if we didn’t go into your territory,” you say quietly, “is it really so difficult to let us survive?”

“Humans chose to settle there. They knew well that we inhabited these waters but thought they could purge us,” he returns, tail brushing against your aching legs. “We weren’t the ones to start the perpetual cycle of violence, it was the humans who did so.”

“Of course a mer would say that,” you shoot back, watching him warily.

He blinks carefully, allowing the transparent film to slide across his black eyes, as if knowing how it makes your insides squirm. Slowly, he drags you closer, grip like iron as the lithe muscle of his abdomen and tail comes to press to the soft curve of your stomach. “I was fully grown while your town was a simple gathering of huts,” he rasps lowly, features remaining neutral, if a little amused. “Forgive me if I take my own memories over the distorted tales of humans.”

Lips part in a surprised exhale, shoulders subconsciously curving inward to keep your breasts from brushing his powerful torso. “You—…you were alive back then?” But you shake your head, “the town was built by my ancestor’s ancestors—generations ago. You can’t possibly have been alive so long back…” But the doubt is clear in your voice, despite trying to argue against him.

Azriel releases you gently, and you tense in surprise as he swims away, dipping beneath the surface then reappearing a little way from you. Muscle tenses before clicking into habit, recalling the lessons on how to tread water. Pressing your fingertips together as you slowly but firmly rotate your limbs to keep afloat. The corners of his mouth are quirked upward, grinning faintly as you struggle in his home terrain. “Generations of humans amounts to no more than two centuries, at most. They live such short lives, and often rush into choices that end them up in heaps of trouble,” he says, circling you leisurely, powerful tail swishing as he’s idly propelled through the sea. “For instance, this conflict between our kinds. It’s one they won’t win.”

“You’re acting as if you’ve never lost one of your own to us,” you reply quietly. “I’ve seen the mer they capture, what they do to them. We might sustain losses, but you do to.” His expression darkens—something in the blackness of his eyes—despite the edges of his mouth remaining soft. “Is that something you’re proud of?” He asks quietly, water lapping at the rock as he completes a rotation of the pool, pausing in his place.

“Proud of what,” you question, the aches becoming more prominent at the base of your spine. He swims a little closer, and you subconsciously push back in the water, drifting away. “Proud of humanities’ brutality. Proud of their barbed hooks and burning fire. Proud of the scales they pry from our tails,” he rasps, moving forward with every spot of distance you try to put between you. “I—… I’m not proud of it,” you manage, a little intimidated by the unwavering confidence rolling off him as he encroaches further. “I just meant that we aren’t weak. And the sailors wouldn’t hate the mer if you didn’t eat their shipmates.”

He swims closer, and you flinch as the hewn rock presses into your spine, littered with tiny, jagged shells. You swallow as he gently cages you in, pinning you to the rock’s edge with his lower torso, long tail swishing idly far below. “Do you know how painful it is?” He rasps lowly. “To have them peeled back from your skin? Slowly, one by one?” Your pulse begins to spike, hands reluctantly pressing on his shoulders to keep yourself afloat.

“I don’t…I didn’t know they did that…” you say quietly, trying not to squirm with the sharp edges of the barnacles prickling your back. The corners of his mouth soften further, and he appears to be smiling faintly. “What was his name? Alaric?” He rasps soothingly, your skin prickling with warning at the calm mask he’s wearing so effortlessly. “He wore them too, our scales. Did you never notice? Or were you simply ignoring them to keep yourself happy?”

Your brow furrows, trying to shift out from between him and the rock, but the shells feel like they’ll tear with the slightest movement. “I’ve never seen him wear…” Your brow furrows, remembering the necklace he kept tucked beneath his shirt. Nausea roils in the pit of your stomach, remembering how they would drag over your chest whenever he was on top, grunting with hot, fishy breath. “I thought they were shark teeth,” you manage, quietly grimacing.

One hand finds your hip, keeping you pressed to the rock while his other twines with your own, pulling it from his shoulder. “They only keep one, but they pry them from our tails by the thousands,” he rasps softly, raising your fingers to his mouth. “Can you imagine that? Having them peeled” —soft lips brush the pads of your digits— “from your flesh?” He asks. Teeth slip beneath the ridge of your nail, applying pressure as if to pull it back, a small, tearing pain tingling along the padded bone.

You wince, trying to pull away, but he tugs on your nail harshly, making you cry out. “Azriel… That hurts. Stop it,” you order quietly. He does as you ask, but not before nipping at the tip of your finger, delivering a tiny bite to wrinkled skin. “Your husband wouldn’t have stopped there,” he rasps, releasing your hand but keeping you pinned to the rock. “He would have gone slower,” he says, dipping his head, until your noses almost touch, the damp, inky locks of his hair brushing your brow. “He would have taken pleasure in the blood rising. Would have—”

“Stop it,” you whisper, feeling sick.

Azriel pauses, but doesn’t retreat. You swallow harshly. “I’m sorry,” you whisper shakily, “I didn’t know. About the…” He hums absently, as if the thought doesn’t bother him, regarding the subject with vague disinterest. “And now you do,” he says. “So, mer, do you still wish to return to your fishing town? I’m sure your husband would be delighted to get his hands on you.” He pauses, eyes pinning you to the rock, mouth quirked in a faint smile. “Again.”

Your hand snaps from the water faster than you can think, compromising your position, your back dragging down along the jagged rock as you’re poised to strike—

He raises a single brow, watching you intently. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, “it would do you some good to learn how to hit back.” Your lips press together, hand shaking lightly as you’re locked in his stare. He watches you intently, as if daring you to strike him. But you swallow, and lower your hand.

“You’re right,” you admit quietly, reluctantly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be so blunt about it. You don’t know anything about me, so don’t go prodding at old wounds to test their depth. It’s cruel.” He hums, a faint smile on his soft mouth, peering down at you with amusement in his dark onyx eyes. “And you don’t know anything about me, so don’t presume to know better,” he rasps, the ghost of breath bushing over your lips. “Believe me when I tell you we aren’t as barbaric as you’re lead to believe, nor as vicious or cruel.” His lips quirk into a faint grin, dark humour gleaming in his charcoal gaze. “At least, others aren’t.”

Muscle stiffens at the veiled threat, and discomfort writhes beneath your bones. You stare up into his eyes, conflicted between his opposites. On one hand he’s been gentle, patiently answering the questions you have, yet he’s firmly protective over his kind’s portrayal. The tip of your finger still stings lightly, back numb from the prickling press of barnacles, knees aching with more pronounced pain. “You recognised his voice,” you say slowly, watching him intently. “Back on the pier. You recognised my husband’s voice.”

His ears twitch, but his expression remains carefully neutral. “What makes you think that?” He asks, tail swishing against your feet. Your brow narrows as you peer at him, confused. “Are you denying it?” You ask quietly. “That you knew him?” Azriel’s silent, beats counting down as you scan his features for any sign or hint. But then he’s pulling away, and you wince as your back unsticks from the rock wall.

“That’s not a conversation for now,” he rasps, bringing you back out into the pool. Your brow furrows, “why not? He’s my husband.” Azriel looks at you steadily, unknown thoughts passing through his head. “And how would your husband react knowing his little wife was freely bare in a mer’s arms?” Wild heat swells up your spine, cheeks warming as embarrassment sears your blood. “You’re making it out to be something it isn’t,” you snap quietly, gaze dipping away from his, skin tightening with awareness.

Azriel’s lips quirk slightly, palm splaying up your spine, bringing you closer. “I doubt your husband would know any better,” he rasps, and you get the distinct impression he’s trying to find some buttons to push. “I’m his wife. I wouldn’t just run off with another…man…” Your brow tightens, unfamiliar with what to call him.

“So you want to return to him?” He asks leisurely, the pads of his fingers gently running along the slits of your gills, making the tubes spasm lightly, a tremor running down your spine as hundreds of tiny muscles flutter beneath his touch. “I’m—… That’s not the point I’m making,” you argue quietly.

He raises a brow tauntingly, and a scowl tips the edges of your mouth. You sigh harshly, tearing your gaze from his briefly. “Things may be unfavourable between us, but he is still my husband. Even if I…” You swallow, deciding against that part. Return your eyes to his. “I don’t appreciate you questioning my virtue. I will remain faithful for as long as he is my husband. That is what I agreed to when we were married, and that is how it shall remain. Don’t make something so sacred the topic of your twisted humour.”

“You truly believe if he were put in a room full of women with a promise nothing would escape to the outer world, he wouldn’t bed them in a second?” Azriel asks, amusement tilting his expression. “I do,” you reply firmly. There isn’t a doubt in your mind. He might have been an awful husband to you, but he’s pious and god-fearing, like any sane mortal is. You know with absolute certainty he would never be unfaithful to you.

“Even now?” Azriel asks, lips quirking with mirth. “Your sacred words are until death us do part, aren’t they?” Your brow narrows, but you nod, those are the words you had sworn to one another. “Then I believe the sailors on the pier will be able to attest to your passing,” he rasps lowly, “with the tales spread about our kind, being pulled into the water by me was as good as a death sentence.”

You swallow heavily, disliking him for the observation. “Maybe on his end,” you say quietly, “but I know I’m still alive—still living; still breathing—so I will remain as I was before you—” You cut yourself off, remembering the icy bite of the water. Of the cave he’d abandoned you in. Left for dead.

“You died,” he points out gently. “You drowned in those caves, therefore you no longer owe him anything.” You blink, muscles slackening at his sound argument. But you shake your head, “that doesn’t count. I know I’m alive, and—”

“Until death us do part means until death claims one of you, doesn’t it?” He asks.

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. You died. There is nothing keeping you to that town now, so don’t think of returning,” he rasps softly. “They’ll burn you alive for being turned into a monster,” he says quietly, humour gleaming in his onyx eyes—you don’t understand how he can make light of it.

A bit of despair begins to sink in, the reality of the situation dawning at the back of your brain. “I want to be alone for a bit,” you say, feeling the growing gloom beginning to ice your skin. “Please leave.”

He shakes his head, “and leave you alone while you’re changing?”

“I’ll manage somehow,” you reply evenly, closing yourself off. “So kindly leave me alone. You can come back if you’d like—” You stumble, having no concept of the time. How long has it been since he took you into the waters?

“It’s been three days. Your body needed to rest,” he says smoothly, making your skin crawl. The question still bubbles beneath your skin, but you refuse to ask it. “It’s sunset,” he answers quietly, lips softening at the edges, noting your wariness. You swallow down your despair at how much time has already passed. You don’t know why. It’s not as if you can do anything. “Then you can come back at daybreak,” you reply hoarsely, “for now I want my peace.”

He watches you silently, tail brushing your legs lightly with each swish. Then he sighs, floating back from where you bob in the pool. “You’re being foolish,” he warns as he prepares leave. “You’ll want me to be there when the aches start.”

“It’s happening tonight?” You croak, dread cementing itself in your stomach. He nods his head, dark, damp ringlets flicking with the movement.

Energy steadily drains from your body, overcome with the urge to rest. Perhaps you’ll simply be able to sleep through the night and bypass it entirely.

You turn in the pool, making your way to the lip, before hauling yourself up, water cascading down bare skin, scraping over jagged rocks. When you settle atop the padded floor, you find he’s already at the edge again, watching silently. “What do you want?” You ask softly, reaching for the cloth that had held your hair, hoping to at least get it out of the way for a bit.

Azriel is silent, observing as you put your hair away beneath the cloth. You shift uncomfortably, unaccustomed to being so completely bare before anyone other than your…than Alaric.

Finally he pushes off from the pool’s lip, floating out into the vastness of the lagoon. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he rasps, but you don’t have the energy to protest. “If you start feeling the urge to get in the water, don’t. You need to remain on land until your body is fully prepared to change, otherwise you’ll injure yourself.”

“What do you care?” You ask quietly, wishing it had come out with a little more bite—instead it sounds desperate. His arms fold over the edge, tail swaying restlessly. “That’s something we’ll talk about later, too,” he rasps softly, making you shift on the padded bed, droplets of water still trickling over bare skin. “For now I need you to understand you are not to go into the water under any circumstances. Not until I return. If you can agree to that, you can have your peace.”

You peer at him wearily, wanting nothing more than to lie flat on the bedspread and give yourself over to mindless sleep. “How many hours?” You ask quietly, and his lips soften at the edges, amusement gleaming. “Two,” he rasps, and again you get the distinct impression he’s intentionally chosen a short time span. “Give me five,” you counter quietly. At least with five you’re more likely to be able to settle into some form of unconsciousness.

Azriel shakes his head, smiling faintly. “You won’t last five on your own,” he reasons, apprehension crawling along your bones. Does he have to be so ominous? “Then give me four,” you say, trying to angle as much of your naked body away from him as possible. Again he shakes his head, tail swishing in a way you feel displays his entertainment. “Three,” you say through gritted teeth, on the verge of scowling at him. The bed is practically pulling you down.

“Alright,” he says, relenting. “You have three hours to yourself. Don’t do anything foolish.” You can see him practically singing for you to ask what counts as foolish, but you’re simply too tired. “Okay,” you reply, relieved to finally settle down into the soft padding of the bed. “Three hours,” you murmur, eyes locking as you lay on your side, arms half-heartedly positioned to hide your breasts.

His expression is gentle but unreadable—or maybe it’s just sideways. Either way, you wish he’d leave. The emotion is already creeping up your throat, and can feel the faintest tremor in your lower lip. He stays for a moment longer, before nodding slightly, then pushing off into the water, swimming out to the centre of the pool. You watch through heavy eyes as his lithe form turns back to face you, pausing before taking the dive into the lovely warm water.

“We may not yet be fully intimate with one another,” he rasps softly, the familiar drag of his words washing over you like deadly song. “But I wouldn’t wish you pain.”

The admission registers somewhere in the back of your mind, but before you have the chance to take it out to examine, he’s disappearing in a swirl of inky black and iridescent blues, leaving you alone in the cave.

Allowing the numbness to take root, yielding to the rush of emotion, allowing the tears to freely drip out.

Softly saturating into the sheets.

————

Aches blossom across your skin, blooming in your bones as if being ground against rock. Arms are heavy, as if weighed down by stones, joints clicking stiffly as you try to roll over, a low groan dragging from cracked lips.

Your forehead gleams, an unnatural heat swelling beneath the skin of your cheeks, having to crack your lids open—strangely weighty. The padded bedspread around you has darkened, but that must be from the sea-drops that had been rolling from your body once you’d—

Water.

Your tongue swipes stiffly over your lips, having to unstick it from the roof of your mouth, feeling like lead. It’s difficult to swallow, like your throat has swollen up—absolutely parched. Breath is hauled down into your lungs, airways rasping as your gills flutter at your ribs, tingling with sensitivity, and your legs. Sweat beads, perspiration rolling down your temples into the cloth around your hair. It would all be solved if you just shifted over, then you could splash into the lulling waves of the sea, allow it to soothe the aching heat that’s boiling you alive.

Breath rattles in your chest, the bones in your legs filled with grinding rock, knees and ankles lit up with pain, as if you’d sprained them. Everything hurts, worse than anything your husband ever put you through. Another strained groan breaks free from your raw and tender throat, a series of coughs hacking dryly from your lungs, spasming with the effort.

Eyes traitorously flick to the luminescent glow of pale blue sea, calling to you, urging you to give yourself over, as if having sewn a scarf’s worth of stitches through your limbs, threaded through sinew and cartilage to drag you along the smooth floor. Lids flutter, torn between longingly staring at the soothing sea, and shutting to yield yourself to blissful sleep. Quiet pants rasp from your lips, spine arching as a lacerating pricking feeling spikes low on your back, like someone’s pressing a blade to your skin, arching to escape it.

A cool hand wraps around your wrist, and a sigh of relief breathes heavily from your chest, relaxing back into the padding.

“Can you hear me?” A low, faint voice rasps, echoing through the foggy chambers of your mind. The hand squeezes lightly, then turns your arm over, exposing the pulse to the relieving drag of his thumb. Skin faintly registers how the touch grazes further up, reaching your shoulder to grip tight. A strained noise grates on your vocal cords as water splashes, then something cool is pressing to your forehead.

“I need you to move,” the voice rasps again, and you gather together enough energy to crack open your eyes. Dark, glittering onyx stares back at you, much larger than human eyes shoulder ever be, but evolved to handle the darkness of the murky sea. “Did you hear me?” He rasps. “You need to move. Your bones need to be set.”

You groan again, from deep in your chest, before wearily forcing yourself to move. You know in your bones it won’t get better unless you listen to him—sometimes you have to move through pain before it’s banished. Breathe heavily, getting yourself into a sitting position, able to meet the eyes of the mer floating at the edge of the pool. His head dips in a nod, before gesturing gently with his arms. “Bring your legs over here, into the water,” he instructs.

“What’s happening?” You croak out, dragging your legs until they’re at the lip of the lagoon. The skin of your ankle catches on the jagged rock, nicking at your flesh, sea salt stinging as he helps lower your calves into the water. Gentle hands easing the stiff movements of your joints. A pained sound of relief spills softly from your lips, like a quiet moan, and the edges of his mouth soften as he looks up at you.

“Does that feel better?” He asks, and you manage to nod your head in confirmation. His hand rests atop your knee while reaching for something, the heat of your body soothed by the cool balm of the ocean, the reassuring weight of his palm. Enough awareness returns to your mind to fully peek your eyes open, formulating thoughts. “Yes…” you rasp weakly, back hunched, too out of it to be concerned about your nakedness.

“Keep your legs together,” he says softly, “they need to be bound to help the bones set in place. It will ease the pain if you don’t have to keep them pressed together on your own.” You manage to nod your head, shoulders sloping with the weight on them. “I feel like I’m burning,” you rasp rawly, throat parched.

“It’ll pass,” he answers, and you watch as he begins wrapping something dark around your ankles, slowly but loosely binding them together, working his way up your shins, reaching your knees.

“How much longer?” You rasp out, sweat sliding down your spine. Rough, scarified fingers flex around the bandages, before his eyes raise to meet yours. “You were asleep for half an hour,” he says quietly. Your stomach practically sinks to your toes, heart beating in your mouth, pulsing hot on your tongue. “Half an hour?” You rasp, voice breaking at the end, despair prominent in the set of your parted lips. “Not even…” heavy breaths puff from your chest, heaving as another set of coughs wrack your lungs.

You shake your head, meeting his gently gleaming eyes. “I can’t do this,” you say weakly, “I can’t do this.” Azriel is silent, hands resting atop your knees, tail swishing far below in the lagoon. “You don’t have a choice,” he says softly. “It won’t kill you, and there’s no way to ease it. You just have to wait it out.”

“Easy for you to say,” you breathe, “you’re not the one whose skin feels like it’s on fire.” You pause, mind spinning with the intense heat bubbling away.

“Maybe you do,” you mumble, spiralling off the road as the words begin thoughtlessly dripping from your tongue. “How did you get these?” You ask, the pads of your fingers brushing over the blue-tinted skin of his knuckles, tracing the rough lines of warped flesh, deformed and swollen in places.

His fingers stiffen on your bound knees, your attention settling to the scarred skin of his hands. You’ve seen the fires lit beneath the mer, so they cook slowly, steeped in discarded fish guts as the birds come to feed on the boiled flesh.

Digits link with his own, greedily taking in the coolness of his skin compared with the hellish heat in yours. You squeeze him, as if able to take in his temperature and exchange it with your own, wanting to press his palms to your skin to relieve the burning. Dry lips part in a scratchy exhale, swept away in the thought of the cool reprieve he would bring.

“Ask another question,” he manages to rasp, voice strained.

“Will you touch me?” You don’t even hesitate.

His hands stiffen, and you have just enough sanity to make a clarification. “Normally,” you say, “like you are now, but more.” You can hear the desperation in your voice, but the need’s too great to be ashamed. Your skin is practically on fire with heat, flashes of sweat beading on your back, skin gleaming in the luminescent light.

His throat rolls heavily, then his lips press together in a soft line. “Alright,” he answers quietly, and you could melt with relief. You don’t wait for him to move on his own, instead holding his wrists and guiding them to your face, hands cupping your jaw and cheeks, calming the intense heat. A sigh spills from your chest, pressing his hands closer, as if it will help the temperature recede if he’s nearer. You quietly moan, though it ends more like a sob, groaning from the intense relief, unable to grasp the inappropriate nature of how vocal you’re being.

Azriel watches silently, powerful tail swishing steadily, keeping his hands pressed flush to your skin—that’s indeed hot to the touch. Dark, onyx eyes track your movement as you incline your chin, inadvertently displaying the smooth length of your throat as you crane your head back. He’s entirely still as you bring his hands lower, not quite encompassing your throat, but moving to wrap over the junction of your shoulders to your neck, his fingers spanning across the top of your back. He can feel the pronounced beat of your pulse, elevated from the changing.

You sigh again, sweet relief cooling the patches of skin he’s allowing you to press his hands to. Your palms settle over the backs of his, soaking in the lower temperature like its a medicine. “How much longer is this going to last?” You manage to ask, meeting his deep gaze, painful aches still blossoming up your legs, reaching your lower abdomen. “At least seven more hours,” he rasps quietly, fingers splaying over your skin of their own volition, putting soothing patterns over the top of your back.

“Seven more hours,” you repeat, staring at him. You blink a few times before shaking your head, shoulders sloping. “I really hate you right now,” you murmur, feeling another ticklish bead of sweat roll down your spine. There must be a small puddle beneath you by this point, perspiration coating your body like a hot, skin-tight cloak. Damp and sticky and easily resolved by just a short dip in the—

“Easy,” he warns, one hand leaving your shoulder to press on your knee, firmly keeping you in place as you try to squirm forward. “It’ll only make it worse if you go in now,” he reminds, a note of reprimand in his lovely, deep voice. You groan with frustration, toes curling in the cold water. You can imagine how the sea would sizzle if you dipped in.

“Why is it okay for my legs to be in but not the rest of me?” You snap quietly, longing for the ocean. “They shouldn’t, but the burning shouldn’t have started this early either,” he answers. He doesn’t mention it could mean it will pass swiftly, not wanting to get your hopes up. You shift on the ledge, moving your feet a little too jerkily, sending water splashing up onto the sides of your knees. Azriel’s eyes narrow on you, but you couldn’t care less, senses zeroing in on the cool droplets evaporating on your flesh.

“What do you mean the burning shouldn’t have started this early?” You croak, too weighed with fatigue to manage anything other than reluctant acceptance. He shakes his head. “The process usually builds over a few hours, stays at a peak for two, then dips back down,” he answers quietly, thumb swiping over the bone of your knee before returning to splay over your shoulder. “After that, you would be able to get in the water to help your body familiarise itself.”

“I want to go in now,” you rasp, turning your head away as you cough, throat itching. “I know,” he replies softly, but makes no move to help you in. You sigh, head hanging as your shoulders slope. “I should have just left you,” you mumble to yourself, caught up in the haze of sickness. Shake your head, bringing your hands to your face, a breath shuddering from your lips as you try to push the emotion away. Getting caught up in feeling won’t do you any good, so instead you exhale heavily.

“How long had you been there, anyway?” You rasp, bringing your eyes to the walled-off gaze of the mer’s. Your brow dips, “Azriel?”

He blinks, features blank, different from how they’d been a few seconds ago. “Four days,” he says shortly, tone clipped. Your eyes weight shut, blocking out the light of the pool. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t mean it. About leaving you. Not really…” You peek your eyes open enough to catch his nod, but you don’t feel forgiven.

You swallow heavily, wanting to switch subjects. “Alaric seemed to know you were there,” you say quietly, hands pressing to your thighs, nails digging in lightly.

“You really want to talk about your husband right now?” He asks.

“I thought you said our bonds were broken,” you counter scratchily, throat sandpapery. “Does it matter what I say?” He asks, watching you intently.

Lips purse, pressing together as you look down at him. The edges of his mouth quirk, a faint smile softening the corners. “Does it?” He repeats, raising a single brow. You swallow, “in that case it does.”

“And why in that case?” You look down, eyes skating over your bound ankles, his arms raised to cool your skin, your hands curling in your lap. Your tongue flicks over your lips, gaze latching to his. “I suppose you were right.”

His mouth shifts into a taunting grin, displaying the neat rows of tiny, flesh-shredding teeth.

Your brows furrow in a scowl. “Stop smiling,” you mutter, skin prickling as minute changes occur in your body. You wince, teeth gritting together as a sharp, splintering pain lances up your spine. “I think I need to lie down,” you choke out, pain making your vision dizzy as your features scrunch with hurt. His grin vanishes almost instantly, settling back into that soft, calming set, “okay.”

Slowly, one limb at a time, with a lot of unwanted help from Azriel, you manage to lift yourself away from the lulling wash of the ocean. Lay down heavily, already lamenting the loss of his cool hands over your sizzling skin, sweat dripping from your back into the padding of the bedspread. Saturating it enough you manage to force yourself onto your front, using the thin sheets and stuffs of pillows to find a relatively pain-free position.

“How long has it been?” You ask weakly, lids weighing heavy as you try to keep them open to distract yourself from the lacerating pain up your spine, lancing through your hips and knees. “About an hour since you woke up,” he replies, and you want to sink further into the mattress. Six more hours of this… Heat prickles behind your eyes, but you keep it at bay. It won’t do you any good.

Your eyes slide shut, too heavy for you to keep the weight at bay any longer. Your skin is practically sizzling, sweat pooling beneath you, dripping between your breasts, rolling down your stomach as you breathe deeply. Head resting in the pillow, tipped to the side, your eyes squeeze shut as if it will help to block out the aches.

Cool fingers link with your own, and you manage to blearily peek open long enough to see he’s propped his arms over the edge again, digits laced with your outstretched hand.

He says nothing, and you don’t have the energy to question it. Simply drifting off out to sea, lulled back to sleep by some strange pull.

Gently lured to a kinder state of rest.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @marvelouslovely-barnes @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01

tdot taglist: @mika-no-sekai-blog @blueeclipsepaperstudent @lalaluch @v3lv3tf0x

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #mer!az #mermaid au #multi part fic #acotar #tdot #the dregs of tragedy #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf

[slytherhys]

12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

In the spirit of the Holidays, I will be writing & posting short stories about the ACOTAR characters for the next 12 days. Please note that some will be shorter than others and that this is simply meant to be a fun time for everyone that loves these characters as much as I do!

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

1st day of Christmas - Christmas Decorating

New Traditions (Modern Elriel AU)

Living with Elain Archeron, Azriel had found, implied a great many things. For starters, there wasn’t a windowsill that wasn’t peppered with colourful vases, the leaves green and luscious all year around. The kitchen, now covered in all kinds of baking supplies he couldn’t even begin to name, was constantly in such a state of disarray that the simple task of getting a glass of water easily turned into a hefty task. He couldn’t complain – not when every day he was greeted by a different kind of pastry his girlfriend was eagerly trying for the first time.

These, however, were details Azriel had been expecting when he first asked Elain to move in with him. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the sight of the enormous garland covered in berries, orange slices and small pinecones, hanging on their front door. Nor did he expect the tiny, chubby snowman sitting on it, staring at him with unwarranted joy. Azriel scowled.

It was the first day of December.

He opened the door, briefly wondering if Bing Crosby’s voice was crooning from their neighbour’s living room and not theirs. If the sweet voice singing along wasn’t his girlfriend’s – who couldn’t possibly be decorating on the 1st day of December – and belonged to Mrs. Allis instead.

Such wishful thinking was short-lived.

The house, Azriel noticed, smelled distinctively of ginger and cinnamon, and the wooden table in the foyer, usually covered in random knickknacks and their house keys, now sported entirely too many candles and a knitted reindeer wearing a Christmas sweater, welcoming him home with an innocent smile. Azriel settled his keys next to it, feeling oddly disturbed.

Azriel eyed the kitchen with concern. He wouldn’t go in – not yet at least – but he could glimpse Elain’s baking supplies on the counter, as well as a plate filled with red velvet brownies. Azriel swallowed a groan, fighting the urge to eat one – Elain knew how much he loved red velvet, but this felt premeditated. It felt like a bribery. 

He kept walking, following the sound of Elain’s voice as he pointedly ignored the gingerbread house kit on the kitchen table (and the fact it remained unopened). Apprehension coursed through his body as he eyed the mistletoe hanging in the archway leading to the living room. As it was, Azriel usually decorated on the week before Christmas, and that was if Cassian nagged him enough that he’d just give up and put up whatever crappy decorations he had gotten throughout the years (read an old, plastic Christmas tree and a few random Christmas ball that didn’t really look good together). Azriel rarely spent Christmas in his own house, so it had never made much sense to decorate in the first place.

Elain, however, clearly had different plans.

Sure, this was their first Christmas together, but he couldn’t say he had expected this much…dedication on her part.

Azriel stopped in his tracks just as he reached the living room, eyes widening as he took in every single detail. Their once cosy living room was no longer. Their couch, a beige, dull thing by default, was covered in a fuzzy, checkered blanket, white pillows dotting its cushions. The usually empty mantelpiece was now covered by a green garland, dotted with fairy lights. Hanging from it, two stockings – one with an A stitched into it, the other with an E (if he seemed to smile at the sight of it, it was purely a muscle spasm).

He fought the urge to groan, side-eyeing the checkered blanket with horror once again. At least, he thought, there were no knitted animals in the living room.

Needless to say, he wasn’t entirely convinced on the Christmas decorations.

His girlfriend, however, was a sight to behold. He crossed his arms, fighting to not let his amusement show as he watched her. Even in her pyjamas and frowning at the tangled Christmas lights in her hands, Elain was lovely. Her cheeks were slightly pink, lips pursed in concentration as she appeared to fight the knotted mess in front of her (it seemed to Azriel she was losing, but he refrained from commenting on it). There was an old Christmas hat on her head, one Azriel faintly recalled taking home from one of Cassian’s holiday parties. It was entirely too big on her head, but it only made her all the more charming.

She was sitting on the floor, right next to a very tall, very bare Christmas tree. More boxes littered the floor around her, but Elain remained humming, unconcerned and completely unaware of Azriel’s presence in front of her.

Azriel hated to ruin her peace, but the checkered blanket seemed to mock him from the couch. He cleared his throat, face stoic ever as Elain yelped and looked up, eyes widening as she blushed.

“You’re home!” She greeted, standing up as she unceremoniously dropped the Christmas lights on the floor. Azriel raised an eyebrow, watching her as she turned down the volume of the music.

“What are you doing?” He asked, briefly wondering if this was one of those times Nesta had accused him of taking himself too seriously. Whatever that meant.

Elain, however, wasn’t deterred by his seriousness. She smiled prettily. “Decorating.”

Azriel made a show of raising both eyebrows. “It’s the 1st of December.”

“Yes.” She simply said, as if that explained everything.

“It’s the first of December.” He said again, not sure she had heard him correctly the first time.

“I’m aware.” She said, pushing the beanie away from her eyes. She did look adorable. “I’m in a festive mood. I wanted to do some light decorating.”

“Light?” He was vaguely aware he sounded like a crabby old man. Elain was too if the twitch in her lips was any indication. “Isn’t this all too much?” He still asked, eyeing the blanket.

He truly didn’t like that thing.

Elain blinked. Then she blinked again, taking in their living room. The couch, the tree, the mantle garland. Then she frowned. “Are you messing with me?”

Azriel scoffed. “Why would I be messing with you?” He took a step in her direction and Elain eyed him suspiciously. “There’s a gingerbread house in our kitchen.”

“No, there’s a gingerbread house kit in our kitchen.” She explained very slowly. “We’re going to build it together.”

“No, we’re not.” He chuckled, but his smile quickly fell away at her raised eyebrows. “We are?” He asked, frowning even as she walked towards him, a pretty smile on her lips.

“We are.” Elain said, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down as she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “But I made you red velvet brownies as a reward.” She whispered.

Azriel groaned, pressing his head against her neck, making her squeal as his beard tickled her skin. “You can’t distract me with brownies.”

“Are you sure?”

Azriel chuckled, wrapping his arm around her waist as he pushed the Christmas hat away from her eyes. “I am.”

“Well, can I distract you with something else?” She asked, her fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck. Azriel hummed, pressing his nose against her neck, taking her in for the first time in hours. He was almost distracted. Almost.

“Can we at least get rid of that blanket?”

Elain frowned, eyeing the couch. “What’s wrong with the blanket?”

Well, its very existence was wrong, in his opinion, and he opened his mouth to say just that.

“Nesta gave it to me.”

He promptly closed his mouth. The blanket was staying, then. Mother’s tits.

He cleared his throat. “And the tree?” He asked instead, trying to swiftly change the subject. Elain eyed with him a cheeky smirk, making it clear she was fully aware she had won the fight before it even begun.

Gods, he loved her.

“Were you going to start decorating it now?”

“Oh, well. No.” Elain turned shy, chuckling nervously. “I actually wanted to decorate it with you.”

“Right.” He nodded. “On the 1st of December?” He asked. Just to be sure. Elain chuckled, playfully pushing him away even as he tightened his hold around her.

She looked at the tree, avoiding his eyes. “I just wanted to give you a new tradition.” She shrugged. “Our own tradition.”

Oh. Oh.

He was an absolute fool.

Azriel looked at her, his heart beating wildly inside his chest. “You did, love?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “If you want to, that is.”

It was all he could do not to drop to his knees and show her exactly how much he did.

He kissed her instead, his tongue seeking hers, his hands roaming around her body. He groaned at the taste of her, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. Elain smiled against his lips.

“Is that a yes?” She asked, gasping as his hands found her ass.

“How could I ever say no to you?” And little did she know how much he really meant it.

Which would explain why, merely hours later, Azriel could be found wearing a stupid Christmas hat, ignoring the stupid checkered blanket, and helping Elain put up the last of the ornaments on the too big Christmas tree. And if he had a smile on his face…

Well, that had everything to do with the girl in his arms.

#12 days of christmas - acotar edition #elriel fic #elriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #my fic #christmas fluff #domestic fluff #modern au #christmas prompts #pro elriel #azriel #elain x azriel #nessian #feysand #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas

[the-beautiful-darkness-art]

Closure - Part 5 and 6

CONTENT WARNING FOR EATING DISORDER

AU Where Tamlin gets closure with Feyre and Rhysand ✨

#art #digital art #fan art #acotar #acomaf #acowar #sarah j maas #my art #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #Feyre #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #tamlin #Feysand #Feylin #fan comic #fan fic #au

[theladyofdeath]

Secret admirer elriel!!

A/N: I feel like I don't fulfill enough elriel prompts, which is ridiculous considering how much I love them. Thank you for sending in your prompt! I hope you enjoy. x

I may have to make a part II for this one...

Warnings: language, alcohol

~ Azriel ~

It's Valentine's Day and I'm sitting at home alone, drinking. There was a point when I would have thought such a thing would be pathetic as fuck, but now...

Well, you hit your mid-twenties and you're single long enough, and suddenly drinking at home alone on Valentine's Day doesn't seem so bad. Cassian and Rhys are both out with their girlfriends, leaving me alone in the townhouse we share until sometime tomorrow. So here I am, sitting on the couch in nothing but my underwear. Not that none of us have ever been on the couch in our underwear while the rest of us are home, but it's a little more freeing when you're alone.

I take another shot of whiskey to shut my thoughts up.

10 Things I Hate About You is on the t.v. and Julia Stiles just poured her heart out to Heath Ledger, may he rest in peace, in the middle of a classroom. I turn the station. The Notebook is on, and Noah is building Allie's dream home even though she's already moved on with her life. Imagine loving someone that much.

Imagine.

I take another shot.

My phone vibrates from somewhere in the couch and I'm slightly embarrassed how long it takes me to find it.

Elain's name pops up on my screen. After swiping right, I see her text.

Which awful romcom are you subjecting yourself to this evening?

I chuckle and toss out a lie. Don't do romcoms. Watching Gladiator.

Three little dots pop up and I stare at my phone, awaiting her reply.

I know that's a lie. I'm watching 27 Dresses. Classic.

Too cliche, I reply. At least have a drink with it.

She sends me a picture of a full glass of red wine. I send her one of my half empty bottle of whiskey.

OMG, I can't wait to text you in the morning and see how miserable you are. Drink water.

I send her a middle finger emoji.

She sends me one back.

I grin foolishly to myself. Why aren't you out tonight?

She has options, I know she does. Men follow her around like loyal puppies, fawning over her beauty and bright demeanor.

She doesn't reply for a minute and I suddenly feel like I've pried too much. I take another drink.

My phone eventually vibrates. Thought it was better to stay in. I've spent too many V-days debating all the ways I can sneak out of a restaurant lol

Fair enough. I'd hate to be the guy that bores you that much.

You could never bore me that much.

My thumbs hover over the keypad, wondering how I should respond. It's almost like she's flirting. I take another drink.

Elain and I have been friends for years, since her sisters started dating my roommates, my best friends, my family. We've always just been friends, though. Never anything more. Even though I've always wondered if there could be something more between us.

The fact that she's sitting at home alone on Valentine's Day saddens me. Maybe it's the alcohol. Alcohol always makes me feel more, even though I'm sure it's meant to have the opposite effect.

We'll see about that, I reply, at last, and throw myself off the couch. Even if Elain has vowed to spend the night alone, she should at least know that someone cares about her.

And I do. Care about her.

It takes me about ten minutes to toss on a pair of sweats, a hoodie, my shoes, and grab my wallet. The nice thing about Velaris is I don't have to drive anywhere, and in moments like this where I should never get behind the wheel, I'm grateful for the city life.

There's a floral shop on the corner and not only are flowers the most Valentine's Day-like gift known to humanity, but Elain loves flowers more than anything, so I spend the next half hour walking to the shop and looking around.

The shop is nearly empty, but considering what day it is, that makes sense.

I make it out with half a dozen white roses, two tulips, and a lily. An interesting bouquet, but a bouquet nonetheless.

My phone vibrates the second I'm in the back of my Uber.

Sorry, I ordered takeout and got really into the eggrolls. Didn't mean to leave you on read.

I chuckle, earning a look from my Uber driver in the rearview mirror. Never apologize for the power of eggrolls. Some things we just can't control.

Damn, I'm drunk. The second I hit send, I'm regretting it.

She responds with laughter, though, so I guess I can't complain at my stupidity. I text her back with, Eat one for me. I ate half a box of Cocopuffs for dinner.

Five minutes later, we're stopping in front of Elain's apartment complex. I ask the Uber driver if he has a pen and a piece of paper, to which he gives me an old, crumbled up receipt and a broken pencil.

It works.

Elain texts, Cocopuffs? You're the only man I know that survives off cereal that was made for children.

I reply, Just because you got takeout doesn't mean you can be judgmental about my dietary choices.

I jot down a little note on the back of the receipt before I can think better of it and hurry up to apartment 3b, where I leave the flowers and the note on Elain's welcome mat before I knock on the door and run away, back toward the elevator. I nearly trip as I enter the small, compact room, and nearly fall over once again when the elevator starts moving down.

I didn't stop to see if Elain opened the door.

I feel like I should be nervous, but I'm not. I thank the alcohol coursing through my veins. I can imagine the smile on Elain's face as she opens the door and sees the gift left by her secret admirer. I hope she likes it. I hope it makes her smile. I hope it makes her feel less alone because no matter what she says, I know she's bummed to be at home alone on Valentine's Day.

It's not until I'm back home and back on the couch in my underwear that I realize Elain never texted me back. I can't tell if that's a good thing or not.

I'm thinking not.

Suddenly regretting every decision I've ever made, I take another drink.

#elriel #pro elriel #modern au #valentines day fic #valentines fic #friends to lovers #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #drabble #dabble #elain #azriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #tara answers prompts

[itsthedoodle]

This Love Is Alive Back From The Dead

Summary: The last time Feyre and Rhys saw each other was senior year when she abruptly decided to end things between them. Ten years later, they meet again at their high school reunion.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: none

@officialfeysandweek2023

Read on AO3

Day 1: Night Triumphant & Stars Eternal

Here's my first humble offering for Feysand Week 🩵

Chapter 1

She was not supposed to be this nervous. 

Feyre liked to think of herself as someone who looked at life in a very pragmatic way. Growing up, she had never had time to daydream—her mother had died when she was barely eight. Her father had tried, for a while at least, to take care of her and her two sisters, and then he had gotten sick. Her sisters hadn’t known the first thing about taking care of others and as if that wasn’t enough, her mother had seen it fit to make young Feyre promise on her deathbed that she would take care of her family. So, the moment Feyre had turned fourteen, she had started working. 

For the past fourteen years, she had somehow managed to keep her jobs, provide for her family, get an education and have a social life. All these things combined had made it possible for her to function well on little sleep and keep a cool head at all times. 

Except for today. Today was not a regular day. And she was fucking nervous. 

The reason behind her not-yet-but-quite-possibly-soon meltdown sat neatly on her dresser in the form of an innocent-looking envelope. Somewhere in all her occasional self-loathing (which she was aware of, but wasn’t quite ready to address the root cause of), a whole decade had passed since her high school prom, and someone had had the glorious idea to relive that particular evening for their ten year high school reunion. 

Reliving prom was the last thing Feyre wanted to do but she’d be damned if she let people think she was a coward after all these years. Hair falling down her back in loose curls, her makeup a little more intense than how she usually wore it, she looked at her reflection and tried to convince the person staring back at her that she was fine, that everything was going to be fine. 

Her phone pinged at the incoming message and she looked down to find a single line from her best friend Lucien:

“I’m here.”

She typed out a quick response and looked at herself one last time. 

Her favorite thing about tonight was her dress, and the fact it was a dress made by her best friend only made it more special. It was a tight-fitting, sleeveless gown of a gray so light it almost looked translucent. Woven all over the fabric were tiny gems, so small one would have barely noticed them if it wasn’t for the way they sparkled. The front was modest and it gave the impression of a turtleneck, but the back was a cut so low she was surprised her ass wasn’t showing. The gown fell and pooled at her feet, a slit on the left side rising to her upper thigh. 

Grabbing her purse and keys, she headed out the door and spotted Lucien’s car parked on the driveway. 

Lucien whistled. “I know I said you were my muse when I designed this but wow, seeing it on you is something else.”

“This might be the best work you’ve ever done,” she answered truthfully. “Vassa told me you kept calling it ‘The Feyre Dress’.”

Lucien smiled and glanced back at the traffic. “How are you feeling?”

Feyre tipped her head this way and that. “I shouldn’t be so nervous and yet I am.” She bit her lip then mentally chastised herself, remembering her makeup. “Will he be there?”

Lucien nodded. “Mor was the one who organized the reunion. As her cousin, he was the first one to confirm.”

“Of course. Those two were always more like siblings than cousins.”

Lucien parked the car in front of their old high school and turned to face her. “Are you ready?”

She wasn’t. Not even a little bit. She was going to be sick, or faint, or both, and she hated that a decade later, she was dealing with the same feelings. But she nodded, fully aware her best friend did not believe a single lie coming out of her mouth. 

They headed down the small path taking them to the school’s gym entrance. “Do you wanna go through the school hallways too?” she asked. “For nostalgia’s sake?”

Lucien looked at her pointedly. “You’re stalling, you do not feel nostalgic. We are going to go straight to the gym entrance and rip off this bandaid.”

She grumbled but followed him nonetheless, fully out of choices. 

Mor had replicated prom night exactly. The decorations were the same, the music was the same, the table settings and placements were the same. The only thing that hinted that time had passed was the amount of new faces (who she assumed were partners), and the fashion choices. She looked around, trying to spot anyone she’d been friendly with ten years ago.

“I’ll go get us drinks, yeah?” Lucien said. 

She turned to look at him. “You’re sweet, but you don’t have to babysit me. Go have fun, I’ll be fine.”

He seemed to chew on that for a moment before reluctantly nodding. “Come get me if you need anything, even if it’s sitting in silence.”

Feyre nodded, smiling at her friend. Her friend who had stood by her for years, who had called her out on her bullshit every single time, who had seen right through her when she tried to distance herself from everyone, him included.

Lucien’s background couldn’t have been more different than hers. Born Lucien Vanserra, the youngest of seven sons, he had spent his childhood with a father that he had eventually found out wasn’t his father at all. Instead, he was the result of an affair his mother had had with Helion Spellcleaver, CEO of Day Corp. She had eventually left her husband Beron and went back to Helion, who she had spent years secretly in love with, taking her sons with her. Helion was everything Beron Vanserra had never been, and had claimed Lucien as his own, proudly presenting him to everyone as his son. 

That first year after high school had hit Feyre hard and had it not been for Lucien, she didn’t know if she would have survived it. 

Lost in thought, she didn’t see someone approaching until she felt the touch on her arm. “Feyre, you came!”

She turned around to look at the source of the voice, putting a smile on her face. “Hello Mor, it’s good to see you.”

It wasn’t a lie. Mor had been one of her closest friends, before Feyre had iced her out like everyone else who hadn’t been part of her original friend circle. Mor had tried to break through to her, had told her she would be waiting for whenever Feyre was ready to talk, but Feyre had never taken her up on the offer and after several failed attempts, Mor had taken the hint and stopped reaching out. 

So here they were, ten years later, standing on foreign ground. She didn’t know how to talk to Mor without it being awkward, and could only hope Mor had forgiven her at some point in the past ten years.

Feyre couldn’t blame her if she hadn’t. Mor was his cousin, after all. If she had ended up taking sides, Feyre understood.

Mor seemed to hesitate for a split second before she surged forward and wrapped Feyre in a crushing hug. “I missed you,” she said, rubbing circles on her back. “You just… never reached out.”

Feyre returned the hug, glad her former friend had taken the first step. “I’m sorry, Mor. It wasn’t easy, with everything that went down. I didn’t want to force you to split your time between two people.” She pulled back and took the other woman in.

Mor was slightly taller than her, with blond hair spilling like gold down her back and brown eyes that always looked as if she saw beneath the surface. Born Morrigan Night, her biological parents had died when she was young, and she had been adopted by her uncle and his wife, who were one of the leading families of the city. Her family owned Night Corp. which, together with Day Corp. owned by Lucien’s father, were the two biggest players in the aviation field. 

Mor had been raised alongside her cousin and, being the same age, they had gone to school together as well.

“You never told me what happened, Feyre.” She was pulled out of her thoughts by Mor’s voice, looking both thoughtful and hurt. “You were my friend and you iced me and everyone else out. There were no sides to choose. Whether I’m related to you or not, you were both equally dear to me. I don’t automatically pick sides just because I'm related to someone.”

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing Feyre could think to say, and she was. She knew that now. But who she was today was very different from who she had been at eighteen. “I had my reasons, and I can tell you what they were someday when we’re not in the middle of a party, but please believe that I’m truly sorry. Losing you as a friend was not something I wanted.”

Mor smiled slightly, tilting her head slightly to the side. “You never lost me. We just… fell out of touch. Had you called me, I would have come running, regardless of how many years had passed.” She then seemed to notice Feyre’s dress and took a step back in order to appreciate it fully. “Holy shit it’s gorgeous!”

Smiling, Feyre twirled to show her the full design. “Like it? It’s from Lucien!”

“One of a kind, if Lucien is to be believed. Inspired by the very person wearing it.” 

Feyre froze at the voice, taking small breaths, hoping no one could see the battle her heart and lungs were fighting—and losing.

“Hello, Feyre darling.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Rhys, must you always be so dramatic?” She then looked at Feyre and squeezed her hand gently. “I’ll go find Lucien. I need to inspire him to design a dress for me, too.”

Feyre nodded, taking a deep breath and turning around.

Nothing could have prepared her for what she felt. If she had once thought Rhys was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, that had only been amplified now. 

Rhys, born Rhysand Night, was Mor’s cousin. His family had adopted her when her parents had died, and the two of them had been raised together. His father, Robert Night, was the head of Night Industries, and someone Rhys had never been particularly close to. It wasn’t that his father had been cruel to him, he simply hadn’t been there, opting to work all the time and have little to no relationship with his children. 

Rhys and Feyre had started dating their junior year, after a very long push and pull that had driven everyone around them crazy. The best way to describe what loving him had felt like was going up a roller coaster, slowly unveiling the beautiful view, and then tumbling down so fast that your insides scrambled in the best way possible. Loving Rhys had felt like gasping for air after drowning, like her entire being began and ended with him. And Rhys had loved her in equal measure, if not more. She had seen it, felt it, and treasured it. 

And then you went and ruined it all, supplied her brain. She chose to ignore it. 

Realizing she had been lost in thought and staring at the man before her—because gone was the boy she had left at eighteen—she cleared her throat, forcing her voice to stay even.

So much for always keeping a cool head, she thought to herself.

“Hello Rhys.”

They stared at each other, each taking the other in. She was cataloging every visible change in him, just as she knew he was doing the same. The changes would have been subtle to someone who had seen him more often, but Feyre hadn’t seen him in a decade. She took notice of his broad shoulders and his still lean frame. His hair was cut short, and she wondered if it felt as soft as it used to. She took in his sharp jawline and his eyes, that shade of blue so deep it almost looked violet. She noticed the way his hands flexed as if he was itching to touch her. 

Night triumphant had been his nickname all throughout high school, a play on his last name and the way he went through life with unfaltering confidence. He seemed to have retained that confidence, but she could read his small tells, and she knew he was just as nervous as she was. 

She was not supposed to be this nervous. She thought she had gotten over this, though in her bones she knew she hadn’t gotten over him. 

“It’s good to see you,” she said, making her voice sound as even as possible, though she was sure he could tell she was nervous. 

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” he said, and she could see his internal struggle at what to say, that unfaltering confidence gone. 

She shouldn’t have liked this as much as she did, but knowing he was as nervous as she was made her feel things she wasn’t yet ready to admit. 

“How’s it going?” Rhys asked.

How was it going though? She was trying to break the ice, the conversation painfully awkward for both of them. 

It’s your fault things are awkward. 

Feyre shoved that thought into a box within another box, and then shoved that box to the far reaches of her mind. Had she been sad and miserable ever since that day? Yes. Did she regret any of it? She couldn’t say she did. She had done it for him, had known he would sabotage his entire future for her if she hadn’t. 

Rhys’ future had been brighter than the sun. Despite acing his way through high school, being active in both sports and academic extracurriculars, loved by every teacher, and admired by almost every student, he had somehow still managed to stay grounded and had not let it go to his head. So it had come as no surprise when six Ivys had reached out to him, wanting to grab him as their student. 

Rhys hadn’t given which school he’d pick much thought, and when the time came, she had heard him telling Azriel & Cassian about how he was going to turn them all down in order to stay in town with her and go to community college. 

That had been unacceptable to her. She refused to be the reason Rhys tied himself down to this place when there were so many things he could do, could become. So she had concocted a plan and had found the worst possible moment to break his heart. 

“Feyre?”

She snapped out of her thoughts to see Rhys looking at her questioningly. 

"Sorry." She gave him a small smile. “Just… lost for a moment. I’m good, how have you been?”

He didn’t need to know she had been a nervous wreck and had barely slept the night before. 

“All good. It’s weird being back here.” He looked around and she wondered if he was thinking about their prom. 

She had been cruel that day. She was surprised he still wanted to talk to her. 

A month before prom, Feyre had dragged Rhys to this very gym and told him she couldn’t be with him anymore. Needless to say, Rhys was confused. They’d been good for each other, their relationship solid. There had been absolutely no reason or need for a breakup. 

So, Feyre made one up. She told him she didn’t see them surviving high school, and that it was better to rip the bandaid off while they could. 

It had been a lie, all of it. Feyre could picture the rest of her life with him, had dreamed about it so often she had lost count. 

She had left Rhys standing there, confused and hurt, and went to prom without a date. To drive the final nail in the coffin, when she had seen Rhys making his way to her at the dance, she had grabbed her ex boyfriend, whom Rhys couldn’t stand, and kissed him. 

The look on his face still haunted her. Rhys hadn’t tried to contact her again after that night, and Feyre had spent the remainder of their senior year acting as if she hadn’t broken both their hearts.

The thought still made her nauseous. 

“Are you here alone?” She mentally kicked herself the moment it slipped past her lips. Why would you ask him that?

He looked at her like he could see right through her question. “No.”

She froze. “Oh.”

“I’m here with the others. Cass and Az should be around here somewhere. I came with Mor, though.”

She blinked, realizing he was teasing her. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “I’m sorry but why are you being so friendly to me? We didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

Rhys cocked his head to one side. “We’re adults. I thought we could both put the past behind us, especially one with a plan as well thought out as yours.”

Feyre froze, but masked it quickly with feigned confusion. “What do you mean?”

She could see the beginnings of a smirk on his face, and she didn’t know if she wanted to weep or laugh at the sight of it. 

“That little plan of yours back when we were eighteen. Break up with me, and have me catch you kissing Tamlin.”

Feyre felt her face drain of color. “Rhys, I-”

“To be fair, I’m still mad at you. Livid doesn’t even begin to describe it. But I’m trying to think rationally here and give you the benefit of the doubt. So, Feyre. We need to talk.”

#feysandweek2023 #feyre #feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys #feysand #modern au #feysand fic #feysand fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #sarah j maas

[rose-of-the-grave]

Paper Bird

Pairing: Gwyn x Azriel

Hogwarts AU

I'm the author (please don't repost) <3

Masterlist Read on Ao3

Warnings: Angst, fluff, oblivious pining

Word Count: 1,386

Description: What will happen when Az accidentally reads a note that Gwyn wrote about him that was meant for Emerie?

History of Magic was usually Gwyn's favorite class but today all she could focus on was Az. He was seated next to Cassian only a few rows away. They were quietly arguing, or rather, Cassian was talking and Azriel was doing his best to pay attention to class. On the far side of the duo was Gwyn's best friend Emerie.

Glancing up at the teacher who was droning on and on she decided to send Emerie a note. She, Emerie, and their other friend Nesta had developed a system where if they wanted to talk they would charm a piece of paper into a bird that would fly their message over.

Looking over at her crush, she could spot the way his uniform clung to his muscles. The way his sleeves clung to his biceps should have been illegal. When a strand of hair fell in his eyes she wished that she could be the one to tuck it back behind his ear.

She had had a crush on the mysterious, dark-haired boy for years. Back when she was a second year and he was in his third year he had stood up for her against the people who bullied her and her twin sister for being muggleborns. Ever since then she had had a major crush. Gwyn knew that there was no hope for him to see her in the same way. He had been hung up on a girl who was a year ahead of him from the moment he met her as a first year.

A couple months ago Az had finally moved on from Morrigan but he was now dating Elain, Nesta's sister. Gwyn however had watched from afar, hoping that he would notice that Elain was just using him to get over her ex, Gray. It had been three months and he still hadn't clued in. Every time she watched Elain become all lovey-dovey when Gray was in sight only to stop the instant he was gone, Gwyn's heart ached for him.

Unable to resist, she quickly scrawled out a note for her friend and watched as it soared through the air. It had become custom for Gwyn to send Emerie a note whenever she was feeling particularly heart broken. She and Nesta had wanted to ensure that they could be there to support her when it got difficult to deal with how she felt.

The paper bird fluttered its wings and glided in Emerie's direction only to hit Az in the back of the head when he stood up abruptly. The bird fell gracefully right into his bag that he grabbed before storming out of class moments before class was officially dismissed.

Gathering her things Gwyn rushed over to Emerie.

"Emerie!" She called. Her voice filled with desperation and agony. She had been successfully hiding her feelings for ages from Az. They had become good friends lately and she couldn't bear for that to change.

Emerie's voice asking, "What?", pulled her out of her thoughts.

"I-I-I was... I sent a note to you like I promised and..." she trailed off.

"What note? I didn't get a note." Noticing her best friend's panic Emerie tried her best to calm her. "Just take a deep breath. In and out, in and out. There. Now, what happened? Take your time."

"I sent you a note like I promised but it hit Az in the back of the head and fell into his bag. He's probably already seen it by now. He's never going to talk to me again!"

"You don't know that Gwyn. For all you know it could have flown out of his bag and be on its way to me. Or maybe he won't notice it." Emerie comforted.

"No. He'll see it. He may not always be very perceptive when it comes to girls but he pays attention to details. It takes a lot of skill to hide something from him. It's nearly impossible to lie to his face."

"Come on," Emerie pushed, "We need to hurry if we want to get a seat in the great hall for lunch."

"Okay." Gwyn assented, worry still weighing her down.

The two girls walked out of the near empty classroom and into the hallway where they were met by the third of their trio, Nesta. Emerie filled Nesta in on what had just happened in class while they all walked to the great hall .

They had nearly reached the entrance to the hall when Azriel came up to them.

"Hey." He nodded at both Emerie and Nesta before turning to pin Gwyn with his gaze. "Can we talk? Privately." He said that last part to Gwyn's friends before they could declare that were coming too.

"Sure" Gwyn said, motioning for her friends to go to lunch without her.

They left, albeit reluctantly. Both of them kept turning back to look at Gwyn and Az.

Gwyn laughed nervously before turning to look at Az. "So what do you want to talk about?" She asked, her voice wavering a bit. He probably wanted to let her down privately to save her the public embarrassment.

Az led the red-haired Gryffindor over to a bench. Sitting down, he motioned for her to join him. He started fidgeting with his hands a bit drawing her attention to his tight grip on a piece of paper. Her piece of paper.

"Did you mean it?" He inquired, his voice so quiet that she had to strain to hear him.

"Mean what?" She attempted to seem oblivious but her cheeks were tinged pink.

"This." He said, shoving the piece of paper at her. Az seemed to gain confidence as he finally met her gaze. "Do you like me?"

"Of course I like you! We're friends" She tried to deflect.

"No. I mean do you like me as more than a friend?"

"Umm." She looked down at her hands. "Yes." She whispered.

At his lack of response she glanced up to where he was sitting, his mouth opening and closing without a noise, like a fish. Gwyn looked back and forth, inching back. She made to leave when he reached out a hand, grabbing her wrist. He pulled her back so that she was sitting next to him again, closer than before.

Bewildered, Gwyn sat there. She watched as his hand let go and reached up towards her cheek. Meeting his eyes, he was staring back and she started to lose herself in them as they got closer and closer until she felt his lips brush her own. He leaned back, biting his lower lip. His eyes were filled with hesitance.

"Why did you do that?" Gwyn asked.

"Why do you think? I like you too, as more than friends. I have for a while now."

"But you're dating Elain."

"No, I'm not. We broke up after her ex decided that he wanted to try again." He quirked an eyebrow up. "I also didn't really like her like that. Sure, she was pretty but we didn't really have that much in common."

Elated, Gwyn smiled. Her whole face lit up. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Yes." He said. They both leaned in slowly, his lips ghosting over hers before kissing her in earnest. Reaching a hand up to the back of his neck she grabbed a fistful of his air, pulling him closer. Her tongue darted out to lick along the seam of his lips, wordlessly asking for permission. He parted his lips, deepening the kiss.

Someone whistled.

Az and Gwyn pulled apart to look at a smirking Cassian who was accompanied by both Nesta and Emerie. Nesta slipped Emerie a Galleon. Gwyn stood up and was pulled into a hug by her two friends. When Nesta whispered, "Why did you have to get together so soon? You really couldn't have waited two weeks? You cost me a Galleon." Gwyn pulled away, saying in mock offense, "You guys bet on us?"

Her two friends smiled and shrugged. "We figured you would eventually realize that you were both pining for each other, oblivious to the other's feelings." Emerie said.

Laughing, Gwyn looked back at her new boyfriend who was being hugged by Cassian. It had taken them a while but they finally got here. She smiled and, noticing her grinning, Az smiled back.

#acomaf #acotar #acowar #short story #acosf #acofas #short fic #gwynriel #gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel and gwyn #azriel x gwyn #az x gwyn #hogwarts au #rose of the grave

[tswaney17]

Daddy's Snowball

This might be the cheesiest of cheesy fluff that it's almost cringeworthy. 😅 My one Christmas fic turned into an AU (honestly, who's even surprised?) so there will be three, possibly four parts to this that I'll be posting throughout the month. This first part, basically Az being a simp for his wife and son. Enjoy, and happy holiday's! 💙

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: tooth-decaying fluff.

Word Count: 1,820

Azriel had his hands, elbow-deep in the sink as he finished washing the dishes from their breakfast. Elain had made a brioche French toast that was unbelievably delicious—though everything she made was always wonderful.

His wife was currently cleaning the syrupy mess that was their son. By the time he finished eating, Azriel was pretty sure more of the sugar glue had ended up on his face and hands than in his mouth. He smiled to himself at the image.

Sunday was always his favorite day of the week. Because, on Sunday, he, Elain, and Kaden sat down for breakfast and then spent the rest of the day together. Sometimes they planned little day trips. Others, they spent lounging around the house just playing with their son. Kaden had quickly caught on to their Sunday rituals and started voicing his own suggestions for what they should do. Going to the zoo, watching a movie, or spending the afternoon at the park were just a few of his many ideas.  

He was finishing up wiping off the counter when a little hand tugged at his pant leg.

“Daddy,” Kaden looked up at him with those large, pleading eyes that had his heart melting in his chest. “Can we go outside to pway in the snow?”

A smile took over his face. “Of course. But we need to get our snow gear on.” He dropped the towel on the counter and held his hand out for him. “Come on, let’s go get changed.”

Small, tanned fingers grabbed his ring finger and pinky as they walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. Azriel grabbed all of Kaden’s winter clothing, his snow pants, and a sweater, helping him change. “Your jacket is by the door and so are your boots. I’ll meet you down there.”

“Tank you, daddy!” he called, racing from his bedroom.

Az chuckled, shaking his head at the hyperactivity his son was now displaying from his sugary breakfast. Quickly pulling on his rain pants over his jeans and thick socks, he met Kaden at the back door where Elain was zipping up his jacket.

“Don’t forget your gloves,” she told their son, helping him stuff his hands into snow gloves. “And a hat,” Elain added with a giggle, flopping a blue beanie on top of his rogue curls.

She turned, eyes beaming. “You too,” she said and tugged a beanie over Azriel’s head.

He leaned forward for a quick kiss as their son slid open the door and plunged into the snow. “Can I convince you to join us?”

“Oh, no. It’s much too cold for me. Plus, this is good to spend time with him alone. I’ll make some hot chocolate for you guys and come get you in about an hour.”

Azriel pecked her soft, pink lips again. “You’re too good to me.”

Elain’s fingers slipped into the hair at his nape, holding him there for a few more seconds.

He would’ve stayed rooted to the spot in the open doorway, kissing his fucking amazing, beautiful wife, had a high pitched, “Daddy!” not beckoned him to the frozen wasteland they called their backyard. Elain’s gardens flourished the rest of the year, but very little could thrive in Velaris’s harsh winters.

“Coming, buddy!” he called out, closing the door behind him as he trudged out in the nearly two-foot-deep white blanket that covered their yard.

It was cold enough that Kaden didn’t sink too far in, the underneath layer frozen. But Az’s heavy, muscular body sent his steps nearly to the ground. He snatched his son around the waist, tossing him in the air and catching him under his arms.

Kaden squealed, falling into him as they both landed in the snow, the little one on his chest. The happy giggles coming from his son’s lips were one of his favorite sounds, ones he collected like precious stones to store and take out when he was having a bad day.

“Can you do a snow angel, Kaden?” he asked, lying him down on his back.

Those hazel and green eyes looked up at him in such wonderment. Azriel sometimes forgot how innocent children were until Kaden came into his and Elain’s lives. They were his providers, his caregivers, his everything. It gave him whiplash how much their lives had changed since his adoption.

“Okay,” he started, positioning his limbs. “Be a starfish.” He followed his orders, his limbs forming a spread eagle. “Now slide your arms up and down.”

Kaden’s arms shuffled, pushing the snow around.

“And your legs,” he guided gripping the tip of his boots to direct him into the proper motion. “All right, up we go.” Az grabbed him and hauled him into his arms. “Look at your snow angel, buddy!”

Those eyes widened in child-like astonishment. “Now you, daddy!”

Setting Kaden down on the ground, Azriel flopped back into the snow, swishing his limbs to create his angel right next to his son’s. White powder dusted his dark hair, collected at the collar of his jacket, but he didn’t care. Not when it produced the precious, toothy grin on his son’s face.

“You’re so big,” Kaden stated, pointing at his snow angel once he climbed back to his feet. “Will I get big like you, daddy?”

He ruffled dark hair under his beanie. His soul softened every time Kaden called him that name—it had taken a while for him to grow comfortable with it.

At one point in his life, Azriel believed he’d never be worthy of a wife, of children. And then Elain came along and turned every doubt, every insecurity, into something he fought to concur. His demons, his past, they couldn’t touch him because of her love, her undying affection. He adored her for it.

“One day, you’ll be as big and strong as me,” Az promised, cradling the back of his head, and letting his thumb swoop in his loose curls. He could see it, with Kaden copying a lot of what he did. Elain had probably two hundred photos and videos on her phone, catching him grabbing more meat and veggies after Azriel did, trying to mimic him doing pushups when he worked out at home, sitting at his desk scribbling on paper pretending to work with him, tinkering in his shed with him. It was, undoubtedly, the cutest thing.

Those sweet eyes lit up at his words. A few weeks ago, Kaden announced he wanted to be “just like daddy,” and Azriel would be lying if he said that proclamation had him both puffing up his chest in pride and wanting to sob at the same time. It also had him stepping up his game to be an even better role model for his son.

They rolled around in the snow, tossing handfuls of it up into the air and letting it rain down on them, when he asked, “Kaden, do you want me to show you how to make a snowball?”

“Yes! Show me, daddy!” he cheered, running to plop himself on the ground next to Azriel’s hip.

He grabbed a handful of snow, forming and shaping it into a perfect sphere, explaining to Kaden how to pack it and smooth out the edges. Over his many years of snowball fights with his brothers, he learned quickly how to create the perfect ball.

His son watched him attentively, trying to copy his movements. “Like this, daddy?” he asked, presenting Azriel with a misshapen white blob of snow.

Az had to hold in his chuckle, knowing that as soon as Kaden threw it, the ball would disintegrate in midair. “Very good, buddy. Would you like me to help you make one of daddy’s snowballs?”

He nodded his head enthusiastically.

Digging into the ground, he told him, “First off, you want to get the right kind of snow. The top layer is typically too soft to hold together, so go down a little bit and get some of the firmer snow underneath.” He helped Kaden dig down, collecting a handful of snow in his small, gloved palms.

“Next, we want to pack it together.” Folding his hands over his sons, he helped him tighten the snow into a firm ball. “And then, shape it so it’s round.” He dusted off some of the rougher edges until it was smooth. “And there we go, a perfect snowball.”

Az lifted Kaden to his feet, aiming him for one of the close trees. “Try and hit the trunk.”

He threw the snowball with all his might, the frozen thing missing the tree by a good three feet. Az laughed. “Good try, bud. Here, let’s make more and try it again.”

Sitting on the ground, not caring that his ass was currently frozen, he made snowball after snowball for his son who took every single one in an attempt to hit the tree trunk.

Finally, after thirty balls or so, he did, the bark covered in a splotch of white. “Daddy!” he screamed in delight. “I did it! Did you see?” A little body came crashing into his chest, arms thrown around his neck.

“Awesome job, Kaden!” He hugged him tightly, taking every advantage he got while his son was still young, knowing that when he got older, hugs would become less and less frequent. The realization had him holding Kaden closer.  

The sound of the sliding door opening caught his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Elain, leaning against the doorframe with a smile gracing her face.

“Boys, come inside before you freeze. I’ve made hot chocolate,” she beckoned.

Azriel rose to his feet, still holding his son against his chest.

“With marshmallows, momma?”

Gods, the smile on Elain’s lips would one day make his heart stop. It was so beautiful, so bright, that it lit up the darkest corners of his troubled past. Made him feel warmth, unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

“Yes, with marshmallows. I’ve already put some in your cocoa.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss Kaden’s reddened cheek and then placed another on his. “Come in before you let all the hot air out.”

He set his son down, halting him when he started to run off to the kitchen. “Boots and jacket off, buddy. We don’t track snow all through momma’s house.”

After stripping him down to appropriate houseware, Kaden took off for the kitchen where yet another sugary concoction was waiting for him. “He’s going to be bouncing off the walls today.”

Elain laughed, looping her arm with his. “Yeah, well, he’s sweet and deserves it.”

Azriel looked down at her in awe. Because he knew she was right. They wanted to spoil their son with love, and he did just that. Sitting down at the table, he clinked his mug with Kaden’s and then Elain’s, thinking just how lucky he was to have this perfect little family.

~~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

I’m not doing a tag list anymore because they’re really more trouble than they’re worth. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3.

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#daddy's snowball #elriel #elain #elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elriel fic #elriel fanfic #elriel fanfiction #tswaney17 #tswaney17fics #tay writes #my writing #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #elriel au #elain and az #elain and azriel #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #azriel x elain

[captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship]

Ch5 is out now!

Read it here

#fm2m #feysand #feysand fic #healing feysand #feysand fanfic #pro feysand #this also counts as a mor week submission of sorts #mor is very prevalent in this chapter #ACOTAR #acomaf au #acomaf rewrite #acomaf #acowar #ACOSF #there is some tog Easter eggs if you know where to look

[harmonyindark245]

One Last Time [Chapter 10]

Summary - Elain and Azriel have known each other since they were 11 and had never been separated. But when their view for their future no longer matches, things break apart between them, causing a rift which had never been fixed. Elain goes on to become a neurosurgeon, while Azriel works for the deadlier part of the community. Ten years later, their lives get entangled as they cross paths, this time stakes much greater than just their hearts.

An: All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas

Warnings: Mature language, violence, alcohol consumption, smoking, drugs

Hope you all enjoy!

Masterlist

Songs:

Back to December - Taylor Swift

I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

Young God - Halsey 

Elain and Lucien were back on the road just before sunset. 

She had to explain everything to Lucien regarding who Aelin and Rowan were and how Elain knew them and everything else that usually followed. By the end of the story, Lucien understood why she needed them to help and helped them by pitching in with ideas.

“They’re good people,” Lucien commented while driving them back. “I liked them, especially Aelin.”

Elain smiled fondly. “They’re amazing. Both of them. And the others are as amazing as them.” She smirked at Lucien. “Maybe you could have tried to be with Aelin if Rowan wasn’t there in the picture. Both of you have fire in your veins.” Lucien scoffed at that. “Seriously! You guys would probably make it.” Elain sat back and thought before correcting. “Actually I don’t think so. You both might just burn the building down in one go.”

Lucien shook his head as he chuckled. “Thank you for having so much faith in me. And I really don’t think there’s a chance for Rowan to not be in the picture.”

Elain nodded solemnly. “I have a feeling he’ll resurrect like the Undertaker.” Lucien gave her a questioning look and then she amended, “Nope, that’s definitely Aelin.” 

“I meant that they both seem like they are soulmates.”

Elain nodded once again. “They are. I don’t think it’s possible for Aelin to be with anyone else. Same for Rowan. And they’ve both gone through some serious shit. They deserve to be happy.”

Lucien looked at her with sad eyes. “You’ve gone through some shit too. You also deserve to be happy, Elain.” She turned her head and looked out of the window, the trees running past them. “I know.” She smiled at her own reflection. “I might try to snatch all the happiness I can get. Who knows how long it’ll last.”

Lucien sighed. “Elain, he won’t let anything happen to you. You know he loves you.”

“Loved.” She corrected him. 

“You are both extremely blind and I can’t wait to say ‘told you so’ when you can’t keep your hands off each other just like when we were kids.” 

Elain was thankful for the lack of light which hid her blush as the events from the previous night played back in her mind. When she didn’t respond, Lucien looked towards her and gave her an incredulous look. “Seriously Ellie? Already? Please tell me that it wasn’t with me and Daemon sleeping in the rooms beside you.”

She just blinked and then flashed him a smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know Lulu?” 

He shuddered in response and didn’t bring it back up the entire journey. 

~~~~~

Azriel heard her car roll in before he actually saw it. Lucien had gotten out and spotted him instantly, nodded at him, and quickly helped Elain out of the car. Azriel frowned when he noticed her limping slightly. She waved Lucien off and nudged him back to his car. He shook his head at her before hugging her and getting back inside the car. 

“Mommy!” Daemon shouted from beside Az. “Look at me swimming!” 

Elain glanced towards them and gave a slight smile, before walking towards them. Azriel noticed, however, that she was trying to disguise her limp.

“You’re back,” Azriel stated flatly. 

“You’re not supposed to be swimming. And neither is Daemon.” Elain claimed with both her hands on her hip. “It’s in the middle of December. It was snowing literally half an hour ago.”

Azriel turned towards her and went to the side of the pool, jumping onto the concrete, and stood up straight in front of her. He didn’t miss how her eyes instantly snapped to his bare chest before slowly coming back to his face.

“How was your little trip to the mountains, huh?” He asked coolly, snapping her out of her daze. 

“What?” She blinked up at him. “How do you know I went up to the mountains?” He shrugged nonchalantly and walked past her, hitting her shoulder with his. “Were you following us?” Elain asked him incredulously. 

“No, I didn’t leave the house.” He answered and she let out a sigh of relief, causing Azriel to scoff. “There’s a tracker injected in your neck. Did it the first night you were here.” 

She instantly raised her hand up to her neck touching it everywhere to search for the place where a tracker could be. “What the fuck Azriel?! How could you do that? That is a complete violation of privacy!” 

Azriel whipped around and in two long strides, he was right in front of Elain, seething. “Privacy?” He bit out. “What privacy? In case you forgot, I kidnapped you and brought you here against your will.” He looked at her neck with a predatory grin. 

“Did a pretty satisfactory job, didn't I?” He brought his hand up to her neck and brushed his thumb against it, her hand dropping on its own accord. He got a dark look in his eyes as he noticed Elain’s breathing getting shallow. 

Azriel lowered his head, bringing his mouth near Elain’s ear. “Don’t worry, the pool is heated.” He whispered, his lips touching the shell of her ear.

Without sparing Elain another glance, Azriel stalked back into his house, directly moving to his office. 

~~~~~

Elain waited until Daemon had been properly heated and well-fed before she went in search of Azriel. 

Fortunately for her, he came in search of her instead. He handed her the first aid kit and removed his shirt silently, sitting in a chair in front of her. 

Elain also remained quiet, removing the old bandage on his back and cleaning the wound, which she was happy to see was healing. She again wrapped a new bandage on top, but her hands lingered on his bare back. She traced her hands up to his shoulders and she could feel him tensing beneath her. 

“You have every right to be angry at me.” She whispered softly. “But I didn’t go there for what you think I did.” 

Az shook his head and made to get up before Elain pushed him down. She took out the pen drive from her pocket and held it in front of him. “This has something that might help you out.”

Azriel grabbed it and turned his head to look at her. “Why don’t you tell me why you went there.” 

Elain inhaled deeply. “I had a hunch. And I needed proof before I could present it to you.” 

Azriel nodded and got up, grabbing her hand in his, before leading her to his office. She looked around in awe as he turned the lights on. She was impressed by the whole setup, which gave absolute hacker vibes. When she had thought of what would be inside his office, she had imagined a wooden desk, a lot of bookshelves lining the walls, and a simple setup. 

She hadn’t expected two desktop screens connected to a laptop, a glass desk. The walls were covered with soft boards and whiteboards, all of which were filled. 

“Cassian was right, you are batman.” She breathed out and Az just smirked at her. He connected the pen drive and sat down on his chair, Elain waiting with bated breath. 

~~~~~

Azriel was hurt. But he knew he couldn’t stay angry at her. He loved her too much. He would accept it if she demanded to be with Graysen even after everything. He didn’t want to know why she had gone to his cabin, but he would at least hear her out. 

Azriel found a folder labeled ‘Finance Records’, which did indeed consist of financial records. Of Graysen’s company. 

“Yesterday, meeting Vassa was a coincidence. But when she took me out to smoke, she started talking about her work. When I realized who she was working for, I just coerced her to give me more.” Elain spoke up. “Graysen’s company has hired a lawyer to help him with any possible drug accusations. It’s not him or any of his company members doing the dealings. I didn’t get the whole thing out of Vassa, but she did tell me that someone else is operating under his name.” Elain informed him as he was busy scrolling through the files she had managed to get. Azriel had to admit, she had done a pretty good job. 

Azriel glanced at each of them, only to realize there was nothing irregular with them. “This could just be a front for the tax department.” He stated.

Elain groaned. “No. All his dirty work is kept in that cabin. There are invoices of money extortion and everything, but nothing related to either buying or selling drugs.” 

Azriel continued persuing through the documents when he found one statement that made him pause. “This one shows our company giving him 150 k, in three installments.” 

Azriel knew there had been no such dealing between his company and Graysen’s which confused him further. He mailed the documents to Rhysand.

“Another thing!” Elain exclaimed from behind him. She was leaning against him, the smell of her shampoo hitting him directly in the face. “Rhysand’s father was there.”

Azriel whipped his head quickly, not noticing how close her face was to his. “What do you mean he was there?”

“Lucien and I saw his car rolling up to the cabin.” 

Azriel got up from his chair and grabbed Elain tightly. “Did he see you? Are you okay?” 

Elain shook her head. “We ran away before he could. And I’m fine, I just twisted my ankle.” 

Azriel groaned and before he realized it, Elain had risen on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. Azriel wrapped his hand around her hair, tugging on it to tilt her head upwards. He pushed through her lips, his free hand crushing her towards him. 

She ran her hand around his shoulders, before tightly grasping his t-shirt. He pushed her behind, and the chair he had been sitting on pushed away. Elain bit his lip, which caused him to move back, his hand coming up to his lip. He saw there was slight blood and he glanced at Elain in question who was smiling at him before she started laughing. Azriel felt perplexed and frowned at her. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just.” She let out another laugh. “I feel like we’re back in high school, making out in the computer lab during lunch.” 

Azriel couldn’t help the laugh of his own that came out. They both laughed, until they heard Daemon outside, calling for them. 

~~~~~

“You look like a man on a mission.”

Azriel scoffed at Rhysand who had barged into his office. Elain had finally given him the green light to go to the office building for his work, while bargaining that he allows Elain to go to the hospital. 

Azriel agreed but insisted on her having a security detail to which she claimed she had a solution. 

She had suggested the Terrasen Security company. How Elain had heard of them, Azriel did not want to know as the stories of the infamous Cadre were known throughout the mafia world. 

“Rowan Whitehorn. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.” Rhys whistled as he made his way toward Azriel and saw his research. 

“Do you not understand the concept of privacy?” Azriel sneered at Rhys who just smirked. 

“Not at all. What do you need from Rowan?”

Azriel shook his head. “Elain wants to go back to work. And I told her she could go if she was protected and she said, and I quote, ‘I know people”

Rhys gave Azriel an amused look. “First of all, I’m surprised you caved. What happened to the ‘In case you forgot, you’ve been kidnapped’? And second, how the hell does Elain know Rowan?” 

Azriel ignored the first part of his question because he himself was contemplating temporary insanity. “Do you think they met through Graysen?”

Rhys scoffed. “Please, Graysen has too much pride to hire someone like Rowan. And Rowan has enough sense to not work for someone like Graysen.” Rhys paused before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Have you ever stopped to consider that even though you got rid of Elain to protect her from our world, maybe she wasn’t that protected?” 

Azriel shook his head in denial. “No. Because then everything I’ve sacrificed and everything we went through would’ve been for nothing.” 

Rhys held his hands up in surrender. “If you want, I can use my contacts to get you a meeting with Rowan.” 

“No need. Elain handled it. Was just doing recon for tonight when they come over.” 

Azriel glanced at Rhys’s flabbergasted expression and couldn’t help but smirk smugly. “It seems perhaps you’re not the only well-connected one.”

~~~~~

Elain was waiting anxiously. The sun had set and she had prepared the house well. Azriel had also returned early from work just to meet her friends.

Azriel was seated patiently on the sofa, his ankle placed over his leg. He glanced towards his watch. “It seems your friends don’t know what punctuality means.” 

Elain shot him a glare and sneaked a glance toward the clock. It was 8:30, they were supposed to be there at 8. Finally, the front bell rang and Elain jumped towards the door, putting the code in. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Elain swung it open, hugging Aelin and then moving toward Rowan. She could feel Azriel standing behind her so she moved back and gestured toward Az. 

“Guys, this is Az.” She looked towards Azriel then. “This is Aelin and Rowan.”

Az held his hand out for both of them. “It’s nice to meet friends of Elain.” He said diplomatically, which caused Elain to wince. She already saw Az discreetly glance around as if expecting an ambush. 

“Do you know your house is unplottable?” Aelin questioned and Rowan gave her a warning glance. 

“I intended it to be that way,” Az replied with a smile. 

“Why don’t you all come inside?” Elain questioned, clearing the path for them. “It’s freezing out here.” 

Both of them followed and Elain took their coats. They ended up sitting in the living room, where Daemon was already seated.  

“Hey Daemon!” Aelin exclaimed, rushing towards Daemon with her hands stretched out. Daemon instantly stood up from his seat and hugged Aelin. Daemon then let go of her and moved towards Rowan, who picked him up and swung him around, Daemon’s laughter echoing off the walls. 

Elain smiled and glanced towards Azriel who was frowning and his jaw was tight. She slowly moved to him, placing a hand on his clenching fist. “Rowan was around a lot during his initial years. Almost like his father figure. But Daemon knows you’re his real father.”

Azriel looked towards Elain and unclenched his jaw, nodding at Elain.

Rowan turned towards the two and let Daemon go. “Why don’t you go up to your room, huh? I’ll come and check up on you in while.” Elain said. Daemon nodded and bid them goodnight, while the four sat in the living area. 

“Rhysand called me in the afternoon.” Rowan started.

“How do you know Rhysand?” Elain questioned. 

“Met at a convention.” 

Elain frowned. “I’m guessing it wasn’t a normal type of convention?” 

Azriel smirked at Elain. “Nothing is normal here Elain. You should get used to it.” 

“We got information on what you asked for.” Aelin opened her handbag and brought out a small folder. “And we have also prepared to have our best be there for you when you’re in the hospital.” 

“But they wouldn’t be allowed inside,” Azriel argued. 

Aelin shook her head. “Don’t underestimate our guys. Trust me, they’ll have eyes everywhere.” 

Azriel leaned forwards, placing his elbows on his knees. “Anyone from the Cadre would catch too much attention.”

“The Cadre won’t be involved. There are other, equally talented people for the job.” Rowan added. “We also have an idea of how to figure out if Rhysand’s father is involved with Graysen or not,”

“We appreciate the help, but I don’t think we need it. It’s a personal matter.” Azriel stated harshly. 

Elain placed her hand on his forearm. “I asked them to do this for me Azriel. Please.” 

“How do you know each other?” He asked, glancing toward the other two seated in front of him. 

“Elain and I were roommates in college. At least, for the first semester.” Aelin answered. “We remained close after that.” 

“That must’ve been nice,” Azriel said, mildly subdued. 

Aelin smirked deviously. “I have tons of stories if you want to hear.”

Elain groaned, knowing exactly what stories Aelin would share, and Azriel perked up, smiling tentatively. “I would love that.”

~~~~~

Azriel decided the next day was the best opportunity to plant the bugs in Sir’s study. The entire Knight family that resided in the manor was supposed to be outside, Rhysand at the office, Feyre at her art studio, and Sir had a doctor’s appointment. Azriel guessed even ruthless people like him could fall prey to illnesses. 

“Wow, this place hasn’t changed one bit.” Elain’s voice came from beside him. He didn’t know how to shut her down and especially after she was the one who figured this out, she deserved to be included. 

“We will directly go to Sir’s office and then out of there as fast as possible, okay?” 

Elain raised her hands in surrender. She had opted to were an all-black attire. ‘Perfect for stealth’ she had said. “I promise not to fuck this up. And no reminiscing. I get it.”

Azriel groaned and moved on toward the house, not glancing back to check if she was following or not. 

~~~~~

The room seemed ancient. Elain imagined it could resemble the study rooms she had seen in castles and palaces. There was a massive desk in the middle, with bookshelves all around, a liquor cabinet as well as a vintage globe, which Elain assumed was for decoration purposes. 

Azriel moved inside and shut the door, switching on one of the lamps on the desk. “Look for anything that could be useful, but don’t mess things up. I’ll implant the bugs.” 

Elain nodded and started looking everywhere. She searched in the bookshelf first, taking the books out and flipping through them. She then moved onto a side desk and tried opening the top drawer. However, she felt some resistance and the drawer wouldn’t completely budge. She bent down, touching around the bottom to see what was disturbing the movement when an envelope fell into her hand. 

“Az…” He looked at her and she showed him the envelope. “It’s addressed to you.” 

He took the envelope from her and inspected it carefully. “It’s from Adriata University.” He flipped it over. “Dated 2012?” 

“Why does Rhys’ dad have it?” Elain asked. 

He looked at her for a moment then tore open the envelope. He took the letter out and started reading, “Dear Azriel Knight, we are pleased to let you know that you have been… accepted?” His voice trailed off as he read the entire letter. Twice. He clutched the letter tightly in his hand. “I was accepted.” He breathed out. 

Elain put her hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him but he instantly jerked it off. She frowned at him. “Azriel, it’s okay. There has to be some sort of explanation behind this.” He looked up at her, his eyes filled with unshed tears. 

“It’s not okay El. I was accepted. I could’ve gone with you. I could’ve saved us.” His voice broke and she couldn’t stop the tears that flowed from her eyes. She rubbed his back reassuringly but he abruptly straightened. 

“We should leave.” 

“Az, look at me.” 

“Someone could come and we’d get caught.”

“Az! Look at me!” She held his chin and turned his face towards her. He looked at her with sadness filling his face and she felt a sudden urge to destroy anything or anyone that hurt him. That hurt her Az. 

“Baby, it’s okay. I don’t blame you. I don’t hate you.” He shook his head and she cupped his face with both her hands. “I could never hate you.” She whispered. 

Azriel looked at Elain, tears forming in his eyes. “There wasn’t a single day in my life where I never loved you. Before all of this, I had never thought there was a way to love you more, but I was proven wrong. Every day when I see you, I love you more than before. And it’s driving me crazy.” She rest her forehead on his, him barely breathing. “But I would gladly lose my mind than lose you again.”

He didn’t say anything, just kissed her. Fiercely, desperately, holding on to her as if she was the one thing preventing him from falling away to nothing. 

~~~~~

AN: I do these open endings a bit too often, don't I?

Next Chapter: 5th May

I'll be taking another break for my health. Fortunately, if things look better, I might update early.

#elriel #elriel fic #one last time #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #gangster au #acotar au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #feyre archeron #rhysand #nesta archeron #cassian

[shadowsingerofnight]

Inked Lilies pt. 2

Here we go with my contribution to the lovely pt. 1 @headcanonheadcase wrote. I’m sorry for the delay, I’ve had some awful few days.

In my part, we continue Az and Gwyn’s AU journey, where someone has secrets they are ready to voice. Hopefully. (2.3k words).

Thank you @azrielshadowssing for this great project and for being a great host.

You can find part one here and the master list here. Enjoy!

Gwyn is mortified. Last night was mortifying. She was so sure they were having a moment. Not just a sexual one, even though her bra was basically off and Azriel had his hands on her. They connected emotionally and it was so refreshing to feel understood. Nesta and Emerie are her anchor, but Azriel bears something heavy himself.

She was so sure the sentiment was shared, she had leaned into his touch. His eyes widened and he jumped from his kneeling position like he had been burnt. She tried to apologize, to ask him if she crossed some line but he only muttered some excuses and ran away.

“I swear I saw it in his eyes,” Gwyn says to Nesta and Emerie. They are all eating lunch together at Rita’s.

“I saw it, too- multiple times. He wants you,” Nesta states as an absolute fact. Just like mind-Nesta did.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it,” Gwyn sighes. The memory of Azriel’s hands on her body comes back suddenly, making her heart race and her cheeks blush. She really is disappointed, she hoped they could have something more. She opened up to him and felt a rightness that suggested her trust wasn’t misplaced. But she couldn’t explain what happened last night. It was like he had something hunting him from his past and the sight of her scar, the feel of it reminded him that he was being chased. Perhaps it brought back his own trauma, the weight of bearing his own scars. It would be nice to talk about it, but it is impossible- especially because she plans to never look him in the eyes ever again.

“No.” Nesta says, her tone a no-bullshit one.

“What?”

“I know what you’re thinking. You are going to ask him what happened.”

“But-“

“Nesta is right.” Emerie speaks for the first time. That’s how she is- she listens, analyses and then gives her opinion. Gwyn knows she has no chances of getting out of it if Emerie agrees. Real Nesta and Emerie are starting to sound as annoying as the mind-ones do.

“I don’t know if I want to. I mean- he said I was beautiful or my scar was or whatever. And then just left me there holding my bra cups. I think it’s as clear as a rejection can get,” Gwyn says quietly.

Nesta is having none of it. “Gwyneth. I will kick your ass if you try to start that conversation again. You are gorgeous and-“

“It’s not that,” Gwyn interrupts. “I feel like telling him about Catrin scared him away and the proof of the attack even more,” she whispers, “and I am the one who doesn’t want to put that kind of pressure on someone.”

“That’s bullshit.” Both Nesta and Gwyn whip their head towards Emerie. Her brows are lowered, her mouth is set in a grimace. She’s full frowning. She doesn’t seem to notice their baffled expressions or, if she does, she outright ignores them. She continues, “That is part of you and has made you who you are, which is a wonderful, sweet and fierce woman. If he can’t handle that, he doesn’t deserve you.”

Nesta snaps her fingers, already out of her amazement. “Damn right.”

Gwyn feels the tears gather in her eyes. Life has offered her a lot of bad stuff, but her friends- her sisters, make it worth living anyway. Catrin, Emerie and Nesta.

“Okay,” she agrees, “but even if I wanted to talk to him, there’s no way I can just go across the street and do it. I’d be too embarrassed.”

Nesta smiles what Gwyn could only call a feline smile. “Leave that to me.”

“And this is not because you wanted to go out with Cassian,” Gwyn accuses.

Nesta gasps dramatically, which gives her away instantly because she is everything but dramatic. Usually. She seems to realise it herself because her brow creases. But she shrugs and says, “Not at all. I don’t care about that brute.”

“Haven’t you fucked like five times?” Gwyn chuckles.

“Oh yes, but that’s everything he’s good for.” Then she adds, “Very good.”

Gwyn rolls her eyes. Nesta and Cassian have something between them nobody can explain. There were sparks when they met and the fire keeps burning higher and higher.

They are about to meet up with Cassian and Azriel for a “group gathering” Nesta organised. Gwyn was reluctant to agree, because she knew it would be weird. But if she is to talk to him, there is no better opportunity. And also, Nesta would have flipped. She isn’t even sure Azriel is going to show up- he said he would, but still. Emerie is on a date of her own with her girlfriend since it’s their anniversary. She might meet them later, but Gwyn hopes she doesn’t. It would be just to be there for her and Emerie deserves to have a great night.

When they finally get to the restaurant, Cassian and Azriel are already there- waiting. The second he sees Nesta, Cassian’s eyes spark and a wide grin spreads on his face. There’s undoubtedly lust there, but that spark- it is something else.

Azriel on the other hand seems to be watching Gwyn with some sort of reverence, like he sees something nobody else has ever seen in her. It makes her stomach clench. That sense of rightness washes over her, like she has found her place in the world. She shakes her head to get all these thoughts out, because what does she know? She might be seeing just what she wants to see- like the other night.

Azriel offers her a warm smile and she smiles herself.

After they all greet each other, Cassian hoards Nesta towards the entrance saying, “Told you you’d be the one to ask me out, eventually.”

Gwyn can clearly see her friend roll her eyes. She suppresses a chuckle because it doesn’t seem wise to get in the middle of that.

“You asked me first and I said no. If I were you, I wouldn’t go there,” Nesta tells him, with just the right amount of venom. Gwyn doesn’t know how she does that, she is always flawless with her words- whatever emotion she wants to convey.

But Cassian doesn’t back down and just snickers before putting his arm around Nesta’s shoulders. And she lets him.

“So,” Azriel half-whispers- probably wanting to stay out of it too. “I would’ve come to talk to you myself, you know.”

Gwyn is taken aback by how fast the conversation has veered there.

“You would have?” she asks, her brows furrowed.

“Is it surprising that I want to explain why I was a jerk?”

There is something weird. But not in the way she was expecting. There is a peace to Azriel, a quiet tenacity he didn’t have before. Almost as if he has made a decision that put all the pieces into place. She doesn’t know the pieces of what, but she guesses she will find out.

“No, it’s just-“ she is interrupted by a commotion- that turns out to be Nesta and Cassian arguing about which table they should sit at. Azriel sighs and leads the way towards them, since they have fallen a tad back, but not before saying, “I have a lot to say to you. I’ll start with “You look very beautiful tonight.” He seems to think it over and change his mind. “Actually,” he corrects, “You look very beautiful every night. And day.”

Gwyn knows her cheeks are flushed but she can’t help but smile. “Likewise.”

Azriel chose the table, to put the argument to rest. He chose a completely different one, too- probably just to piss both Nesta and Cassian off. They all drank and ate and talked and joked. Cassian was especially set on their bet and how Nesta was about to get a very interesting tattoo. It was a lovely night. Not at all strange, like she predicted.

Now they are leaving Rita’s and Nesta is clearly not going home.

“I can walk with you and then come back,” she offers.

Gwyn scoffs. “Why would you do that? I can walk alone.” Nesta just stares at her with such intensity, she doesn’t need to say the words.

Gwyn stares back. “I can do it.”

Nesta’s eyes soften. “I know. But you don’t have to.”

“I will walk her.” It is Azriel. Gwyn feels her heart start racing. She doesn’t know if she is excited or worried about what this imminent conversation might bring. She decides she is not worried. She doesn’t need to be- she is the master of all her fears. When she reassures herself of this, all the memories about the attack in that alley, at night, fade as well. But at the same time, they weirdly feel like a deja-vu somehow. Not like she has relieved those horrible moments so many times before, not the pieces of memories themselves. Just Azriel being there. She has definitely drunk too much wine.

“Good, so you can do something about all that awkward hungrily staring you’ve got going on,” Cassian basically croons. Azriel shakes his head but he is smiling. Nesta jabs Cassian in the ribs and her eyes find Gwyn’s- a silent question in them. Gwyn nods. It’s okay.

So off they go, with the background noise of Nesta and Cassian arguing again following them for a while.

“Those two like to be at each other’s throats a little too much,” Azriel says.

“It’s not a bad thing. They are intense people.”

“And what kind of person are you?” He asks, turning his head her way. Gwyn takes her time, but finally says, “I don’t know.”

Without skipping a beat, Azriel blurts, “I do.”

Gwyn laughs. “You do?” She can see the tips of his ears getting red.

He clears his throat. “Yes. Strong and unfaltering.”

She crunches her nose. “I don’t know about that.”

“Trust me, I’m very good at reading people. I’d make a great spy.” They both laugh.

“It’s just that I don’t want you to be disappointed when you find out it’s not true.”

His eyes burn the side of her face until she turns to look at him. “You are a rock, Gwyn.” And the certainty in his voice makes her pause.

I am the rock against which the surf crushes. That was what Catrin and Gwyn used to repeat to each other when they were struggling. And that was what she repeated after-

“What are you not telling me, Azriel?”

“I-“ He is interrupted by someone calling his name. They both turn and find the two models from the parlor’s opening. They greet each other and the two introduce themselves as Rhysand and Feyre. He is very handsome, as she has already seen, but Feyre is the one that catches Gwyn’s eye. Her hands are both tattooed until somewhere up her sleeve, and her blue eyes- that strangely look so much like Nesta’s, are so earnest it seems she is looking into one’s soul. She gives Gwyn a warm smile which makes her feel accepted somehow, even if she doesn’t know for what.

After chatting for a few minutes, Rhysand and Feyre take off to pick up their son from his aunt’s house. They leave him with her once a week, now that he’s old enough, and go on a date. It seems a healthy way to create time for each other.

Azriel and Gwyn start walking again. They are almost home, but when it’s time to turn right he heads towards their shops. They haven’t spoken again yet, and she is grateful. Her mind is spiralling. She doesn’t understand what is happening, what Azriel wants to tell her and even less why she dreads it so much.

She follows him absently until he actually opens the shop’s door.

“What are we doing here?” she demands. He doesn’t say anything and goes into his office. When he comes back he is holding a folded piece of paper and a single calla lily. One of her calla lilies.

“Did you steal a flower from me?”

“What- no!” she can hear a bit of panic in his voice so she smiles at him to lighten the mood. He takes a deep breath. “I asked Emerie for help when you were out delivering this morning.”

“Oh. And why did you do that?”

“Because it’s your favourite.” Simple as that. “And I really need you to forgive me.”

“For what?”

“A lot of things. But first,” he says, opening the piece of paper in his hand. It is her doodle of the same flower he is holding. “Would you like a tattoo?”

“Are you trying to bribe me into forgiving you?”

He laughs, but his eyes are still edged with panic. If she couldn’t accept the offer before, she sure can’t now.

“It’s not a bribe. I need to tell you something and if I do it while I tattoo it would be comforting. You know, doing something that makes me happy.” It makes sense. But his hands on her again…

“Are you sure you are not going to run away this time?” She is joking but also isn’t. She doesn’t think she can handle that again.

His gaze is turned upwards, like he is praying for strength. “I swear I’m not. And I didn’t run away. Not from you, at least. What we shared- it was the best thing that happened to me in a very long time.”

“So why then?”

“Because I need to be honest with you. Before I can touch you the way I so desperately want.”

Her breath catches. Honest, open Azriel really is something else. “Be honest then.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“For being a jerk?”

“Yes. And also for the reason that made me act like one.”

“Which is?”

He takes a few deep breaths again. “That I could do nothing to save Catrin, too.”

@velidewrites @the-lonelybarricade @hlizr50 @ofduskanddreams @crazy-cool-girl-blog @thehaemanthus @headcanonheadcase @the-stars-eternal @violet-shadows @azrielshadowssing @booknerd87 @vikingmagic33 @mystical-blaise

#acotarwritingcircle #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #gwyneth berdara #gwyn #gwyn x az #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyneth #gwyneth x az #gwynriel fic #gwynriel au #gwyn and azriel #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #feysand #rhysand #feyre #feyre archeron #sjm books #sarah j maas #my writing

[starfall-spirit]

Sometimes we need a little nod to canon

The night could not be more of a mess. But if spiraling about her developing feelings wasn’t bad enough, then the sky had to open on them, an unexpected summer storm chasing them into the shelter of the villa. “Ugh, I’m drenched! Rhys, no!”

She squealed, bolting for the other side of the room as he grinned ear to ear, shaking his head to fling water in every direction. That grin held as he ran a hand down his face. Her eyes inevitably dipped lower, assessing how his thin button-down now clung to the toned muscle she'd ignored well enough before now.

#a renaissance romance #snippet #acomaf reference #one hell of a high lord #feysand owns my heart #feysand #feysand fic #modern au

[millsarcherfeykat]

Me waiting for my favorite fanfic writers to post some Feysand fic:

#feysand+fluff #feyre archeron #feysand #feyreandrhysand #feysand fic #modern au #high lady feyre #rhys x feyre #feyre cursebreaker #feyre supremacy #rhysand #relationship #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nyx #batboys #morrigan #fanfic

[theladyofdeath]

My Secret Admirer {Elriel // Part II}

Part II to this prompt!

A/N: Thank you to all who requested a part 2! I hope you like it.

Warnings: language and such

~ Elain ~

I stare at the flowers on my counter as the words of the note left with them on my doorstep the night before flows through my mind.

Elain,

I'm a fucking idiot. I've waited all this time to tell you how much I love you. Happy Valentine's Day.

Your Secret Admirer

It was such a simple note, but so loaded.

My secret admirer.

He loves me.

And I know exactly who it is.

I didn't text him back all last night, although from the sound of how much he was drinking, I assumed that he had crashed soon after he found his way back to his apartment. Now, just after ten in the morning on the day after Valentine's Day, I assume he's still out cold. I know his current work-weekend is Tuesday and Wednesday, which makes it a good day for him to be nursing a hangover.

And hopefully not being mad at me.

It's not that I didn't want to text him, to call him, but I wasn't sure what to say. I mean, he was drunk. Sober Azriel would never leave me flowers, would never write a note like that to me. Although a good man, a great man, Azriel hasn't ever been very good at expressing his emotions.

I didn't contact him again last night because I was worried that it was all a drunken hoax, that he was only doing this because of the liquor. I wouldn't get my hopes up, not yet.

I wonder what the damage will be if I pretend that any of this never happened.

I wonder if Azriel will even remember this whole ordeal when he wakes up.

Taking a sip of coffee from my mug, I close my eyes and weigh my options. The only one that truly makes sense is the worst of them all: confront him.

I take another look at the flowers. They are beautiful, even if the combination of roses, tulips, and lilies is an interesting one. With a sigh, I tread to my bedroom and look in the mirror above my dresser. I look as if I got no sleep, which I didn't, but I'm too wound up to take my time getting ready. I glance at the note, which I sat on my dresser last night after reading it a million times.

Azriel's sloppy, drunken handwriting makes me chuckle. Even if he was only acting out of drunken insanity, the thought was nice.

After slipping on a pair of leggings and a sweater, I rub moisturizer on my face and douse my hair in dry shampoo before pulling it into a ponytail. Once my shoes are on, I grab the note and put it in my pocket before grabbing my purse and heading out.

It's a nice day, cold but sunny, and deciding I don't want to wait in the hellacious morning traffic, I walk. Quickly.

Azriel's apartment building is only a few miles from mine, and each step I take has me rethinking what I'm doing. Half of me feels courageous, but the other half has me full of doubt. The last thing I want to do is storm up to Azriel and ruin years of friendship.

But I'm not the one that proclaimed my feelings.

I walk faster.

It's about forty minutes of walking before I finally find my way into Azriel's building, and I regret not getting a ride because now I'm sweaty and breathless. Nonetheless, I hop into the elevator and ride up to Azriel's floor.

When I make it to his door, my fist freezes midway to it. Suddenly, I feel nauseous - excited but simultaneously terrified.

Then, I feel ridiculous.

It's Azriel.

I knock, then I wait. Just when I think to knock again, the door opens, and a groggy Azriel is standing on the other side of the threshold.

He blinks a few times, then his brow furrows. It's clear I woke him up. "Hey, El."

"Hey," I say, slowly, then I'm not really sure what else to say, so I say nothing.

He clears his throat. "Sorry, I'm..."

"Hungover?" I ask, and he chuckles, blushing slightly.

"Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck - a nervous gesture I've always thought is adorable. "Hey, I'm sorry about all my texts..." his words fade and his smile falters. The color quickly drains from his face and I can tell he's getting nervous. "Did you-"

I pull the note from my pocket and hold it up, saving him from the stuttering mess he's becoming. "Get this?"

He hesitates.

"Did you mean it?" I ask, before I can lose the nerve. I'm suddenly aware of how much I need him to answer this, and how much I want the answer to be in my favor.

He hesitates again and my nerves increase. For some reason, tears form in the corners of my eyes, and my embarrassment grows.

I'm mortified.

Well, this is one way to kill a friendship.

"I'm sorry," I breathe, cursing myself as a tear falls down my cheek once it's clear he's not saying a word. "I..." have to go. The final words never leave my mouth, because I'm hurrying back towards the elevator.

I hear him calling my name, but I can't turn to look at him. He'll only see me sobbing like a mess, blubbering like a lovesick girl, which is strange considering this all happened so quickly and I hadn't even realized that I was in love with Azriel.

No. That's a lie.

Of course I did.

I've always known.

Once I'm in the elevator, I quickly press the button to close the doors, but just before they can do so, Azriel hops through them. He's wide-eyed and breathless, his chest heaving, his clothes wrinkled and his hair a mess.

It's oddly endearing.

I wipe at my face, which is surely red as a tomato, and open my mouth to tell him he doesn't have to do this, doesn't have to run after me, doesn't have to try and let me down easy.

But then he kisses me.

It's not a gentle kiss.

He grabs my face in his hands and pulls me toward him, his tongue sliding between my lips, and my body ignites as if I've never been kissed before.

I melt into him, cling to him, his shirt bundled up in my closed fists as I get completely lost in this kiss.

When it breaks, I'm breathing just as heavily as he is, and his forehead rests against mine as he huffs a laugh. "I meant it." He kisses me quickly, softly. "I'm just sorry I told you like that. That's embarrassing as hell."

I laugh, closing my eyes. "Not as embarrassing as marching myself across town, hoping you'll say it wasn't just some drunken joke."

He shakes his head, his nose brushing mine. "I've thought about telling you that so many times, but none of them involved....so much alcohol."

"Well, I'm kind of grateful for the alcohol," I murmur, and kiss him again.

We go on like that, making out in the elevator, until my legs are wrapped around his waist and we reach the ground floor. Then we go back up to his apartment, where we very clearly and soberly express our feelings, which have been bottled up for way too long.

#elriel #part 2 #elain #azriel #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #modern au #valentines day fic part 2 #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #sjm #elriel fanfic #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #tara answers prompts

[itsthedoodle]

🧙‍♂️🪄✨✨✨ You’ve been visited by the Wip Wizard! If you feel comfortable, gush a little about the three wips you’re most excited to work on! Then send this to another inbox to keep the magic going!

Hello there, thanks for the ask 🩵 I currently have no WIP (yay commitment issues) BUT what I do have and can share is a snippet of a Modern AU I wrote for Feysand week:

•

His phone pinged, the screen lighting up with a message from Mor, asking him to meet in an hour. With no one to talk to and precious free time on his hands, he showered, dressed, grabbed his watch from where he had left it on the dresser, and stopped short in front of the middle drawer, where he put everything he didn’t want to see.

The drawer of emotional baggage, as Mor liked to call it.

He pulled it open, grabbing the only picture frame inside and turned it around. The faces staring back at him were full of love and joy, and unsuspecting of what was going to happen in just a few weeks.

You were unsuspecting, said a small voice. She wasn’t.

Shaking his head, he put the frame back inside, face down, and closed the drawer. He wasn’t ready to unpack that just yet.

#ask me anything #anon ask #feysand fic #unpublished #feyre #Rhysand #Feysand #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #modern au

[rose-of-the-grave]

The Underworld

Pairing: Elain x Azriel

Olympus AU

This is part 2 of what I think will be a 3 part fic. Part one is called River Styx. I'm the author (please don't repost) <3

Masterlist Series Masterlist Read on Ao3

Warnings: most characters are ooc and I tried to fit them into the story so the way that I've written some of these characters does not in any way reflect how I view them, some character relationships were also changed as well as the relationships between the gods, everyone appears the same age, kissing

Word Count: 1,701

Characters: Elain=Persephone, Azriel=Hades, Nesta= Demeter, Rhysand=Zeus, Feyre=Hera, Cassian=Helios, Lucien=Apollo, Morrigan=Aphrodite

Azriel, god of the Underworld had just received his summons. Apparently his estranged brother, Rhysand, wanted to talk to him for once. It was a shame that it was all because of a young girl that he had saved, or kidnapped depending on how you see it, turned out to be a goddess. He cursed himself for not realizing it at first but in his defense whatever drugs had been in her system had numbed her powers.

Unfortunately, returning her now would not do. She intrigued him, a timid little thing who had broken the rules and ventured out into the mortal lands. Her personality did not seem like one that would belong to a rule breaker.

He vanished into the dark abyss only to come out of it in the place beyond worlds. It was a place that was separate from time, space, and death. Here, the gods were mortal, stripped of their powers but still immortal. In the distance, away from the gazebo where he stood, lightning struck.

Zeus has arrived it seemed to say.

"Long time no see big brother." Azriel greeted Rhys.

"And whose fault is that? You're the one who angered Father."

Az shrugged, conceding that he did in fact share some of the blame. He watched closely as his brother drew nearer. His face was clouded with something like worry.

"Where is she?" Rhys demanded. He was a master of framing his demands as questions. What he really meant was bring her here, now.

"She is a pretty little thing. I can see why you are so eager to get her back."

"Don't toy with me Azriel, Nesta wants her daughter back. I had to ask Cassian to prevent her from coming to the Underworld by destroying any shadows near her."

"Since when do you listen to that, what was it you called her? Oh, right. Harpy." Rhys made a pained expression. "Oh. I see. Little Rhysie has to do whatever she says or else his wife won't sleep with him." He mocked.

Rhys sighed but ignored the taunt, pushing past it. "Look Az. Just return her to us and we can pretend this never happened."

"No."

"Az..." Rhys started to beg but Az merely repeated itself. His tone leaving no room for argument.

"Fine. Keep her. But don't come crawling back to me when your common sense returns. She is pretty I'll grant you that much but she won't have anything to do down here. She'll be bored. And soon, she'll wither away. She was never meant to be hidden away in the shadows."

Az merely laughed. After all, why should he care? It mattered not to him whether she was meant to be down here. All he cared about was that he finally had his bargaining chip to free himself from his prison. It had been far too long since he had felt the sun on his face.

With one last look at his brother he vanished into a cloud of onyx smoke that swirled into the air.

He reappeared in his study, seated once more in his chair behind he well organized desk. Sending one of his shadows to lock the door he took out a gold key. Sliding it into a lock that had been placed on one of his desk drawers, he twisted it open. Pulling the drawer open he retrieved a gold orb. It was a curious design made by a fellow god before that same god had married Morrigan, goddess of love. It was a mechanical device made from gold that was shaped into a spherical shape. The intricate parts of it spun, concealing whatever was inside. It was a puzzle that he had yet to solve.

Hearing a sound from the hallway beyond, he quickly replaced the orb and locked the drawer. He put the key back onto a chain around his neck that was easily concealed by his black top.

He opened the door and was only somewhat surprised to see her up and about. She had not, as of yet, spotted him. Choosing to spend some more time quietly observing the Underworld's newest resident he instead used his shadows to lead her to a place nobody save him knew of. His garden.

He had little patience for plants but he couldn't resist keeping a place that was tied to life magic. A tiny corner of respite from this place of death. He smiled at her shocked reaction. Unlike earlier she looked relaxed, at peace. Makes sense he figured. She was the goddess of spring, of course being surrounded by plants that were just starting to flower would be a place that would make her more comfortable.

She approached a rose bush. Lifting one delicate hand to a rose bud he watched in quiet wonder when it started to bloom. In less than ten seconds it was a fully blooming flower. A faint melody carried through the air. She was humming. It was a song that had no rhyme or reason, simply magic. It was a tune that spoke of golden corn fields, flower beds as vibrant as a rainbow, and sun coloring the entire world in gold.

She fit in here, in his private little corner. Her outfit today matched her surroundings. It was a pale pink dress with a gold belt and green detailing. She had worn her hair down, with only a simple braid to keep the hairs out of her face. Her golden hair hung down to her waist in loose waves.

No.

He couldn't allow himself to imagine her here, tending to this garden and perhaps livening up the rest of his living quarters. He couldn't allow himself to picture her hair shining against his black sheets. Even if he kept her trapped here forever she was still scared to death of him. Az could still recall her running from him at breakfast. He had made sure to send food to her room since she hadn't eaten. She never ate it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elain was dreaming. She must be. There was no way Azriel, the God of the Underworld, who ruled over the dead had a garden. A flourishing garden. It was beautiful, The flowers had all started to bloom and she was shocked by the variety. There were roses, dahlias, bluebells, and jasmine but there was also a whole assortment of vegetables and fruits.

It was a beautiful place. There were stone paths that wove around the plants that had been planted in an uncovered area. There was no roof, just arches that formed intricate patterns. Elain could feel sunlight on her skin but couldn't see a source. This must be old magic that kept this garden flourishing and plentiful.

She was tending to the roses when she heard him.

"Hello, little dove." Whirling around she came face to face with him, her captor. Leaning back on the manners that her mother had made a point to drill into her she greeted him politely. Offhandedly she wondered how her mother was doing. She had surely noticed she was missing by now.

"I see you have discovered my garden." He said it in a way that implied he was not expecting a response. His gaze was no longer on her but on their surroundings. She turned back to look as well.

At her lack of conversation he continued. "I rarely visit it. It is an odd sort of place, when I was first banished here I thought it would die off so I didn't bother tending to it but, as you can see, it has thrived regardless."

"It's beautiful." She mused. He startled a bit at the sound of her voice but made no mention of it. Instead he simply made a sound of agreement.

"It reminds me of my garden on Olympus." Longing was evident in her voice. She missed home he realized. He had thought the garden might distract her but it had seemingly only made it worse.

She turned towards him. "How has it stayed this beautiful? Surely it would have died by now."

"Old magic. This garden is tied to another on the surface. As long as that garden thrives this one shall to."

"I had no idea that was possible."

"Nor I." He admitted. "Old magic is long gone, only traces are left from a time long past. Stubborn enough to last but with no one to harness them they have gone wild. There are traces left in forests and oceans."

"And gardens it appears." She quipped.

"Yes." He chuckled.

Their eyes met, amusement in both of their eyes. She was a pretty little thing. And he knew he could corrupt her with ease. His darkness would mar her fair skin and springtime persona.

He would be her ruin.

Looking into his hazel eyes, Elain recognized something of herself. A need to be seen. He had been hidden away for so long. Away from his family. Like her, he wanted to do something different. She loved flowers and spring but there were times when she wished that that wasn't all she was. There was a broken part of her that couldn't be healed with sunlight.

He could be her salvation.

Her breath caught when he leaned in. She could feel his breath against her cheek. Leaning up onto the tips of her toes, she brushed her lips against his. At the feel of his mouth on hers, she moaned. That small sound was what broke his feeble attempts to restrain himself. He seized control of the kiss, claiming her mouth as his. One of his hands got tangled in her hair, the other on the small of her back.

As sudden as he had kissed her, he pulled away just as suddenly.

He opened his mouth to say something but paused at her gasp of surprise. Looking around he spotted what had sparked that surprise. The garden was freezing over. Frost coated the leaves of the plants and crystalized into beautiful patterns on the stones they stood on.

Instantly he knew what had happened. It was well known that Nesta controlled the harvest. It was high summer but this garden looked to be in the midst of winter.

Part 3>>

#elriel #acomaf #acotar #acowar #acosf #acofas #short fic #rose of the grave #elain archeron #elain x azriel #olympus au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel acosf #azriel acotar #elain acotar

[im-fostering-it292]

Does anyone know of any good Feysand Modern AU Fanfics?

#feysand #feysand fic #feysand au #a court of thorns and roses #feyre archeron #feyre cursebreaker #feysand angst #feysand supremacy #feysand modern au #modern fics #modern fic #i need more feysand #acotar modern au #acotar modern #acosf #acotar #acomaf #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #acofas #a court of mist and fury #a court of frost and starlight #acotar fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic