#az is such a cinnamon roll for Elain

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight Chapter 15

a/n: remember when I said it was ending soon? maybe I was wrong

warnings: canon typical violece, depictions of a toxic relationship

Word count: 2k

Other chapters

“How’s y/n?” Azriel does not like how Rhysand asked the question. He spoke in a hushed tone and rested his elbows on his desk, leaning forward. His eyes were sharp, feline. This was not a friend checking up on another friend. This was a king inquiring about a threat. 

“Good, she’s enjoying the town house” that was not what he wanted to know but he refrained from elaborating. “Any new occurrences I should know about?” Azriel maintained eye contact “she began an apprenticeship with an apothecary nearby”. Another detail he did not want to know. “You’ll tell me if something unusual happens?” Azriel nods “is that all?” The High Lord dismisses the Spymaster. 

Azriel understands Rhysand’s hesitation to trust her, it has been a strange situation from the start. But he’s tired of his incessant questions and insinuations. It was strange that she had not received any powers. The only sign that she had some magic was her accelerated healing and more fae-like features. Other than that she remained her usual self. There were some days where she seemed happier than others. But he knew firsthand just how difficult it had been for her since the beginning. 

The door to the townhouse was slightly opened when he arrived. When he walked in he was relieved to see that y/n was in the kitchen with Elain and Lucien. They had been spending more time together recently. Lucien would visit y/n frequently with letters and gifts from her friends in the Human Lands and Elain had taken it upon herself to spoil her with beautiful meals and desserts. It was nice that there was less tension between them, the next holidays would be more enjoyable. 

“Someone left the door open again” y/n looks over and smiles when she sees him. He struggles to breathe everytime she does that. “Oh, I think it was me, I’m still getting used to a regular house that doesn’t do everything for me” she giggles as she speaks “look Az, Elain made cinnamon rolls”. He walks over to where a tray of them are and takes one “they smell great”. “It’s one of y/n’s favorites,” Elain says. “You spoil me too much, El” y/n says in between bites. “Well I better go, Feyre asked me to watch Nyx while she and Rhysand go on a date” Elain packs up her things, hugs y/n, puts on her coat and walks out the front door. 

“You’re not going to winnow her? It's cold out” y/n asks Lucien what Azriel was thinking. “She says she likes to walk,” he answers while shrugging. “It's nice to see you two actually talking,” she says carefully. “It's nice that you being such a disaster is bringing people together” y/n mouth falls open at the dig “you should be thanking me, if anything”. “Thank you for being such a disaster. Anyway, I’ll get going too”, he gets up from the chair he was sitting on and hugs y/n “be careful, I’m begging you” she rolls her eyes and says “I’m always careful”. “I’m serious” he says “I like you alive” her face softens at the worried look on his face and says “I won’t be jumping off cliffs anytime soon” Lucien smiles a bit and winnows away. 

The cinnamon roll was very good, Azriel thought as he reached for a second one. “How was your meeting?” Her sweet voice pulled him out of his head “it was fine. Rhysand is just being extra careful these days” she pours two cups of tea and walks to the table where he sat “I think he doesn’t like me” she said. She was smiling, clearly finding humor in Rhysand’s apprehension. “He… well he’s dumb sometimes”. 

You were in your bedroom after the visit with Elain and Lucien. Azriel had left to attend to something relating to his role as spymaster. You never asked for the specifics of his assignments, Azriel never offered to share. Looking through your pictures you passed the time. It was always a dangerous game. You missed your friends and family, that was not a lie. But looking back at the pictures you find yourself reliving the worst moments. 

There was one that you had taken from a highrise building where you could see all the way to the ocean. That morning you had fought with Mathew about how short your skirt was and if it was appropriate to be worn during the day and out of the house. The picture was beautiful but all you could see was the drive to the function where you were holding back tears the whole time. 

A picture of your parents on the beach reminded you of how your mother slapped you when you told her she was too drunk to drive. Your dad said nothing. 

A selfie of you with runny mascara in the bathroom of some bar reminded you of how Mathew got mad and left you there and how your best friend would not pick up her phone while you called. 

Then the buzzing would start. 

It felt like a swarm of bees were prying their way from beneath your skin. 

You took a deep breath. Put the phone down and go to look at yourself in the mirror. 

Your eyes are clouded and bolts of light flash. The buzzing slows down to a murmur.

Another breath, this time with eyes closed. When they opened, the storm had vanished. 

You put the phone in the drawer of the bedside table and leave the room. 

The knock on the door and the familiar scent make you roll your eyes. You walk towards it and open it. “You just missed your brother” Eris hands you an embellished envelope and says “I did not come to this house looking for Lucien”. “What’s this?” You remember to close the door and walk into the sitting room “it’s an official apology from the Autumn Court to you, as compensation you will be given monetary reparations and a guaranteed safe haven in the Forest House as long as I am High Lord. Should you ever need it”. You can’t hide the shock from your face “oh”. Eris stands in front of you, hands behind his back “thanks?” He shakes his head “there’s no need to thank me. I should have done more for you and for so many others. I would have sent this weeks ago but I wanted to deliver it myself”. No words. You don’t know what to say “would you like some tea?” One side of his lips quirk up in a half smile, you notice his face light up a bit “I’d love some”. Eris takes in the tray of cinnamon rolls and used tea cups all over the kitchen and says “I’m disappointed I missed the party” you go to boil more water and say “it wasn’t a party, it was just your brother and Elain, they visit a lot. Grab a roll if you want” he does “why are there four used cups then?” You turn your back from the stove and start picking up the used cups “Az also had some” he bites down on the pastry “the Shadowsinger also visits?” You are scrubbing the dishes now and answer “Azriel lives here too”. Eris doesn’t say anything else while you finish washing. When you turn around you notice that he had only taken one bite of the cinnamon roll “what’s wrong? Is it stale?” he shakes his head. “Just the two of you live here?” You scrunch your brows “uhm, yes”. “Why?” He’s looking at the window to his right “I didn’t want to live alone” why does he care?

 “Why not live with Elain?” 

“She already has a house”

“So did he” 

“Why do you care?” You feel your heart speeding up. 

“I care about you” he looks at you, and you can tell he’s mad. 

“Your diplomatic mask is slipping, High Lord”  

“Just tell me the truth, y/n” 

“I’ve never lied to you, Eris” 

“Are you with him?” You weren’t sure why, but your blood ran cold at his question. You felt ambushed. 

“No”

“Do you want to be with him?” 

“What’s with the interrogation?” The murmur returns along with a spike in your pulse. Breathe.

“Why don’t you answer?” His nostrils flared, slightly. 

“Because it’s a ridiculous question” He takes a step closer to you. “Why do you care?” You repeat yourself. 

“I already told you” 

“Bullshit” the murmuring is louder now, the inside of your skin tingling. Breathe. “Say it” he’s close now, arms length away. 

“I don’t want you to be with him”  you take a step back, but the counter prevents you from backing away further. You barely heard what he said, the murmur having turned to a desperate buzz. Breathe, in, out. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Eris steps closer and puts his arm on either side of you, hands on the counter, creating a cage. You’ve never seen him like this, his pupils are blown out, his cheeks are flushed and you hear his heart beating wildly. 

“You know why” he is perfectly still but you can sense he wants to move even closer. You can’t look away from him, the primal glare he sends your way keeps you immobile, so you close your eyes. Breathe. As if he heard you, he takes a breath and his posture relaxes “I want you” it's practically a whisper. “Tell me to stop or push me away if you don’t want this” his breath is ragged like he’s struggling against himself. 

You can’t think of anything with him- his scent enveloping you. He was beautiful and he was kind. But he was Eris. He was High Lord of Autumn. You were barely an apothecary’s apprentice. He was your captor’s son. Your unlikely friend. He was your light in the never ending darkness of the dungeons and- the buzzing turned into reverberations. Breathe. 

No words. No movement. 

He leans in. He’s honest. He’s caring. 

You can feel his breath on your lips. Breathe. Every single cell in your body thrummed with the energy welling up inside. He was chivalrous, he could dance. 

He wasn’t Az. 

The kettle went off like an alarm and you regained control of your body to stop Eris from kissing you. Your hands went to his chest. He shouts from the shock or the pain and the light that sparked from your palms kept you stunned in place. Eris had jumped back several feet from where he once stood. 

“What was that?” He did not seem angry, more surprised. But you were horrified when you noticed the red hand marks on his chest. You had burnt through his thick winter clothes. 

“Eris I am so sorry” you rush over to him to inspect his skin. 

“Did you just strike me with lightning?” You go to one of the cabinets where you kept a salve for kitchen burns and return to him. 

“I think so, it has never happened before” you rub the salve on him “does that feel better?” He nods “it doesn’t sting anymore” you sigh. 

“I am so sorry” he grabs your hand “hey, it's ok. You could stab me and I would be okay with it” you hate that you chuckled a bit “so that’s what happens if you get struck by lightning and then get turned into an immortal being, interesting” Eris thinks out loud. 

“Nobody knows” 

“I won’t tell anyone” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise” 

You shudder when you feel the bargain mark reappear on your back.

taglist: @luvmoo @leeknows-wife @nocasdatsgay @mybestfriendmademe

#acowar #azriel shadowsinger #acofas #jurian acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf #lucien vanserra #acomaf #rhysand #azriel x reader #azriel #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra #nyx #a court of silver flames #tarquin

[gwyns]

I feel like E/riel’s (and some of the fandom not just them) turned Azriel into a cinnamon roll and a poor misunderstood boy.

oh they definitely did. i'm not saying az doesn't have his softer moments but he's a torturer for god's sake, and he, as far as we know, enjoys it! tbh lately i've been finding him quite interesting if you actually look into his canon characteristics, like yeah he's a mess but i love drama (in books) and trying to figure out just why characters are the messes they are. so idk why they can't just appreciate him as is... probably the same reason they can't appreciate elain either

bottom line is, he's not the secret uwu boy that a lot of the fandom sees him as 😭

#antielriel #anti e/riel #asks #anonymous

[thefangirlofhp]

Apaixonar—Chapter 20

Back again after an entire year of absence, this story strikes once again with a new season! (I've discovered that thinking of it as a tv show with its seasons brings my fretting mind some peace lol)

More importantly, this chapter alone earns the warnings in this story. I cannot stress enough that some readers may find it disturbing considering it discusses suicide and death at some length. If I had to warn off a specific part it would be the second and third (this is made up of four parts). And if anyone would like to skip this chapter altogether but have a brief summary of the events that transpired, I'm happy to oblige. Remember that this is fiction, but your emotions are very real. Look after yourselves, lads.

[Previously on Apaixonar] <-if you'd like a refresher.

The cold of Velaris is best counter-measured by a hot drink of high caloric value that’ll rot teeth with decay and a perfectly plump roll of rich cinnamon from the boulangerie downtown—a remedy Elain has discovered through trial and error, and one she currently enjoys with a reluctant Cassian.

“Remind me how you talked me into this,” he mutters, holding the remains of what once was a perfect roll before his eyes. “The sugar in this’ll send me into a coma.”

Elain’s knees swing side to side briefly in a fruitless attempt at body-heat generation as she sips what was once scalding hot chocolate but now is only a lukewarm remnant as it swishes in her mouth. “I didn’t. The smell of happiness and will to live did.”

Cassian’s lips quip at the one corner they habitually curve at, the scar along his top lip adding further character to his smile alone. “True,” he concedes that at least, saluting the cold foggy weather before them mockingly before indulging a sip of a black coffee Elain convinced him to add a packet of sugar to.

The sigh that rumbles his chest as it leaves resonates deeply with Elain, who only smiles faintly at his eyes fluttering shut and his hand pressing the paper cup to his face. “Oh, Elain…”

“I know,” she nibbles on her cinnamon roll and stares at the cascading rain shower.

“You’re not helping me lead a healthier life,” Cassian mutters but sips some more. “I’ve been meaning to cut caffeine out of my diet.”

“You know it’s been scientifically proven that removing caffeine from your diet cuts out what’s estimated to be 90% of your will to live?”

Cassian chuckles, eyes still shut, lips still smiling and shoulders hunched. “Want to know how I know that’s bullshit for sure, without hesitation?”

Elain grins. “How?”

“Fucking Az is the most depressed man I know, and there’s not a form of caffeine he’s not addicted to.”

Elain can only smile faintly as she averts her gaze to her knees. “He is an anomaly in every way, so… doesn’t count.”

Cassian glances at her, before turning once more to the window before them viewing the cold of Windhaven in its foggy glory, Elain’s feet propped on the windowsill, curled in the café’s chair, and his own long legs stretched out before him. “Y’remind me of him, s’times,” he mentions quietly. “Don’t know how I missed it before, but you’ve got the same sense of humor. Makes me want to pull out my hair same way.”

“Yeah…” she says quietly, stares out some more and then glances at him. “Still hasn’t answered your calls?”

“Nope,” Cassian heaves a sigh before popping the ‘P’. “You?”

She shakes her head. “I’m going to his place.”

“Good luck,” the ex-soldier scoffs. “Tried that. He’s not there.”

“How’d you know?”

“Rebel’s at the neighbors.”

“Oh… Did Rhys mention anything?” 

“Can get about as much words out of Rhys as I can out of Az,” Cassian says darkly, then drinks more but only because he can’t seem to find anything else to do with himself. “Besides, he’s busy with work, I guess. All I could get out of him is Az got suspended while they investigate him and when I ask him for fucking what, all I get is ‘Fuck’s sake, Cassian, don’t ask’.”

“Do they… do they blame Azriel for… it?”

Cassian shrugs and stuffs the rest of his cinnamon roll in his mouth. “Don’t know. He’s blamed for something. I’ve got other fucks to worry about.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know, it’s probably nothing, but I’ve missed Ben—haven’t heard of him for a long while and the guys haven’t seen him either.”

Ben who, if memory serves her correctly, is the man Cassian served four tours with, fought to the death in many battles and ‘trusted him with his six’—she knows from Cassian’s circles and her volunteering that Ben turned his back on it all since coming home from his last tour and hasn’t refreshed his contract once it’s ended. He’d yet to show up at a single gathering, and what she knows of him is that he’d gone into business, for what she cannot remember or no one knows. What she does know is that his absence has been an amputation Cassian cannot forget or get a prosthetic limb for.

Elain scooches closer towards her friend, their jackets rustling in the silence as she lays her head on his shoulder.

“Worry’s good,” she murmurs softly. Cassian’s incessant bouncing of his knee pauses.

“You’re the first ever person I hear to say that,” if anyone’s voice could smile fondly, Elain figures it would be Cassian. “How so, sunshine?”

“Means we still care,” Elain responds quietly, her hands curled around a now cold-hot-chocolate, her eyes bleary with lack of sleep, and her back aching from waiting for so long in cafes and parks in her search for Azriel. “Means our empathy’s not gone, means we’re still all right. In a time where I keep fighting off indifference, I feel glad whenever I worry for someone that’s not family.”

Cassian softly chuckles, turns his head to press a kiss to her hair before resting his head on hers. “You’re always full of surprises, sunshine. Maybe I’ll start thinking like you do.”

“Good luck.”

_____________________

Elain didn’t know what she was expecting when she knocked on Azriel’s door, but the sound behind the door telling her he’s there alone silences some worry in her that had been ignited long ago. Yet the sight of him knocks the breath out of her, still, when he opens the door.

It’s his ruffled hair, sunken eyes dull with tire, and his downturned lips that make her all the gladder she’s decided to show up, unannounced as she is—there you are, every part of her sings. I’ve been worried about you.

“Hello,” she breathes as his arm falls from the door and he stands resigned before her. Her gaze rakes over him like an apt scanner, taking in his sweater and the sleeves that bunch at his wrist, his jeans and bare feet.

His lips twitch, and the sadness of it—not a smile, not even close—the way Winnie’s lips wobble and pout before she’s about to sob, says more than enough. Her hand tightens on the strap of her purse, before her hands fall to her side.

There is only silence as his eyes bore into hers, and hers –wide, unblinking—stare right back. It feels to her like there are no words needed, because something is sparking the entirety of her chest, the space between them charges, near electric as his eyes say more than his lips can ever lie.

His lips tighten, his brows narrow, and his chest shudders lightly as he breathes in.

Her throat clogs up and damn her, she understands. Truly, the depth of it all. She can tell.

“Hello,” she repeats quietly and Azriel looks away with a small resigned nod as he steps back and gestures she come inside.

Gingerly stepping out of her shoes, Elain shuts the door behind her with a soft snap as he disappears down the hallway and she follows. Rebel steps out from his office, and hurries towards Elain like lightening is sparking her heels. Despite the tension in the room, Elain smiles and gathers the feline cat in her arms when she pauses at her feet.

“...Coffee?” Azriel quietly croaks, standing hands behind his back in the living room and Elain shakes her head with a small smile, stepping through the arching doorway from the hall to the room.

She promptly freezes.

It’s a crime scene exploded all over his house in such a grotesque manner of odd reserved professionalism and the brutal nature of his profession. The television depicts a collage of graphic photographs; manila folders and files swarm virtually all space on the carpeted floor and the singular couch; printed photographs and official-looking documents with size 12 fonts and the General Ominous Feeling of Governmental Doom haphazardly litter the coffee table; his laptop, up and running on the coffee table with a flash drive connected to it, is open to what appears to be a report.

Elain blinks, but she’s frozen at the sight of the guns so innocuously placed next to the laptop.

She knows it’s not illegal to own firearm in Velaris, but she’s led such a sheltered life of…human, normal suffering where her life’s travesties were her mother’s suicide, her father’s neglect, her divorce… and now her school’s shooting, her daughter’s attempted murder. Seeing the firearm upfront is like existing in a reality where life and dreams are mixed together.

Her brows narrow as she stares at that black gun- Cassian probably knows the name for it, can tell her its caliber just by feeling it. She remembers what it feels like to be staring down the barrel of one, thinking of her daughter as she makes peace with dying and leaving her alone. The sound it would make, she wonders if it would be similar to the rifle that had ambushed her classroom. Pops or loud booms? Would it hurt the same?  

Rebel purrs in her arms and nudges her neck.

Elain blinks, repeatedly, turning her sharp gaze towards Azriel watching her closely, before he picks up the two handguns and the sight of them in his grasp awakens what feels like an epiphany in Elain.

See, look, she’s long since come to the terms she’s a visual person. She appreciates views and imageries more than she does words and descriptions, and recently she concedes her mind has been absent as of late. She doesn’t know when she’s fallen asleep like Aurora collapsing at the spindle—maybe her curse all along has been to fall in love with something that isn’t hers—yet the sight of Azriel, the truth of him; a haunting remake of a song once light, is the brush of a kiss that brings her a sort of clarity. All fairy tales originate from a darker core, she wonders if Azriel is true to that.

She looks again, truly looks, at his apartment, his work, and when she looks back to him she sees paranoia, a sharp edge, a man who’s been brought to light he cannot stand, and most of all she reads fear in his eyes. It’s not one of self-preservation, she’s long since suspected he is a failing misery at that front, but—if she dares think—it is something boyish, and if her instinct is true: it’s mournful.

Elain sharply inhales through her nose. “I worried about you.”

Azriel’s face is an arrangement so beautiful, so devastated and some blissful era ago, his eyes might have been allowed the kindness to gleam with tears. His teeth pull at the corner of his lower lip, and his voice is hushed when he speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

The way his chest caves with the words add more volume and emphasis than words can.

Elain’s fingers brush through Rebel’s soft fur. “I…”

Frankly, she had words prepared to say. There are many speeches she ran through her head as she drove over, words she handpicked and polished, yet they are insufficient in the reality where he is there, before her, alive, and all right—she cannot find herself wanting anything else from him.

“I worried about you,” she repeats softly, hugging his cat to her chest. “I needed you to be all right. Are you all right?”

He stands so still, at attention, hands behind his back like a stranger in his own home. “I’m sorry. I know it means nothing but I am.”

Her gaze softens. “For what?”

He looks down at his feet. “You honestly haven’t realized your life’s gone to shit because of me?”

“I also realize it’s been ten times better because of you.”

It’s the heat of her voice, throat tight, that makes him look up sharply.

Words fall short on her behalf but then; “Was it intentional?” she whispers. “Did you let him hurt us?”

“No.”

Her shoulders give a small shrug. “All our families are fucked up in a way.”

A strangled laugh escapes his throat, but it’s not the sound people make when they’re happy, or amused. “You’re seriously going to normalize that?”

“I think normalizing it makes it easier for me to deal with being shot. With having my daughter escape murder by sheer luck.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracks, his eyes glisten like she’s touched a frayed raw nerve mentioning Winnie’s miraculous escape. “I’m so fucking sorry. And I know- God, I know it changes nothing but I’m-“

“I know,” Elain steps close, until only his cat is between them and she can see the change brought to his eyes. She nods. There’s a missing gleam in his eyes she’s fallen in love with that’s lost. “I know you are. And I don’t blame you. I know you were staying away from him, and I know he hurt you. I could tell- you ran into him when we were shopping, didn’t you?”

Maybe it’s the fact she’s seen him, or that he believes no one could ever pay him the attention he gives to the world, or it is both, but there’s something that cracks like lines in dry earth in his beautiful hazel eyes.

Elain’s mouth is dry as a desert. “I realize we were used as a way to get to you... in whatever sick delusional way it was. I admit it took me time to acclimate myself to that but I know. I get it. I understand.”

“Do you?” he breathes out, full of doubt.

“Don’t do that,” she whispers back. “You’re the one person who’s not supposed to undermine me. You can’t think I’m blind or an idiot. You’re not supposed to-“

His hands abruptly rise, palms curling around her shoulders as he blinks and his lips tighten. “What kind of woman would understand the circumstances and still want me?”

Elain blinks and slowly bites her lip. “I don’t know if you’ve grasped this about me but I don’t take well to being told what to do. I don’t respond to threats; intimidation only angers me. I deserve—we deserve to decide if we want each other on our own terms.”

She strokes Rebel’s fur and glances down at the cat staring up at her. “I will only decide to stay with you or leave based on what you do, on who you are. Just because your psychotic brother doesn’t like me won’t mean I’ll back down. Dealing with in-laws who hate me is kind of what I do.”

It’s a wet laugh that escapes him. “Elain, you really don’t get it-“

“Hey,” she cuts him off firmly. “I know more than I let on, all right? I thought you understood that. I know you’re a detective and I know what that means—because you’re a clean cop, I know what that means, ok? The minute you helped Feyre get out, I knew what kind of a man you were—no one has the guts to publicly go after an entire gang and lock them up. Granted, I didn’t feel it all until now, and yes it terrifies me but what else did I expect?”

“Elain, please, listen to me, it was nice while it lasted-“

“I won’t let you break up with me for this,” her voice quiets as her brows narrow and she holds back her tears. “If you don’t like me, then just say it. If you don’t want to be with a woman who has a kid, say it. I won’t mind. But I won’t let you take this one good thing from me, because it might be exploited. Living in fear is everything our predecessors fought against-“

“Elain-“

“And you can’t lie, either,” her eyes brighten as she locks gazes with him. “I can tell, when you lie. So you can’t. Now take a deep breath, and tell me you never want to see me just because you don’t like me.”

His hands tighten on her shoulders. “If you knew, about me, you wouldn’t stay-“

“So tell me,” she insists. “I’m not marrying you, I’m just telling you that I won’t walk away for a reason that is not you or me. Now look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me because you don’t like me.”

He stares, mouth parted faintly, as his face struggles so visibly to communicate what he is feeling—but perhaps it is not a matter of communication, but an internal struggle where he himself is helpless against navigating the surmounting mountain of patterned reactions he’s been told are emotions. Is it an emotion still if it breaks formation? What of the fractured scatters of single isolated happenstances where they don’t fit in any structure?

Finally, he breathes. “This doesn’t have a happy ending.”

Elain smiles, a watery thing with a bubbly chuckle. “Oh look, you’re a seer. Can you tell me the lottery numbers?”

__________________

Some time later, Azriel mumbles something about making them a bite to eat and Elain lets him, because the way his clothes hang on him and his arm is a little slimmer than she remembers weeks ago is worrisome. She wonders when he lost his appetite in the previous days, and realizes she hasn’t seen him eat since a night at her house—seems ages ago now—where the height of their worries was finding out the identity of the traitor in the midst of their Spanish drama, when Azriel helped her back into her life and everything—well, most things had been all right.

“I’m not sure about you, but an eye carved out of a corpse doesn’t stimulate my appetite,” Elain raises her voice as she nudges aside photographs and makes some room on the couch. “I’m gonna put them away, okay?”

A short-fractured laugh from the kitchen. “Yeah, sure, just keep them together.”

So she does, examining them with surface-level curiosity as she straightens photographs out and piles documents together. Many of them date several years ago, others months, yet she doesn’t read the contents of the reports out of respect for the privacy each victim is entitled to. These are actual people, who’ve met devastating fates and deserve retribution and acts put in place to make sure it doesn’t happen again. She wonders if his job has any part contributing to that—it’d be a nice thing if it did. A nice consolation for his hard work to bring forth something preventative.

“Are those unsolved cases?” she asks, tapping government documents into a shapely pile in her lap. “Is this what you’ve been doing all this time? Cassian’s been hunting you through the entire state and you were here printing out documents?”

“No, I’m building my case.”

Her head snaps sharply towards the kitchen. “You’re being prosecuted?”

“Uh, no. At least not yet,” a clink of silverware follows the ominous addition and he raises his tone. “Those are crimes the Heptad is responsible for. I’m assembling it all into one big Pandora’s Box kind of case for it to be prosecuted. The minute I open it, everything goes to Hell.”

Elain frowns at a document from two years ago.

“I guess you can call them unsolved,” he then concedes. “Cause they’re not processed yet. But they’re all solved. I’ve kept them off the books for safekeeping—the station’s full of moles, it’s not even a secret. I can tell you who gets how much bribes and when. It’s in there too—all the accomplices. It’s kind of a big deal. I hope I’m not further fucking up your life by telling you, so just keep it to yourself.”

“I don’t understand.”

He emerges into the room with a mug of tea he hands her, the fruity aroma of Earl Grey making some part in her brain to smile.

“I didn’t know you drank tea,” she pipes softly as she faintly blows the surface. He leans back against the wall, arms crossed, eyes visibly tired and yet a little smile glimmers just for her.

“Figured if you ever stopped by I couldn’t let you sit without tea. Found a brand that sells a dozen of types in one box so… if Earl Grey’s not your thing, there’s eleven others.”

She smiles into the black liquid and pretends that the heat in her cheeks is from the tea’s rising steam. “So,” she clears her throat and nods to the grotesque television. “Safekeeping?”

Azriel heaves in a deep breath, one that makes his shoulders tremble as they rise and the slouch of his body against the wall speaks more of a physical exhaustion than a conscious stance projecting an image. A click on the remote changes the contents of the screen, to a complicated board depicting what Elain can only recognize as a mind-map.

“What is it?”

“The Fuckening.”

The spluttering laugh escaping her lips is highly inappropriate, yet it crackles in the room all the same. “I’m sorry. What?”

The small gleam in the side-eyed look he gives her is comforting—he’s still there, she tells herself, relieved. Her Azriel’s still there—as his lips wryly curl. “You heard me. My life’s work. Right there. The Fuckening.”

Humor is the way he copes, she reminds herself. So she doesn’t fight the smile on her lips. “Your fascination with the word is unbelievable.”

“Listen, it’s everything-it’s a swearword, it’s a term of endearment, it’s an insult, an expression of anger,” he pushes himself off the wall and she grins in response. There he is, their ranting contemplative hyper-fixated Azriel. “It’s eloquent. It’s appropriate in every context.”

“And you’ve taught it to my daughter.”

He jabs an index towards her, and she ignores the way it shakes. How his whole arm trembles—she’d give anything for it to be out of suppressed laughter instead of exhaustion. “French word for seal. See? ‘Fuck’ is like the starting point for all matter. It can be anything and everything—”

“All right,” her brows curve before she braves another sip. “What’s The Fuckening, then?”

He crosses his arms again, yet this time he doesn’t slouch or lean against the wall. Stands still. “It’s organized crime’s reckoning,” Azriel says quietly. “In Velaris, at least.”

“The seven gangs?”

“Mm. Past seven years, crime skyrocketed in the state,” Azriel reveals. “Out of nowhere. I went from a bored, burned-out detective pushing around paper for domestic cases to being dragged out of my bed at all hours for murders, heists, masked suicides. Each body we found was a thread tangled into a network of stories and events. It got rare for me to close a case as a simple homicide—well, as simple as homicide gets. Most of the ones I do are just threads I haven’t tugged on. And they’re all linked back to those seven assholes.”

Elain blinks at the mind-map of seven large branches, with each gang name. Vultures, Bloodhounds, the 18th, Anvil, Black Swan, Ravens, the 16th. “But they’ve always been there, right? They haven’t… They didn’t appear out of nowhere in seven years.”

“No,” he nods. “They date back to the twenties, after World War I. Back then, they were just a crew run by Alfonso McIntyre. They’ve always been in the state—bloody, downright filthy bunch of lowlife nobodies. Then they expanded as McIntyre’s empire grew, got masked by legitimate business, subbranches with their own leaders, but all seven answered in the end to the head of it all, like a king.”

“Oh, like the Godfather! So the king died seven years ago? Was overthrown?”   

“On the contrary,” Azriel lowers his arms, and steps next to her only to perch on the arm of the couch. “The seven have been minding their own business for decades—so there hasn’t been a need for a leader. Everyone just operated as their own entity, there’s been an understanding with the law enforcement. A weird co-existence. Till that guy shows up seven years ago and declares fucking war on God’s green earth.”

He points at the center where Hybern branches everything else.

“The king?” Elain traces her finger along the rim of her mug.

“The king,” Azriel confirms softly. “Hybern. Reins them all in, back into the original ruthless formation, ignited a competitiveness between them and now they’ve gone out of control. Ten years ago to have someone killed, you needed explicit permission, you couldn’t just go around and do it. Now… well, now assholes can kill kids like Bunny just because they decided to.”

Winnie. Elain sharply blinks away the potential tears and looks to Azriel whose shoulders hunch, hands in his lap, as he stares blankly at the screen.

“And here I am left behind having to tell people why their loved ones were murdered.”

Elain swallows heavily, averts her gaze to her mug of tea, cups it desperately to fight the chill of the topic off her back. He sounds so hallow with the haunting words, his life revealed to be much darker than she’s realized. She wonders what it does to a person, to be that man catching serial killers and consoling families. Looking at him now, he looks so young but somehow his job lies over him like a shadow-curtain of age.

“So you’re locking up the mob?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Elain,” she can feel him look to her. “I’m trying to. I’m not supposed to, but we’re risking our lives and careers for it. I lost Milo because of it.”

She quickly blinks away the image of Milo’s death. “It’s…I’m proud of you.”

Silence stretches long after her words, that she has to look at him only to find him staring with blatant surprise on his face that’s utterly profound it confuses her.

“What?” she asks.

“No one’s ever had that reaction. You don’t think I’m—I’m an idiot? Reckless? Suicidal? A naïve jackass kicking at something he doesn’t understand?”

“Well, why are you doing it? This,” she gestures to his life’s work. “If your life’s on the line, if you lost someone because of it, and people think you’re mad, why did you start it? Didn’t you anticipate it to be this dangerous?”

“I’m on the useless spectrum, Elain,” he mutters quietly that her head whips around so sharply and suddenly—You feel that way too? She wants to scream—at his confession. “I’ve been taking and living off people for years. I need my life to be useful to someone, if only once.”

“You’re not useless,” she finds herself saying. “How could you think that?”

“Let’s see,” his voice, hoarse and cracked, splits something severe in her heart. He holds up a finger, the beginnings of a count. But then he pauses, heaves a sigh and lowers his hand. “I just am.”

Azriel stands, feet dragging as he moves, hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders tense. “Doing this will be the most worthwhile thing I can do. I have the chance to do it, and I’ll be a selfish asshole if I don’t. This golden chance where my pressure points amount to zero? It has to be me.”

Elain frowns down at the still murky waters in her hand. “What makes you different?”

“Guy like me, with no strings attached?”

Her head snaps up sharply. “How are you different than any other human?” she repeats firmly.

He pauses. “I don’t get it.”

“You have the chance to do this,” she recalls, setting down her tea. “What do you mean by that?”

Azriel leans against the wall. “No family, loner, has enough advantageous connections, bit unimpressed with the concept of living… I can do what others can’t, ‘cause I got nothing to worry about.”

Elain slowly stands. “No family… So, the Blackwoods are what, friendly neighbors?”

Azriel blinks at her. “How’s anyone going to get to them in London? And Rhys’s more secure than I can make him.”

“But they’re your family,” Elain’s voice quivers, not with—is this anger? “You do have a family, Az.”

His lips part, words about to tumble before he holds them back and closes his mouth. This is the second time he’s refrained from speaking his mind.

“What?” she finds herself saying, sharper than intended.

He shakes his head.

“You had something to say, say it.”

“I don’t want a pity party,” he says quietly, yet firmly.

Elain heaves in a breath—when had her breathing gone off rhythm?—and turns to the screen. “So, loner…”

“Pretty self-explanatory—”

“I just spent an hour with Cassian in the cold, looking for you, he hasn’t gotten a single night’s sleep since the news came out,” her voice is sharp as a knife, but it seems to deliver her message adequately. “He’s been worried sick. I have. Nesta has. We’re worried sick cause we think your life is in danger with you being thrown in the open. My kid’s been asking for you nonstop for days. Loner, Azriel?”

“Elain,” he stands. “I misspoke. I didn’t mean to undermine your friendships—”

“What, then?”

“I just—all I said, I can do this job because-“ his tone softens, his shoulders hunch. “-because I got what it takes. I can give what—what others can’t. And it needs to be done—how many victims will I have to have nightmares about before I can’t stand it anymore?”

Elain pauses, hands grasped tightly, her shoulders stiffen and lock up with dread. “Give what, Az?”

His eyes squint, briefly. “I-“ he stammers, like this is the first time anyone’s asked or probed or cared—is it? She’d cry if it were. “Everything—”

“You think this’ll cost you your life.”

Silence.

Azriel stares blankly back at Elain, forehead creased, his lips pressed, but there’s no negation or disagreement. She wonders why he couldn’t say it—or wouldn’t, to her face?—as the words hang between them like a scythe about to drop.

She sharply breathes, the air cold and sharp as knives in her nose and a fine line down her chest. Her lips quiver. She presses them together.

“This is a slow suicide project.”

More silence.

Elain averts her gaze. Breathes deeply in yet it doesn’t feel enough. Blinks sharply at the ceiling.

“You can’t say that,” Azriel says quietly. “Not you too.”

“Oh, others have noticed, thank God,” her voice wobbles. “When were you going to tell me? Or were you just waiting for me to find out on some stupid Tuesday through the news, ‘Azriel Bougainvillea found murdered in a ditch, investigators think it’s a fair price—oh look, here lock up these five murderers. Cleaner streets, go VSPD!’. Just collateral, that Elain. Is that it, Az?”

“You can’t make it sound like that.”

“Like what?!” she shouts.

They both freeze, but Elain feels as if she’s opened a faucet to a tank that’s been filling up for years and years, quietly, sneakily building up…

“Like it’s nothing more than a suicide,” his brow narrows. “It’s not—”

“A suicide is still a suicide no matter the outcome, Az!”

His jaw clenches, she can see his fists clenching in his pockets as the knuckles protrude.

“Tell me this isn’t the case and I’ll drop this,” Elain whispers vehemently. “Look me in the eyes—tell me you want to live.”

His voice shakes. “Want to live? Jesus, Elain, do you not know me? Does anyone actively want to see another day? Every time I wake up, I just—I’m so tired of this. I don’t want to do anything, I haven’t felt alive ever—fuck it, other than when I was fired up on opium or snow did I feel at least like I can breathe. This isn’t a suicide project, the fuck? There are thousand quicker and easier ways, you think I’d choose this when it’s taking everything in me to do? Fuck if it just takes my life, that makes it ten times easier! This is me doing some good, meaning something for once in my goddamn useless life—”

“You are not useless!”

“You say that, but you’ve only known me a few fucking months! I’ve never done a single good fucking thing in my life—all I do is take and take, and I make people’s lives worse. Fuck, Elain, my own mother didn’t want me! I ruined Rhys’ relationship with his parents! And when I finally try do some fucking good, I get Milo killed. You think I’m particularly happy with this guy, me? I want him to live? Fuck it, if I can give the years on me to someone else, I’d do it gladly.”

“Oh my God…” her tears cloud up in her eyes, fog her vision—that’s fine, she doesn’t want to see him anyway, if he’s only going to die, why does she bother and hurt herself by getting attached? “You want this to kill you. You’re not resigned to the possibility, you wish it’ll happen.”

He freezes.

“You wish it’ll take your life, because then you feel like it’s a debt repaid? The world’s better of without you? Is that it?”

His nostrils flare, he presses his lips together, holds out his hands to the sides and with forced calm in his voice speaks next. “I’m saying… a high-risk job like this demands a sacrifice. And losing my life is just one option I’ve made my peace with. Extraordinary results demand extraordinary efforts.”

“Don’t glorify it.” Tears collect at her lower lid.

“Elain-“ he takes a step towards her, the movement snapping her into action as she shakes her head and holds up a hand. Azriel freezes.

“Don’t,” she’s shaking her head, stepping back. “I don’t want—you keep on glorifying your death, convince yourself it’s anything other than suicide, I don’t want any part of it. Just—”

She snatches up her bag from the couch and dashes to the front door, shoving on her shoes with cold shaking hands—he doesn’t stop her, follow her, deny anything—and marches out his apartment with as much of her heart held together as she can.

She won’t, will not, watch another person slip from between her hands.

If only I’d been stronger—

Her therapist had taught her well, she’s mended herself adequately, she’s learned to protect herself from being put into situations like this—oh God, but Azriel, why is he the last person she’d suspect? His smile so vivacious, so pretty, his laugh booming in her house, so full of life and unalike any man she’s ever met—

You know better than anyone how happy they look. They laugh, make you promises, no one else has a brighter smile, don’t they?

No—

You’d know. What did she keep telling you, Elain?

“My pretty daisy, you make life entirely worth it, baby.”

No, no, she squeezes her eyes shut as her fingers furiously jam the elevator button, her entire being shaking.

She wasn’t laughing though, on that balcony. So beautiful in white, her hair unbound. Mama had smiled to her death—

“No,” Elain sobs, jamming her fists to her chest as she chokes on the pure surge of emotions.

“Mama?” she whispered, dropping to her heels after successfully opening the door and wandering into the private hospital room. Her mother’s bed was empty, Feyre’s bassinet by it with the newborn soundly asleep. Perhaps in the bathroom, Elain figured as she strayed to Feyre and rose to the tips of her toes to grin at the baby. Peacefully swaddled in her blankets, hat on her little head and a cute button nose.

The bathroom was empty, door ajar and lights closed. That left only the balcony, whose heavy door Elain couldn’t open. The curtains billowed inwards and a breeze swept through. She was only two-years-old, yet everything about it is imprinted in her mind like a tattoo. The shade of beige, the tiled flooring, Feyre’s soft breathing. The feel of the curtain as she fought it to the side, discovering the heavy glass door in her path opened only a crack at the wall letting in a sharp whistling breeze. Papa was in the cafeteria with Nesta, they promised to get Elain sour candy.

Mama standing at the railing, atop the little chair Elain would sit on because the hospital bed and the chairs were too tall. Her nightrobe billowing around her, her hair unbound, so beautiful she remembers thinking her Mama was.

“Mama,” Elain tapped her hand against the glass. “’Emme out.”

“No, no, no, no,” she sobs, bowing over under the wave of grief breaking her back in its merciless will. Arms wrapped around her middle, she crouches right there and there, her chest cracking in two with each sob that rips her throat. The elevator takes its sweet time.

But Mama turning round, looking at her daughter over her shoulder. She wasn’t laughing, holding Elain against her hip and Nesta’s hand as they watch the elephant at the zoo wash itself and Nesta’s nose wrinkle. Mama looked so beautiful as her body turned on that chair, and the wind pushed her hair. Her lips smile, that one for Elain, her little daisy.

“Mama,” Elain sticks her hand through the space between the wall and the heavy door, and pushes. No avail. She was her daughter’s age. “’Emme out too. Wanna-wanna-“

“Lain,” Mama said softly, as Elain’s lips scrunched with determination and she pushed with her entire body at the door. It only brings pain to her wrist but it doesn’t stop her will to be with Mama.

“Mama-“ Elain stuck her feet in the ground and heaved at the door—if she huffs and puffs, will she blow the house away? “’Emme out-“

But Mama leaned back.

Elain pauses.

The empty balcony.

The curtain billowing behind her.

The whistle of the wind in her ear—like gale, a screaming gale in the current.

Her little curls nudged with the breeze.

Cold air on her damp lip.

“Mama?”

Elain shoved at the door with all her might, using her wrist as the connection. She grunted. Panicking? Shoved, pushed, feet firmly in the ground—“Mama?” where is her mother? They get hurt when they fall, is her mother hurt?

“Mama!”

A jolting shock of electricity and a snap vibrated in her hand, it made her freeze as her hand hurt all of a sudden, and it felt like she couldn’t move it anymore. Stuck in its pushed back position, Elain stared wide eyed at her hurt. Mama would definitely answer her now, now that she hurt herself.

“Mama!”

“Mama,” Elain whispers softly, covering her head with her arms. He’s slipping from her hands as well, isn’t he? She won’t have him, she won’t have him if he’ll only leave. He can’t leave as well. Not him as well.

The cry that leaves her chest contains everything therapy couldn’t fix, the sheer loss and devastation at seeing her slip from her fingers over and over in her dreams. She can’t do that to her Winnie. Let her have indestructible, invincible Azeel in her grasp, only to watch him set himself on fire.

Elain crouches in front of the elevator, and sobs into her knees.

___________________

“Now you look like you’ve gone and fucked every shit under the sun up.”

It’s relieving to finally hear Nuala’s voice light and humorous, even though she’s wielding it to poke needles into him, but at least it’s a normality, one he can rely on.

“Kinda my job to,” he answers, sifting through the files she’s presented him with. Nu’s fork spears through her cheesecake—cheesecake in winter, that woman, honestly—and she smacks her mouth as she chews and swallows just to piss him off. “And shut the fuck up.”

She slurps her coffee. A pair of woman passing by them recognize his face, if their nasty look and the loud “corrupt filth” one of them declares is anything to go by. Azriel remains slouched in his seat, having grown accustomed to the public’s less than favorable opinion of him if, again, the amount of hate mail he consistently throws into the bin is an indication. He’s had to delete his socials because it’d gotten pointless bothering even opening them.  

Aside from suspension followed by a prompt return-to-work-on-probation period and a thorough investigation, Azriel’s come out of this relatively, well, intact. Aside from the publicity and the way almost everyone and their mother now knows a fraction of his story that they think is the entire tale, and the fact that his undercover has been well and truly fucked up, he’d say he’s all right. In danger, at the end of his wits, at war with the fucking mob, but all right.

“I assumed—”

“Oh God, here we go,” he mutters.

“Shut up. I assumed this sudden motivation to get The Fuckening together was because of your cover getting blown up or that you were worried they’d kick you off it—but that’s not the entire story, is it?”

“No,” he reaches for his phone, opens it up and passes it over without looking up from the fine print of Nuala’s reports and statements. “I got that in the mail, night of. CD, untraceable, but it’s them. Nathan’s got a flare for theater that I really think he should have invested in, instead of human torture and mutilation but they’ve declared war so it’s only reasonable I line my soldiers up.”

Nuala’s silence says much. Then: “Your apartment?”

“Well they were kind enough to send multiple copies—my apartment, the motel I was going to spend a few days in, the safe house. Then I realized there’s no point hiding, they’d kindly expressed as much. They’re keeping me alive for a reason which I’m guessing is the fact that they know I have insurance and filth ready to spill and since I haven’t opened my fat mouth means no one’s firing the first shot yet which means—”

 She’s silent while she watches the video, her breath steady in the ambience of the outdoors café, merging with the mid-day’s noise. “They’re trying to clean house, and find whatever we have on them. One step ahead, I am, as always since I moved the evidence to an undisclosed place of my choosing—"

 Then, her breath catches.

“What the fuck—” she blurts, as the realization stuns the breath from her chest.

Yeah, he’d thought the same.

“Oh my god that’s you.” Horror colours her words, an emotion he feels desensitized to. Strange to be feeling generally calm and desensitized when his life’s gone to shit—expected outcomes, but still some part of him thinks: where are my feelings?

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” he mutters.

“What the fuck?!” she repeats in a hiss. “That’s—that’s how you got those scars—”

“Yeah. Just promise you won’t spoil my Joker act, all right? Wanna know how I got these scars?”

“Az, I didn’t know—”

“I really appreciate the fact that you’ve respected me enough to not look me up but don’t lie to my face and say you didn’t recently find out like everyone else.”

He finally looks up, to the strain around her eyes and the tightness in her jaw. “I didn’t want you to know cause I didn’t want it between us,” Azriel adds softly. “The fact alone’s messed up most of my relationships. Don’t let it now.”

She breathes in, till her chest expands to the fullest and she looks away. “It does fuck with me when I find out my best friend was tortured and imprisoned in a basement as a child, but it doesn’t change how I see you, Az.”

“Thank you,” he responds gratefully and looks down. “I’ll be honest, when they sent that CD it…felt like I was underwater, couldn’t find up from down. So I’ve been preparing.”

Nuala’s forehead wrinkles as she gives a small nod. “I mean it’s about time,” she sighs, shifting in her seat and crossing her arms. “You think now’s the time to—”

“Not yet,” he cuts in. “We still haven’t gotten anything on Amarantha or Hybern and we both know there’s jackpot.”

Nuala rubs her face. “We have enough, Az,” she reasons. “Charges that won’t let any of them see the light of day.”

“I don’t want to lock up the lackeys,” he quietly responds. “If their bosses are loose it’s all for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” Nuala chides. “Take their crew away, what are they?”

He rubs his thighs, deep-set frown. “Whoever managed to build this can do it again, and can get their crew back. I need the brains behind it, Nu.”

His partner heavily sighs and buries her face in her hands. “Feels like a fucking disaster about to happen. The wait’s killing me.”

Azriel watches a car speed by, cold wind tousling his hair as he stares off into something more distant than reality but more solid than a dream. A cancerous wish made up of hope and poisonous ‘what if?’ that he’s never entertained. But he feels himself stare it down, the possibility, this new outcome amongst the others to consider losing or gaining. When he started his project, getting side-tracked by the opportunity of having his own family and the love of his life was simply an incomprehensible and impossible future.

He'd lined his ducks accordingly, calculated his steps and chances and realized he had a solid chance at succeeding.

He hadn’t accounted for wanting to fail, to have an After to live for.

No point wondering, though. The look in Elain’s eyes said enough.

Still, he stares down a hope he knows might end up killing him.

Tags:

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[nikethestatue]

I love the idea of Elain baking all these things which she noticed over the years that Az likes. For example, there are apple tarts, strawberry tarts, blackberry, and lemon. And he always goes for blackberry. So she experiments with making blackberry tarts.

He hates quiche, but loves sausage rolls.

Can polish 2 cinnamon buns (with extra icing), and then pilfer another, when he thinks no one is watching. Yet, he attempts to actually scrape the cinnamon off. Elain realized that he likes the bun and the icing, without the cinnamon, so she makes just that, and watches those hazel eyes light up with realization of what she did and absolute delight.

Once Nesta confronts Elain about her feelings towards Az, Elain asks to 'borrow' the services of the House. There, in the kitchen, she can bake up a storm, and the House delivers any ingredient she needs or wants, and tweaks the recipes for her as well. That way she can experiment as much as she wants, without Rhys's ever-watchful eyes.

Cassian is loving the baking sessions, though he is a little perplexed as to why Elain is always hanging out in his kitchen, and not where she lives. But he doesn't question it, because one does not question the Archeron sisters.

He likes the bakes, but it's beginning to reflect on his waistline and he is forced to do extra laps upstairs and add another 30 minutes to his training, to offset the carb assault. Inevitably, he tells Azriel about all the baking, as well as about Elain being at HoW so frequently.

Azriel doesn't want Elain to know that he knows. Doesn't want her to get embarrassed and then stop coming over. So sometimes, he hides in the shadows and watches her go about her business in the kitchen. He especially likes hearing her talk and argue with the House.

He doesn't know that she knows that that lump of shadow in the corner is him.

#elriel headcanon #elriel #elain and azriel #elain #azriel #elain and azriel and cassian #elain archeron #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel

[silverlinedeyes]

Just some cute Elriel to start everyone’s day ☺️

They’re just so comfortable with each other and sweet together 🥺💕

#I love them so much #az is such a cinnamon roll for Elain #but he also really has it bad for her #it can be both #elriel #pro Elriel #elain #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #Friday elriel appreciation

[fawnandshadows]

Obsessed with the idea of Cassian pulling a Rowan in ACOTAR 5, and casually dropping a comment about how Elain and Azriel are secretly seeing each other. Azriel and Elain are stunned because they didn't tell him, and the rest of the inner circle has absolutely no clue about what is going on.

Like Azriel and Elain are taking painstaking efforts to hide their love, and Cassian drops the bomb in the middle of an inner circle meeting.

"What you guys didn't know?" Cassian said as he looked at everyone shocked expression. "Don't you wonder where Elain goes to every night?"

"Elain's been leaving?" Feyre asked, her blue eyes wide with surprise.

"How-how did you know?" Elain asked.

"There have been way too many cinnamon rolls at the house lately, even though Az shovels them away like there's no tomorrow, we never seem to run out. And every time I go to make eggs the carton is always half empty," Cassian said and turned to Azriel. "If your girlfriend is going to be using all the milk and eggs you should at least make sure there's enough for the rest of us."

I'm actually obsessed with the idea of Cassian finding out about Elriel because Elain has been using his eggs and it pisses him off because no one loves eggs more than Cassian. I don't care about what is canon — Cass makes his own eggs because he likes them with sour cream and scrambled and the house doesn't make them that way because Nesta likes poached eggs. And Elain wants to make Azriel home-made food, and not house-made food.

#acotars greatest love story is cassian and eggs #don't fight me #elriel #pro elriel

[bookofmirth]

I’m not sure if you’ll share this opinion but personally, I think the reason many people believe elain and az’s interactions in the bonus chapter are meant to be perceived as romantic is because of misconstruing dark romance with common, mainstream romance.

I’ve actually come across a few e/riel posts comparing their interactions with common tropes in dark romance novels. And i actually agree with them on that aspect. I’m a fan of dark (even some pretty toxic) romances and have read quite a few, and lines where the male mc thinks about how he doesn’t want to “taint” the female mc with his darkness and not giving any thought to his future with her beyond pleasuring himself would fit right in with many of these books.

But the thing is… SJM doesn’t write dark romance. Even Feysand is tame as fuck compared to most dark romance books, and SJM would never write Rhys’s point of view towards Feyre as callously as Azriel thought about Elain.

I don’t think there‘s anything wrong with liking dark romances, they’re a fun fantasy to indulge in and I don’t blame e/riel shippers for liking their dynamic. But I just cannot see SJM going on this direction after the way she’s written Feysand and Nessian and Rowaelin. Just because e/riel shares similarities with dark romances does not mean SJM intends for them to be seen as a healthy romance, especially taking into account how much emphasis she places on being equals in a relationship and not being overly dominant/possessive.

No this makes 100% sense, especially when considering that one anon I had right after acosf came out who kept saying that sjm likes toxic ships, and that's why e*riel would be fine 💀

There is a big difference between "healthy" relationships, and ones that are a bit problematic or can be downright abusive or toxic. To each their own, but like you said, sjm doesn't write toxic relationships in a positive way. She doesn't romanticize them or relish in their toxicity. She's not the author we go to for that, and all we need to do is look at every failed relationship our MCs have had (Aelin, Lysandra, Nesryn, Feyre, Nesta) and why they failed, and then look at their endgame partners. Dark romance is a thing, it might even be a thing sjm likes to read based on some of her recommendations, but it's not a thing she writes. Could she in the future? Sure. In the same series where she wrote Tamlin and Feyre turning toxic and abusive af and Tamlin becoming an antagonist? Nope.

I've read dark romances, I like some problematic ships, but at least I see them for what they are. A lot of people who ship Erica and Aaron absolutely refuse to see that as a possibility though, despite the fact that he's out here torturing people to the point where Feyre can't stand to watch, Elain is out here self-harming and avoiding her problems, Az is out there latching on to unavailable women out of fear of rejection. That has some dark shit potential. They absolutely can and will bring out the worst in each other, and that is ripe for a dark romance, but...

That's not how the stans see it at all, and it absolutely confounds me. Ship what you want, but if you have to erase the characters' entire personalities so it can become some sort of soft cinnamon roll fluffy situation, when neither characters is in that place, one of them likely never will be, then what are they actually shipping? Because it's certainly nothing that resembles anything in canon, as far as those two characters are concerned.

The irony of putting those thoughts in another ship's head - you're right, Rhys would never think of Feyre the way that Az thought of Elain, and Cassian would never think of Nesta in that way either. They are horny af for their mates but they still see them as people, as individuals who have a personality and wants and needs and families and histories. They think about how their actions impact their partners. And Az, even after he was all "oh no now she's sad because we didn't kiss and I said it was a mistake", even he failed to think for 0.2 seconds about how Lucien's death would impact Elain, whether they are together or not. Like. It didn't even cross his mind. He doesn't stop and think - what does Elain actually think about Lucien? What does she want in this situation? Why hasn't she rejected the bond? None of that crosses his mind and it's... why the whole Az pov is just as damning for what doesn't happen as for what does.

#az pov #antielriel #ask #anon #oh and another irony #that one time i read part of an e*riel fanfic #for science #and it was toxic af 💀 #the stans see it #they just don't know they see it

[discorrdiia]

Feyre's phone contacts

Rhys: My Illyrian Baby

Cassian: Illian Baby pt. 2

Az: Illyrian Baby pt. 3

Mor: Scary Cousin

Amren: Angry Snowball

Nesta: Angry Sis

Elain: Smol sweet cinnamon roll

Lucien: Cunning Fox

Tamlin: *Endless string of curse words*

#rhys #feyre #cassian #azriel #mor #amren #nesta #elain #lucien #tamlin #incorrect acotar quotes #court of dreams

[flowerflamestars]

20, 18, 6, 4 and 2 🤗🤗

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?

I hide so SO SO many little things, that are primarily just for my own delight? Benchmarks, because I write by feel instead of chronologically. Small ones: Azriel smells like cinnamon, which becomes “fire and spice” after he marries Lucien. Azriel calls Lucien a “bonfire”, in his own narrative, BUT ALSO, that fire and spice scent turns out to be the smell of the sacred fires Autumn keeps burning on dangerous full moons nights. 

Helion magics yellow roses into his hair when Elain predicts he’ll preside over her marriage. “Dreamlike.”  We meet her future husband crowned in yellow gold, talking about how he believes in the prophetic vision of a dreaming goddess. (He’s also twisting an adamite ring while he talks. Adamite: for the union between the heart and mind)

There’s a shit ton of color used as a cue in Daylight. The grey Depression ribbon Cassian hopelessly carried as he walked toward death, replaced by the Red Glory ribbon (and Nesta telling him to live. that it was time to choose life.) This actually has a second layer- Illyrians sometimes call Cassian “Red glory of Illyria”, which is ALSO a reference to what Cassian ends up calling Nesta, in his mothertongue.

More on red: Nesta’s bed in Illyria before she runs away is red and white. Symbolically, healing and Cassian, way before she’s ready. She never sleeps in it.

It flips: Cassian’s bedroom after he becomes King is blue. Blue is Nesta, blue is comfort- the pools underground where she makes friends with Helion, the color of the dress she wears when she saves his life. 

Cassian watches one last pink sunrise before he goes to war against Rhys: this golden pink light turns into love (because love is choice, love is freedom)- Lucien and Azriel looking at Helion’s domain and thinking about the future, Nesta telling them fuck Rhys, this can be home, Cassian waking at sunrise to find the color of Nesta’s eyes in the sky, the flood of light in her tower the night he comes to comfort her, the color light paints in the City of Obsidian bone, once its belongs to the Bone Carver again. 

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them

So this AU is actually in the story, a path untaken that Elain shows Azriel:  “Nesta, eyes lost to gold light, half screened by Cassian’s scarred wings. Cassian, bleeding from his eyes and nose and mouth, chained down and wings speared through, a sacrifice to a mountain god on an alter of obsidian.”

A Cassian that didn’t choose Illyria, that let Rhys use him- a Cassian who died for real, because he was always destined to wake the mountains. A Nesta that learned too late that death means life as well, a Nesta who went nuclear trying to bring him back. 

6.What character do you have the most fun writing

Usually Cassian? Sometimes Nesta. Lucien when he isn’t in pain. 

4.Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

The part of Daylight 3 that starts with “The warmth of the library flooded beneath her skin and insisted, come. Come and see. Look, daughter, look.” and goes all the way to “The kingdom of Illyria hails Nesta Archeron, glory to her name.”

OKAY- so not only do I love it absurdly, but the whole things calls back to different parts of the story that have already happened.

1)Nesta Archeron sends her regards to the Court of Night, answered with, The Kingdom of Illyria hails Nesta Archeron, glory to her name. SEXY SEXY VICTORY

2) Cassian initially sends her his own broken sword, from the last battle with Hybern bookended with: the swords of every High House, whole and hers. Loss >>> hope. Failure >>> Victory.

3) Nesta tells Helion Illyrian swords are their hearts held outside their bodies. sends Cassian a weapon to save his life, a token of her love, that literally helps him build a new world.

4) The very first collection of the Library, where Nesta landed, blindly longing at the beginning. The very same place where the swords are left, where she smiles. We’re back to the beginning! For another beginning! This is where choice has led her!

5) The Library had forgotten how to speak (Nesta’s pain and silence) >> The Library whispering to her happily (Love is LOUD and it is here)

6)Rhysand and Feyre laughed at the idea that Nesta could rule the High Houses >> Cassian gave Nesta the endowment of their rule

7) THE WAR CROWN AT HER FEET

2.Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

I’m realizing writing Starlight that I don’t write nearly enough fluff? The amount of gratuitous soft scenes is going to be INFINITE- Grandpapa Helion! Az and Lucien rolling up to a Very Important conference of High Lords half a day late with kiss swollen lips like hey, we won we’re High Lords now. THEIR! TINY! BABIES! AZ! WEARING! WHITE AND GOLD!

Thank you so much for the ask! It is hopefully? comprehensible- I love meta a little too much :)

[typicalmidnightsoul]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼- Chapter 7

𝔸 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖

love is not cruel, we are cruel, love is not a game we have made a game out of love.- Rupi Kaur

Chapter  1, 2, 3, 4 5, 6 <- here 

In this chapter we have:The party, an introduction to Rask, an introduction to  the first love in Nesta's life and a distraught Nesta seeking Azriel's help.

(Nesta’s dress down below)

The entire inner circle was waiting in the foyer. Caroline had sent Feyre a message saying the Queen of Rask had wanted them at the anniversary ceremony a few days earlier to give them a tour of Rask. Feyre had agreed. Now they were waiting for Audrey, Luna and Nesta to arrive. A crackling wind blew outside and Elain rushed to the window.

“They’re here!” She fizzed.

Before they could arrive at the door, Elain threw it open and trapped Nesta in an embrace. Luna and Audrey chuckled and Elain pulled them all inside.

Feyre greeted them with a warm smile.

“Hello.” They all nodded.

Luna waved a hand, and a group of same size boxes appeared on a nearby table. Rhys crossed the room and picked one up.

“What’s this?”

Audrey smiled, “In Rask it’s tradition to give a gift to the members of our alliance.”

“What are they?” Cassian asked snatching one of Rhys.

Luna smiled at Nesta.

“It’s a newer invention we have been working on,” She said, “We were inspired by the grief of many people from the war who have little to no proof their loved ones existed. Except of course memories.”

Elain opened one. It was a mirror. A small, rectangular one with an ornate frame and single jewel crested on top.

“This… captures memories. How… how is it even possible?”

Nesta jerked her chin to Luna.

“Luna’s power is vitrikinesis, also known as-”

“Mirror manipulation.” Amren finished.

Rhys gaped at them, “That sort of power is only known to belong to-”

“Celestial fae.” Nesta finished the three of them mock bowing.

Audrey chuckled at their faces, “I think you’ll find that there are many celestial fae in habiting Rask.”

“So the Cauldron made you a…celestial fae?” Elain asked.

“Well, technically I stole way too much power from it which landed me in a different breed of fae.”

Feyre managed to suppress her gasp. The cauldron had a wicked sense of humour. Placing Nesta in a place where there were many more people just like her.

“So how do the work?” she instead asked.

“This will be fun.” She dragged Feyre to a nearby mirror in the hallway. Feyre locked her gaze with Nesta in the mirror.

“In this mirror you see yourself, obviously, but it’s your mind’s eyes that form the opinion of whether you look beautiful, or tired, or- you get what I mean. So technically you are seeing yourself from your mind’s eyes.” She held up the rectangular mirror in Feyre’s hand. “Now this mirror is basically useless, it’s a… dummy if you will. But this”- she picked up the small gem crested on top-“Is where the magic happens. This gem contains a droplet of Luna’s power, which has been multiplied. You can throw this in any mirror and it would work as a communication device or as a mean to keepsake your memories.” She threw the sky blue gem in the mirror but instead of it breaking the mirror just… engulfed it. Ripples forming on the surface of the mirror.

“Put your hand in, let the mirror psychically connect to you.” Nesta ordered.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, because until then it won’t work. The gem psychically connects to you so you can command it to do anything. Not anyone else.”

Feyre nodded and put her hand in the never ending ripples. There was a short sting then she pulled her hand out the gem now in her hand glowing.  

“Now put it back in the mirror and think of a memory for the mirror to keep safe.”

Feyre closed her eyes and thought of the time when she first saw Nesta, striding down the stairs in that golden gown.

“My skin looks horrific.”

“No it does not,” Luna protested.

“It looks cakey.”

“That’s the lighting.” Feyre opened her eyes and saw the memory now playing on the mirror.

“You can also use it to communicate.”

Audrey pulled out her own rectangular mirror and brushed a hand over the gem. The mirror in front of Feyre went blurry. She could feel a whisper in her head. ‘Audrey Astor wishes to talk’

Feyre inwardly nodded, too shocked to say anything.

And Audrey’s face lit up the mirror.

Feyre gaped.

They all did.

“What are they called?” Azriel asked.

“Keepsakes.” Luna replied, giving Az a seductive smile.

Nesta shook her head muttering, “This girl,” under her breath.

They all did as instructed linking to their stones.

“Now, we take you to the most heavily warded city in our Kingdom, Marcia.”

“The capital?”

“Yes, but we will have to leave you there, I’m afraid. We have a close friend giving you the tour, taking care of your needs and showing you to your residence. Once we winnow you there you’ll have to knock for him.” Nesta glanced at the clock, “He is probably helping his mother in the kitchen now.”

They all nodded and with no warning Nesta winnowed them all to Rask. As the haze of gold mist cleared, Feyre with squinted eyes looked at the house in front of them. It was a small corner house with steps and greenery around it. It was labelled ’12.’ Feyre shrugged and climbed the steps to knock on the door.

“Mami! They’re here I need to go!”

“Wait you imbecile let me open the door, you find your shoes!”

The door opened to reveal a female wearing a thin dress and a bandanna. Feyre smiled.

“Hello my dear, welcome to Marcia.” She gave Feyre a hug then Elain. “You two do look so like the prince and princess. Please don’t let my son ruin my reputation, he does act really stupid sometimes.” The male in question pushed past his mother. He had dark brown hair and honey skin. He wore a fitted beige tunic and matching trousers.

“Welcome your majesties. I’m Warren. Your tour guide for the day.”

He shook all their hands. “Good to see you’re wearing practical clothing. We’ll be moving a lot.”

“Keep your pathetic charm to yourself and represent your city well.”

His mother shouted from the window.

“Yes Mami.” He rolled hi eyes and led them out of the alleyway.

They walked through the street.

Elain walked to Warren’s side, “Um, this is not the city we dined in.”

“Ah yes. Caro’s restaurant is in her territory this is the capital.”

Elain nodded.

“Lady Elain, where would you like to go first? The bazaar or the floating market?” Warren asked.

“Oh please it’s just Elain and um… the bazaar first please.”

“Of course,” He outstretched an arm towards a different alleyway.

Behind them Feyre was walking with Cassian.

“How do you feel about all this? You have been unusually quiet on this matter.”

Cassian dropped his head, “She’s happy. I want to see her happy but I...I’m delaying a conversation with her. I’m staying quiet because I’m afraid my presence will disrupt her happiness.”

Feyre shook her head, “I may not know Nesta as well as I thought I did but I do know that that is not the case.”

He smiled at her.

“Welcome to the Marcia Bazaar.”

The bazaar was thrumming with life, everyone wearing light, airy clothes due to the heat. There were so many colours. People were shouting, promoting their goods.

Feyre went past a shop with Elain where a male sat arranging his goods. There were wooden bowls strewn all over with different things. Rock salt, lapis lazuli, spices, cloves, cinnamon sticks, coal, small bowls.

He nodded at them, “Well, it seems the Night have come to stay.”

“How did you recognize us?” Elain asked.

“The similarities between you and the princess and prince are uncanny.” He smiled and handed them a bowl of white sweetmeat, “A gift.” Elain thanked him and they moved to the next shop.

This shop was being inspected by Rhys and Cassian.

It was a shop stacked with clothes of different materials, textures and colours. Each embroidery different.  

The next shop was a confectioner’s shop. She also recognized them and handed them bowls and packages of different confectionery.

Other than that word had quickly spread that the Night Court were in town and now they were getting hoards of stuff for free.

As they left the bazaar, Warren laughed at the stuff they carried. With a flick of his wrist he made them all vanish.

“They’ll be at the villa.” He looked at his watch and tutted.

“What’s wrong?” Amren asked.

“Nesta asked for you to be at the villa before dawn and since I am in no mood to piss her off… fancy a jog?”

“A jog?” Elain asked, “Surely Nesta wouldn’t mind if we came tomorrow-”

He grabbed her hand and started jogging with her, “Nonsense, never leave a good thing unfinished that’s what my Mami says.”

Everyone started jogging to catch up with Elain.

“This is ridiculous!” Cassian said to Rhys, “We have wings.”

“If you flew, everyone would stare.” Warren shouted out.

He stopped and let go of Elain’s hand. Elain’s cheeks were tinged with pink, a grin on her face which turned to a gasp as she beheld what was in front of her.

There was a swarm of boats, some had goods some were buying goods of said boats and piling it onto their own. Warren hired two boats from a nearby male.

“Ladies on the front boat and males on the back one”

Warren climbed into the front boat.

Cassian raised a brow, “You class as a male.”

“True but my Mami raised a gentlemale and a gentlemale would not let ladies row a boat.”

Feyre snorted climbing in.

“Would any of you like to buy anything?” He asked.

“No, I would rather observe,” Elain said.

“Well that’s good because I am rowing us to our next destination.”

“Where’s that?” Amren asked.

“The Twilight streets. These are where all the making of things happens like, the bangles, jewellery, the dresses, the prayers are held there, the colours are made there, the flowers are gathered and nurtured there.”

He caught the glimmer in Elain’s eyes and said, “The Thousand Gardens are there and the keepers work all throughout the year. This is different from the bazaar as you can see the work being done in front of you, you could sit there for days and no one would say a thing.”

He reeled the boats in to the dock and helped the females off. He checked his watch again and bursts into a run.

“Keep up!”

They rolled their eyes and followed.

He led them through to a secluded road, to the villa. He stretched an arm.

“Welcome now hurry to the roof. Quick.” They did as they were told. And on the roof the most beautiful sight of the Marcia city greeted them, there were rugs and blanket spread out with food and drinks.

And then…

Hot air balloons started lifting into the air. Different coloured ones that were just beautiful next to the setting sun.

They all stared.

“Nesta wanted you to see this, this villa is hers and she thought you’d get the best view form here.”

Feyre turned, “Thank you Warren.”

He waved her off, “Don’t sweat, I’ll see you at the anniversary.”

He left whistling all the way home.

------

The engagement party.

 The inner circle had worn traditional Rask clothes sent by Leona. They stepped through the crowd of brightly clothed males and females. Caroline had walked over to them, Jonah behind her.

“I am so glad you could make it.” The tinkling sound of anklets snapped away her attention. Feyer saw Cassian’s awed expression before she saw her exquisite older sister. Nesta was dressed in a red matching bodice and embroidered skirt. She had an oversized nose ring that had dropping gold pieces. Her whole midriff was showing the bodice. They all started praising her and the chatter did seem to be taking place, mostly between Az, Feyre and Elain. Cassian turned to Nesta. Jonah stiffened.

“You look stunning Nesta,” The words were quiet and full of sincerity.

“Thank you,” She said not meeting his eyes. She turned back to Caroline, Cassian staring at her for a second more before turning to Azriel.

Warren had come over and had asked Elain to pass on a tray of scented rose petals to Nesta. Nesta was flitting about the hall fixing decorations checking the food, and attending to guests.

The dais where Jonah and Caro would sit was hidden from sights with a curtain, Nesta and the others going in and out fixing things.

She had come to Elain in search for the petals, as she thanked Elain for holding onto them. Caro dropped her wine glass.

Her eyes fixed on a sight in the distance.

Nesta didn’t seem to notice.

“Clumsy,” She smiled at her and went to take the platter off Elain. She turned back.

And dropped the platter.

The rose petals scattered across the floor. The followed her line of sight. A male stood there his breathing ragged, his clothes torn as if he’d crawled his way out of hell.

His eyes were locked onto Nesta’s.

“Tyrus?” Nesta whispered softly.

Nesta picked her skirt up and ran. Everyone parting like the red sea for her. She stopped in front of him, tears slipping out of her eyes.

She let out a sob and wrapped her arms around him.

He did the same. Audrey broke into a run, Leona pushing past everyone, Luna outright winnowing to them, they all seemed scared. Caroline reached their first and flung her arms out stopping them 3 meters away.

Jonah growled at his mate. She gave him a stern look.

“You recognized me.” Tyrus said.

Nesta pushed him examining his face, “Of course Ty I’d recognize your shadow if it crossed me.”

“Enough, Nesta.” She looked up, “I need you to hide me.”

“Hide you? From who?”

“Nesta please-”

“I had a feeling you’d come here brother,” A voice said.

Nesta turned, guarding Tyrus with her body. Then softened.

“Oh God, Torin! You’re here too!”

Torin with short golden hair and sleek silver armour looked at Nesta.

He looked so different to Tyrus, who had black short hair, and dark gold armour tinted with emerald.

“Nesta get away from him.”

“Why? You…He’s hiding from you?” Nesta was baffled.

“Tyrus you bastard, you’re going to play with her emotions and not even tell her why.”

She turned to him.

“What is he talking about?”

Tyrus stayed silent.

“TELL HER!” Torin shouted.

A muscle flickered in his jaw, “I did what was right.”

“YOU BETRAYED YOUR PEOPLE.” Torin roared.

“What?” Nesta’s voice was broken.

“I did what was best.”

“By betraying your people and trying to remove father and kill me?” Torin laughed cruelly.

“Did you do that Ty?” Nesta asked her face turning cold “Did you?”

He nodded, “But there are so many other factors that play into this.”

“Any factors that explain why you would kill the male who raised you?”

He stayed silent.

“Torin, take him. I have nothing to say to him.” Torin did so and said to Nesta, “I’ll be in touch.”

She didn’t answer.

They left Nesta went to the kitchen, Feyre, Audrey, Luna, Elain, Cassian and Az followed.

“Who was that Nesta?” Elain asked.

Nesta didn’t answer. Silent tears falling down her face.

“Who was it?” Feyre asked.

“Nesta.” Azriel took a step towards her.

“That was my first love. That was my childhood love. The male that left me crying on the steps of my father’s mansion. The male who left because I was human. He promised me he wouldn’t leave and he did. And I just sold him out.”

She winnowed away.

--------

A week later, Illyria.

 Azriel had just finished up a meeting his hand was throbbing from pointing out the rebel camps to Cassian’s camp leaders. They all filed out of the tent, Azriel following. They all stopped. He pushed past them and saw Nesta Archeron standing in front of the tent. Her eyes seemed to be red from crying. He glared at them all and they left.

“I needed someone to talk to. And I didn’t know where else to go.”

He stilled, considering. Then nodded.

 They looked out onto the mountains in a cabin. Azriel finally turned to her, “What’s on your mind?”

“How do you think he feels?” She asked almost immediately, “Do you think he feels betrayed or sad or upset he probably didn’t want me to sell him out, he trusted me and I betrayed it what-what will I do-”

He put his hands on her shoulders, “Calm. Down. Take a deep breath. This is not for you to feel. He is not the man you once loved.”

“That’s the thing though; I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t know if I still love him or not.”

“Tell me what you think you’re feeling.”

“Well,” she started, “I hate that I fell in love with my best friend. That maybe my idea of love is fake. Because he was my best friends and he didn’t want me and left and then I couldn’t even talk to him. I miss our bond. I miss talking to him.”

“It seems to me like you miss your best friend.”

“I don’t know.” She whispered.

“What do you miss about him?”

“We were young when he gave me flowers as bookmarks,” she chuckled, “He read me passages from books. He would dance with me. We would pick berries in the garden together, he would make me flower crowns and unlike other men he didn’t demean me for being a woman.”

“And then what happened?”

The smile died, “We grew up. Well he did. He knew he was other. And I was a weak human. He said loving me would be destruction and he couldn’t allow that.”

Az waited a few minutes before saying, “You love him. But not like you used too. You were young, you fell in love. But now you need the boy you talked to, your friend. Not your first love.”

She considered, and then nodded.

“Cassian’s coming” Az announced, “You should talk to him.”

“There a lot of males I need to talk too. One step at a time.”

She winnowed away.

-------

The kingdom of Natava Prison.

 Tyrus bounced a ball against the wall, standing in his finery.

“Ty.”

He turned, “Hey Nes.”

She smiled. “How’d you get in?”

“Your mother gave me full permission to come and go as I please.”

He chuckled, “She always loved you.”

“Are you upset?”

He looked at her, “The guilt is eating at you isn’t it? Well I’ll consider that a sufficient punishment. Don’t sweat, I understand, and to be honest, I don’t really care.”

She eyed him, “Drop the act.”

The glamour faded bit by bit, leaving a ragged Tyrus against the wall.

“You always found out.”

“Tyrus I am so sorry.”

“No need. It is not your fault, Torin found me if you did protect me you would die. I am much better now you are here.”

She took a shuddering breath, “I want you back. I want my best friend.”

He gazed distantly, “Your best friend was also your first love.”

“I think I can l live with was.”

He laughed, “Me too.”

“I need to go, but I promise I will get you out of here.”

“Don’t. Just tell me one thing. You love him don’t you? The winged male with long hair. Don’t you?”

She turned, “Read me.”

Because that’s what they did since they were kids. They read each other.

He examined her, “I might’ve been your first love but he will be your last.” He closed his eyes.

She winnowed away.

Tags:@mis-lil-red @wannawriteyouabook​ @my-fan-side​

#nesta #nessian fanfic #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre #rhys #elain #azriel #mor #amren #acotar #prythian #acomaf #acowar #original character

[gwyns]

even with how kinky az is supposed to be, i cant wait for him to be so soft with gwynn 😭😭 my heart cant take it

He'll tie himself up (with the ribbon 😌) so gwynn can try stuff at her own pace

GAHHH I KNOW!! you know that scene in acowar where feyre invades lucien's mind when he first has a conversation with elain? and how feyre comments on how soft his voice is and how she's never heard him like that before?? that's 100% azriel too. like with gwyn he'd be the soft cinnamon roll the fandom always tries to make him out to be.

and i've thought about the bedroom habits too. everyone always assumes azriel is the dominant one but..... what if he isn't? 😈

#i cant believe how deep i am #acosf spoilers #a court of silver flames spoilers #acotar #azriel #gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #azwyn #azriel x gwyn #asks #anonymous

[theladyofdeath]

A Christmas Surprise

Christmas in July {Day 3}

Azriel + Elain 

Written alongside the beautiful and talented, @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

Elain had spent the entire day preparing. It was Christmas morning and Azriel was still upstairs fast asleep, thanks to getting drunk too late with his brothers the night before.

With a deep breath and a content sigh, Elain put a bouquet of red and green dyed roses in the middle of the table. Looking over her shoulder, she found the tree was lit bright, the fireplace lit, their one-year-old black lab fast asleep in front of the warmth.

Their family would be coming over for Christmas brunch, a long standing tradition, and since it was their first Christmas as a happily married couple, Elain was excited to host it. She’d been up cooking since 8:30 and after putting the cinnamon rolls in the oven to bake, she decided it was time to go get ready and try to rouse her sleeping husband.

After washing the flour off her face and tossing her hair into a messy bun, she crawled back into bed, finding him face down into the mattress, a soft snore coming from him. She began to pepper his back with kisses.

He didn’t stir in the slightest.

“Az, baby,” she breathed into his ear, and kissed the back of his neck.

“Mmm.” He didn’t move, but the tiny sound of recognition he made was a good sign.

Elain let out a soft chuckle. “It’s Christmas morning,” she sang. “Don’t you want to get up and watch Dexter open his gifts?”

“Dexter is a dog,” he mumbled, not unkindly, but humored. “Does he really need a crowd?”

Elain pressed her lips to his favorite spot- the middle of his back, just between his shoulder blades. “I can help you wake up, if needed.”

“Does it include Gatorade and Advil?”

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “That is downstairs, along with your coffee and your first present of the day.”

He finally turned his head towards her, his bangs sticking up in a multitude of directions from his heavy sleep the night before. Elain laughed and pressed a kiss to his nose. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, burying his face in her chest. He snuggled in and sighed contentedly. “Merry Christmas, Wifey.”

He gazed up at her, pressing a kiss to her mouth. He opened his mouth to say something, but paused and said, “Do I smell cinnamon rolls?”

Elain got up and said, “Yes, but they’re off limits. They’re for brunch, which is in,” she paused and looked at her watch, “less than two hours. So come on, let’s do our presents and help me get everything ready.”

He groaned, but pulled himself out of bed, naked, as he had been when they finished making love after he’d come home at 2:30 in the morning, and made his way into the bathroom. Elain enjoyed the view, smirking as she made her way back downstairs.

By the time Azriel shuffled into the kitchen, wearing flannel pajama pants, but still bare chested, Elain had his coffee on the counter, next to two Advil and a bottle of blue Gatorade. And next to that was a series of packages, all wrapped and bundled together.

His eyes narrowed as he made his way to the counter. He popped the pain relievers into his mouth and washed them down with the Gatorade. Picking up his coffee, he glanced from the stack of presents to Elain. “I thought we said one present this year.”

Elain huffed a giggle. “Two are for you, the rest are for Dexter.”

Azriel looked back to the bundle of gifts and realized just how spoiled their puppy actually was.

“Mother help us when we actually have a baby,” he muttered under his breath as he helped himself to his coffee.

Elain’s eyebrows rose slightly, and he walked into the living room, carrying the presents in one arm and his coffee in his other hand. He set them all down on the coffee table and grabbed a rectangular box from under the tree. Elain retrieved the stockings from the fireplace and set them with the presents. Dexter continued to sleep in front of the fire, and Azriel laughed as he leaned back on the couch.

“I guess Dexter doesn’t want to go first, so that falls to you, my love.” He handed her the package, and she was surprised by its weight. She opened the present and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Azriel, baby, this is…”

She trailed off, unable to put into words how much she appreciated the present.

It was a new laptop to replace the one that she’d had for years, the one that was a fire hazard and sounded like it was getting ready to take flight every time she booted it up. Not only was it brand new, but it could be converted into a tablet, allowing her to draw and design for her wedding planning company.

“I love it, baby, thank you.” She leaned across the couch and gave him a kiss.

“You’re welcome,” he breathed, holding her against his lips for a couple seconds more, before letting her go.

Elain cleared her throat and handed him the two wrapped boxes. “Open the bigger one first,” she said, gnawing on her lip. He set the long slender box down on the table and tore into the other.

He slowly unwrapped the metallic, silver snow-flaked wrapping paper and smiled what appeared in front of him. 

A new Xbox, exactly what he’d been hinting at wanting. Inside were three controllers, too. Azriel raised his brows. “I love it, babe. Why three controllers, though? You hardly ever play...I mean, one would’ve been great. It’s all great. It’s great.”

Elain laughed at his mumbling as he leaned over to kiss her lips.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Cassian and Rhys will be happy with the other two.”

He picked up the smaller gift and fiddled it in his hands.

It was much smaller in comparison and almost felt empty until he rattled it around. He glanced up at her, seeing the mischievous smile on her face. “What did you do?” He asked, unwrapping it slowly.

As he took the lid off the top and froze, Elain said, “I think you mean, what did we do?”

Azriel sat, unmoving, for long enough that Elain became worried. She was just about to say his name when he looked up at her, tears running down his cheeks, and asked, “Are you sure?”

As if the positive pregnancy test in his lap wasn’t proof enough, Elain pulled a strip of ultrasound pictures from behind her. She handed them to him.

So small. The baby in the image — their baby — was so small. Azriel studied the image, not quite able to believe it until he looked in the upper right-hand corner. There, above the time and date, declaring these had been taken two days before, was “Draeven, Elain A.”

He whispered, “You’re pregnant?”

Elain nodded, dropping down on her knees in front of him where he sat on the couch. Her small, slender hand rested softly against his cheek. “We’re going to have a baby. You’re going to be a dad.”

Elain had never seen joy like the joy that swept over Azriel’s face. His eyes grew wider, his smile bright, a soft sob sputtered through his lips.

“I’m going to be a dad,” he whispered, unbelievably. 

“You’re going to be the best dad,” she said, not even noticing as she began to cry as well.

He pulled her up onto the couch until she was on his lap and he rested his forehead against hers. “We’re going to be parents. We made a baby.” He kissed her softly. “How far along are you?”

“Just shy of eight weeks,” she said, and when his eyes lit up in understanding, she laughed and said, “Yes, it was during the snowstorm.”

He smirked and said, “I had to keep you warm somehow.”

“We have heat and a fireplace,” she laughed, throwing her head back.

He pressed a soft kiss to her neck. “Semantics.” She looked back down at him and smiled, and he kissed her lips softly. “You’re going to be the most amazing mother. I love you so much.”

Tears pooled in her eyes again. “You’re happy?”

“Beyond, baby.” He kissed her again. “I don’t have the words to tell you how happy I am.”

They stayed on the couch for a few minutes more, before rousing Dexter, taking a few pictures of him with the ultrasound shots to post later on, and opened his presents for him. Soon enough, he was back asleep in front of the fire, guarding his new bone and the hoard of new toys.

After a quick shower, Azriel was downstairs, helping Elain in the kitchen, already protesting as she picked anything that weighed more than four pounds up. They’d hung the ultrasound images on the side of the fridge, so they could look at them as they finished up brunch.

Every few minutes, Azriel would come up behind Elain and place a careful hand over her still flat stomach. Sometimes he rubbed, sometimes he just left his hand still, and sometimes he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.

“So this is why you haven’t been drinking when we go to Rita’s,” he said, piling the bacon and sausage onto plates as Elain cracked egg after egg into the bowl. He had just come back downstairs from changing into jeans and a black sweater.

She nodded, knowing he was watching her. “I suspected about two weeks ago and took an at home test. I was just able to get in with Madja on Monday though, and she confirmed it.” She turned around and beamed at him.

He crossed the room and took her in his arms. “I love you so much. Both of you.”

Elain’s eyes filled with tears as she leaned up on her toes and kissed him. “We love you.”

He kissed her again and herded her out of the kitchen to get ready. Their family would be there soon and she was still in a tank top and a pair of his boxers.

Azriel could take over for ten minutes, even though there wasn’t much left to do. He decided to straighten up the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room just before the doorbell rang.

As he headed for the door, he called up the stairs, “Babe, they’re here!”

She hollered back, “Be down in five, I’m almost ready!”

He shook his head and headed for the door, opening it to find Rhys and Feyre.

“Oh, my god, it smells so good in here,” Feyre said in greeting, leaning up to press a kiss to Azriel’s cheek, before heading inside.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.” He laughed, as Rhys clapped him on the shoulder. There was still snow in his blue-black hair.

“Merry Christmas, brother,” he said, pulling Azriel into a hug.

Az smiled back. “Merry Christmas, man.”

He wanted to do nothing more than tell them, but they’d both agreed they wouldn’t say a word until after brunch and after all the presents had been opened.

“Where Elain?” Feyre called from the kitchen, her mouth already full. Rhys shook his head and Az only chuckled as he shut the door behind them and they made their way into the kitchen.

“Still upstairs getting ready, she’s been busy this morning. She-.”

“Dude, new Xbox, yes!” Rhys interrupted, pointing to his gift still propped up by the tv.

And as predicted, he was excited about the extra controllers.

The front door flew open once more and Cassian let himself in, Nesta following behind with their nine-month-old. 

“Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals,” Cassian said in greeting.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “He’s already said that at least a hundred times today.”

Cassian’s grin simply widened as he gave Azriel a big, obnoxious kiss on the cheek before doing the same to Feyre and Rhys.

Alexander was babbling quietly as Feyre took him and began baby talking to her nephew. He giggled and Feyre chuckled quietly, too.

Cassian looked at Rhys and wiggled his eyebrows. “Won’t be long before Feyre’s begging for one, too.”

He laughed and ran a hand down his face while Nesta let out an exasperated sigh. “For the last time, our son is a human, not a puppy.”

Cassian just shrugged and Elain came down the stairs, just as the doorbell rang again. She barely heard Cassian say, “People actually ring the doorbell before coming in?”

She could’ve sworn that she heard Nesta’s eyes roll back into her head.

Mor, Andie, Lucien and Vassa were all outside, having arrived at the same time. Merry Christmas’s were exchanged and presents put under the tree.

Mor set a bottle of champagne on the counter and set to work making mimosas for everyone, except for Nesta, who was still breastfeeding. When no one was looking, Azriel switched Elain’s glass out for one with plain orange juice, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She threw a grateful look his way as she took a sip of her juice.

“Alright, everyone,” Azriel said, for once the loudest in the room. “Let’s eat.”

They needed no persuading as they gathered around the dining room table, Elain’s homemade feast laid out before them.

“This looks delicious,” Lucien observed.

“No one else eats the cinnamon rolls,” Mor said, mouth full of the gooey goodness. “They’re mine!”

Andromache chuckled and quickly reached across her girlfriend, taking a cinnamon roll off the platter. Mor scowled, but couldn’t help the smile that lit up her eyes.

Elain was watching everyone thoughtfully, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Azriel reached for her under the table and took her hand.

“Shit, I forgot my drink,” Cass said, standing and heading back into the kitchen. He didn’t return immediately, taking longer than expected, but when he did, there wasn’t a glass in his hand.

Instead, there was a strip of three pictures.

Azriel glanced up at him, saw what he was holding, and before he could ask him to not say a word, Cassian asked, “Is this what I think it is?” holding the ultrasound out for all to see.

Elain looked over and choked on her juice.

Even the cinnamon roll fell out of Mor’s hand.

Alexander was the only one making noise in the silence, banging his tiny fists on the tabletop and hollering gibberish. 

Elain looked at Azriel, then back to the others. A smile crept across her mouth as Azriel said, “We were going to tell you all after brunch, and we had a nice plan so, thanks, Cass.” 

Elain, unable to contain her excitement any longer, clapped her hands together. “We’re having a baby!”

Another second of silence, then the table erupted. 

Nesta was immediately out of her seat, clutching her younger sister to her chest, hugging her and crying. Feyre wasn’t far behind. Rhys had stood and hugged Azriel, while Cassian clapped him on the back. Mor was crying quiet tears of joy and Lucien and Vassa — five months pregnant herself — sat back and smiled at their friends.

Once everything settled down and everyone had returned to their food, questions were being hurled at the couple. Mor gasped and looked at the glass in front of Elain.

“I gave you champagne, I’m so sorry!”

Elain smiled and rested her hand over Azriel. “Az swapped it out when you weren’t looking, it’s okay. He only just found out this morning.”

Feyre and Cassian asked at the same time, “This morning?!”

Azriel just laughed and said, “It’s been a very Merry Christmas.”

After everyone finished eating, they made their way into the living room for the gift exchange. Alexander, freshly learned how to crawl, was buzzing back and forth between his aunts, giggling each time they lifted him into the air kissed his round cheeks. His hazel eyes shined and Elain couldn’t help the tears that rolled down her cheeks as she held him.

Presents were passed out.

Most of them were for Alexander, although all of the adults each got one from each couple. Mor and Andie had even brought a giant bone wrapped in a red bow for Dexter. 

They carried on like that for another few hours into the early afternoon, sitting around with their family, laughing and joking and playing games. After everyone had left, Azriel carried Elain up the stairs as Dexter nuzzled himself back into his favorite spot in front of the fire. They sleepily held on to one another in their bed for a long while before making love late into the starry, Christmas night.

#elriel #elain #azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #christmas in july #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #day 3 #sjm #feysand #feyre #rhysand #nessian #nesta #cassian #andromor #andromache #morrigan #mor #vassa #lucien #christmas #collab #tacmc #throne of ashes and beauty #tacmc x throne of ashes and beauty collab

[nikethestatue]

eluciens treatment not only of azriel but also elain, is why i started to dislike the ship. I was kind of neutral because I think lucien and elain will be friends, same as az and gwyn, but it’s so funny how they like to parrot about fanon elain, as if the whole el/cien takes they have are nothing but hc. they act like they’re the ones to understand elain while elriels treat elain as a poor baby, when they can’t even admit that lucien had a hand in what happened to her and nesta. like, if they’re the ones to understand elain why are they constantly bashing azriel, the guy who was there for her and did everything he could for her? Az understands and cares about her and she have always welcomed him. you can’t say you care about elain’s feelings when you pretend to not see she’s falling for Azriel or twisting canon scenes so they can fit in your hc.

Hi Anon,

Honestly, I am so confused by some of these ships, I seriously don't even understand who they are rooting for! Like Eluciens, technically, should be pro-Elain, if they want their boy to be with her, yet they hate her, resent her for liking Az, and not giving poor' cinnamon roll Lucien' a chance. In the same breath, they also hate Vassa and don't see it as a 'legitimate' ship.

Like just recently i saw a post 'IC has to apologize to Lucien for everything'. And I am like--for giving him a place to live, a wage, a home, basically a job, inviting him to join their Inner Circle, not sending him to be in an abusive relationship with his so-called friend Tamlin, where he was raped by Ianthe, and verbally and physically assaulted by Tamlin? Yes, absolutely, they must apologize.

As Rhys said 'there is such a thing as loving someone too much". It's okay to love Lucien, but you can still be critical of him, and some of his behaviors and decisions. It's fine. It's healthy. I mean, I love Rhys (such a controversial admission!) but I can totally see that he did some very iffy things. But that's what makes him interesting. Same with Azriel or Elain. They aren't perfect characters, perfect people. But I don't need to bash Lucien to prop Azriel though.

I think it's all down to self-insertion in some of the ships, and a lot of "I, me, I, me". Like, I follow many Elriel blogs, and I've never seen an anti-Lucien post! Never. But if you hate Elain, or Az, or Rhys, or whoever, you are within your right to hate them, but at least be consistent.

#anon ask #anon response

[fawnandshadows]

After the Ceremony - Chapter 3

I had so much fun writing this chapter, and I could not be more excited to share it! Please let me know what you guys think, and I also wanted to thank everyone for their support because I was so convinced that no one was going to read this, and I am so incredibly flattered at the response I have received. This story is also available on AO3

Summary: Elain and Azriel after Nesta and Cassian's Mating Ceremony.

Words: 2,938

Story Rating: M

Elain was giddy. She couldn’t remember the last time she woke up and was excited about the day ahead of her. Well, before the solstice she used to wake up and be content and hopeful. She would tend to her garden and try to make the world a more beautiful place; gardening was something that she was good at, something that she enjoyed, and it was something that was just hers. There were many times, before Feyre had been taken, that she wished she could have done something more substantial for her family, but they couldn’t afford the seeds to grow any food, and she didn’t even know how to grow food. So, once Elain settled into her fae life enough, she decided to learn a valuable skill - one that almost anyone would approve of.

She learned how to bake, and then she learned how to cook. The twins were surprisingly gracious and they were more than welcoming and patient with her, and before long Elain started to think of Nuala and Cerridwen as friends. The first friends she ever made that were hers, and hers alone. She knew they worked for Feyre, Rhysand, and Azriel, but the twins weren’t friends with them.

It was during this time that Elain started to hope to see Azriel every day when she woke up. Whenever she was with the twins there was always a part of her that wanted Az to show up and ask for a report, he almost never did, but she imagined it just the same. He would come in after a long day, and she would offer him the chocolate chip cookies she baked herself - Elain made those cookies at least once a week after learning they were his favorite- and they would simply enjoy each other’s company. She dreamed that he would open up to her, because the Mother knew he needed someone to talk to, and Elain would give him a lovely, cozy space where he would forget about his spy business for a bit. A space that he could think of as home.

And then there were the daydreams where Elain imagined they did a little bit more than talk. On many occasions, when Elain was alone in the kitchen baking bread and covered in flour, she thought of Azriel storming into the kitchen in a flurry of emotion - sometimes it was anger, but it could have been passion, or even an overwhelming lust - and he would take her into his arms and kiss her as if his life depended on it. They almost always ended up covered in flour, or whatever Elain was cooking, and right when her imagination was starting to get interesting somebody inevitably walked into the kitchen, and it was almost never the person she wanted it to be. Sometimes her family could be such busy bodies.

None of her fantasies lived up to the real thing.

The real Azriel, the one crafted from flesh and blood and bone, was so exquisite that her dirtiest most intense fantasy seemed childish.

Her heart pounded wildly just thinking about it.

A soft knock sounded from the door, disrupting Elain from the memories she was reliving over and over again, and Elain told whoever was knocking to come in. She briefly entertained the idea of feigning sleep, but she had already lazed in bed for almost an hour. A small indulgence she allowed herself - normally she would rise with the sun and immediately throw herself into the garden, or help with breakfast, or do something to show she was useful.

Feyre, to Elains surprise, entered the room and shut the door behind her.

“Good morning.” Elain raised herself up and smiled at her sister.

Feyre had not yet dressed for the day, she still wore her navy silk nightgown and robe, and it warmed Elains heart to see her sister in such finery. She was happy that Feyre found herself a mate that treated her like a queen - she deserved it after everything she did for their family. There were times when Elain felt the crushing urge to hug her sister, and she decided after last night to grant herself those small kindnesses - she had come to learn that it was never a bad thing to show someone you loved them, even if you couldn’t say it.

Elain had opened her arms and said, “Doesn’t it seem like a fine morning for a cuddle?”

Feyre laughed and walked over to her sister before plopping herself into the bed and into Elain’s open arms.

“We haven’t done this in forever,” Feyre said with a sigh - as if she were remembering the last time it happened and how everything had changed since then. “As much as I love Rhys he tends to hog the bed. He kicks off all the covers and then has the audacity to accuse me of stealing them, can you believe that,” Even though Feyre’s voice held a hint of exasperation Elain knew there was a smile on her face, probably one that found its twin on Elains face. “I barely got any sleep last night. Nyx woke up crying and I had to search the entire house for his favorite toy, you know the one - the stuffed bat that Cassian got him. Somehow it ended up downstairs in the ballroom.”

Elain felt tears start to well in her eyes. She was just so happy for Feyre, and her joy was only amplified knowing that Feyre was happy. Feyre was completely, utterly, and divinely happy.

“Is that why you decided to join me this morning? To get some peace and quiet?” Elain asked.

It was Feyre that almost stumbled upon her and Azriel last night. Her cheeks warmed not only at the memory, but at the fact that Feyre almost saw them. Elain was almost certain that Feyre didn’t know about the scene she interrupted, but still she wanted to make sure.

“Yes and no,” Feyre said, and Elain could tell from her voice that she wasn’t going to like what her sister said. Feyre shifted on the bed to face Elain. “Were you downstairs last night. I thought I smelled you, and you know how not great I am at distinguishing scents,” It was true. For all of her power and abilities, a keen sense of smell wasn’t one of them. “But I thought I smelled you downstairs when I was looking for Nyx’s bat. Of course when I actually got into the room you weren’t there, and I know my nose has been sensitive ever since I was pregnant, so I could have just been smelling you from earlier.”

A small smile tugged at Elains lips, and the delightful urge to share with her sister moved through her.

“Can I tell you something?” She asked shyly.

Feyre’s eyebrows raised as she said, “Of course.”

“I need you to be my sister. Not High Lady.”

At Feyre’s nod Elain couldn’t hold back. In excited whispers she told her sister everything that she felt, and most of what transpired last night, Elain kept some of the more private details to herself.

“That explains the torn nightgown.” Feyre commented at one point, and Elain couldn’t contain the giggle that burst out of her. It had never really been like this between her and Feyre, Elain had always drifted more towards Nesta, but she was glad to have this moment with her younger sister.

“Feyre,” Elaid started with a bit of hesitation. “Has Rhysand ever talked to you about me?”

Feyre’s brow furrowed a bit as she thought.

“He adores you, and he thinks of you as his own sister, but I can’t think of anything recently.” The two sat in silence for a moment before Feyre exclaimed, “Oh! He loved the tarts you made the other day, the apple ones, he was rather put out that you saved the last one for Az,” Feyre nudged her with her shoulder. “Although that makes sense now.”

“He hasn’t mentioned anything else?”

“No, why? Should he have?”

Elain debated whether or not she should share this part, that part of Rhys being a meddlesome mother hen, with Feyre. She thought that her sister would be on her side, but Elain didn’t want to be responsible for a rift between her sister and her mate.

She shook her head and said, “No reason. He just stepped on my toes a little harshly last night, but it wasn’t his fault. Cassian was practically falling on him, and when Rhys tried to get out of the way he landed on my foot. I was hoping to tease him about it today, but I’m afraid he might have been a little too tipsy to remember it.”

Before Feyre had the chance to respond, Nyx's cry filled the air.

“I suppose the day has to start at some point,” Feyre said and she rolled out of bed. “Starting it with my sister and son seems like a pretty good way.”

Elain nearly tripped over her cobalt dress as she rushed down stairs. She couldn’t help it. She was just too excited to start the day and to see Azriel again. She wanted to see him in the light of day, not that she minded seeing him in the shadows of the night when it was only them and the Mother, but Elain wanted to see his face blush with unobstructed vision, and she wanted his hazel eyes warm in the light of the sun.

It had been too long since they allowed themselves to be together in the light of day.

When she reached the kitchen Elain wasn’t surprised to see it was only Nuala and Cerridwen in the kitchen. Her friends gave her sly smiles as they took in her goofy grin and red cheeks before saying good morning to her.

“Good morning,” Elain replied, eyeing the cinnamon rolls that just came out of the oven. The rest of her family must have been waiting in the living room before breakfast, and a thought popped into Elain’s head. “Did you guys use the recipe we just came up with?”

“Yes.” They said in unison.

Elain didn’t stop herself from piling three rolls onto a plate and filling up a mug with coffee. She bit her lip to contain her excitement as she made her way to the swinging door, saying a quick goodbye to her friends before leaving the kitchen.

The trek to the living room was short, but the anticipation made butterflies flutter in her stomach. She knew what she was about to do, she was going to offer food to another male while her mate was in the room, but Elain was determined she wasn’t going to hide her feelings anymore. She brought Rhysand and Cassian food all the time whenever she wanted to surprise them. Elain even went out of her way to bring Amren the croissants she liked because Elain remembered how Amren was the only one who thought her strong enough to look for the Dread Trove objects, and Elain wanted to show her appreciation.

When Elain stepped into the living room no one noticed her. No one but Azriel that is, and even though he didn’t show it she was certain he was aware of her presence.

Azriel was on the far side of the room, in front of a big bay window, smiling down at More. Hesitation and fear threatened to break her resolve, but Elain moved before she could talk herself out of it. She suddenly remembered the one burning question she had forgotten to ask.

She had to trust Azriel.

As she approached them Elain was suddenly overwhelmed by Azriels beauty. She spent so long avoiding him that it almost felt indecent to look at him freely and openly in the light of day. The morning sun illuminated his tan skin and set his hazel eyes aflame. She could even make out a hint of blue in his inky hair. Hair that she had just found out was as soft as it looked.

“Good morning,” Elain said as she stopped a few feet away from them. “I brought you something. I know you love to have sweets in the morning, but you’re too disciplined to indulge yourself.”

His face was unreadable, but there was an undeniable warmth in his eyes as he looked at her. Elain was sure he noted that her cobalt dress matched his siphons which caused his eyes to go molten. Elain heard the conversations turn dull, just for a moment, before returning back to normal - and she was certain that a pair of violet eyes were watching their every move.

Elain could also feel vexation radiating off of Lucien as he watched them from his place next to the fireplace. Feyre, Elain noticed on her way in, planted herself firmly between Lucien and the group Elain was with.

Azriel took one step towards her, and Elain inhaled deeply his scent of night chilled mist and cedar. A small thrill skittered down her spine as his scent intertwined her own. Az let out a raspy thank you before taking the plate and the mug. He took a deep sip on coffee, his bright eyes maintaining contact with hers over the lip of the mug, and Elain would have sworn that the entire room disappeared.

Her eyes left his for a moment as they watched his tongue trace over his lips. Elains hands fisted in her dress to stop herself from grabbing his face and kissing the coffee away.

Elain watched as he set the coffee on the windowsill before picking up a cinnamon roll and taking a bite. A small groan emitted from the back of Azriels throat.

“Good morning.” A chipper voice broke Elain’s connection to Az.

Elain mentally shook herself as she looked at the blond standing with them. She had completely forgotten Mor was here standing with them, and Elain recognized the amusement in Mor’s tone.

“Good morning,” Elain managed a small smile as a furious blush overtook her face. From the knowing grin on Mor’s face Elain knew she had witnessed everything that just happened between her and Az. “You’re a lovely dancer. I saw you last night.” Elain had hoped to distract Mor with conversation.

“I think you might have been more interested in my partner.” Mor winked at her, and her face somehow turned warmer. She was blushing more than she ever had before. Elain noted the satisfied, and proud grin, that formed if Azriel’s beautiful lips. She wanted to kiss that grin off his face.

Mor looked between the two of them, as if she could see something that they couldn’t, and a frown appeared between her eyebrows. She quickly excused herself and left the room.

“Was it something I said?” Elain asked as she watched the blonde leave. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“Of course not,” Az said quickly. His hand reaching out to touch her, she shivered at the feel of his calloused hands on her skin. He quickly dropped her hand and reached for his mug, took a sip, and then thought for a moment before offering it to her. “You are never an interruption.”

Elain didn’t hesitate before taking a drink of his coffee, she had brought it to him black because he liked it that way, and Elain almost always dumped way too much sugar in her own coffee. It thrilled her to know they were sharing a drink, and that they were doing it in front of everybody. They were done hiding. It moved her, and made her insides turn to gooey, as she realized that this was a giant step for them - that it was Azriel that initiated it. They could write off her bringing him breakfast, but sharing a drink was as intimate as they have been in front of everyone else.

Her eyes widened as she felt a damn break inside of her. Before her eyes, a silvery blue chord appeared and flowed towards Azriel, who just looked at it in complete surprise. It looked like a river flowing from her heart into his and after a moment or two it dissipated.

They looked at each other without saying a word, but somehow they were more aware of each other. She swore if she concentrated hard enough she would be able to feel his heart beating in his chest.

No one else seemed to be aware of what had passed between them. The conversation still raging around them, and Elain knew that if Lucien had seen what happened he wouldn’t have stayed put on the opposite side of the room.

“Do you know-” Elain cut herself off at the shake of Azriels head.

Elain opened her mouth to say something, she didn’t know what, but stopped at the appearance of the twins and the announcement that breakfast was served. She brought her hand to his tentatively, giving him the option of pulling away, and gasped at the jolt that went through her as their skin touched.

What every passed between them felt electric, and Elain noticed the warmth that was pooling between her legs and the need to rip her dress off to feel more of Azriel’s skin on her.

“Ready for breakfast,” A friendly voice asked her and a heavy arm landed on her shoulder. Elain looked up to see Cassian smiling down at her, looking a little too fresh considering how drunk he was last night. “Not everyone got special cinnamon rolls this morning.” Cassian winked over his shoulder as he steered her out of the room.

#elain archeron #elain acotar #elriel fanfic #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elriel #after the ceremony #after the ceremony chapter 3 #my work #my fanfiction #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar

[hellas-himself]

Ch.1 Welcome to Illyria

After the death of his father, Azriel is forced to go back to the one place he swore he’d never return to. But he finds himself quite literally face to face with his past, one that he had not let himself think of since he’d left. 

(translations and other notes at the end!)

here’s Ch. 2

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The bus driver wasted no time in closing the door behind me as soon as my boots hit the ground. I sighed, adjusting my backpack and walked away from the paved road towards the muddy path head. Of course, I had been the only one to get off at this stop. Who would willingly come here? ‘Welcome to Illyria’, the sign read and I scoffed. But I supposed that this would be the most welcome I’d ever be here now that my father was dead. 

The dirt road gave way to pavement and I was surprised enough that I stopped and stared at the town I’d left so long ago. The shops were the same, yes, but renovated. New faces. Smiling faces. How anyone had ever loved living here, or even visiting- always amazed me.  But I realized where I was standing and though her father was gone, I was sure Emerie was running the store now. No one knew I was here and I wanted to keep it that way.

My father’s house was at least half an hour walk away from the town, but that was alright. The day was sunny despite the cold. Despite the fact that I was going back to the one place I swore I never would. But the hijo’e puta had one trick up his sleeve, even after his death. At least his lawyer respected her word and when I arrived, we were the only ones there. Cordial. To the point- I was handed a folder containing my mother’s legal documents like her birth certificate and passport. The papers to a deposit box at the bank across town that she had left to me- something I had not known about. Then, the lawyer handed me a wooden box, small enough to fit in my backpack but no key to open it. “It was left for you,” the lawyer said to me, “Legally.” I had to smirk at that. I almost wished I had been there to see my madrasta’s face when she learned my father had held on to my mother’s things. That he had managed to keep her from getting rid of it was a thought I was not ready to consider.

The bank was literally across town. By the time I made it back, I decided I had enough time to get something to eat and take a breath before walking the rest of the way. Illyria still had no buses, and I doubted Uber was even a thing here. It didn’t take me long to choose where to go, the diner was still up and running. I had to smile at the sight of it, that had been one place I’d enjoyed going to everyday after school with my friends. With my mother. Nuala and Cerridwen’s parents had owned it… But I knew they’d passed. I doubted the twins had remained here.

I didn’t recognize anyone inside, but it was quiet. Ridiculously clean. There was music playing softly and it smelled like heaven in there. I found a booth at the very back, setting my bag on the floor and pushing it against the wall. The owner must be new, I decided. The menu was almost all in French and to my surprise, Spanish.

“What can I start you off with?” a familiar voice said and I looked up, staring into familiar brown eyes. My heart did leaps in my chest.

“Elain?”

“Az?”

I set the menu down. “What are you doing here?”

She blushed. “I own the place.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You still drink black coffee?”

I nodded and before I could utter another word, she walked away. I wasn’t sure what to make of this. I hadn’t seen Elain since my mother’s funeral. But she had been engaged then and everyone had gone their separate ways. When I left town… I left everyone behind, too.

Elain returned with a tray of food, setting it down in front of me. There was the black coffee, a bowl of farina with generous amounts of cinnamon and a side dish of eggs, bacon and toast. A glass of orange juice, too.

“Two sugars, right?”

“Yeah.”

She smiled, sitting down across from me.

“It’s quiet today… The weather keeps tourists away.”

“Tourists?” Anything to distract myself from the fact that she remembered what I liked to eat for breakfast and the fact that the farina tasted just like my mother used to make it.

“Well, once everyone discovered that the great Feyre Archeron lived here once, people come to visit. Mostly artists looking for whatever might have given Feyre her talent,” she said with a giggle. She still only had the one dimple when she smiled. “With the renovations, we attract all sorts of people, especially from the city. Bored rich people like to come play house at the rentals, like they can’t wipe their asses with money.”

I snorted which only made her smile.

“So, how did the old bastard trick you into coming back?”

“He had my mother’s things,” I said, taking a drink of coffee. Elain thrummed her fingers against the table. No ring, save for the gold one on her right middle finger with the blue stone. That was her birthday present when she turned fifteen. I’d worked extra hours at the shop and sold a gold chain my adoptive parents gave me one Christmas to afford it. Elain must have saw where my gaze had fallen because she brought her hands under the table.

“He left. I stayed.”

“Ah.”

“He was an asshole.”

“I agree.”

She giggled.

“How long are you here for?”

“Just the end of the day. I have to go to the bank before the last bus comes for the day.”

She looked disappointed but put on a smile.

“You can use my car. Wouldn’t want you getting stuck here.”

I wasn’t sure why that made me feel so guilty but Elain shoved her hand into her pocket and set keys on the table. The keychain was a squishy cinnamon roll. “I have to get back to work. It’s the only car back there… Usually. It’s blue.”

“Elain-”

“Finish eating and don’t you dare insult me by paying.”

I sighed, watching her get to her feet just as the door opened and a family of six walked in.

The first thing that bothered me about Elain’s blue Oldsmobile was that it was not locked. The second, was that there was no radio, the cables stuck out as if it had been stolen- which for Illyria, wouldn’t surprise me. The third was that there was no heat, which was nothing to me, but the thought of Elain driving this thing in the cold bothered me.

Her car got me to the bank at least. I didn’t have to wait long, the lawyer had called them and they’d been expecting me. My mother’s deposit box held two envelopes. One contained cash and the other, an old iron key, nothing more. I set those in my bag and got back in Elain’s car. It was starting to snow, but I had time to go back to the diner and walk to the bus stop if I wanted to.

Until Elain’s car shut down.

*

“Oh my god,” Elain shouted as I walked into the diner and rushed around the counter. “What happened?”

I probably looked like a wet dog but I was too cold to care about that.

“Your car shut down by the grocery store.”

“Shit,” she said.

“When was the last time you put gas in your car?” The fuel gauge wasn’t even working.

She blushed. “Well… I don’t really use it. I live here.”

“Here?”

“Come on. Cassian leaves some clothes here when he stays.”

“Cas stays here.” Why did that bother me so much?

“Sometimes. Rhys does, too, but Cas prefers my sofa to the bed and breakfast.”

She led me to the back of the diner and unlocked a door. Up the stairs we went and there, she unlocked another door. “It’s not much, but it’s home,” she said. Her parents had been wealthy, I remembered. They had never taken too kindly to her being friends with Cas and I, even if Rhysand’s parents had taken us in. Elain had grown up in a mansion, a mansion I’d never been allowed to go inside.

“When Cas told me the diner was going to be demolished, I bought it. But it was with my money,” she said proudly. “I refused any help from my parents… Especially after all they did to Feyre.”

“Honestly,” I said looking around the studio apartment. “This is you.”

That made her laugh. To the right was a beaten up sofa, a little table where the tv sat. A small dining table, big enough for four, took up the middle of the room where the kitchen was. And to the left, her bed was in the corner covered in a mountain of pillows and a teddy bear I remembered from high school. She had a dresser and nothing more.

“That door over there is where the washer and dryer is,” she said pointing towards the right. “The bathroom is over there. Cas has some clothes in the bottom drawer of my dresser. Just toss your clothes on the chair by the bed. I’ll wash them while you shower.”

“Left or right?” I asked.

“Hot is to the right, don’t ask me why. Oh, you can use my shampoo. I know you won’t use it all in one go like Cassian. There are clean wash clothes in one of the cubbies… Anyway, go shower before you get sick.”

Her bathroom sink was leaking, the shower head needed changing and the water drained too slow. After I got dressed, I walked out to find that Elain had gone back to work. I could hear the washer going. I don’t know what I was doing, but I started walking around her apartment, mentally cursing Cassian and Rhys. Her dining table was uneven on one leg. Two of the chairs were broken and held together by faith- as my mother would say. The kitchen sink didn’t even work and the light bulb in the ceiling fan was going to go out soon. I tried to charge my phone but I couldn’t find a single working outlet without disconnecting her tv, which I didn’t want to do. After I set the clothes to dry, I checked the cabinets, the windows. Some needed oil. Her locks needed replacing.

The door opened as I was looking in the rather empty fridge and I found Elain walking in with Lucien Vanserra, of all people. He smirked when he saw me, and I felt an undeserved jealousy at how close he stood beside her. Lucien had always had a thing for Elain, which I couldn’t blame him for.

“Az, Lucien went and got the car.”

“It was nothing,” he said with a shrug. “But Vassa is waiting for me downstairs.”

“Thanks,” she said, looking at him sheepishly.

“Anything for you, Elain.” He kissed her forehead then looked at me. “Az.”

“Vanserra.”

He nodded and left with a smirk. Elain let out a long sigh.

“I didn’t want to call him but… Lucien owns almost everything in town. He really didn’t have to drive it over here himself but Vassa was craving apple pie so I had Nuala send them home with two.”

“Nuala?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s in the kitchen. We work together.”

“That’s… I’m glad you’re not alone.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “I have to finish up downstairs, but once you’re ready to go, I’ll drive you. If you need to charge your phone, there’s an outlet by my bed.”

I nodded, not wanting to admit that I’d spent all this time looking for a working outlet. She smiled and walked out, leaving me alone to wait.

*

The drive to the bus stop was quiet, Elain humming to herself and cursing whenever she hit a bump in the road. She had handed me a bagged lunch which I put in my backpack at her insistence. She insisted on waiting with me for the bus, too.

“It was really nice seeing you,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry about the car.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“All the same.”

“It was nice seeing you, too.”

The bus came in to view and we both rose to our feet. Once, she would have hugged me so tight I’d break a rib. But I wasn’t sure I was allowed that anymore, if I even deserved it.

“Don’t be such a stranger, Az.”

“I’ll try.”

She put her hands in her pockets, reminding me of Rhys.

“Let me know when you get home?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The bus stopped in front of us.

“Bye, Az.”

“Bye, El.”

Fighting the urge to hug her goodbye, I got on the bus. I found an empty sit and sat down. When the bus drove away, I looked back. Elain was still standing there. 

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So I wrote this last month and never finished it. But with Reyes coming up (Three King’s Day) I just figured- what the hell. I’m a sucker for Hallmark and that “small town girl goes back home and falls in love with boy from said town” trope is my jam but I switched it. Being Puerto Rican, Christmas ends in the middle of January so I wanted to toss that in, too. My family is from a town called Fajardo in Puerto Rico, I lived in the mountains (just like our favorite bat boys).

hijo’e puta is the “improper” way to pronounce son of a bitch back home lol native speakers take out some of the letters sometimes. in this case, the ‘d’ in de which means of. 

Madrastra means step mother. 

Farina is cream of wheat? Idk. But it’s my favorite thing ever for breakfast. My grandma makes it with hella sugar and cinnamon. They make it every morning with coffee on the side and basically it’s sometimes the “first” breakfast. (at least in my family)

I have NO idea what to name this thing. So I’ll just name the chapters. 

Happy Holidays!!!

#elriel #elriel holiday au #dia de reyes #welcome to illyria

[bookofmirth]

In response to your earlier tag/reblog about Gwyn + the Lightsingers theory.... it's because Azriel's feelings should only be reserved for Elain and anyone else who makes him feel a type of way is sus. I hate how people twist the text around to try and justify their reasoning. Don't they think that if Gwyn was supposedly a lightsinger, SJM would have revealed that information? Why would she say she's a 1/4 nymph if she's actually a lightsinger? Or is that part of the suspense because Gwyn will 'essentially be used as a plot device' even though they try and deny that part when they push this narrative.

It's crazy how many people canonically believe this to be true. That beautiful licensed art piece today was filled with comments from the other side either saying they didn't see anything romantic between Gwyn and Azriel OR that gwyn is a Lightsingers.

Idk about you but it's hard for me to trust someone's judgement when they pull text and twist it out of context OR focused on certain words (like glow) and categorize it a certain way. The only word that should be categorized a certain way is the word mate. Assume everything else, when used, may not always have the same meaning behind it.

Also, how does it fit that Gwyn isn't important enough to be included in the later story, and yet she secretly has some big backstory/power that's important enough to theorize about? Which is it???

The mystery beneath her smile was her water nymph heritage. That's it. The book already said 😭 What we do know is that her parentage is uncertain.

Don't get me started on the idea that this sunshine cinnamon roll warrior survivor of a character is "just a plot device" 🤬

I've seen people say that certain things are canon, when really those things are either intense reader interpretation or 100% theory. And sorry! But I don't really trust the credibility of people whose idea that Gwyn is a child was debunked by sjm herself like a month later. People just can't distinguish between what they've read on tumblr and what the books actually say. I say "hm looks like Az is jealous of the mating bond" because the line is "he couldn't stand it, the sight, the scent of their mating bond" and people are like "WHOA REACHING HARD BUDDY" Yet somehow... Gwyn, who has never harmed a fly on page, is a lightsinger, a creature that is canonically confined to the Middle and stalks prey to kill for funsies.

I actually reblogged that post because of the comments on the rosalynnarts thing on insta 🙃it was driving me crazy.

#gahhhhhh #it's still driving me nuts #clearly #gwyneth berdara #ask #anon