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thefangirlofhp · 7 months

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3. wearing each other’s clothes

“Are-you-kidding-me?!”

Each syllable was punctuated with a feather-pillow thump of frustration landing right over the sleeping boy buried in the folds of comfortable bedding and the dormitory mattress that Elain has discovered to be disturbingly personalized and ultimate. One of the things she’s trying to make her peace with is the uniqueness of the Ravenclaw Tower, with its frustratingly snobby doorknob and its gorgeous Common Room. Nuala did not think twice about immediately pointing Elain towards the boys dormitory, having long-since given up on the idea of getting said boy up for classes.

“Okay! Okay! Okay! Stop it, I’m up!” Azriel shouts, his hand shooting out to fend off the pillow Elain clutches tightly in her hands. She gives his head another smack for good measure, watches his jet-black hair flop with the assault and stand all over.

“How are you still asleep?!” she shouts back, his dorm room empty but for him as his classmates are already downstairs halfway through their breakfast. “You’ve got a test in fifteen minutes and you were asleep before dinner last night!”

A muffled grunt escapes her friend, who drags his blanket over his head.

“Oh no you don’t!” Elain yanks off the bedding, who has much experience getting stubborn sleep-loving people out of beds (if anyone could get Nesta up in the morning, she was such person) much to his chagrin. “I don’t believe this. Get your arse up this instant, Azriel Shadowsinger!”

He groans, curling into himself and then when it does nothing, he gives a frustrated shout.

“Who made you a clock?” he mutters, sitting up in bed, fixing her with a wild-eyed gaze and a puffy face.

“Merlin but you’re impossible, so you are,” she replies, grasping her hips. “Get moving into that bathroom before I give you a shower right here and now with ice-cold water.”

He blinks impassively at her. “You don’t know how to do that yet.”

Elain grits her teeth, her knuckles whitening over her hips. “Try me and I’ll get really motivated to learn. You’ve got five minutes to get dressed.”

To his credit, he does eventually get to his feet, not before shooting her a scathing glare, and when the bathroom door snaps shut behind him, it takes him all of a minute and a half to come back out with sharp-eyes and drenched black hair plastered to his head, water soaking the collar of his t-shirt.

“I can’t believe you’re that daft,” she remarks, shivering at the mere thought of the ice-cold water on her own head. Azriel shrugs, grabs a towel and rubs his head furiously. She prefers to wake an hour early to beat her dormmates to the hot water, to allow her hair adequate time to dry and her body to wake up of its own accord—shocking it into wakefulness is not something she’s ever considered doing. “I brought you toast.”

“Thanks,” he mutters from the midst of his self-inflicted tornado. “Can you put my stuff in the bag?”

“Sure,” she turns her back while he tugs on dry clothes and his shoddy uniform, crosses over to his sidetable overflowing with books and parchment scrolls that the house-elves of the school have long since learned not to touch—in a way, it is the picture-perfect image of a Ravenclaw student, who are renown amongst the wizarding world for being brainy twits obsessed with books and smartness. After befriending a few Ravenclaws, Elain’s realized that though each individual is a bizarre unique phenomenon, they’re all obsessive idiots hyper-fixated on a matter of their interest and without the common sense to be found in a hen. Still, not people Elain would ever want to be on the bad side of. They’re the sort of people who will go far in life, and it’s nice to have friends in such places.

Where Azriel will end up, though, is a question up for grabs. No-one can fathom if it’s a cold cell in Azkaban or as Minister for Magic; both are entirely probable. Wherever he ends up, Elain is sure it will be something worth witnessing. For now, if he isn’t downstairs in ten minutes, he’s going to end up doing remedial Transfiguration over the winter break and Elain cannot have her personal encyclopedia fall back.

Oh, but the books are a depressing sight to bear, for students meant to be having their noses buried in their textbooks and relevant sources. Elain’s eye twitches as she beholds a worn down hardcover first-edition of Bodies of Water and The Wowza Discoveries That Wizards Uncovered In Their Murky Depths that was likely never scheduled for a re-print. A brief glance at the list of students who’d ever checked the book out of the school library confirms Elain’s hypothesis that no-one would ever read it. Everyone except Azriel who has found it to be a riveting read, it seems. What with the pages full of notes.

She sighs. Stacks the non-textbooks up and puts quills and ink-bottles in his schoolbag, hunts around for his actual school textbooks and oh, of course, finds them discarded under his bed. His Charms book has actual dust on it.

And the fucker somehow was a top-scoring student.

“Look, I know you’re a gifted brilliant genius and all—”

“They mean the same,” he mutters under his breath and she has to count to five before going on.

“—but you really need to start paying attention to your studies,” she buttons the flap on the bag, brushes off a leaf stuck to the material and turns round. “Natural intelligence will get you far in life, but in school it’s not about cleverness. It’s about figuring out the patterns, the high-yield information and being smart enough to know what to memorize for exams. I know you don’t care for them, but they do determine your future, Az.”

His wide hazel eyes blink back owlishly at her, black hair ruffled wild atop his head and his scarred fingers making a sorry knot of his blue and bronze tie. “Yeah,” he replies quickly. “I know.”

“Wowza Discoveries, Az?” she softly recounts. “Really?”

“I’ll have you know it’s a riveting read,” he points firmly at her. “You can’t judge books by their covers—or titles.”

“I just think it says more about the person picking up a book with ‘wowza’ in the title than the actual book itself,” she replies.

“Whatever,” he scoffs, holding out his hand into which she dumps the bag by the strap and he shrugs onto his shoulder. “How’d you get in here anyway?”

“My feet,” she replies smartly, following him out the dormitory.

“Funny,” he snorts. “Got past the doorknob did you?”

“Excuse me, I take offense!” she yelps, crossing the expanse of the Common Room. “People outside your stupid house do have brains, you know?”

He shoots her a sharp meaningful look as he pushes . “I’m just saying, the doorknob’s existential crises lasted for weeks after your little stint about evolution and accusing it of being outdated and irrelevant.”

“I just meant the riddles it asks are stupid,” she mutters. “‘What comes first, the chicken or the egg?’ my arse. The egg actually did. The egg was a bird that evolved into a chicken. And I just as much hate that ‘a circle has no beginning’ line. Stupid doorknob.”

“You nearly made it gain consciousness,” Azriel laughs. “Professor Silver had to reset the charm on the thing which no one ever had to do since the school was made.”

Elain busies herself with brushing her hair behind her ears and adjusting her bag over her shoulder.

“Thanks for waking me up, by the way,” Azriel pipes up as they descend the staircase of the third floor. “I probably would have gotten up in time, but thanks still.”

“You really wouldn’t have,” Elain snipes back.

He grins. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have.”

“Don’t you—don’t you actually care about putting in an effort?” she pries hesitantly, finding their academic gap tricky waters to navigate without sounding like a jealous sourpuss. She does get frustrated by their difference, sure, that the three hours of effort she’d put in studying for a test he needs only quarter an hour of mild reading. Or that while she is pacing the length of the courtyard in breaks trying to get her mind to remember different potions ingredients, Azriel is napping somewhere or practicing Quidditch with his team and still he ends up as one of the top five in their year. Elain is entirely convinced he’d have come out first last year, fourth year, if he hadn’t forgotten about the five whole units they were told to revise in History of Magic and still his freakish memory had saved the day and if word is to be believed then the couple of points he lost were because the arse fell asleep in the exam and missed a word in the question.

But she’s more curious, and infatuated with this secret method of his.

“Sure, I do,” he replies. “I just soak in a lot of information, most of it not academically related, granted. But I can’t help that my attention constantly drifts. I just let my mind take me where it takes me.”

“Fascinating,” she nods, skipping the last two steps and landing with a heavy thud on her soles.

“You mean to tell me you can tell your mind to just focus on something and it does?” he demands. “Merlin’s balls, it’s like wrestling with an angry bull up here,” he taps his temple. “What’d I give to have the mindpower for that.”

“Some people would give their firstborn for your mind,” she reminds him.

“Oh, but how the other half lives.”

“Twat,” she laughs, rounding a corner that brings them to the Great Hall. A violent autumn breeze sharply whips into the corridor through the front doors, one that makes her own bones shiver and forces her to bend her knees to stay in place. Azriel squeezes a stabling hand over her shoulder, squinting his eyes against the beating wind, damp hair whipping back in the current.

“You’re going to die from a cold,” she decrees as the breeze dies down, what with the idiot not wearing neither a sweater nor a scarf.

“‘m fine, come on,” he tugs her towards the grand staircase that would take them to their first class of the day and their aforementioned test. Elain digs her heels into the ground, at which he huffs and stops as well.

“Here,” she unwinds her neatly wrapped scarf from around her neck and slings it around his own considerably longer one. “You can’t be an idiot in Ravenclaw. It doesn’t look good for your house.”

“If I keep it on will you drop it?” He asks from behind the knit yellow and black wool.

“Yes.”

“Fine,” he mutters, tugging it away from his skin but nonetheless slinging the longer tail over his shoulder. “I’ve a test to flunk.”

“Liar,” she chirps back, following him towards the classroom.

And sure enough, the next day when their marked tests were handed back and Elain twisted in her seat upfront to catch Azriel’s eyes from the back of the classroom, he held up an unfolded scroll with an almost annoyed red A+ scribbled in the corner and mouthed I was wrong at her. She rolls her eyes for good measure, but turns back to her own scroll and the exhilarating A marking it.

Sure, cleverness gets one far but so does hardwork and effort.

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nikethestatue · 2 years

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Rami the Bat

“Who is this?”

“This is Rami the Bat!”

Azriel turned in his bed, stretching, while accepting a bundle of black in his arms. His ten-month old son Ramiel, a pudgy thing with a perpetual smile, was dressed up as a bat. There was even a little hat with bat ears, and bat wings in the back of the costume, which Rami was currently attempting to grab, while definitely not succeeding, and therefore grunting in desperation.

“He is our baby bat,” Elain announced, as she plopped down on the edge of the bed.

“When did you wake up to do this?” Azriel inquired, seeing that it was only seven in the morning.

A bleary autumnal sun peeked through the windows. The sky was brightening and it was promising to be a crystalline-blue, the nippy chill of October settling upon the world.

“Get up, get up!” Elain urged him, grabbing his arm, and trying to wrestle her massive husband out of the comfort of their plush pillows and duvets.

“But it’s seven!” he moaned, trying to contain Rami the Bat, who was already successfully pulling his hat off, his one thick, fat curl springing stubbornly on top of his big, round head.

“He is going to destroy the outfit!” Elain lamented. “We have to leave and take him to the fair before it’s a mess!”

...They were the first ones at the gates of the pumpkin farm, rubbing their hands together and sipping on coffee, inviting curious looks from the workers, who weren’t ready to open the door yet. But, Ramiel quickly went on a charm offensive. He waved his fat hands at everyone, kept his bat hat on, and soon he was being squeezed and pinched and googoo-gaga by everyone.

“Alright, come in, come in,” the three of them were ushered behind the gates way ahead of schedule, and only then did Azriel appreciate the benefits of his son’s ridiculous outfit. Because while the farm was still quiet, they were fed apple cider doughnuts, still warm and sparkling with cinnamon sugar, they took photos in colourful pumpkin patches, they snapped an unrehearsed pic of Ramiel diving into a sea of autumn leaves, and then a few photos of him making friends with the farm cat. The cat clawed one of the bat wings, and now, Rami the Bat looked like he’s been in a fight. He looked tough.

Ram drank warm apple cider, smacking his lips with delight, and went in a cart with his mom around the corn maze. He laughed and clapped, and his cheeks were all red.

And maybe, this was the best October morning of Azriel’s life.

His wife looked like a ray of sunshine, piles of her golden chestnut hair slipping in waves from under her knit hat. His son--the coolest bat in the world--nestled in her arms, a bouquet of colourful leaves clutched in his fist.

And maybe, this was the happiest Azriel ever felt.

Because somehow, somewhere, it’s been decided that he should have the privilege of living his life with his Flower Girl, and their Ramiel, who was the bright, shining star of Azirel’s life, the blood of his blood and the joy of his heart.

And Azriel smiled.

#elriel fic #elriel #azriel and elain #flufftober2022 #grossly fluffy #elriel baby #my writing #my fanfiction #rami the bat

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pinkrasberryfish · 1 year

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I’m sorry that when I read a series about FAERIES I latched onto the pretty fluff girly who likes to garden and be sweet.

But y’all want us to have yet ANOTHER Joan of Arc style faerie book about a leather clad warrior. It’s tired and everyone should touch grass.

#give me fluffy faeriecore #I’m sick of ladies in leather pants #give me a fucking tulle minidress in a shocking pastel pink #elain archeron #elriel #elriel forever

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jayfeather323 · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Elain Archeron/Azriel Additional Tags: Fluff, Smut, Shameless Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Bondage, BDSM, Dominant Azriel (A Court of Thorns and Roses) Summary:

The shy red on her cheeks was so cute, he did everything he could to bring it out. And she made it so easy. She was so shy and so responsive all it would take was a well-placed compliment in public, or a little praise when she was tied up all pretty in his ropes and the brightest pink flush would spread over her silken skin.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #elriel #azriel x elain #elriel fanfiction #elriel smut #ao3 #pwp #i had every intention to write something cute and fluffy #this happened instead #I hope you like it #it’s literally just 3600 words of smut what else can I say

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lullabestie14 · 1 month

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Found this comment on Reddit. Couldn’t explain it better than this.

“It’s clear from Mist and Fury that the original ships were: Feysand, Nessian, Elucien, and Mor/Azriel. Like it’s so obvious the way she wrote Mor and Azriel; Mor even seems vaguely interested/torn about Az. Looking at interviews, SJM even talks about Elucien as a couple (eg where would they like to travel together, etc).

Flash forward to ACOWAR. For whatever reason (lack of chemistry with Az, wanting more diversity) SJM has Mor say that she prefers women. This time the Az-pining-for-Mor is more desperate/feels like a zero chance of being requited. SJM also introduces Az as a potential love interest for Elain because she loves throwing a wrench. Just because Elucien are mates doesn’t mean they’ll have it easy; SJM’s whole thing is angst. She had to throw in a love triangle to make it uncertain. This is the first couple where mate status is confirmed upon meeting.

But there’s a problem now. If Az and Mor are no longer endgame, who will they end up with? is it not suspicious that the two new characters introduced in SF (Gwyn and Emerie) just HAPPEN to be potentially be good partners for Az and Mor? Like it’s not a coincidence that Emerie looks at Mor and blushes, remarking how pretty she is. It’s not a coincidence that Az and Gwyn have so many interactions in the text. It’s not a coincidence that a “random side character” shows up in a bonus chapter.

When SJM created Gwyn and Emerie, it wasn’t just to give Nesta friends. These characters clearly didn’t exist when she wrote MAF. SJM wanted new characters that would solve her retcon of ending Az/Mor. She wanted to solve the Mor/Az retcon so bad that she created a NEW RETCON of Az going to Sangravah. Like why bother to add that detail if it’s not important.

Also: poor Lucien. His endgame heroine was supposed to be Nesta until SJM realized they would be terrible together and that Nessian had better chemistry. So she gives Elucien the mating bond. Like is she really going to fuck Lucien over TWICE? She loves him as a character and has put him through the wringer. Yes, I agree that SJM can change her mind and maybe is open to mate rejection, but Lucien has already switched love interests from Nesta to Elain! Who else is he going to switch to, considering that Jurian and Vassa are “at each other’s throats?”

Finally, please think about the number of books left. Ignoring novellas (which are probably gonna be fluffy ones like ACOFAS where nothing happens), there are two main books left. Two couples.

Option A:

• ⁠Gwynriel (Valkyrie growth, Illyrian rebellion, exploring Ramiel, Gwyn’s autumn heritage and maybe lightsinger?? powers)

• ⁠Elucien (Helion secret baby, defeating Koschei, freeing Vassa, fixing spring court)

Option B

• ⁠Elriel (mate rejection storyline, potentially some stuff above)

• ⁠?????

Literally WHO is the second book in this equation? Lucien and Vassa?? We barely know Vassa and there’s barely any connection to Night Court. And Lucien’s book is going to be depressing as fuck dealing with mate rejection; does anyone want to read two heavy books of rejection? Jurian and Vassa: again, we barely know them! At least with Tower of Dawn, Chaol had been a main character for a long time with POV. SJM will not do a full-length Emerie/Mor book as much as I would love for one. She’s very cognizant of criticism re: Mor bi rep in the past; she doesn’t want to open a can of worms and be accused of writing bad sapphic rep. If anything, I can see a fluffy Emerie/Mor novella with little angst (or them getting together in the background of other books).

So from a meta structural level, I don’t understand who the second couple will be if Elriel is endgame. Lucien/Vassa is the most plausible answer, but 1) we barely know Vassa, 2) she’s human and Lucien is immortal. So are we going to toss her into the Cauldron to make her immortal? Serious question, and 3) I don’t want TWO books about mate rejection, it’s depressing as hell. I can see one but not two.

But with Gwynriel and Elucien, you have enormous fan and audience interest in ALL FOUR CHARACTERS. They’re directly tied to Night Court and SJM so far has no intention of staying away from the core group.”

#acotar #elucien #gwynriel #sarah j maas #lucien vanserra #azriel #elain archeron #gwyneth berdara

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danikamariewrites · 4 months

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can i request elriel x reader, where az is pampered by Elain and reader? Like he sees reader sitting on top of elain and plucking her eyebrows/giving her a face mask or smth, and they invite him. So now reader is putting pink little hairlips in it while elain puts on a sheetmask, then they give him a manicure and massage him bc he has a lot of tension. He’s all relaxed, dressed in a pink robe with a headband on and they think he’s the cutest ever and they coo and literally fall head over heels😭

Pampered

Elriel x reader

A/n: This is my first Elriel fic and I was so happy to write this. In the opinion of ships, I don’t have a one. Personally I want the best for Elain and Gwyn and I just want them to heal. Both my girls have been through so much they deserve peace.

Warnings: none

As Azriel drew closer to the bedroom he heard the sweet sound of you and Elain giggling. It was late for you two to be up, he thought to himself. He loves the two of you dearly, but if the two of you were going to be up all night Azriel would just go sleep in one of the many guest rooms the House of Wind has to offer.

It had been a long, exhausting day. Rhys brought him along on a quick trip to Illyria, then he had a meeting that lasted forever with a few of his spies, and to end the day he spent hours trudging through the underbelly of Hewn city searching for a lead on a potential serial killer who was after poorer residents.

Pushing open the door Az is greeted by the sight of you straddling Elain with tweezers in your hand, both in fluffy pink bathrobes. Small bowls of different snacks sat on a blanket at the end of the bed while the rest of the duvet had different beauty items spread out. Azriel held back his sigh. He just wanted to sleep.

When the two of you finally notice him smiles break out on your face. Scrambling off the bed you and Elain rush over to your mate, throwing your arms around him. “Azriel you’re home!” “We missed you love!” Your eyes meet Elain’s soft brown ones when you both feel how tense he is in your grip. Your smiles turn into concerned frowns as you pull away from him.

Taking in his face you notice how tired he looks. There are bags under his eyes, his shoulders droop, and you can tell he’s trying his hardest to keep his mighty wings from touching the floor. Elain brings a hand to rest on his cheek. “Az, you look tired. Did you have a long day?” He didn’t feel like talking. All he could muster was a lazy dip of his chin.

“I’m sorry Az. Have you eaten?” He shakes his head. You and Elain look at each other. The same plan forming in your heads. “There are some left overs, I’ll go make you a plate.” You say, quickly leaving the room before Azriel can object. Elain takes one of his rough hands in hers, “And I’ll draw you a bath. We love you Az, but you can’t get in bed smelling like the sewer.” Elain jokes, trying to make him smile.

Pulling him towards the bathroom Elain lets go of his hand. Azriel sinks onto the vanity stool, no longer possessing the strength to stand. He watches with half closed eyes as Elain bustles around the bathroom making sure the water is the perfect temperature and that Az has a soft towel and his robe for when he’s done.

Azriel didn’t even realize Elain was undoing the clasps and ties of his leathers. He undid the clasps under his wings, helping Elain pull his shirt off. Forcing himself to stand Az does the rest and steps into the tub, moaning at the warmth of the water loosening his muscles.

By the time you return Elain is washing between his wings. You shoo her away so she can clean up the bedroom and you can take over. Azriel perks up at the loss of her touch. Relaxing again when he spots you taking her spot. “Relaxed yet?” A tired smile forms on his lips as he shrugs. He finishes washing and finally pays attention to the plate you had been trying to shove at him.

He reaches a dripping hand out to pick at the dish. You pull it away from him and click your tongue. Picking up the piece Az went for you hold it up to his lips. He reluctantly eats it. As you keep feeding him, he relaxes again letting you take care of him.

You notice goosebumps along Azriel’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you out.” After drying him off you help him into his bathrobe, leading him into the bedroom. The snacks and beauty products have been cleared away. Leaving only Elain sitting in the middle.

You have Azriel lay his head in your lap while Elain sits next to him. “You don’t have to do this. Truthfully I just want to go to sleep.” He says softly. “We can’t let you go to sleep tense Az.” “Yeah, just relax and let us take care of you.”

You two work in tandem to pamper Azriel. Elain lotions and massages his hands. Digging her thumbs into his palms, pulling on each of his fingers to work out the stiffness. You oil in his hair, massaging it into his scalp moving down to his temples to get rid of those pesky headaches.

Elain puts a head band on him while you prepare a face mask to soothe his skin. You apply it with a brush and while it drys you rub his shoulders. Wiping it off Elain switches with you to wash and moisturizing his face.

Once you’re finished Azriel is half asleep, his limbs heavy as you try to push him to the middle of the bed. You go to turn off the lights while Elain pulls down the covers. She waits until you’re back in bed to tuck you all in. You each place a soft kiss on one of his cheeks. He lets out a soft hum, mumbling goodnight.

The two of you lay on his chest and he lazily wraps his arms around you. As you drift off to sleep your hand finds Elain’s. She brings your knuckles to her lips placing a lazy kiss on them.

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impossiblescissorspeachpaper · 1 year

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All’s Fair in Love & War

A little early Christmas gift to all of the wonderful humans I’ve met from the ACOTAR fandom this year. I’m truly so grateful for every single one of you & love that I can call so many of you friends. It’s often not a hospitable place to be a part of & Elriels in particular cop a lot of bullshit from some nasty corners of the fandom, but as a little token of my love, please enjoy some family shenanigans. It’s ridiculous and fluffy and I hope it puts a smile on some faces this silly season ☃️🍭

3 brothers x 3 sisters. Fluff. 2.4k words

Cassian sat a few seats away from Elain, a scowl on his face at having been banished from the centre of the dining table his family were all gathered around. He’d knocked the gentle Seer with his wing for the final time when she had snapped and exiled him to the far end of the dining room. His family were seated around the table, all manner of icing, piping bags, candies, marshmallows, spatulas, chocolates and fondant spread across its dark surface as their annual gingerbread house decorating competition was underway.

They paired up in teams for the competition, each duo vying for the coveted first place and subsequent bragging rights for the entirety of the following twelve months. They’d decided in their first year of running the competition that it would be more of a challenge to break up the couples, so they had paired off by the males’ drawing names from a hat.

Cassian had drawn Elain, chuffed that he had picked arguably the most talented baker of the bunch. Azriel had drawn Feyre’s name— still a fair opponent— her artistic abilities giving them a slight edge with icing patterns. Rhys had in turn been paired up with Nesta, and although he loved his mate above all else, he couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle at the sour turn both their faces took when they realized they would be team mates.

When Feyre and Azriel had won that first year, pandemonium had broken out. With Azriel’s intense competitiveness and Feyre’s abilities with a fine paint brush, along with all the little details she was able to include in their design, they had been the clear winners as announced by lengthy deliberations from Mor once she had returned from her visit at the Winter Court. Incensed by the decision, Rhys had cried favouritism on Mor’s part, so she had been judging the houses anonymously ever since.

Year after year, Feyre and Azriel found a way to win. If it wasn’t her fondant snowmen sculptures winning the judge over, or the intricately scalloped roof she had painstakingly iced last year, her sheer talent with a paintbrush always gave them the edge they needed to win. Azriel also had the steady hands of a seasoned healer, his nimble fingers expertly building increasingly elaborate gingerbread houses, using exact amounts of icing to glue all the walls and levels together as Feyre decorated.

Rhys and Nesta usually ended up squabbling so much they often wouldn’t get much done. Nesta, Cauldron bless her, would try for the first forty-five minutes and then get frustrated with the delicate busywork, settling on eating the chocolate covered hazelnut wafers as she barked orders at Rhys instead. To her credit, she usually spent hours in the library beneath the House of Wind in the lead up to Solstice researching books on baking and decorating and would use that knowledge to direct Rhys from the sidelines. Inevitably he’d grow cranky with her orders and shout—

“If you actually helped, Nesta, we would get more done!”

Cassian hid a grin behind a fist. Right on cue. He loved when they started to crumble. And then there were two…

Cassian glanced over to Elain where she was meticulously piping icing stalactites onto the latticed roof of their three-story gingerbread house. Usually, she allowed him to help with the decorating process, but this year after he had helped assemble the three-storey structure, she had banished him aside, claiming she was sick of losing and his fingers were just too big. Whatever the Hel that meant. He didn’t think his decorating skills were that bad. He had at least been able to stick the chocolate buttons or peppermint candies on mostly straight in the past.

This year, instead, she had plonked him down on the corner of the large dining table in Rhys and Feyre’s River manor and set him up with all manner of coloured fondants, instructing him to fashion little pine trees and snowmen they could decorate the outside of their house with. Fine. He could do that. He had even made little Illyrian wings for some of his snowmen, standing them besides little piles of snowballs. He wanted to win this year, but more so, he wanted Elain to have this win too. He knew how competitive Azriel could get, and he surely would be merciless in his gloating, even with her, when it came to matters of winning.

Glancing up from his busywork, he spied Azriel quietly watching Elain, his hazel eyes narrowed in wariness, sizing up her handiwork and no doubt deeming their entry worthy competition this year. She had already completed the sides of the house, having used a paint brush and yellow and orange paints to decorate the windows she had piped icing around, giving the house the illusion of faelights glowing invitingly within. She had since moved onto the roof, Elain’s face set in an expression of unwavering determination, her tongue peeking out the side of her mouth as her hands steadily pipped on the white icing in long strokes.

Azriel’s face gave absolutely nothing away as he unleashed one lonesome shadow to twirl lazily around Elain’s arm, its shadowy form caressing the smooth skin of her hand before darting up to her neck, dancing along the column of her throat. Elain paid it no mind, but he didn’t miss the small catch of her breath as that sneaky shadow laved along her neck, Azriel’s eyes now glazing over with heat he reserved solely for his wife. The dirty cheat. The rule was no powers to assist in decorating. Cassian supposed this was him doing the exact opposite.

Having watched enough underhanded displays of exploitation from his brother in his efforts to secure first place, Cassian unleashed the protective shield of his siphons, a dull crimson barrier arcing around Elain and their gingerbread house, causing the lone shadow to skitter back to its master.

Azriel’s attention snapped to him, a sly gleam flashing across his eyes as he realised what his brother had witnessed him do. Cassian just cut him a crooked smirk back, making a point to bolster his shield to protect them from more meddling shadows.

Sensing a slight tug down his bond, his gaze flitted to Nesta, her glassy eyes turning solid once more before she gave an almost imperceptible nod, Rhys smirking at her side. The rat bastard. He had no doubt Rhys had just given Nesta instructions, their secrecy reeking of espionage, his mate and brother no doubt having just devised a plan to unravel Elain and himself.

His wings bristled, and snapping them tightly into his body once more, he watched as Nesta stood up from her seat and leaned across the table, reaching for the red icing in front of Feyre. Her grey sweater draped low at the neckline, giving him a clear shot straight down her top, her luscious breasts tantalizing him from across the room…thoughts of her salacious dips and devastating curves swirled around his mind, the way she felt in his hands, pinned beneath him…

“Cass!” Elain hissed, knocking him out of his sex drunk stupor, his shield having slipped whilst distracted. His bastard brother knew his weaknesses, and Nesta clearly was not above playing into them either. He mentally shook himself, strengthening his shield once more before scowling at Rhys who was chuckling from his seat. His mirth didn’t last long however, as the very next moment a bubble of ice-cold water burst as it collided with the side of his face, Nesta squawking indignantly beside him, having received the same punishment.

Once his shock subsided, Rhys bellowed a laugh, shaking his head like a dog and spraying droplets of water everywhere. Azriel, eyeing him disgustedly, threw up his own cobalt shield to protect their gingerbread house from getting wet.

His High Lady’s face was the picture of faux innocence, but he knew her brand of magic. That drop of Summer Court magic like a shimmering stone nestled amongst the endless river running in her veins.

Well, well, well. It seemed like the gloves were off now, the stakes now sky high as their efforts at coming out on top grew more belligerent. No one was playing fair.

Elain didn’t let a single emotion show on her face— no doubt having taken pointers from Azriel himself— but with whatever affinity she had over her beloved plants, Cassian had spied a solitary vine of ivy curling its way across the parquet floor toward Feyre.

Elain, having projected those mysterious powers of hers to manipulate the potted ivy sitting innocently on the windowsill, had no doubt guided the plant to wrap up Feyre’s legs, because her younger sister had just leapt from her seat as if it had caught fire. A shout escaped from Feyre as that mischievous vine scuttled away, recoiling back into its decorative pot.

“Elain!” Feyre cried out indignantly, “You know that creeps me out!”

Elain just chuckled, her doe eyes flashing to her sister before settling resolutely back at the task at hand.

“Your partner started it,” she responded somewhat demurely, hands still steadily pipping her roof.

“He’s your brazen husband! Was anyone expecting anything less?”

“Not at all, Feyre darling. We all know Azriel likes winning at any cost,” Rhys interjected.

“Oh really, oh magnanimous one? Used any daemati powers lately?” the Spymaster deadpanned.

“Oh, come off it Az, it doesn’t take a genius to know Cassian thinks purely with his dick,” Nesta retorted.

Cassian dropped the brown fondant he had been shaping into a log and pointed an indignant finger at his mate. “I resent that!” he spluttered.

In answer, Cassian was only met with five sets of incredulous gazes. Eyebrows hitched high on foreheads or hooked in scepticism turned his way, before his families’ gazes all too casually slid back to their various tasks.

“I’m a General, for Cauldron’s sake. A little respect…” he grumbled, only half resolved to concede to their claims.

Nesta, turning a sly look towards Rhys, indicated to him with a slight tip of her head and narrowing of her eyes. Cassian understood the gesture when the dining room was plunged into darkness, Rhys’ night kissed shadows swallowing the light, their sight with it.

“RHYS! You dirty—,” he heard Feyre shout from across the dining table before blasting away his darkness with her Day Court glow, his eyes squinting against her shining form, snuffing out the midnight blackness.

His High Lord and Ladies’ magic swirled above them all ominously, each trying to smother the others power as the supernatural clouds stormed through the dining room. Azriel took advantage of the distraction and speared his shadows toward Elain’s gingerbread house, Cassian flicking his shield up around them once more just in time. Elain narrowed her eyes in her husband’s direction. Meanwhile her vines had been sent off again, the ivy silently curling toward the shadowsinger, Azriel so far none the wiser to the twisting creepers preparing to strike behind his back.

Distracted by his brothers displays as they duked it out with their lady loves, Cassian had missed Nesta sneaking up behind him on cat-soft feet and launching herself at his back, her torso flung over his shoulder heavily as she tried to tackle him off his chair to the ground. His wings snapped out at the attack, knocking Elain over in the process, causing her bewitched vines to spring forward toward Azriel, wrapping themselves like a boa around his shoulders.

Shouting and profanities echoed around the room as full mayhem broke loose. All six of them were so thoroughly entrenched in the utter chaos, that they hadn’t realised they had company until a distinct clearing of a feminine throat sounded from the archway of the dining room.

Standing at the entrance, Nyx clutching one of her hands as his violet eyes grew wide at his parents, aunts and uncles displays, was Amren. A feline smirk was splashed across her face at having caught them all knee deep in their perfidious treachery.

“If only the rest of Prythian could see how the Night Court leaders all behave when doors are closed, hmm Nyx?” Amren tutted to the five-year-old at her side.

Just like smoke dissipating in the wind, the various displays of magic winked out from around the room. Elain, hair in disarray, peeked out at Amren from behind the chair she had landed besides, her vines slackening around Azriel’s shoulders just as his shadows seemed to retreat in shame. Nesta in turn sheepishly lowered her feet back to the ground from her position draped across Cassian’s shoulders, his arm looped around her hips in an effort to fight her off. Several candies and spatulas clattered toward the dining table again as Feyre and Rhys’s magics dissolved, the items having been swept up in the commotion of their powerful squall.

Amren’s silver eyes slid around the room once more before turning on a heel and stalking back out of the dining room with Nyx in tow, a murmured “Idiots” slipping through up-tilted red lips as they meandered away.

Once Amren and Nyx were out of earshot, Rhys turned to Azriel, a shit eating grin upon his face. “I can’t believe you stooped so low,” he chuckled. “Feeling a little threatened this year, brother?”

Azriel seemed unperturbed by the barb. “You’re the one who suggested to Nesta she use her… assets to distract her mate, Rhysand.”

“A good warrior will use any weapon in her arsenal to ensure victory,” Nesta retorted staunchly, picking dirt from beneath her nails.

“Yeah well, we don’t all have giant boobs, do we,” Elain grumbled darkly.

“Oh, okay High Queen of the Florae. Strangled anyone else lately with your army of enchanted shrubbery?”

Elain had narrowed her eyes at her sister’s name-calling but had the good sense to look marginally remorseful at the near strangulation of her husband.

“I didn’t mean to,” Elain protested, looking over at Azriel, alarm evident in her bright eyes, “Cassian, the great buffoon, knocked me off my chair and ruined my concentration!”

He splayed his arms out wide at Elain’s jab. “I was trying to protect you! And besides, I can’t help the giant wingspan, Ellie.”

Cassian shot her a wink and a crooked smile. Elain just scowled in response.

“I think Cassian is just pissy at not being allowed to decorate this year,” Rhys interjected with a conspiratorial smirk on his face.

Azriel exhaled a short breath through his nostrils, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “Agreed.”

Cassian cut a contemptuous glare towards both his brothers. “Losing becomes neither of you. Illyrian babies indeed.”

Feyre squawked a laugh at their expense, Rhys narrowing his gaze, his violet eyes ablaze.

“All is fair in love and war, General,” Azriel crooned conspiratorially, before his shadows shot out once more, spearing in five different directions, causing a menagerie of defensive magic to erupt across the dining hall once more.

Every man for himself, then.

*******

A/N: Not my usual tag list, but instead just some of the people in this fandom that i have loved getting to know, and a few that have made me smile and persevere in this weird place. No pressure to read the fic, but just know that your positivity and existence in the fandom has put a smile on my face🥰: @offtorivendell @tswaney17 @fawnandshadows @nikethestatue @ultadverb @dottielovegood @123moiaussi @lesolehabitantdelalune @alwayssara @merymoonbeam @cassianfanclub @thefangirlofhp @casuallivi @wingedblooms @silverdreamscapes @batboyazriel @thesistersarcheron @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @mrspettyferr @leiaamidala @pagemasters @shedoessoshedoes @nightcourtseer @sakurakittypeach @duskcowboy @nitecourtnik @karomdr-blog @gentlehearted-kingslayer & countless others here and on other platforms ♥️

Also, a special thank you to OTR. When I posed the question of theories around physical powers Elain may have, I’m not sure you thought I would take your plant power crack theory where I did, but thank you for for sharing 😊🌱

#acotar fanfiction #t writes #feysand #nessian #elriel #acotar #happy solstice #the archeron sisters #the bat boys #fanfic #acotar fluff #my writing

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enchantmentandshadows · 1 year

Text

Elriel Month | Shy Glances & Unrestricted Touches

Word Count: 2,413

Content Warning: None

Theme: Fluffy & Sweet

Song Suggestion: “Tell Her You Love Her” - Echosmith Featuring Mat Kearney

“And just HOW do you know I was watching?” She asked haughtily, very aware that his warm hands still rested on her waist.

"What kind of Spymaster would I be if I DIDN'T notice?" He asked, looking down at her, the green in his hazel eyes looking especially vibrant in the garden. Elain's heart raced at his nearness, his touch, his scent.

Elain closed her eyes and smiled, tilting her head back to let the warm sun kiss her face. She didn’t fret when a gentle breeze took her sunhat, letting it fall to the grass as she dabbed a handkerchief over her neck. Today was a good day, they all were lately, each better than the last. She’d stopped counting the good days months ago, when they far exceeded the bad but she hadn’t stopped appreciating them. Every day she found something to be grateful for, something special, beautiful.

The quiet rustling of paper had the corners of her mouth quirking up as she turned to her normally very quiet companion. Today, she was grateful to have Azriel in the garden keeping her company. He sat back, one booted ankle crossed over the other as he read through a stack of reports. Though, presently, his eyes were on her instead of his reports, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks as his eyes darted back to the pages in his hands.

Elain couldn't help but admire the way the sun shone through his outstretched wings, filtering through in dark reds and golds. If she had Feyre’s talent, she thought, she’d paint him just like this. His wings shifted slightly and she quickly turned her attention back to the peonies she’d been tending lest she be caught staring. He was so easy to admire after all, so beautiful.

Elain blushed, mentally scolding herself for how often she thought of the Shadowsinger. Of his thick hair, always perfectly tousled as if even the wind couldn't help but run its fingers through it. She thought of his handsome face, his kind smile and eyes that seemed to see straight to her soul. She though of the strong arms that had carried her as if she were light as a feather and she thought of his hands. Strong but gentle hands she found so beautiful, hands she’d imagined on her bare skin more than a few times.

A light, that's exactly what Elain Archeron was. Even in the darkest of her days he’d seen it, an undying ember of hope that lived within her. It made her positively radiant beyond her obvious physical beauty.

Like calls to like. Maybe that's why even the sun seemed to worship her, bathing her in it's light while it basked in HER glow. The rays making her strands of honey gold hair glow as they wove through the soft brown curls cascading down her back. How many times had he dreamed about running his fingers through those thick tresses? More than he'd ever admit and too many to count.

He smiled to himself when his shadows whispered that she'd been watching him. Now he watched as she turned to the light, eyes closed as she let it warm her. He could almost imagine what it would feel like, to stand before her and press his lips to hers. How soft and warm that kiss would be, how sweet she would taste and what a kiss like that might mean. That maybe, Elain cared for him as much as he'd grown to care for her.

He took one last look at her before turning back to his reports, watching her weave through the garden in his periphery, listening to her soft footsteps and occasional humming, sometimes quietly joining her though he doubted she could hear.

"How are the new additions faring?" Azriel asked, his smooth voice drawing Elain's attention once more.

"Well," she began, clearly happy to have been asked. "The wisteria is positively thriving and the tulip bulbs you were kind enough to bring me from the continent are nearly ready to bloom. I've planted so many, it'll be like a sea of colors."

She went on about all her latest changes to the garden, pausing only when she thought she'd perhaps talked too much and had begun to bore him.

"I had no doubt they would thrive in your care." He offered with a smile, forearms resting on his knees as he listened to her with rapt attention. "Until we can get you to the continent, I'll bring the continent to you."

"One day." She said, offering him a shy smile and a nod of thanks. He knew what it meant to her, how long she dreamed of seeing the continent with her sisters. How she'd always imagined her father joining them. True, it wasn't the same as going, but the gesture was no less thoughtful, especially when he was likely away on important court business. That he'd thought of her at all touched her more than she would ever be able to tell him.

Azriel stood and stretched, his sun warmed wings extending before tucking back behind him. Elain admired his lean form, the wide sweep of his wings and the way the sun glinted off his cobalt Siphons and his eyes, eyes that were looking straight at her. She saw the faint color on his cheeks and Elain knew he'd caught her staring this time. Quickly, she turned her attention to the rose in her hand. Carefully, snipping it from the bush and laying it with the rest she'd collected.

"As usual you are too kind." She said nervously, snipping another rose. "I haven't planted the seeds you brought me from the Winter Court yet, I'm hoping I'll have better luck them when the weather cools."

Met with silence, she looked up to find him watching her now. She couldn't stop the blush she knew was creeping over her cheeks under his soft gaze. Her heart fluttered every time he looked at her like that, and lately that had been quite often.

Azriel took one step toward her, then another and another, his eyes never leaving hers. Those warm brown eyes, full of so much understanding, hope and love.

"And the roses, how are they coming along?" He asked, watching her delicate fingers trace along the edges of the petals before leaning in to take in its sweet scent.

"Perfectly happy here." She answered softly. "They had a bit of trouble at first but now their roots are strong, they're flourishing beautifully.

He couldn't help but think the same about her. How happy he was that she lovingly called the Night Court her home now. Even if in the dark recesses of his mind that fear still existed, that one day she might accept the bond and make a home for herself elsewhere. Far from Night. Far from him.

Her eyes flicked from the rose back to him and he took another step, as if waiting for her permission, as if she willed it so. Each step brought her into better view, no longer so hidden by the lush greenery of the garden.

"Az!"

She started as he froze, just close enough to spot the freckles that danced across the bridge of her nose.

"Cassian." He answered, turning toward his friend as he made to meet him halfway. So close.

Elain's heart sank as the distance between them grew, even as his shadow seemed to try to stretch to meet her before his retreat. It was nothing, she told herself. A simple conversation like many they'd had before, there was nothing remarkable about today, nothing different...aside from that look.

She tried to busy herself with her roses again but it was no use. She hung on his every word, listening to him and Cassian discuss looming problems with the Illyrian forces. Selfishly, she hoped he wouldn't be sent away to help with those problems. As it was, she found that she already missed him on days he didn't turn up for family dinners.

Judging by his tone, Azriel didn't wish to oversee the Illyrians either. Not wanting to eavesdrop further on what seemed to be a tense conversation, Elain found herself wandering deeper into the garden until she could only faintly make out Azriel's voice. She let the timbre and cadence of it soothe her as she wandered and wove through, snipping and collecting blooms as she went. Eventually, she settled in a spot a safe distance away that allowed them privacy while she admired the garden and the Shadowsinger.

Azriel half listened to Cassian, in the end he knew Cass would unload all the mounting issues, but be the one to go. The one to face the Illyrian's ire for bothering to help. Azriel just didn't have it in him to pretend to play nice for long enough to get anything accomplished. He found he'd much rather be here, staring into the lovely brown eyes that now peered at him between flowering branches in the distance.

"Fine, I'll go." Cassian said without argument, "But next time you're coming with me. It'll be good for you." Cassian said, clapping him on the back.

"Next time." Azriel agreed with a nod, like he did every time they had this conversation.

Elain knew he'd seen her but she couldn't bring herself to look away, not until she pricked her finger on a thorn as she carelessly reached for another rose. She gasped, snatching her hand back and cradling it, a bead of crimson blood resting at her fingertip. She watched as the small wound quickly healed and used a clean handkerchief to wipe the tiny ruby of blood away.

She stilled for a moment, suddenly realizing the garden had gone quiet. She looked up, searching for any sign of Azriel, but he was gone. Likely back inside the manor with Cassian. She craned her neck, hoping he might have returned to his reports but his seat remained empty.

“Damn.” She breathed, not wanting their moment to have been cut so short. Not when it felt like some new version of what they were was ready to bloom. They regularly caught each other staring, shared secret smiles when no one else was watching. So many times he’d brushed by her, and she’d reached out, fingertips lightly brushing over his hand as he passed.

"Have you lost something?" Azriel's voice asked playfully from behind her.

She gasped and spun to face him, Azriel's hands gripping her waist, stopping her before she backed into the thorny roses she'd been hiding behind.

“Azriel,” She laughed, playfully scolding him. “You scared me half to death!"

“I apologize, Lady.” Azriel chuckled, not all sorry for catching her staring or for having an excuse to touch her.

“Yes, your laughing sounds very regretful.” She scolded, laughing herself.

“It’s difficult to have any regrets in my current position.” He admitted, his heart aching over how right this felt. Still, he had to be careful, Elain wasn’t just anyone, not to his family and not to him.

“I DO wonder,” He started, “How you could be startled at all.” A mischievous grin played at his lips. “You were watching so intently."

Elain narrowed her eyes even as a pretty blush colored her cheeks.

“And just HOW do you know I was watching?” She asked haughtily, very aware that his warm hands still rested on her waist.

“Translation, YOU were watching ME.” She smiled up at him, looking too proud of herself.

“Every chance I get.” He admitted, the confession surprising them both.

"You're hurt." He said, before she could respond. His eyes resting on the hand she still cradled to her chest.

"Yes-no, I was." She clarified, stumbling over her words as he took her hand in his own, carefully looking it over.

"I pricked my finger is all." She says, sheepishly extending her now healed finger for him to see.

"Dangerous business, gardening." He said, heart thundering in his chest as he raised her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingertip. He didn't know what possessed him to be so forward, but neither did he regret it.

The softest touch of his lips on her skin sent a sparkling energy coursing through Elain.

Slowly, her lips parted as she silently watched him, wishing to feel his lips against hers next.

"But worth the risk." She breathed.

Unthinking, she stepped forward, resting her free hand on his chest, beside his glittering Siphon. If she were braver, she would pull him in and kiss him herself instead, she let the rhythm of his heartbeat steady her nerves as he pressed another kiss to the palm of her hand.

She couldn't stop herself then, from tenderly caressing his cheek as his hand ghosted down her forearm and came to rest on her waist again.

"The best things usually are." He answered, as he held up a freshly trimmed rose, no doubt magicked into his hand with the help of his clever shadows.

"Is that the one that pricked me?" She asked with narrowed eyes, settling into the comfort of their closeness.

"It had to be done.” He said, smiling as he carefully tucked it behind her ear, the soft peach rose looking perfect nestled in her golden brown curls.

Elain felt it then, that bravery she'd lacked earlier as she leaned forward. Azriel didn't dare back away, not even as his shadows whispered that the High Lady was fast approaching. No, he too leaned in, Elain’s fearlessness catching.

"Elain?!" Feyre called out.

Elain's eyes widened as she turned to her sister's voice before glancing back at Azriel who was already backing away toward his shadows.

"Tomorrow?" He asked, offering an apologetic smile.

Elain nodded. "Dinner?" She asked, smiling as he nodded before disappearing into the shadows completely.

“Elain! There you are!” Feyre called, smiling as she approached.

“Here I am.” Elain breathed, pulse still racing and skin flushed.

“I don’t know what you do out here for hours, everything looks perfect to me.” She said, gathering the flowers Elain had collected.

“Oh, just planting seeds, seeing what grows.” Elain answered quietly.

“Well, you’re as red as a rose, come inside and have lunch with me.” Feyre asked, nodding toward the house. Sensing she wouldn’t take no for an answer, Elain nodded, looping her arm through Feyre’s as they headed back.

On the way, Elain noticed Azriel’s stack of reports missing from his usual spot, her discarded sunhat sitting in its place. Tomorrow, she would see him again tomorrow and perhaps that boldness they both seemed to feel today would return tomorrow too.

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth23 #elriel #proelriel #elain #proelain #azriel #proazriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #elriel fic #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #shyglances #unrestrictedtouching #elriel month 23 #elriel month

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fawnandshadows · 1 year

Text

Last Christmas

Pairing: Elriel

Rating: +16

AO3

Warnings: language and a bit of angst

The merriest of Christmases to the lovely @123moiaussi . You have been one of the brightest spots in my life this past year and I’m so incredibly grateful for your friendship!! Hopefully you don’t mind a bit of angst in your Christmas present 😛.

Elain was drunk under the mistletoe.

Memories of last year's Christmas party seeping into her brain despite the alcoholic barrier she was creating. Memories of hopefully standing under the mistletoe and gazing up at Azriel as his eyes were trained on her lips, his hand warm and heavy against her neck while his other arm was propped on the wall — hiding her from the rest of the party, creating their own little world. Memories of crushing disappointment as Rhysand's voice tore through their magical reality. Memories of her heart collapsing into her stomach as she waited for Azriel the rest of the night — furiously looking for him all night, waiting to get him alone — only to find him leaving the party with Gwyn on his arm.

A year later, a bottle of wine later, and Elain still felt tears prickling at her eyes as she gazed into her empty wine glass. She should get more, drink enough until she couldn’t cry any more. No, she should just leave. Stop putting on a brave face for her sister and spend the night cozy and curled up in her flannel sheets to watch It’s A Wonderful Life. Maybe she should put on her big girl pants, set her glass down, and find Feyre and actually try to enjoy the party. And try not to let the haunting memories of last year ruin her life.

The third option was probably the best, and by far the most mature. And she mentally pushed back her shoulders and put on a stiff upper lip but then the door opened and Azriel walked through it, and she wondered how she could have possibly made God so mad at her that the one person she tried to avoid for a year is the only one that found her as her mascara crawled down her cheeks from her weeping eyes.

She sniffed.

“Hi.”

“Elain,” Her name was drawn out on his lips, as if a filler until he found the words he actually wanted to say. His hazel eyes drifted from her smeared mascara to the empty wine glass to the empty bottle on the floor next to her. Slowly piecing together what caused her to huddle in the fetal position on the floor.

“Who puts mistletoe in the bathroom?” She asked in a meek voice, staring up at his impossibly tall form.

A cobalt tie hung from his neck, and his white button-down shirt had sleeves rolled to his elbow, and a small speck of red dotted his collar. Wine. Formal, black slacks that held their crease perfectly.

Azriel's eyes flickered up to the ceiling, where a green sprig of mistletoe was taped, and then back to Elain’s drunken form on the cold tiled floor. Her long, green velvet dress was scrunched around her waist, exposing her bare feet with red painted toenails. Her heels were tossed to the side after she sat down and leaned against the cold bathtub. The strap of her dress limp after falling off of her shoulder.

Voices started clamoring in the hallway, which spurred Azriel to step into the room and shut the door behind him. The metallic clink of the lock locking sounded through the air and Elain struggled to breathe.

“What are you doing?” She sniffed, her nose scrunching as she dug her toes into the bath mat.

Elain hung her head forward and let her golden curls cascade around her face. Although her eyes were trained on the fluffy white mat, she was aware of Azriel toeing off his shoes before sitting on the floor across from her — his back against the cabinet door. A knob probably digging into his spine.

He sat with his knees up, their legs almost locked together. One of his between both of hers. Elain didn’t let her lips turn into a smile as she saw the small Christmas gnomes on his socks.

“I didn’t know anyone was in here.” Azriel said in an even voice, his forearms resting on his knees and his hands clasped together.

A small hiccup lodged in her throat.

“You should have knocked,” Elain said, raising her glass to her lips only to remember its emptiness. “Fuck,” she whispered, reaching over Azriel to the bottle that rested beside him — blatantly ignoring how close the movement brought their faces together. Their chests brushing one another’s.

She fell back with too much force, expelling a sharp breath against the porcelain of the tub. The bottle clutched into her chest. There were maybe a few sips left, but Elain wanted them.

“I thought I locked the door.” Elain mumbled, her brows pulling together as she brought the bottle to her lips. Her red lipstick most likely smudged.

“Elain,” His foot nudged hers and Elain hated the fact that it caused her heart to stop and start. “Talk to me.”

A laugh of outrage lodged in her throat, so hard that Elain nearly choked on it.

“Talk to you? Talk to you?” Elain asked, using the back of her hand to wipe the dribble of wine the pooled from the corner of her lip. “We haven’t talked in a year.” She cradled the bottle closer to her chest.

“And that’s my fault?” Azriel asked, something burning in his voice. Maybe if her head was a little clearer she would have recognized the sorrow masquerading in his voice.

Her tongue came out to wet her lips, and Elain took a deep breath. Trying to calm the storm that was brewing inside of her.

“I forgot,” Elain said with a saccharine smile. “I left you under the mistletoe last year to fuck someone else.” Sarcasm dripping from her voice like venom. Azriel sat across from her, tense and quietly seething as his knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip. “Unless I’m remembering wrong?” Elain leaned forward, her words slurring. One hand still pressing the wine bottle into her chest and the other palm was pressed firmly to the ground next to Azriel’s hip. His sharp features hardened into a glare. “You were waiting for me all night, right? Hoping to talk to me again? And then once you saw me I was leaving with someone else.”

Tears of fury welled in her eyes, her face slowly getting closer to his. Their legs awkwardly tangled together. “That’s what happened last year, right? And you spent the rest of the night in bed? Crying yourself to sleep? Imagining me fucking—”

“Stop.”

Azriel’s voice sounded like broken, shattered glass.

“Why?” Elain asked bitterly. “Have I been talking for too long? Afraid your girlfriend will wonder where you are?”

“Elain—”

“Gwyn probably won’t like that you’re in here with me,” Elain leaned closer to him, her palms sweating. “She’d hate this,” She brought the bottle up to his mouth and poured the last few drops past his lips. “It’s like we’re kissing.” She said in a mock whisper.

She pulled the bottle away from him and let it fall to the floor as her hand laid down next to him. Officially caging him in. The velvet sticking to the curves of her body, undoubtedly showing off her ass which was in the air, and if it wasn’t for the bottle of wine, then she would have recognized how much of her cleavage was on display.

“Yes,” Elain whispered, her vision blurring from her tears. “It is your fault. You-you-you left me, Azriel,” Her voice wobbled over the words and her elbows threatened to buckle. “You left me,” Her elbows gave out and she landed against his hard chest, and he let out a burst of air at the contact. His hands broke apart, but after a moment of hesitation he wrapped them around her crying form. His fingers brushing over the bare skin of her arms. “You were my friend and you left me.”

She kept repeating the words into his shirt, which was soaking up all the tears Elain was shedding, and she tried to ignore how comforting it felt to have his hands on her. Rubbing circles into her back.

Azriel adjusted himself, so that she was cradled between his thighs and so their legs were no longer tangled. His fingers careful not to tug on her hair.

“Elain,” Azriel said in a pained voice, and Elain could hear his breath catching in his throat as she peered up at him. “I broke up with Gwyn — months ago.”

A silent fog hung in the air.

Broken only by Elain’s sniffle.

“Really?” Elain asked in a soft whisper, her doe eyes wide.

Azriel nodded his head and brought one hand up to push her a golden curl behind her ear. A few strands sticking to her wet cheeks.

She shifted and placed her hands on his broad shoulders. Looking into his hazel eyes and she took a deep, shaky breath.

“You’re single?” Elain asked, her eyes searching for something in his, an answer to an unasked question. And when Azriel slowly nodded his head in confirmation, she continued. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Hurt embedded in every word, like little pin pricks.

“We weren’t talking, Elain,” Azriel said desperately, his fingers digging into her soft body. “Every time I tried to talk to you, you left. I don’t fucking blame you, hell I would do the same thing, but—fuck,” Azriel closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, tried to hide all the emotions that were exposed on his face. But no matter how hard he tried to compose himself, he couldn’t hide his hard jaw, or the pain that shone in his eyes as they opened. “You didn’t answer my phone calls, you didn’t go to any of the family dinners—”

“Yes, I did—”

“To the ones that I went to?” Azriel asked with a raised brow, his jaw ticking.

“I didn’t want to see you with her!”

“Why the fuck would I bring her to family dinners?” Azriel exploded, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“Because you were together.”

“Because I couldn’t be with you,” His hands tightened on her even more, in a way that caused Elain’s mind to spin.

Elain became overly aware of how their bodies were pressed together, and how hot Azriel felt to her touch.

Questions traced through her mind, but her lips were too stunned to form the words. “And…” His eyes dipped to her mouth. His tongue unconsciously coming out to wet his lips before meeting her eyes again. “I wasn’t the only one who left, Elain. I left you for one night and you left me for an entire year.”

Elain could practically feel the strain in his words as clearly as she could feel the tension coiling in his body.

“I’m not leaving now.” Elain said, leaning closer to him and digging her nails into his shoulder.

“Neither am I.” Azriel said, and before she could register the words his lips were crashing into hers.

Bruised.

That’s how Elain felt. Bruised in the best possible way.

His lips moved against hers with an intense passion and Elain felt it imprinting on her soul — and his strong hands grasped her so harshly that she was almost positive her body would be bearing his marks tomorrow.

One of his hands moved to her hair, and Elain moaned as she felt a tug on her scalp as his fingers curled into her hair, pulling her head back so that his tongue could slip through her lips.

Elain could feel herself melting into his touch, slowly succumbing to the pleasure radiating through her veins and melded with the wine in her system.

She clawed at him, wrinkling his white shirt and cobalt tie.

“Elain,” Azriel said, trying to speak with his lip between Elain’s teeth. “We should talk.”

Her lips met his again in a sloppy kiss as she nodded.

“We are,” Elain whispered against his lips. “Talking with our lips,” She moved to press kisses into the sharp lines of his lips, his jaw, his neck. “Our tongues,” she traced her tongue over the thrumming pulse in his neck. “Our hands.”

Elain’s lips stretched into a smile against his neck as his hands inadvertently squeezed her — one hand still in her hair while the other clutched at her hip.

Azriel tilted his head down to capture her lips, searing them together with desire.

Elain moved, opening her thighs to straddle his hips, and groaning as she felt Azriel's hard erection pressing into her.

She pressed down, delighting in the surprised gasp Azriel let loose as she ground into him. His hot breath fanning across her face.

“I’m here.” Elain said, her lips brushing his.

Azriel's eyes opened and through his heavy lids Elain could see heat simmering in his hazel eyes. He let go of her hair and placed his hand on her exposed calf, slowly moving his hand up to her plush thigh, his callouses scraping over her soft skin.

As soon as Elain dropped her lips to his, the metallic click of the door unlocking sounded through the air.

Elain turned her head, the wine slowing her reactions, to see her sister's fiancé standing in the door. His violet eyes bouncing around the room, trying to understand the scene before him: Azriel’s hand up her dress, his lips on her cheek, the smudged lipstick on both of them, the shoes strewn over the floor, the discarded wine bottle, and the glass that Azriel had kicked over with his foot.

Silent fury etched into his features.

“What the fuck,” Rhysand said, his hand tightening on the doorknob, his eyes landing on Azriels face. “Do you think you’re doing?”

——

Tagging: @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @alwayssara @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes @magnolia-blossom87 @sheena-beene @nivem565 @casuallivi @rhysiedarling @elain99 @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita @shy-violet-soul

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing #pro elain #pro Azriel #cozy days and snowy nights

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tswaney17fics · 5 months

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I'm on my little mission to give some love and gratitude to my favorite fic writers because you're all amazing. You are authors who don't get paid for your great works. You are the reason I am still in this fandom. 💕💗🤍

I came across you through idbwty and what can I say, you belong in the category of authors where I drop everything and do a little dance because I saw there is a new update.

Literally me when i see there is a new Idbwty update:

But also love to your other fics. It's incredible how well you can express different feelings. From angsty to fluffy to happy to smutty.

I am also a big fan of you Elriel pragnancy stories. I love how you embrace everything, both the difficulties and the immense joy Elain and Azriel face and then round it up with the love they feel for each other.

Hello my sweet!!!

I can’t tell you how much it means to get this sweet note. 🥹🥹 I’m so happy you love IDBTWY so much!! It is my baby and I hate that it’s been sitting for so long. I’m trying to get to get back into this AU so I can finish posting it, but the struggle is real.

I love that you love my pregnancy elriel AU. I just adore those AUs and it makes me so happy to hear you’re enjoying it as well.

Thank you for sending me this, my love. It made me so happy to read. I got this big dumb grin on my face. 😅 You truly made me feel special. 🩷💜💙

#ask #tswaney17 #tswaney17 responds #elriel #IDBTWY

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theladyofdeath · 2 years

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I Burn for You {Three}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction. Elriel. Period AU. Regency. 19th Century. Written alongside @snelbz .

Click here to read the summary and for more chapters!

A/N: Here's to continuity and cliches! Enjoy!

T/W: Heated tension and stuff

The roast chicken was cooked to perfection. The whipped potatoes were soft and fluffy, tasting of butter and rosemary. Fresh green beans, roasted with shallots and bacon…and the lemon tart in the corner looked divine.

Dinner was absolutely delicious.

It was also extremely awkward.

There had been a good flow of conversation in the beginning, full of laughter as Nyx enjoyed his own meal. Once he became sleepy and went to bed, though, and there were no garbles or coos to fill the pauses, Azriel had never felt more uncomfortable around his own family.

It was perfectly obvious that they all knew what had gone on between Azriel and Elain, that much was shared either from Elain’s mouth, Azriel’s, or during pillow talk. No one mentioned a thing, however. Instead, they all just avoided it which created a sense of tension the size of an elephant in the room at all times.

Nonetheless, Azriel remained through supper and into dessert. He even stayed for drinks afterwards and sat quietly while they laughed and learned of Elain’s time in Spring. She mentioned the Prince very little but Azriel knew that she had spent time with him while she was there. Of course Prince Tamlin would find interest in Elain. More so, she deserved the attention of royalty. Azriel could not be angry at that, even if jealousy did linger.

Although he would acknowledge the Prince’s intentions with Elain, he would not acknowledge how many drinks he’d had since arriving. He was certain he was on his fourth, his first glass being the largest, but he could be wrong. Perhaps it was five. Maybe six. No, certainly not six. Four. It was only four.

Once the night sky appeared outside of the sitting room windows, Elain announced that she would be returning home. The moment she stood, both of his brothers shot him a look. Azriel had to speak with her. He knew he did. He knew he had let the silence go on for too long and if their awkward supper was any indication of how their family gatherings would go with so much left unsaid, he knew now was the time to get everything out in the open.

When he rose to his feet, Elain stilled.

“May I walk you out?” he asked.

The others had gone quiet, obviously invested in the current situation.

Elain hesitated, but nodded. “Of course, my lord. How very generous of you to offer.”

“Perhaps you can bring him home?” Cassian interjected, and Nesta’s eyes narrowed at her husband. “I’m afraid we stole him away from his townhouse and he has no means of getting home himself.”

Azriel shot Cassian a look but his brother was pointedly paying him no mind.

Elain, who would never say no to such a proposition, nodded…even though her smile was ingenuine. “Of course. Lord Draeven, shall we?”

Each time she spoke to him with such formality, his skin crawled. Nonetheless, he bid his brothers and their wives goodnight before holding out a begrudging arm to Elain. The lady she was, she looped her arm through his and although she wore gloves that went past her elbows, Azriel’s jaw clenched at the contact.

He was going to kill Cassian and Rhysand the next time he saw them. Pricks. It had been their plan all along to get him in this position. Azriel had gotten the hint. He was going to speak with Elain, but at least speaking with her outside allowed him to walk away at any moment. Now, they would be shut inside a carriage together.

The walk outside was silent, neither of them saying a word and although their arms were intertwined, they kept as much distance from each other as possible. Once the carriage was pulled around, Azriel helped Elain inside and sat on the bench opposite of her. For a moment, all that could be heard was the wheels on the cobblestone and the horses trotting along.

“Thank you,” Azriel said, at last. He had to start somewhere. “For bringing me home. You did not have to do that. I could have walked or returned in the morning.”

“Nonsense, it is of no trouble,” she said, although she did not meet his gaze. “We are family, are we not?”

Family? Is that what they were? Although Azriel claimed Cassian and Rhysand as his brothers, there was no blood between them. He and Elain being family was a bit of a stretch. Nonetheless, he gave her a curt nod. “I am…glad you enjoyed your time in Spring.”

This time Elain did meet his gaze, although her eyes were weary. “Thank you, my lord. And how has your time been since you returned from your travels? You did not speak much tonight.”

Azriel nodded slowly. “It has been fine. Thank you.”

An awkward silence filled the cab and it was Elain that broke it a moment later.

“As much as I enjoyed Spring, it is nice to be home. This way, I can be closer to my sisters and Nyx.” Small talk. It was small talk she was engaging in, but Azriel thought it was better than nothing.

“They are all happy you are home, I assure you,” Azriel replied and folded his hands in his lap. “Are you prepared for the upcoming season?”

“I am,” she said, chin raised high. “And you, my lord?”

No. “Of course.” Azriel could hear how monotone his voice was and it irritated him. This was not how it was meant to be, not with Elain. “I hear the Prince will be arriving soon.”

Elain’s shoulders went rigid but the tension quickly faded. “Yes, he will be. Before the first ball.”

“And does that excite you?” Azriel asked before he could think better of it. Perhaps four drinks was too many.

He could not place the emotion in Elain’s eye, but he swore it resembled distrust. “Of course. Why would it not?”

“I did not imply that it would not,” Azriel answered. “In fact, I am pleased. To imagine that you are going to be a Princess is quite grand. Everything you want at your beck and call…how divine.”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink. “Who is to say that I will marry the Prince?”

“Only a fool would deny that he’ll be proposing upon his arrival,” Azriel said, and he knew he shouldn’t, knew he was inching too close to the line, but he could not help himself. There were too many built up words inside of him. “You’ve spent almost a year in his kingdom, getting to know him and learning his customs. He has yet to take another bride. Certainly he has been waiting for you.”

Elain’s eyes went hard and the frustrated, anger-laced emotion looked so wrong on her. Azriel did not know what she was going to say, but he did not expect the question that came from her mouth. “Do tell, how is Gwyneth, my lord?”

“Quite well,” Azriel answered, although he did not know that for certain. She still had not returned from Autumn, although he assumed it would be any day now that she would. “She decided to enjoy her travels a little while longer than myself, but she has been writing to me of her adventures.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but it certainly was not the truth. She had only written to him once since they parted, only acknowledging the fact that she would return home soon.

“How lovely,” Elain noted, and they jolted as the carriage hit a bump. “Will she be joining you at any of the events this season?”

Of course not. She is not a lady, nor a member of the ton. “Perhaps.” He did not know why he lied, yet again, when in reality, a ball was the last place Gwyn would want to be. He would not ask her to endure such a thing.

Yet, that anger returned to Elain’s eyes as she shook her head. With a scoff, she said, “I do not know who you are anymore, my lord.”

Azriel shifted in his seat. “Pardon?”

“The way you speak to me…it is as if you are speaking to a stranger.” Each of her words were clipped and Azriel swore it was her tone that hurt most of all.

“We are strangers, my lady,” Azriel said, and watched as her back straightened. “Only strangers go a year pretending that the other does not exist.”

“And is that what you have been doing?” Elain asked, gripping her skirts so that her hands would not shake. “Pretending that I do not exist?”

“Do not pretend as if you have not been doing the same while getting lost in the Spring Court’s gardens,” Azriel said, and he knew he had completely lost his mind when he added, “or was it the Prince’s bedsheets that you were getting lost in?”

Yes. Four drinks was too many.

Elain’s mouth dropped and her face turned the shade of a tomato as her voice rose. “You do not speak to me like that, my lord!”

“Notice how you do not deny it,” Azriel snapped, knowing he would come to regret his words in the morning. He was being petty, but he could not stop himself, could not stop the flow of words from his mouth.

“I am a high member of society,” Elain hissed. “Unlike you, I take pride in that fact. I would never jump in a man’s bed, no matter his title, so you would be wise to watch your tongue, my lord.”

“Stop calling me that,” Azriel said, through gritted teeth.

“Calling you what?” she asked, exasperated. “My lord? Lord Draeven? That is who you are!”

“I am not,” he seethed, leaning forward on his bench. “I am Azriel and you’re Elain and that’s it. We have never worried about titles or any of the worthless drivel that the ton cares about.”

“That worthless drivel is what I’ve spent my entire life preparing for,” she snapped, but he noticed she hadn’t added his title on. Her voice was softer as she added, “I’ve had two failed seasons though, so perhaps it’s all been time wasted.”

Her tone wasn’t bitter, despite the words. She really did believe she’d failed not only herself, but her family as well. Last season, their family’s financial status rested on her shoulders, thanks to her father’s ill-fated investments. Elain had been unaware of the entire ordeal, orchestrated by Nesta and their father, and it had thankfully resolved itself, but it had still been her second year of disappointment.

Both of Elain’s seasons had ended in scandal, yet she’d handled the unexpected with grace.

“Just because you didn’t marry the wrong person doesn’t make the season a failure.”

The carriage was dark, but Elain could make out Azriel’s hazel eyes across from her. There was something in them now that hadn’t been in them a moment ago, something that resembled resentment and loss.

“There is no right person to marry,” Elain said, breaking his stare to look out the window.

“Truly you do not believe that,” Azriel pushed, his voice low, forcing goosebumps to spread up her arms. “Do you not feel that Feyre and Rhysand are right for one another? Nesta and Cassian?”

Elain slowly shook her head as she watched the trees go by outside of the open-curtained window. “They are a part of the lucky few.” Azriel chuckled but there was no humor in it as she turned to face him. Her lips formed a straight line. “Do you mock me?”

“Yes,” he said, with no hesitation. When her nostrils flared, he went on. “The Elain I knew believed in marrying for love.”

“The Elain you knew was naive,” she said, that softness fading from her voice altogether. “The entire ton has seen where those ideologies have gotten me. This season, I will find a husband and it will not be for love.”

“Then it will be a waste,” Azriel griped. “You deserve—”

“Do not speak to me about what I deserve!” Elain cried, pointing towards him as if that in itself was a vulgar gesture. “I think that I am perfectly capable of deciding what it is that I deserve.”

“Obviously not if you’re going to waste your time with someone whom you do not love!” Azriel yelled and Elain’s lips snapped shut. “The woman I knew—”

“Stop talking about the woman you knew as if she is still here because I assure you, my lord, she is not,” she snapped, and crossed her arms just as the carriage hit a dip in the road and sent her falling from her bench with a yelp. Just as she did, Azriel fell forward and onto his knees on the floor of the cab, although his fall was far less graceful and the string of curses that came out of his mouth should never be voiced in front of a lady. He blamed it on his drunkenness. He blamed everything on his drunkenness.

A muffled apology from the driver came from the front, but neither of them acknowledged they’d heard, not as they found themselves closer than they’d ever been.

Elain’s yellow gown was pooled around them and somehow, Azriel had ended up hovering over her. His hand was planted next to her head on the carriage floor, their gazes locked.

Her brown eyes were wide as she breathed, “Azriel…”

His name on her tongue, rather than his damn title, broke something in him. Azriel captured Elain’s lips in a kiss, cupping the back of her hand with his free hand. She went rigid at first, but then he felt her hands on his neck, felt her relax into the kiss. Her fingers dove into his hair and she opened for him, as if she’d been waiting for this kiss just as long as he had.

He had imagined kissing Elain many times, had imagined kissing her soft and sweet, the way he’d seen Rhys kiss Feyre. He’d imagined the playful, teasing kisses, like Cassian was prone to give Nesta. He’d even imagined giving her kisses late into the night, that hadn’t just stopped at kisses.

But actually kissing Elain? It was like stepping outside on a crisp, spring morning. It made him feel alive.

Azriel hadn’t even realized he’d lowered the rest of his body down over hers until he felt her knees tighten around his hips.

The delicate fingers in his hair tugged and Azriel couldn’t help the deep moan that came out of him. However, as soon as the sound left him, Elain’s hands fell from his hair and she was pushing him back. “What are you doing, my lord? We must stop, we must…” Her words trailed off as she put both hands on his chest and pushed again.

Despite the four glasses of whiskey, despite the longing he’d felt for this woman, to feel her lips on his, if a woman told him to stop, he did so. Bracing a hand on each bench, he lifted himself up, onto the seat he’d been previously sitting on, and held a hand out to Elain.

Her hair was a mess, her cheeks and chest flushed, and her lips were swollen.

He had never seen her look more beautiful than she did in that moment.

She hesitated for a moment before taking his hand, letting him help her back into the bench. Once she was seated, she smoothed out her skirt and adjusted her top before running her fingers through her hair.

“That was horribly irresponsible,” she breathed. “Utterly inappropriate.”

Azriel simply wiped his bottom lip with his thumb, at the wetness that remained there from her lips, her wandering tongue.

Elain tracked the movement before she said, “You mustn’t tell a soul.”

Azriel stilled, the carriage still rattling as it traveled through the city. “Pardon?”

“You mustn’t tell anyone what we have done,” she repeated, back straight, back to being prim and proper. “It was a mistake and I apologize. I do not know what came over me.”

Azriel stared at her, dumbfounded. “Surely you do not believe—“

“It was a mistake that will be forgotten, my lord.” Her words were quiet but direct and she refused to meet his eye. “Accept my apology and let us never speak of this again.”

Lips snapping shut, Azriel remained silent. He did not know what to say, could not possibly sort his thoughts. That kiss had been wild and passionate. It had surely been no accident. It had been no mistake.

Yet, the carriage remained silent until they stopped in front of Azriel’s townhouse and he got out. Elain did not say goodbye.

The driver pulled away the second his boots hit the ground.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #nessian #feysand #au #period au #regency au #19th century au

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yanny-77 · 1 year

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Sweet Waters of Spring

SJM Romance Week Day 7: Free Day

Summary: Rhysand asks Azriel to escort Gwyn to the Spring Court where she can connect with her river nymph heritage. Sparks fly and Azriel finally admits the truth to himself. Features some of my favorite tropes:

Friends to Lovers

Only One Tent

Everyone Knows but Them

Fated Mates

SJM Series: ACOTAR

Primary Ship: Gwynriel

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/2

Word Count: 2,781/?

Notes: I ran out of time to finish this one, so it got split into two parts. Smut is coming in part II. This was supposed to be a fluffy river-side picnic but the plot got in the way. Sorry. This was originally going to be part of the “feelings realization” prompt, but I’m a procrastinator. I typically don’t write the ship war couples, but because I wrote Elriel earlier this week, I wanted to try my hand at Gwynriel too.

Excerpt:

As they ate, Gwyn kept glancing toward the tent. Azriel knew she was worried about it.

“It’s okay,” he said, after the fifth time he caught her looking that way. “You can have it. I can sleep anywhere.”

She frowned, causing the ache to return to Azriel’s chest. He tried to ignore the fact that seeing her unhappy made him feel so hollow inside. He’d figure out what it all meant later. “It’s your tent.”

“I’m not letting you sleep outside Gwyn.”

Gwyn smiled, saying to Azriel, “Then it’s settled.”

“Good.” He leaned back, satisfied that he’d won.

Her eyes flashed at him. “We’ll just have to share.”

My beta for this one isn't on tumblr so no one to tag 😢

Read now on AO3

@sjmromanceweek

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theladyofbloodshed · 1 year

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Imagine romantic Nessian. Soft, fluffy, supportive mates. Not power imbalances, rough sex, and being punished for being honest to your sister. I just want romance ffs.

I’m an Elucien shipper through-and-through and if she does go that route in the next book (which hopefully she will because Elriel has the romantic chemistry of milk and a corn tortilla), they better not fuck until Elain is properly courted. For both Elain and Lucien’s sake.

I know :( Imagine any of her couples actually having friendship as the basis of their relationship rather than lust!

#anon asks

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snelbz · 2 years

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Rendezvous {Elriel}

Oops, this was written for Week One of @elrielmonth, but Tara and I got hella busy. So enjoy this (late) oneshot and expect us to work on the rest of the weeks in the next coming days!

(Also, this story is will be continuing and turning into a mini-series. So look forward to that in the coming weeks, too!)

WC: 4728

Elriel Month. Week One. Forbidden Love.

Co-written with @theladyofdeath.

Elain sat across the table from Feyre, picking at the beautiful display of food that had been set between them.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t hungry.

Her mind was just elsewhere.

It had been like that more and more lately, that scattering of her mind. One moment she was fully engrossed in conversation and the next she was thinking of him.

“Elain?”

Her eyes snapped up to Feyre’s and she realized she had been picking at a grape for the past few minutes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep the best last night.”

Feyre frowned. “Why not?”

She lied. “I couldn’t get comfortable. One of those nights.”

Feyre nodded, both because she understood and because she knew not to push. “I was just asking what you’re doing today. It’s beautiful out this morning.”

She shrugged a delicate shoulder. She was right, the late spring sky was calling her name. “I was thinking I might spend some time in the gardens. The peonies have bloomed and I was going to prune them back and make a bouquet for Nesta.”

They’d always been Nesta’s favorite flower, the fluffy buds making her smile even when the shadows crept into her eyes.

“You should join me on a walk,” she offered, stirring her tea. “I was hoping to take Nyx out into the Rainbow today.”

“That’d be lovely,” Elain mused, thinking about how Azriel had run out of charcoal the night before he’d been sent on a mission. She was sure Feyre would duck into some shop for something, would be swamped by the friend she’d made at her studio, and she could sneak off to buy a few pieces for him. “I can wait to garden if you’d like to go after breakfast.”

“That’s perfect,” she smiled, and Elain could almost feel the thread of power she unspooled to check and see if her sleepy infant was awake yet. Night personified, Nyx slept better than any baby she’d ever met. “Rhys is meeting with Azriel at the House of Wind this morning for a report. Gives us time to spend in the sun.”

Elain blinked, trying not to show any surprise or rush of emotion as she asked, “Azriel’s returned?”

“Just this morning,” Feyre responded, sipping from her mug. “Apparently, he had a rough couple of days. Rhys couldn’t even wait for the sun to come up before he was out of bed and getting dressed.”

It was the same any time Azriel or Cassian returned home after days away, without Rhysand. He had been staying in the city more and more while the other two went away to deal with the dark side of being a part of the High Lord’s inner circle. Elain had always thought Rhys felt a sense of guilt about it. So, every time they crossed back into the city, he was running to them.

“His love for his friends is inspiring,” Elain said, although she was thinking of something else, someone else, entirely.

Feyre was saying something in response, but Elain’s mind was reeling. A thousand thoughts, a thousand escape plans, ran through her mind. None of them seemed logical - or appropriate for sitting across the table from her sister.

“Elain?”

She blinked and looked up at her sister. “I’m sorry, you were saying something?”

“Your cheeks are flushed,” she said, eyebrows lowering in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she replied, reaching for her napkin on her lap and lightly fanning herself with it. “I must have overheated while I was working in the kitchen this morning.”

Since Azriel wasn’t in her bed, keeping her up until the Cauldron knew when, she’d been falling asleep and waking up earlier and earlier. Her own hand did the job, but her fingers weren’t nearly as skilled as Azriel’s. After she’d awoken before sunrise, she’d quickly wrung an orgasm out of herself and was in the kitchen covered in flour before even Nuala and Cerridwen were awake.

Feyre was watching her sister curiously. “If you’re not up for a walk, it’s okay. Nyx and I will just go. Or, we can wait a few hours. Let you rest.”

Elain continued to fan herself with her napkin, pretending to think, pretending to weigh her options. She loved spending time with Feyre, loved spending time with her nephew, but she wouldn’t be able to focus on a thing until she saw him.

“A few hours of rest may be helpful,” Elain agreed. “I’ll try to catch up on some of the sleep that I missed during the night.”

Feyre smiled. “Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll take Nyx to see Nesta. He hasn’t seen her in a few days.”

Elain nodded, that guilt fading just a little bit. She had seen Nesta only the night before, so her absence would not be suspicious.

They finished their breakfast and Feyre headed up to the nursery to get Nyx ready for the day. Elain went to her own room in the river house, wondering how long she needed to wait until sneaking to the townhouse.

It had always been their place of refuge. Though Rhys and Feyre had given it to Elain after the completion of the river house, she often stayed with them in it. She often made excuses to stay there, so it wouldn’t be as obvious that she snuck off when Azriel returned home.

Every time he returned home.

She knew as soon as he was done speaking to Rhys, he would be making his way to the townhouse, either relaxing and sunning his wings on the rooftop patio or already waiting in their bed.

She certainly didn’t want to leave him waiting for long.

Freshening up, Elain listened as Feyre sang to Nyx as she got him up and ready for the day. Their voices passed her closed door and she heard Nyx babbling as they descended the stairs.

“Let’s go, my little love,” Feyre crooned and then Elain heard the front door open and close.

She waited for as long as she could, but was likely only a couple minutes before hurrying down the stairs, aiming for the front door.

“Elain?”

She halted, not expecting to hear Nuala’s voice from the direction of the kitchen. “Yes?”

“Would you mind helping us with the baking for dinner tonight?” The elder of the half-wraith twins appeared through the wall, something that should have unnerved Elain, but she’d quickly grown accustomed to. “Cerridwen has tried to replicate your braided bread, but it’s not nearly as neat as yours.”

With a quiet sigh, Elain nodded. Tying her hair back as she entered the kitchen, she glanced at the clock above the stove. It wasn’t even ten yet. She sorely hoped she saw him before dinner.

Pausing before the counter, Elain reached for a large ball of dough. She smiled at the two fae who were her closest friends and started kneading.

~~~

Azriel pointed to a cluster of trees over the continent for the third time. “It was impenetrable. Whatever is in this copse of trees doesn’t want me to see what it’s up to.”

Rhysand, no wings today, was lounging in a chair in the war room atop the House of Wind. Azriel had also gone over every note from his mission three times, and Rhysand still thought of something new to ask each time he finished, which spurred more questions.

Before he could ask anything else, Azriel started to subtly move towards the door.

Rhysand waited until he had nearly in the hall to ask, “Where are you going?”

Azriel didn’t hesitate. “I just got home, Rhys. I’d like to go down and bathe, considering I haven’t in three days.”

“Three days?” Rhysand said, scoffing. “That’s nothing. You’ve gone soft in your old age.”

It was true. They’d all gone far longer without the luxury of a bath, but little did Rhysand know that bathing was the last thing on his mind. At least, he wouldn’t be bathing alone. Azriel’s High Lord had made his demands clear when it came to Elain Archeron, and although Azriel had never gone against Rhysand’s demands before, this time…he couldn’t help himself.

She had always surprised him, always intrigued him, always captivated him, ever since their first meeting. And now, he couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without her in it.

Even if the life they had together remained in the shadows, their love ignited only in secrecy.

He made a move to leave the room again, the hallway beckoning before him. But he heard Rhysand say, “Az.”

He halted in the doorway.

Rhysand released a quiet breath, “After you’re done, let me know. There’s a…situation in the Court of Nightmares. We’ll fly down to the river house after you bathe and eat, Cassian will meet us there. I’ll fill you in after you’re done.”

“It…can’t wait?”

There was silence between the two males. It was rare when Azriel questioned his High Lord, but it had been over two weeks since he’d seen Elain, since he’d been inside her…

“We captured one of the mortal queen’s personal guards sniffing around the borders between Day and Night,” he confided. “Helion has given us free reign to deal with him as we see fit, to find out why he was on our lands.”

They will deal with him, Azriel thought, but his hands would be the ones covered in blood at the end of it all.

Reluctantly, Azriel nodded before dismissing himself.

An hour later, he was trailing behind Rhys, Velaris growing larger as they flew closer and closer. His eyes settled on the townhouse a few blocks away from the sprawling manor they aimed for now. He wondered if she was already there, already waiting for him. He would fly to her as quickly as he could, as soon as this matter in the Court of Nightmares was handled, as soon as he’d washed the blood from his skin.

They both landed smoothly on the grass of the back lawn, and as they approached the house, Azriel noted the slight differences in the garden from when he’d left. The peony bushes had bloomed as beautifully as Elain had hoped they would, the irises and lilacs as well.

Rhysand opened the glass door leading into the house and followed Azriel inside as he held it open for him.

The scent of baking bread, intertwined with a delicious scent of honey and jasmine.

Sniffing quietly, Azriel knew Elain was not waiting in the townhouse for him. She was only a few rooms away, but Rhys was leading him towards his private study, where he knew Cassian was likely waiting for them both, Amren as well.

Azriel halted in the middle of the atrium. “I’ll be right there.”

Rhysand paused, hand on the door frame.

“I’d like to get something from the kitchen,” he said, hoping Rhysand wouldn’t push him, that he didn’t realize who was in the kitchen. “I’ll just be a moment.”

One minute, he just wanted one minute with her, to kiss her, smell her, taste her… Nuala and Cerridwen would make themselves scarce, especially when they saw the look on his face. The two half-wraiths were the only two who knew of their secret.

Rhysand looked at him for a beat, that passive look that he gave to the enemies he played games with but Azriel could see right through it. “Be quick.”

Azriel nodded and strode down the hall until he was pushing open the kitchen door.

Only to find it empty.

Well, empty of Elain, anyway.

Mor stood by the counter, cutting off a piece of warm, fresh bread. She popped it into her mouth and moaned. “Mmm. They’ve done it again. Delicious.” She looked to Azriel. “Always nice to see you back in one piece.”

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” he said, simply, crossing his arms.

She rolled her eyes. “Have some bread.”

He did, angrily eating it as he hurried from one side of the manor to the other, to Rhysand’s study.

There was no sign of her anywhere.

~~~

It seemed Elain would be stopping by Nesta and Cassian’s riverside apartment after all, since Cassian stopped her as he headed for Rhysand’s study and told her that her sisters and Nyx were waiting for her there to go get lunch.

She nodded, forgoing the bouquet she planned to make in favor of getting there sooner. Maybe, if they finished with lunch quick enough, she could make an excuse to stop by the townhouse…

She knew her sisters would offer to come along, would offer to help with whatever excuse she came up with to go there.

“What’s on your mind?”

Elain had been tapping a manicured, pale-pink fingernail on the table top. Nyx, sitting in his mother’s lap, was reaching for her finger. She slid her hand towards him, letting him wrap his own chubby hand around her finger.

Nesta had been the one to speak, a cup of tea still held between her hands.

Shaking her head, Elain returned to the conversation. “Nothing. Just didn’t sleep well. You were telling me about the new priestesses who’d begun training when we had dinner last night. How was this morning?”

Nesta’s eyes, their mother’s eyes made over, lit up. “The youngest of the three, Mira, hasn’t spoken to a male in over three centuries. She’s making amazing progress, not just with training.”

And so their lunch went, Elain’s mind on the townhouse across the city, Nesta and Feyre animatedly talking and playing with Nyx.

Elain tried to be engaged, but she couldn’t shake off thoughts of Azriel - where he was and what he was doing.

She saw her sisters often, could be with them and talk to them as much as she wanted. Azriel, though, she only got a few miniscule moments with a week, if that.

“Elain?”

She had to stop spacing out.

“I’m sorry,” she said, yet again, and mustered a smile as well as she could. “What we’re you saying?”

“I wanted to show you and Nesta the new pieces at the gallery,” Feyre went on, eyeing her sister suspiciously. “If you have the time and energy, of course.”

Elain was conflicted.

She knew it meant a lot to Feyre. She also knew that if she said no, Feyre’s suspicion would grow. Yet, the townhouse awaited.

“Perhaps for a few minutes,” she said, at last. If only she had wings and it wasn’t a twenty minute walk to the gallery.

They began the walk, the day gorgeous and not a cloud in the sky. The kind of day she knew someone with wings would love.

People waved at Feyre as they walked, some at Elain, and even some at Nesta. An artist Feyre had been working with from the Brush and Chisel approached and began speaking with Feyre, both smiling down at Nyx as he rode along in his little stroller.

Nesta fell back, walking next to Elain. She could tell her sister wanted to say something, was going to pry as soon as Elain glanced over at her. So she kept her eyes on the approaching Rainbow, the blues and greens and reds beautiful and pleasing to the eye.

It worked for a moment, but not for long.

As they rounded the corner, the gallery within view, Nesta asked under her breath, “You okay? You seem awfully on edge.”

Her tone intended that she already knew Elain was not, in fact, okay.

“I just didn’t sleep-.”

“That’s shit and you know it,” Nesta mumbled. Elain swore that the more and more time her older sister spent around her mate, the filthier her mouth became. She could only imagine what Nesta would be spewing out of her mouth in a hundred year’s time.

Elain wasn’t sure how to respond. If she could tell anyone about Azriel, it would be Nesta. Nesta would understand and she would never say a word. Yet, the words wouldn’t come out. They formed perfectly in her mind, but they couldn’t find their way out.

Nesta eyed Feyre up ahead of them, saying hello to a vendor on the street. She stopped and gently grabbed Elain’s elbow, causing her to halt.

Elain couldn’t meet her eye.

“If you’re in trouble-.”

“I’m not,” Elain promised, and she must’ve sounded convincing, because after a minute, Nesta dropped it. “I’m not, I’m just feeling a little…off today.”

“And is there a reason for that?” Nesta pushed, sneaking a glance to look at Feyre to make sure she was still occupied.

Elain shook her head. “No reason. Now, let’s go look at these gorgeous pieces of talented sister created and choose which ones we should decorate our homes with.”

She looped her arm through Nesta’s and led her towards Feyre, then towards the gallery where she could ask no more questions.

~~~

Azriel sat at a large oak desk in an office deep beneath the living quarters in the House of Wind, oiling one of the many blades piled atop it. His brothers had just departed and he wondered how long was appropriate before bolting from his office and flying down to the townhouse. Looking at the clock in the wall, he saw that dinner was in a mere two hours.

There was no way he’d be able to do what wanted with her in less than two hours, especially considering Elain was probably helping to cook the delicious meal they’d be consuming. It was the first time their entire family, Mor and Amren included, would all be in the city in over a month. He was sure it would be a massive spread of food and Elain was likely already toiling away in the kitchen, flour on her face, the hair at the nape of her neck curling slightly from the heat.

They often did that while he was inside of her, both of their bodies gleaming with sweat—

He groaned, realizing he had become uncomfortably still.

And uncomfortably hard.

Maybe he did have time, maybe he would take her quickly now and again tonight. Maybe she could spare ten minutes for him to just give her a taste…

Azriel threw the dagger onto the desk in front of him and sighed.

This was torture. He had too much energy building up and none of it was healthy without a release. After cleaning another blade, he hurried up to the roof and trained, all by himself, until the minutes turned into hours and he decided it was time to bathe for the second time that day.

He wondered if Elain had tried to see him as much as he had hoped to see her that day.

After scrubbing off his sweat and stench, he pulled on a simple pair of pants and a matching shirt, leaving the comfort of his armor at home.

He walked instead of flew, allowing the extra time to help him clear his mind. With them all together, he couldn’t allow a hint, a scent, of his attraction to Elain to show. The more and more time they spent together, the harder that endeavor became.

By the time he made it to the manor, he was not only starving but perfectly calm. He could already smell the food, could hear his family gathered together. Surely, he was the last to arrive.

Hopefully no one had any questions about it.

Although, he assumed Cassian and Mor would, and they were not shy asking those questions, loudly, with everyone present.

True enough, Azriel was the last to arrive. Everyone met him with mixed greetings - some of excitement and some of it’s about time.

His eyes scanned the sitting room, looking for Elain, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Dining room,” Feyre announced, and Azriel could practically hear her stomach growling. “If I don’t eat now, I won’t be so pleasant here soon.”

“And you’ve been pleasant for the past twenty minutes?” Cassian mumbled, taking Nesta’s hand as they followed Feyre out of the sitting room.

Feyre shot him a vulgar gesture before disappearing out of sight.

Azriel was in the back, getting his usual glances from Mor, as they all walked to the dining room and took their places around a long, narrow table.

Elain arrived then, carrying a plate full of rolls, breads, and muffins. “Don’t wait on my account,” she said, voice rushed.

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment and he knew that she’d been trying to get to him as desperately as he was trying to get to her. Her cheeks heated immediately, and she looked down at the dirty apron she wore, wiping it off. Rather than take it off or change, she took her seat in between Feyre and Cassian, digging right into the dish of garlic roasted green beans in front of her.

Rhysand’s eyes were wary, watching his sister-in-law, but he nodded. “It’s nice to all be under one roof again.” He looked at Azriel and Mor respectively. “Let’s enjoy each other’s company tonight.”

I plan to, Azriel wanted to say aloud. Wanted to, but couldn’t.

He found Elain’s eyes and saw the same want, the same need reflected there. Her gaze darted to the door leading to the kitchen. She was suggesting they sneak away, suggesting that, despite the presence of their entire family, they disappear into the kitchen together.

Cauldron boil him, there was nothing he longed for more.

He shook his head, enough that she noticed, but anyone else would have thought he was annoyed by the way his hair skimmed over his forehead.

Ignoring the disappointment in Elain’s eyes was easier said than done.

A sudden guilt crept over him for the fear of disappointing her alone, but he pushed it down as he shoved a forkful of vegetables into his mouth. He ate quickly, avoiding conversation, but no one saw that as anything out of the ordinary.

The only thing out of the ordinary was that Azriel would not look up from his plate. Typically, he loved having dinner with his family. He lived for nights like this. Tonight, however, the second he looked up he would look at Elain, and he would once again be weak.

She made him weak.

It wasn’t a complaint, but she couldn’t make him so weak when there were witnesses.

It had been a long time since someone had such control over him.

And it had never been with someone he was forbidden to see.

As Feyre and Rhys took Nyx up to bed, Cassian opened a bottle of good bourbon in the sitting room. He poured a knuckles worth for Nesta and then himself and held the bottle out to Azriel.

“I think I’d like to take a walk,” Elain said, talking to no one in particular. “It’s been such a beautiful day, I can only imagine the clear night will be stunning.”

She was out the door before either Mor or Nesta could offer to join her.

He knew exactly why.

Cassian stared, the bottle still outstretched. “That was…”

“Strange,” Nesta finished for him, narrowed eyes on the spot where Elain had just been.

Cassian’s eyes fell on Azriel again. “Drink?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight. I have some reports I need to go over after this afternoon.”

This afternoon.

Cassian had been there while he’d cut and torn and ripped the information out of the mortal queen’s guard. It had amounted to little, but he knew his brother wouldn’t push him.

He nodded briskly once and raised his glass in farewell. “Right.”

Azriel didn’t bother to say goodbye to his High Lord and Lady, instead slipping out the door and into the balmy night. He could see Elain just ahead, already heading down the hill towards the townhouse. He could easily catch up to her, easily scoop her in his arms and fly them directly to the townhouse. There was a chance someone would see, would talk and it could eventually reach Rhys. And if he followed her, trailing behind, if she entered the townhouse before he did, it would be clear they were meeting.

So instead he’d beat her there. Azriel took to the sky, letting her hear the wing beats he usually kept silent as a gentle breeze, letting her know he was heading for the townhouse.

And he would be waiting for her.

~~~

Elain walked slowly through the streets of Velaris, fighting the urge to run. It was a long walk but nothing out of the ordinary. The streets were always busy at night, beneath the starlight. Elain was just another peaceful civilian, enjoying the calm, warm night.

She nodded to those she passed, smiling in greeting as an exchange.

It only took a minute to see an Illyrian overhead, heading in the same direction she was.

Elain absentmindedly picked up her pace.

With each step, her heart grew wilder, beating ferociously inside of her chest. Just the thought of being near him in a matter of minutes was enough to consume her.

She made herself stop at a shop or two, even going so far as to buy a box of sea salt caramels, covered in dark chocolate. It was just a few moments, but it delayed her further, so that she was just a passing buyer, shopping on the way home from dinner.

And then the townhouse was in view, a welcoming orb of faelight glowing in the foyer. She knew she’d extinguished all the lights when she’d last left and she increased her pace as she let her grin grow.

She was through the iron gate, barely acknowledging the bite of it in her grip, and then she was up the stairs and pushing the door open. The antechamber was open to the foyer beyond and it was…empty.

She listened quietly for a moment, hearing nothing, before she called out, “Az?”

The soft press of his lips on her throat would have scared her, had she not gotten used to his shadows and the way he was prone to step in and out of them without a thought. “I’ve tried to get here all day,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her from the back.

Leaning back into him, Elain relished in his warmth and the feel of his lips on her skin. “I have, too,” she admitted. “Everyone needed something—”

“And it couldn’t wait,” he finished for her, loosening his arms so she could turn to face him. “It had to happen then.”

“Exactly.” She was rising up on her toes, eyes closing as she waited for him to kiss her.

“What’s in your hands?”

Elain’s eyes opened and she was grinning, even if she hadn’t gotten her kiss yet. She pulled the box from behind her back. “I stopped at the confectionery down the hill. They had just finished making a fresh batch of these.”

His hazel eyes were sparkling and she could have sworn he was nearly vibrating with excitement. “Chocolate caramels?” He asked. Elain only nodded and let him take the box. His fingers grazed hers. “These are my favorite.”

“Are they?” She asked, voice cool and amused.

He breathed a laugh, knowing that she knew that fact fully well. “Thank you.”

Her smile grew as he set the caramels down and slowly slid his broad arms around her waist. For a moment, neither of them said a thing. They simply looked into each other’s eyes, silently, dwelling in the moment that they finally found for one another after such a long day.

“I missed you,” he said, at last, and it was hardly more than a whisper but it made chills sweep down Elain’s back, her arms.

She knew that the time he spent away was no vacation, was no holiday away from the real world. When he was away, his time was spent doing horrible things that Elain could not fathom.

Even if it did support the greater good.

“I missed you, too,” Elain said, but before she could get out the last word, Azriel’s lips were against hers.

The kiss was soft, sweet, genuine, but Elain knew exactly where it would lead.

Her arms went around his neck, their bodies pressed up against one another in safe comfort as that kiss deepened. For the first time that day, Elain relaxed.

She could finally do so as she melted into the arms of her forbidden love.

#elriel month #elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #pro elriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas

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