#slightly unhinged azriel

[azsazz]

Coal Lined Lens

Modern!Azriel x Reader

Summary: You’re Azriel’s muse.

Warnings: Mentions of insomnia.

Word Count: 2,183

Notes: Living for this.

_________________________________________

You look as beautiful as you always do.

Lying on his bed in nothing but your skin, he wishes the evidence of last night still marked your body, but like a gentleman he’d helped you clean up before tucking you in close to his warm chest, where you fit like puzzle pieces, right where you always belonged.

He’d watched you all night, unable to sleep with his everything in his arms, so gorgeous and sated. It wasn’t even fair to all of the other girls, your beauty. You truly were one of a kind, and you were all his.

Creative, was what he called it, insomniac others called him. But he wouldn’t dare sleep a wink when you were there to draw his attention. Much like you are now, sleeping prettily, the sun cascading across your body from the light colored curtains like a blanket of gold, making your eyelashes shine in the morning light and casting shadows across the rest of you in the most interesting way…

Azriel slips out from his bed, silent as a mouse. He searches his room for a notebook and quickly, before the sun moves too much, jarring the flawless picture you paint in the early hours of the new day. 

He has minutes to get this down. If that.

He finds the sketchbook shoved between two others, one for his figure drawing class and the other for the graffiti he’s trying to teach himself because Rhysand and Cassian want to start working full scale instead of drawing concepts in their notebooks.

They have their tag finalized after filling two sketchbooks with ideas. Three mountain peaks with three matching stars. Rhysand, Cassian, and him: the mountains with their adorning stars, Feyre, Nesta, and (Y/N). Their beacons of happiness that brighten even their darkest nights.

The sketchbook’s cover is worn with love, the spine cracked because of how much he’s used it. The corners of the hardcover book are bent inwards, even though he tries to take the best care of it he can, as the contents are precious.

He snags a kneaded eraser, blackened with use. There’s shards of charcoal strewn about his desk, pushed to the sides because you’d tried to clear a space so that you could work on that paper that was due in the upcoming weeks.

There had been so much of the sooty chalk that it had turned the entirety of your forearm black. Even though you complained Azriel’s heart had picked up double, the pounding of it was almost painful because of how you looked with the essence of his art, of him, on you.

His fingers had twitched. Either to draw you or to take you straight to bed he couldn’t decide.

You should’ve been used to it by now. The black fingerprints you’d find on your clothes, on your skin were reminders of him in the best way. You could imagine Azriel with a pencil clenched between his teeth, charcoal in hand as he drew messy lines that would somehow turn into an incredible piece of work. 

He didn’t even have to try. His strokes were so sure, so confident that it made your thighs clench together tightly. He had that thing about him, covered in tattoos and never smiled at anyone except for you, but in reality he was quiet and docile. He’d do anything you asked.

Azriel plants himself on the stupid bean bag chair that Cassian had gotten him for his birthday. Something he swore he’d never use, he didn’t want, but his friend had only grinned, unbothered by Azriel’s unimpressed response. He was used to it by now and loved him for it anyway. He had let Azriel know that it would be his special chair that he’d sit in when he came over.

Azriel couldn’t throw it away, no matter how ugly the thing was.

But it’s comfortable, and that’s something he would never admit to Cassian.

He tucks his legs under him, scrambling through the book to a fresh page. It’s filled with drawings of you. Images from your first date when he’d memorized exactly how you looked when he’d made you laugh for the first time. He skips past the page with the drawing of tears running down your face, a side profile from when you’d forced him to watch that movie that always made you cry. He still didn’t understand why it was your favorite if it made you upset.

There’s a sketch of you grinning wildly, eyes glossy from the night out you’d spent with him and his friends. You’d forced him into a selfie, but he hadn’t drawn himself. This book is all you, all for him. 

It’s fascinating, his infatuation with you. Some pages hold multiple, smaller drawings, while others are portraits that seem to fall off of the edges of the page. 

Each one is both different and the same. Lazy, languid strokes. Harsh lines when he’s rushing, trying to get something down quickly before you move or he forgets. Loose sketches from moments he wants to draw but doesn’t have the heart to. Like when you’d had your first fight. The utter devastation on your face isn’t one he’d ever forget, never wants to see again. His thumb swipes over the lines of the face that’s barely there, like if he does it enough it’ll erase that crease between your eyebrows, or separate your lashes from how they’d clumped together with tears.

The smooth cream paper he turns to is fresh on both sides and the blankness should calm him, make his aching eyes fall shut so he can get a little bit of rest before you wake up, but his mind is racing with a thousand different images he has yet to add to the rapidly filling book.

He doesn’t dare look over to where there’s two more exactly like this hidden in the bottom desk of his drawer, also filled with artworks of you.

Azriel takes a deep breath, lets himself bask in the picture of you again, sheet pulled down, just barely covering your sex. He hadn’t been so fortunate that you kicked off the thin sheet while you slept. Maybe next time.

He’s quick to get your shape. Your face, a quick little circle for your cheek where it’s pressed into the pillow. A line marking the bed. A box for the window so he can draw the rays of sun washing over you. Maybe he’ll add a halo to your messy hair.

The curve of your body is drawn in such a fluid motion he doesn’t even have to look up. He memorized that a long time ago with his blackened fingertips, and subsequently, his mouth. It spans across both pages. He needs it to fill both this time. One wouldn’t be enough to capture the beauty of this morning, though he might have five other sketches of you sleeping throughout his books. This one is different. He always tells himself that.

He doesn’t even have to think, years of practice and admiring you have trained him for just this. Azriel draws the swell of your breasts, your hand, relaxed at your hip, just getting the general shapes of you down before you shift. Realize that he’s missing from next to you.

There’s two quick drags of his chalk and there are your eyelids. His hand is moving on its own, he does nothing to control it. He almost doesn’t draw the lines of the sheet, instead there’s a fleeting moment in his exhausted brain where he thinks about drawing that sweet little cunt of yours but it’s gone in a flash, draping the bending lines across your hips before filling them with color. He uses his eraser to make the highlights and smudges the lines with his finger until they’re buttery smooth.

Azriel hates his hands. Hates every pink little scar of marred flesh on them. Hates that you say that you like them and when you press kisses to them because he feels like you’re lying. No one could ever love them. How could they? 

He, however, loves the way his preferred medium sticks to his skin. The onyx dust coats his hands and covers the blemishes adorning his hands. He loves it because he can’t see the tainted flesh and you won’t press your lips to the dirtiest part of him, the part that makes people stare and ask questions.

He shuts it down before he can think too much about it, tracing the lines of your fingers, adding in the finer details now that he has the base. His mind always tends to wander through the self hatred shadows coloring the corners of his brain dark when he’s tired. Which seems like always.

He studies the way the light highlights certain areas of your body and hides the others, filling in the paper with the thick stick of charcoal in his hands. The eraser is in the other, ready to really pull out those highlights from the chunk of black he’s just colored in.

Occasionally he blows the soot off of the page. It lifts, swirling around in the rays of the morning sun and he’s distracted by how pleasing it looks. Reminds him of the whorls of swirling black ink across his own shoulders.

Scrubbing the chalk powder into the grains of the paper. His hands are a mess. Kneading his eraser into a point so he can carve out your nipples peaked from the chilly air. The eraser is filled with the dark powder he reminds himself to get a new one today. He looks back up at you. Maybe he’ll ask Rhys to steal one for him while he’s working at the art shop.

It’s a shame that you haven’t woken up yet. He’s done with his picture and he doesn’t know what to do, what to draw because you haven’t shifted in your sleep. He thinks about climbing into the bed behind you because every blink is like there’s sand in his eyes.

He knows that he needs to sleep. Knows that there’s dark circles around his eyes and that his skin is getting that sickly look that his mother used to tell him about when he was in high school and stayed up all night studying anatomy on the internet.

Instead he pulls the chair closer to the bed. He could move behind you and draw your back, but he thinks better of it, wanting to sketch the more intimate parts of you like your face or where the crook of your arm is barely covering the curve of your breast.

He focuses on one thing at a time. Your hand. Specifically the fourth finger of your left, where he’s tempted to draw that ring he saw the other day in that display window in town. He’d stood there for so long staring at it that the security guard had come outside and told him to scram. 

He draws that breast and the love bite he’d left on it last night. Chalks up that scar on your shoulder that you got from when one of the neighbor kids had thrown a dart at you at a barbecue and it stuck. The curves of your ear and the piercings shoved into them. Sketches the column of your throat, also mottled with marks from his mouth. It’s the weekend so he’s allowed.

The page fills quickly and with the rest he draws thick twisting lines that remind him of the shadows he sees sometimes when he’s so deprived of sleep he starts seeing things. It’s the ones he’d had inked on him permanently, a reminder of the dark side of him, the side that he didn’t ever think anyone could love, or show him how to.

Azriel looks at you again. Watches you for even longer, hand frozen on the page. He’s staring again but he knows that you don’t mind because you’d caught him before, when he didn’t even know your name but saw you sitting down the row from him in some class he couldn’t give a shit about. You’d noticed and you had smiled when anyone else would’ve looked away from the brooding art student with dirty hands.

For the first time, instead of ducking his head to pull out his sketchbook, he’d smiled back.

Your body comes alive like a work of art. Long, even breaths turn rutty, your pretty colored eyes moving behind your eyelids as your brows twitch at the incoming light pooling across your face. He should’ve pulled the heavy curtain shut so the room would stay dark, is what you’ll probably say when you’re fully awake. Right after you ask if he’s slept.

The sigh you let out is his favorite song. All of the noises you make are. You shift, searching for him behind you, eyes fluttering open when you realize that his body is not beside yours.

They immediately meet his own, sharpening to focus on him before you melt back into the bed.

And he wants to draw you all over again.

#Azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel/reader #azriel/you #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acotarxreader #art school au #modern au #modern!azriel #artist!azriel #slightly unhinged azriel #insomniac!azriel #azsazz

[tsunami-of-tears]

Love Drunk

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 3 (Secrets)

Cazriel x Healer Reader

Summary: Feelings are growing between Azriel, Y/N and Cassian. The only people who can’t see it are them.

Pairing Masterlist

A/N: This part is dedicated to @daycourtofficial because of our shared love for aphrodisiacs ❤�� I think this fic takes the cake for being my most unhinged.

Wordcount: 1.7K

Warnings: aphrodisiacs; sexual themes; very angsty; everyone is so clueless.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･

After her rescue, Y/N quickly became a vital part of the Inner Circle and she had grown quite fond of her new friends. Especially Cassian and Azriel.

Both males were equally as smitten with Y/N, often bickering about who would get to carry her while flying and racing to sit beside her at family dinners. They only stopped injuring themselves after Rhys gave them some stern words. 

These affections had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the group. Everyone had clued into the growing feelings between Azriel, Y/N, and Cassian. Everyone except them of course. 

Though the males fought over her, they were both content enough with their friendship and didn’t want to ruin that. 

While Y/N enjoyed the flirtations and the distraction this offered, she didn’t allow herself time to dwell on her feelings. Instead, she opted to keep as busy as possible, in an attempt to fill the empty hole inside her. 

She could mend a broken bone in her sleep, but a broken soul… That was something she hadn’t quite figured out for herself. 

————

Months had passed, and everyone was getting increasingly frustrated with their friends. No amount of pep talks was making a difference. No one would make that first move.

So, the Inner Circle was bracing themselves for another evening of watching Azriel, Y/N and Cassian tiptoeing around the obvious. It was another typical family dinner since Y/N’s arrival, except it wasn’t.

“They look delicious, Elain,” Y/N gushes, slightly tipsy from the faewine. “Oh look! Mine is yellow. How did you know my favourite colour?” Y/N grabs the plate as Elain passes it to her and takes a bite. “Gods, you’re an incredible baker, Elain.”

Both Cassian and Azriel nod, agreeing with Y/N as they tuck into their cakes. 

Slowly, their expressions start to soften and their eyes start to glaze over. 

Y/N hiccups and starts to giggle uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny?” Elain asks.

Y/N pauses, considering. “I’m not sure,” she says before bursting into another fit of giggles. 

She doubles over, clutching her stomach. “I think— we’ve— been drugged,” she says breathily, trying and failing to regain control. 

Azriel and Cassian’s eyes meet and they too burst out laughing.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Y/N leans back, rolling off the lounge and onto the floor  

Running a hand through his hair, “Cauldron spare me, you guys go, I’ll look after them for now,” Rhys sighs.

Mor pats Rhys on the back. “Are you sure you don’t want backup?” she asks. 

Rhys waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

The rest of the Inner Circle leave swiftly. Rhys pours another glass of wine and takes a seat at the dining table, preparing himself for a long night of babysitting his friends.

————

Reader

Bliss. 

That’s what you felt. 

Every cell in your body feels so light. Like you’re made of air, floating through space. 

It’s so peaceful. 

Your vision is slightly blurred, like a fog has settled in the room, curling around you. And yet, despite the haze - your head feels clear. 

You know what you want. 

You look at the two males before you. Gods. How did they get more beautiful? Your eyes flit between them, soaking in every detail. 

You lean forwards, to where they are sprawled on the floor in front of the lounge, empty glasses discarded beside them. 

You reach your hand out, meeting the force pulling you towards them, feeling the deep urge to— touch. 

Your fingers gently graze Cassian’s cheek. He turns to look at you, hazel eyes drinking in your entire being. 

“So beautiful,” you whisper, unable to hold the words back. You turn to Azriel, “Isn’t he?”

Azriel just nods, all words lost to him as he takes in your face. His expression is hungry. As if he could devour you whole. 

You inhale, and their scent hits you. 

Pure, unadulterated lust.

You exhale slowly as desire grows between your thighs. You know they can smell it on you, too. 

The Illyrians look at each other, predatory smirks on both their faces. They turn back to you, moving as one. Cassian licks his lips and Azriel moves forward, placing a hand on your knee.

The heat from his palm radiates up your leg and your core throbs. Your heart pounds in your ears, your breath quickens and you start to give in to the raw need swelling inside you. 

Your eyes go straight between Azriel’s legs, and the growing bulge. Your mouth goes dry and you let out an involuntary squeak as he trails his hand further up your thigh. Inching closer to your sex. 

Cassian leans forward, his breath hot against your ear. “You smell divine, I wonder if you taste just as good,” he whispers, his hands too light as they tease along your body.

You inhale sharply, heat rushing to your cheeks. You glance down to his crotch, where his hard length strains against his leathers.

“Our sweet girl,” Azriel purrs, “You always take such good care of us. Can we return the favour?”

You let out a soft mewl, shocked by their forwardness tonight, though every part of you yearns for them both. 

“I want you so bad,” Cassian murmurs, “Only if you want it too, angel.”

You resign control of your body over to your lust, the growing ache between your legs becoming too much to bear. 

You nod at the males before you. “Yes, please,” you beg. “I can’t take it any longer.” You stroke Azriel’s cheek and you reach for Cassian’s thigh. They both move closer until their lips make contact with your neck. They leave a trail of passionate kisses down each side. Your head rolls back as you’re overwhelmed by pure desire. 

You feel strong arms beneath you, lifting you off the floor. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” Azriel whispers. You nod, biting your lip and he carries you to his bedroom, with Cassian following close behind. 

————

You can’t recall the last time you slept that well. 

The bed is soft and warm and you’re surrounded by a red glow. The dream you were having slipped away, but left you with the feeling of safety and love. 

As you regain awareness, you realise someone is holding you. Not just one male, but two. And that red glow… That’s the sun is filtering through wings. Illyrian wings. 

They look so beautiful up close. The wings.

The membrane shines in the morning light. With each vein illuminated you can see the intricate paths across the surface, like the many branches that make up a forest.

You reach your hand up to touch one but pause before making contact, recalling what Cassian told you about them being sensitive. 

Cassian lifts his head and looks at you with a sleepy smile. “Good morning,” he says groggily, “What happened?”

From your other side, Azriel stirs slightly in his sleep. You feel his arm tighten around you before retracting completely. He jolts back in the bed as he looks over your bare form. 

You try your best to hide your wince at his movements. You clear your throat before answering Cassian’s question. “I believe we were drugged with a love potion last night, a rather strong one.” 

 “Am I that ugly you need to be under the influence to share my bed?” Cassian teases you.

“Actually… That’s the thing,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Love potions only intensify feelings that already exist.”

“Oh,” Cassian says.

You lay in silence for a few minutes, until Azriel dares to break it. 

“So,” he starts, his voice taking on a nervous edge, “You have feelings for both of us?”

You look at Azriel, and then at Cassian before covering your face with your hands. You groan into your palms, utterly mortified by your predicament. 

Not only did you share a bed with them both, but they were now aware of your feelings - thanks to your big mouth.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you both in this position.” 

Cassian laughs nervously, “It’s not like it’s the first time we...” he trails off and both males shift awkwardly beside you, unsure what to say. 

You start to fidget with your hands as the anxiety builds and you’re unable to look them in the eye, to see whatever is it they are feeling. “Um, well, I’ve got things to do this morning, I’d better get up,” you say quietly.

Azriel slides out of the bed to let you up without a word. You grab your clothes that were strewn across the room, throwing your dress over your head. 

The tension in the room is palpable, and you wish your friends would say something. Anything to reassure you. 

You pause in the doorway, unsure if you should speak your mind. 

You turn your head towards the two silent males. “I’m really sorry,” you whisper, rushing out of the bedroom.

————

In the privacy of your room, you allow your tears to fall. Your chest heaves as the sobs wrack your body. 

How did I mess this up so badly? I can never look at them again… I’ll have to move courts.

You let yourself cry for a few moments before willing your body to be calm, pushing all your emotions down inside you to get on with your day.

You feel absolutely mortified that your friends now know what’s in your heart. 

The one thing you don’t consider is that both Azriel and Cassian feel the same way. 

————

Rhysand

Rhys swaggers into the kitchen where his family are seated having breakfast. He walks straight to Feyre, giving her a kiss on the cheek and ruffling Nyx’s hair, who is sitting in her lap. 

“Good morning, it seems our little potion worked some magic,” he smirks. 

“How mad do you think they’ll be once they find out?” Elain asks.

“Oh they’ll be thanking us,” Mor says, “Illyrians can be such dumb brutes, they never would’ve gone for Y/N without the push.”

 “Ouch, thanks Mor,” Rhys winks.

“You,” she says pointing at Rhys, “are the dumbest brute of them all!” He responds by sticking his tongue out as Feyre and Elain chuckle.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Tags ♡ @littlestw01f @impossibelle @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @the-wall-willow @xasael @lilah-asteria @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe

#poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d3 #poly!acotar #cazriel x reader #acotar #acosf #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar oneshot #acomaf

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x borrower!reader: The Secret World of Borrowing - Part 2[*]

A/N: I’m so sorry about how unhinged this is 🫣 also, don’t take this one too seriously

Warnings: size difference, macrophilia, masturbation (mutual?), cum play

Word Count: 4,046

-Part 1-

“Just piss off already.”

“This is my bedroom.”

You scowl up at the male. He’s been antsy all evening and it’s putting you on edge. An orgasm would soothe that particular ache, but he insists on keeping you within his sights at night—whatever that suggests. The thought has passed through a couple of times of simply seeing to your needs and getting it over with. What’s he going to do anyway? Confine you to the jar for longer?

“Well I’d like some privacy tonight,” you snap, folding your arms over your chest, foot tapping impatiently on the glass. Hazel eyes flick to you, easily seeking you out on his bedside table, the faelight long since gone dim, casting his room in dark blues and greys. “Planning on stealing something else?” He asks, edges of his mouth lifting into a taunting smirk. “I think I keep you rather well fed. Don’t you?”

Upper tip twitches to curl back from your teeth, but you clamp down on the urge. Instead raise your hand to inspect your nails, cleaner than they’ve been in weeks thanks to his surprisingly attentive care. “I have other needs beside food and sleep, you know.” Hold out your hand, squinting your eyes—the nail of your fourth finger is slightly longer than the one on your second. At your back, wings twitch with restlessness, almost fully healed now. You’re able to lift and move each one independently again, but it’ll be safer to remain for another few days at least to make sure the muscles are healthy and properly exercised.

He shifts, settling down atop his mattress, front pressing to the sheets while he rests his cheek on a pillow, peering at you intently within the darkness. Nose wrinkles, moving your weight from one foot to the other, done with your examination. “What?” You snap, “my kind desires sexual release just like yours does. Nothing special about it.”

At that he quirks a brow, the smirk again gracing his soft mouth. “Nothing special,” he echoes, a gleam in his eyes. “I would have thought something would happen,” he drawls, “you expect me to believe there’s no eruption of light? No crackle of ancient magic?” He lifts from the pillow, muscles flexing as he leans closer to the jar, peering down at you with playfully narrowed eyes. “No burst of fairy dust?”

You hiss at him, fists flaring with power at your sides, anger bubbling beneath your skin as you seethe. “That’s none of your business, Azriel, and it never will be,” you snap, nails piercing your palms. Eyes pointedly rove over him, all sculpted muscle, smooth and supple. “There’s no point of even entertaining the idea, so put it out of your mind before I knock it out.”

As usual, he doesn’t seem deterred, instead shifting back to his bed, wings shuffling as he rearranges himself. “Not even for my own pleasure?” He asks, smirking in the darkness, knowing just how the comment will squirm beneath your skin. “I find the idea rather interesting. Would it match your size?” Indignant heat washes over you as you shoot him a scathing glare.

“Orgasms are orgasms,” you snap, lip curling at the taunt. “Why would they be any different between our kinds?” He quirks a single brow, the edge of his mouth twitching as he drinks in your tiny reactions, magic flickering at your fists. “There aren’t many of you, are there?” He asks, making you stumble in your indignation. Quick for anger to return full force. “No. There aren’t. No thanks to your ilk,” you spit, eyeing his much larger body. So much power contained within his vessel.

He’s unperturbed by your rage, mouth twitching as he takes in your words. “When was the last time you slept with a male?” He drawls in a tone he’s learned makes you see red. “I’m almost inclined to allow you your pleasure just to relieve myself of your temper.”

Your fist slams into the glass with unyielding fury, fractures spiralling around where you’d hit. Brows raise in surprise, having not anticipated the possibility of your container shattering. “You should watch your damn mouth,” you snarl, hand lighting again, preparing to bring it down on the glass, magic finally able to begin restoring now your wing is on the mend.

Unfortunately for you, shadows have snuck in from above, lightly wrapping around your forearms, keeping you from slamming into the jar—likely to break it.

Azriel sighs, shifting in the bed, turning onto his back, wings pressing into the pillows. The cover was already low on his back, but with the movement it’s been dragged lower, resting on the muscle of his abdomen, highlighting the V of his hips. For a moment you stumble in your attempts, thoughts traitorously skipping to imagining how his warmth would feel. What it would be like to lie atop another living creature with no worry. It might be quite nice.

Distantly, his words float into your head. What could I ever do with you? He’d laughed. Have you run up and down my skin with those tiny, bare feet of yours?

Throat rolls, heat cooling in the pit of your abdomen. This night would be much improved if he simply allowed you time to see to your needs. The bubbling tingle between your thighs is becoming harder to ignore, and you certainly don’t want him getting the wrong idea. The thought of dancing across his skin may be appealing in the moment, but it would be regardless of who. Pleasure doesn’t care who gives, so long as it is received.

Snarl at the shadows as they retreat, releasing you from their tentative hold. Maybe you should forfeit dignity entirely. Sort the problem out yourself. Surely that wouldn’t be so bad. He’s probably seen enough of a female body before to not become flustered or uncomfortable. Worse comes to worse he might shut you in a drawer for the night to spare himself, but at least then you’d have some damned privacy.

“You’re brewing something, aren’t you?” He asks warily, pulling you from indecent thoughts. Eyes narrow on him, arms folding. Lip curls in superficial disgust as you glance at the male. “Either give me privacy, or I take matters into my own hands.” Triumph beginning to ignite in the pit of your belly as you lay out the ultimatum. You are not above stripping off every last scrap of clothing if it’ll get you what you need in that moment.

Besides, as much as you despise to admit it, he’s proven to be a reasonable male, the jar aside. Even then, you can’t entirely fault him for it—you’d do the same if some strange creature appeared in your home seemingly out of nowhere. You have no worry he’ll take advantage of you, and it’s a surprising realisation.

Azriel’s lips quirk on a soft but taunting grin. “What could you possibly achieve with hands as tiny as yours?” He drawls. “I can’t imagine you succeeding in rewarding yourself with anything particularly spectacular.”

Your lip curls, turning away as you peel off your shoes, settling on your knees as you reach for the ties of your bodice. The threads—while thin and dainty to something his size—are thick and slightly stiff, making it difficult for you to slip the knots out. Slowly, you begin working them free, tie by tie until you’ll be able to pull the strings loose at last.

Sheets rustle at your back, and you imagine he’s probably turning his to you by now, giving space now you’ve forced his hand.

Speaking of, you jerk when rough-skinned fingers dip into the large jar, squealing as he picks you up, shoes forgotten at its base. “Azriel!” You scream, wings contracting as you hastily re-tighten the threads. “Put me down this minute.” Steady yourself as he moves you, pressing against his digits as you’re carried through the air to who knows where.

He lowers you, and you swiftly tumble out of his grasp, rolling onto—

Spine goes rigid as you peer along the powerful expanse of skin, thrumming with life just beneath the surface, rippling with muscle. Fingers deftly tie a bow with the threads at your top, making to get to your feet. He chuckles as your wobbly state, and you quickly lower back to your knees, shifting to face the right direction from how you’d fallen. Beneath you, the muscle of his stomach practically burns into your shins, bare skin against bare skin. You wonder if you’re even large enough for his nerves to register, whether he can also feel the heat of your skin atop his own.

“Either give you some privacy or you’ll do it yourself,” he paraphrases, smirking like the wicked bastard he is. He sweeps his hand out, almost tauntingly gesturing the powerful expanse of muscle that lies just beneath your tiny feet. “Then go ahead.”

Lips part on a sharp exhale, surprise lining your features as well as—and something stirs beneath his skin at the expression—slight bashfulness. Glee sparks in his chest, eager to push you further as he settles deeper into the pillows that he’s arranged to prop him upright. “Look at you,” he coos, with surprising sincerity, “don’t get shy now. Where’d all the bluster go, huh?” He playfully prods at you, careful not to be too rough. He doesn’t want to accidentally injure you.

You practically hiss at him. “You can’t just— Don’t you ever scoop me up like that again, Azriel,” you snap, attempting to get to your feet, but he’s chuckling again, making you regularly loose your footing. “I’m serious,” you snarl, managing to begin making your way across his stomach, muscle soft beneath your hands and feet, muffled by hot skin. “You wouldn’t like it if something handled you around with such entitlement.”

He laughs, and you press flat against him, too worried about toppling over and making a fool of yourself to be embarrassed about clinging to him so tightly. You’ll show him.

“Where on this realm are you going?” He asks, mirth lacing the rich timbre of his voice—which you can now feel reverberating all the way from your toes to your head. Passing through your middle. “Think I’d give you a free show?” You spit out, making it to his chest, walking the line leading between his pectorals. If he’s going to force your hand in return, you’ll simply do it right beneath his nose, where he won’t be able to see. No way in hell you’re spreading your legs so openly on his stomach—you’ll get to his chest, where you’ll be at least a little obscured.

His laugh deepens, and you again lose your footing, pressing flat against him. Shadows wrap around your ankle, and you gasp as he drags you back down the muscled slope you’d so bravely traversed. “That’s exactly what I think,” he rumbles, amusement gleaming in his hazel eyes, as well as something else. Something a little darker. Hungrier.

You swallow.

His brow raises. “Or were you bluffing?”

Traitorous heat buzzes beneath your skin, and you tug your ankle free of his grasp, pushing back up onto your— You don’t want to properly sit on him, what if he can feel your… Settle for an awkward half-sitting, half-kneeling position. “I wasn’t bluffing,” you grit out, sending a sharp glance at his shadows that are lingering, curiously. Lip curls as you snarl at them, but still they watch on, hanging back just out of reach. “But now you expect me to just strip off in front of you?” You snap.

“Feeling a little nervous all of a sudden?” He drawls. “Orgasms are orgasms,” he recites back to you, “nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“You wouldn’t be acting even half as cocky if you were the one being told to strip,” you almost spit, distracting from the task as you try to come to a decision.

His eyes gleam with something sharp and starving, growing darker as his attention pierces into you. “You say that like I have something to be shy about,” he drawls, tone taking on a lazy drag. Lips twist as he smirks faintly.

Your brow narrows, and then you’re turning around, crawling down his stomach, passing onto his abdomen as you near the edge of the duvet. Feel as muscle tenses beneath you as he notices your path. “What are you doing?” He sounds a little restless, lungs taking in more air as he watches you make your way down his skin, following the direction of his hips. Toss him a glance of your own, “I thought you said you have nothing to be shy about,” you taunt, reaching the covers. “Or are you all bark and no bite?”

Undeniable arousal sparks beneath his skin as you move to squirm beneath the duvet. His throat rolls as the heat curls down his spine, wings twitching as you make your way halfway beneath the covers. Teeth push into his lower lip, brow narrowing. His cock is larger than you are—but he can’t deny how arousing it would be to see you realise that. To set you atop it and make you…

Shadows again capture your ankle, tugging you out from the covers which you were struggling to navigate. Triumph lights your skin as a grin stretches your lips, poised to crow at your victory.

But then they’re turning you around, holding you by the waist and thighs as sheets rustle.

“I told you not to,” you snap, anxiously gripping the darkness as he begins to lower you. Stretch your feet out so you can properly balance, but the skin below you is much softer than before. Hotter too, thrumming with— You glance down. Breath catches in your lungs as he sets you on his cock, feet slipping either side, straddling the thick length of him. Tiny palms splay across the sensitive skin, just below his head.

Wild heat flushes your body.

You’d been expecting him to be large just from his size alone, but this? Throat rolls as your fingertip press into his skin, shifting lightly, thighs clamping on him to keep from rolling off.

“Happy now?” He asks cockily, though his voice is deeper than before. Rougher.

Lips part as your eyes lock, taken aback by the blatant hunger now dancing in his hazel gaze. How his shadows are darting closer, as if daring one another to touch you. Tongue pokes out to wet your lips, finding them suddenly dry as arousal ravishes you whole. “You—” you splutter softly, completely thrown off as desire clouds your brain.

He raises a challenging brow. “Yes?”

Mouth snaps shut indignantly. Muttering under your breath a variety of exquisite curse words. “I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself, Azriel,” you manage to grit out, hands hesitantly raising to the threads holding your dress up. Keeping you hidden from his hungry gaze.

Hazel eyes darken, arms raising to settle pointedly behind his head, muscles rippling with the movement. “You mean you don’t want me to press you against my cock while you get off?” He muses, sounding huskier. You snarl at him, but you’re secretly relieved. You’ve never slept with a creature with such a vast size difference. Yet you find excitement is thrumming beneath your skin, anticipation gathering between your thighs. “Arrogant male,” you snap, not quite managing to glare as the strings come undone.

With slightly shaky fingers, you pull the ties free, lifting the dress over your head. Hair shifts with the movement, brushing against your cheek as it falls back into place. Revealing you entirely to his starving eyes, licking over your naked form like he wants nothing more than to put you on his stomach and rub one out just to cover you in his cum.

You’re surprised the thought doesn’t disgust you.

“Move when it pleases you,” he drawls, watching you with those piercing eyes of his. Feeling as though he could see you bare long before you peeled away your clothes. You hiss, muttering something under your breath before turning your attention to his cock. Heartbeat spikes, heat seeping into your bones as you firmly settle your hands over him, and ease your hips into motion.

Arousal has long since dampened your underwear and is quickly soaking him, too. You roll gently, slowly settling into your pleasure, gliding back and forth, trying to keep your noise to a minimum. Breathe become heavier, finding your tempo, a slow grind as you find the movements that please you the most. His scent surrounds you, clouding your mind as you give yourself over to the feelings, allowing instinct to guide your swirls. Tongue flicks out to wet your lips, one hand raising to cup your breast, a soft sound spilling as your fingers graze your nipple, back arching as you continue the motions.

Eye fly open as something silky wraps around your middle, causing you to peer down, halting. “Is there a problem?” He drawls, but the strain is evident in his voice no matter how he attempts to disguise it. The shadow tentatively hugs your waist, sliding over your hips as they urge you back into movement. Darkness grazes your front, slipping up over the weight of your breasts, pinching at your nipples. Lips part in a moan, spine arching as you return to using both your hands for leverage, grinding over the thick length of him—precum drizzling from his tip.

“I know you wouldn’t be able to keep from touching me,” you manage, playing along. You sound breathless even to your own ears, pleasure building in the pit of your stomach as the coil tightens. A rough laugh drags from his chest, and something dark and syrupy melts in the pit of your belly, turning hot and liquid as his shadows experiment with your body.

Gasp as they bite into your hips, most likely putting in a bruise.

“If I recall,” he drawls roughly, no longer even attempting to conceal his own desire, “you simply said I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.” Open your eyes wide enough to see that damned smirk on his mouth, dripping with male arrogance. “I believe I’m adhering to that?”

Mouth opens to snap out a response but the shadows are roughly pushing you forward, tipping you over the edge as you tumble down onto his stomach. Arousal spears through your middle, and they’re on you in a second. You’re still facing toward the male, but he’s pushed you onto the muscle of his abdomen, soaking you in the droplets of precum that have beaded there. It takes all your willpower to resist the degradation of licking it off your hands.

The truth is you’re struggling to move with the way his shadows have you pinned, wrapping over your stomach as they shove between your thighs. Gasps are pulled from your mouth as they move over your heat, slipping beneath the band of your underwear, roughly tugging it away in their rush to explore over your cunt.

The sound of your moan has his discipline slipping, hand fisting his cock now there’s no longer any danger of him crushing you in his need for pleasure. Blood boils, watching as you writhe, shadows having their fun with you at last—they’ve been practically begging for another round since you last got the better of them with those magic fists. He can feel their excitement, how they darkly revel in having you beneath them, and pulling such lovely noises from you, too.

Azriel can’t help the low groans that drag from his chest, stroking himself as heat flushes his skin, teeth almost piercing his lip as he imagines the mess he’ll put you through when he cums. The mental image alone is enough to have him slowing his pleasure, anxious to last with you. The Mother knows you’d be relentless in your mocking should he find his release before you. Your ego doesn’t need that particular boost.

Your mouth parts as his shadows at last move higher, skating across your breasts, pinching at your nipples as they play with your clit, rubbing tenderly as they pull those marvellous responses from your arched form. He can tell you’re at the edge, just needing that little push to finally make you topple. Tongue flicks out over his lip as his thumb swipes across the slit in his head, gathering the moisture there before releasing himself in favour of paying you more attention. Your hips are bucking against his shadows, eyes partially closed in bliss, and he gives himself a moment to drink you in. Then he’s dragging his thumb lightly down your body, between your breasts to your stomach, pausing at your abdomen. Lightly rubs over your soft skin that’s now taken on a milky sheen.

A louder moan drips from your mouth as you tip over the edge, his hand returning to his cock, twitching at your cries. How pretty you’ll look, soaked in his release. Another lash of arousal whips down his spine, memorising how you arc as your orgasm hits, taking no prisoners as muscle seizes. It’s enough to have him letting go, spurts of cum shooting from his tip, splashing down onto his stomach, painting you with his release.

Head tips back into the pillows, riding out that last high, skin flushes with pleasure as his hips buck into his hand.

Shadows gather his release, washing it over your body until there’s hardly an inch of you that hasn’t been marked or covered in him. Teeth bite into your lip with surprise at how arousing it is, being submerged like this. Having him mix with the release between your thighs, sitting upright only in favour of gliding across the muscled skin of his stomach, bathed in cum. Easing down from your high.

Azriel’s eyes peek open, immediately finding you, gently rolling your hips over him with your own gaze half-lidded. The sight’s enough to have him considering another round, but you’re small, and certainly tired. Another time. Maybe.

Your own gaze finds his, ire and arousal twining together as you give him a heated look. “I hope you’re planning on finding me some new clothes,” you snap, though you’re too breathless to put much anger into it. “A shower would be nice, too,” you add, “did you think of that before you yielded to your messy fantasies?”

His cock twitches at your description and he has half a mind to put you back atop him, if only to feel how smoothly you glide with the aid of mixed release between your thighs.

Instead he grins, once again lifting you into his palm. This time you don’t squirm and his thoughts are confirmed: you’re definitely tired. His tongue pokes out, carefully licking over the skin of your stomach. Feels as you gasp, wriggling half-heartedly beneath his grip.

“Azriel…” you mumble, flushed with embarrassment. It’s a look he likes seeing on you, he thinks. Almost as much as seeing you bathed in his cum. Lips quirk upward, pupils piercing into you while his thumb wraps across your hips, keeping you from moving too much. “Weren’t you just complaining about being filthy?” He asks, offering a wicked smile. Mouth parts on a quiet exhale, then your eyes are flicking away, thighs opening a little wider in invitation. “Dirty male,” you mutter under your breath, though he can tell it’s a lie.

His tongue drags over your heat, and you tense, thighs weakly squeezing as he licks over you. Tasting himself on your skin. Becoming more aroused with every stroke. “You’re enjoying this more than I am,” you manage to get out, spine arched and legs parted to allow him more access. A low sound rumbles from his chest, almost a strained laugh as his mouth seals over your lower body, the hot, wet muscle making you feel like he’s brought you to paradise.

“Hold still,” he orders softly, wary of how loud he might sound from your proximity.

He refuses to let you up until he’s gotten you to come on his tongue.

Taste your release as it is, with the intrusion of his own.

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

Az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde

tswob taglist: @naturakaashi

#azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel x yn #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #tswob #tswob part 2

[lanitalay]

One day : Chapter 1

Azriel x Reader

a/n: I saw the netflix series, bawled my eyes out then thought it would make a great Az x reader story.

warnings: anxiety, drinking

word count: 1555k

Masterlist

Summer Solstice was your favorite holiday. Each year you look forward to celebrating the longest day of the year in the most beautiful city in the world. This year would be slightly different, as you were no longer a student, having recently graduated to proper healer. So, for the first time in years, you were able to stay up until the sun set and came back out because there were no readings to do, no papers to write and no seminars to attend the next day. You had informed Madja that you would not be coming in tomorrow and she had understood. “I was young and capricious as well, long, long ago.”

The day was spent at the Sidra, lounging and playing in the sand and the water. It was packed, thousands of fae clamoring to the shore to watch the High Lord’s ship pass by. Cheering for it. When the sun set your friends dragged you back to their apartment to get ready for the night ahead. The Rainbow would be filled with street vendors, music and art. 

“I can’t possibly drink more” you gagged as more sparkling wine was shoved in your hand. “Suck it up!” Nomi laughed and poured a glass for herself. Bec did your hair, curling it in loose waves. Fran did your makeup, smoking out dark shadows in your eye lid. Nomi gave you a short, short dress. The four of you admired the collective beauty in the mirror, even if not one of you could see straight. 

“Onwards!” Fran called and opened the door to let everyone stumble out. 

A few hours after drinking, eating and dancing in the street, Bec insisted she needed to sit down. You were looking around to see where you could take her when you spotted a familiar sign. “Let’s go to Rita’s, she’ll let us sober up in there” you guided your friends through the crowd, weaving in between all kinds of fae until arriving at the sanctuary. 

Rita recognized you and waved you in, sitting you down in one of the booths. The place was not quiet by any means, but the seats were cushioned and Bec sighed in relief as she took off her heels under the table. “These shoes rubbed my feet raw,” she hissed. You waved your hand over her feet and channeled some of your healing powers to her blisters. “Oh my gods, thank you, y/n.” You laughed and announced to the table “I’m going to get more drinks.” 

It had been ten minutes of standing by the bar, trying to get someone’s attention. “Hey! I need liquor!” You heard a low laugh behind you and turned around to see a looming figure, wings tight against his back, biting back a smile. “What’s so funny?” Always confrontational when drunk. He shook his head “nothing, can I order something for you?” 

You considered his offer. He was much, much taller than you. If he wanted, he could reach through the bar and grab a bottle of wine. There was a cloudiness to him, or maybe you were far too drunk. You nodded and told him what the table wanted. He waved the barkeep down and placed the order. “Are you the spymaster?” He nodded once. “I’m y/n,” you stretched a hand, as much as you could within the multitude of party goers. He shook it gently with a calloused hand “nice to meet you, y/n.” 

In a few minutes the four drinks were on the bar, Azriel helped you carry them back to the table. When your friends saw who was behind you their jaws practically unhinged. “Thank you, Spymaster.” “Azriel is fine” he said with a smile, and gods… that smile.  “Thank you, Azriel.”

You wanted to drown yourself in the Sidra when Nomi, ever fearless, shouted over the music “does the Spymaster dance?” 

“I could, with the right partner” he turned his head to look at you. “Are you inviting me to dance?" 

“Yes,” now it was him who had a hand stretched your way. You did not have to convince yourself to dance with him. Putting the glasses on the table, you turned and took his hand, letting him lead you right to the dance floor. 

It must have been hours that you spent dancing that night. At one point your friends came over to let you know they were going to call it. Azriel asked if you wanted to leave as well but his hips were grinding against your behind and his arms were firmly holding your waist. So you shook your head “no.” When the song changed he spun you, slotting your legs together, keeping you impossibly close. So close his nose nudged yours. By then, last calls were being made and you asked Azriel if he could walk you back to your apartment. 

He led you out of Rita’s and you pointed in the direction of your place. Azriel did not let go of your hand until you stopped in front of a building and said “this is me.” He looked at the stone building, decorated with flower boxes on the windows “it's nice.” 

“Can I get you some water? Something to eat?” The night could not end like this. You didn’t want this night to end at all. So when he nodded you beamed and opened the door, walking up the three flights of stairs to get to your apartment. “I have bread and…” you looked through the cabinets and were embarrassed that you had not stocked up on any groceries in weeks “chocolate chip cookies, but they are probably stale.” 

“I’ll try a cookie” he bit into it and grimaced “it’s very stale, throw that away.” You giggled and threw the cookies in the trash. When you turned back to face him he was right in front of you. A hair's breadth away. “You know you’re quite beautiful,” you gulp, “you’re very handsome too.”

His hands come up to graze your cheek, “I really want to kiss you.” 

“So kiss me” it doesn’t take him more than a second to bring your lips together. You hold onto his shoulders and he pushes you pack until he helps you jump on the counter. Your legs spread, wanting him to get closer, closer. He pulls back to ask “where’s your room?” You point to the door behind him and he grabs your thighs, carrying you towards a proper place to bed you. 

Ever so gently, he lays you down on your bed but you stand, turning so your back faces him. “I can’t reach the zipper,” with a feather-light touch he grabs the tiny piece of metal and slides it all the way down. You pull off the straps and let the fabric pool at your feet. Turn again to face this, this time completely bare.

“Your turn,” you start to undo his buttons but he quickly takes over, throwing his clothes on the floor next to yours.  Now you lay on the mattress and he settles on top of you, latching his mouth to yours once again. “Are you alright?” You notice his heart is beating erratically and place a palm on his chest to assess. “Yes, I’m-” “You’re having heart palpitations, lie down, let me do something” you push him on his back, hand still on his chest as you try to soothe the distressed organ. 

“I’m a healer, I’m going to send some magic to your heart to calm it down. It won't hurt but it might feel tingly.” You bring all your concentration to his heart. “It’s really fine-” “Shh, be quiet.” 

A few minutes go by and you are satisfied with his pulse. “Does that happen often? How much did you drink tonight?” 

“Sometimes and a lot.”

“Well try to limit your drinking to water for the next few weeks, I’ll tell Madja to check up on you soon.”

“Perfect, now can we get back to-”

“Absolutely not, you are going to sleep right now, stay here.” You hop off the bed again and throw on a night gown, and throw him pajama pants an ex had left behind. Azriel looks defeated on the bed. “Sorry to kill the mood, but I vowed to put my patients' health first. It's not something I can turn off.”

“Now I’m your patient?” 

“Everyone is a potential patient,” you say and fluff a pillow for him to lay on. “You don’t need to do that,” he grumbles. 

“Just relax.” You fluff your own pillow and lay down next to him. “It happens to me too. Madja calls them panic attacks, they can happen for no reason or a million reasons. It sucks.” 

“We didn’t need to stop, you know?” 

“Yeah, yeah. We can try again some other time.”

“So you want to see me again?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“The Spymaster of the Night Court doesn’t scare you?”

“Ha, good one. I can’t be scared of a patient and don't flatter yourself. You're too pretty to be scary” you teased. 

“Come here,” he said and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards his chest. His heart steady.

“Tomorrow I’ll regret not drinking any water,” you mumble, words spilling into each other as the  weight of the day crashes into you, sleep taking over.

#acotar #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #acomaf #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel x oc #a court of fey and flowers #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin

[ellievickstar]

Chocolate

A/N: Soooo, I am emotionally unhinged during my period. and I am on my period. This is my one shot for Az. I need chocolate but I ran out and it’s 1 am someone help me. This is also my really, really late 50 followers special I am currently at 72 followers.

Warnings: Period = blood. Boys get out of here.

ships: Azriel x reader. Cassian’s sister!reader

Summary: Your in pain and the shadow singer knows just what to do. And maybe has too much fun taking care of you.

I winced in pain as I curled up on the bed.

Azriel had gone out for work earlier and I was currently bleeding my insides out as Mother Nature announced her arrival — with several painful punches to the gut.

I whimpered as another sharp pain echoed through my body. Sobs wracked my soul as the ache was too much for me. A flutter of wings caught my attention and there was my High Lord.

“Feyre mentioned you didn’t train with her, I decided to check on you, do you need Azriel?” His eyebrows raised as I shook my head. I did not need to disturb his work because of something that is meant to be normal. “Your mental shields are down and your basically shouting your thoughts. Azriel wouldn’t mind if he needed to take care of you, you know that,” I shook my head and Rhys just sighed as he muttered something about stubborn females.

The High Lord spent the rest of the day disturbing me, making jokes and bringing company like Feyre or Mor but he did not go against my wished to not tell Azriel. What was doing must have been really important and I had no intention to make him come home and take care of me.

Eventually I had managed to fall asleep but was awoken again by the sharp pain in my stomach. I cried out as I curled up on my bed, my body aching. The movement of shadows caught my attention and there was Azriel.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” He asked as he approached me. I stayed silent, afraid to say anything because of the immense pain in my gut. He scooped me into his arms as he soothed me silently. His shadows were carrying a box of chocolate, my favourite, that I had not been able to get a hold of because I had run out just the previous day.

Once the pain subsided slightly, he fed me small amounts of chocolate before helping me to the bathroom and back.

As we snuggled in the sheets he held me tight, whispering sweet nothings into my hear and before I slipped into darkness I could have sworn I heard water running again.

A/N: As I finish this it is 1pm in the afternoon, soon to be 2pm.

tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @starlit-terror @hideing @flightlesslittlebirdie @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter @owllover123 @bookworm-nerd6 @gigisssz @bethany-bee0128 @cityofidek

#azriel x reader #acotar #acosf #acotar fandom #azriel shadowsinger #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #azriel angst #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #acotar fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x oc #azriel acosf #azriel fic

[toporecall]

Let The Games Begin

New fic posted! Chapter 2 up now. Very horny, slightly/more than slightly unhinged. 🔥 enjoy

Ft. Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel, Mor, and Cassian

Heavy smut warning

❌Read on AO3!❌

Summary: Feyre learns that the inner circle has an “arrangement” that she is now invited to join. Sharing is caring, right?

Excerpt (from chpt 2): I straightened my spine, looking again between Rhysand and Azriel and deciding in that moment to pretend I knew what the fuck I was doing and that I wasn’t scared.

“Alright then,” I said, putting on a face and tone that I hoped read as confident and ready for anything. “What did you have in mind, Az?”

Azriel smiled wickedly again, finally taking a few steps closer to the bed. “I thought we could play a game.”

My confidence faltered as I remembered Rhysand’s words from the other night: I should warn you, Feyre darling, Cassian and Azriel like to play rough with their toys.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #feysand #feyriel #ao3 #acotar fic #rhys x feyre #rhys x feyre x azriel #feyre #feyre archeron #Rhysand #azriel #fanfiction

[profound-imagination]

Ruhn Dannan / ACOTAR Cross Over Theory!

Okay, so this is slightly unhinged but stay with me!

Rhys' sister is alive and in Cresent City, she's Ruhn's mother and Azriel is his father - let me explain myself.

During A Court of Frost and Starlight, Azriel goes to get a woman we don't know a gift and Rhys tells him to get her something on his behalf. This to me says that Rhys can't go wherever she is.

What if Azriel's shadows allow him to move through the shadows of the world's? And he's been visiting her in Cresent City for years?

We know that Ruhn looks like his mother but is the spitting image of Rhys, when Bryce meets Rhysand she thinks he's her brother.

What if Azriel doesn't have a mate in ACOTAR because his mate for her own safety is living in CC?

Ruhn and his shadow powers anyone??

Ruhn and his mind speaking anyone?? His mother had such a reaction to this because of Rhys, her brother.

What about the wings you ask? Rhys' sister had them and obviously so does Az - the only way I can explain that is that Ruhn, like Rhys can hide them away, I think Ruhn has never learned how to use his wings due to fear of his " father".

Rhys' sister got pregnant and Azriel hid her in this otherworld when he found her with her wings cut off and her mother dead. Rhys and Tamlin were in on it. We know that even when his power is limited, Tamlin could transform his centuries into wolves, so, is it so far fetched that he could transform someone to look like Rhys sister and killed them for his best friend, to keep his sister safe (let's not forget Tamlin and Rhys were besties at one point)

Rhys' sister rushed into marriage with the Autumn King to hide the fact she was pregnant with another male's child.

In short - Rhysand's sister is still alive, she's Azriel's mate, Ruhn is Azriel's son and she married the Autumn King to cover it all up and keep her son, the son of the male she loves safe. The Autumn King sucks but he'd never kill Ruhn, his "heir" and that's the best she could've hoped for in a world she doesn't really understand.

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #crescent city #house of earth and blood #house of sky and breath #hosab #hoeab #ruhn danaan #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger

[writtenonreceipts]

6 for Elucien? ♥️

Continuation of the Hearts Entwined mini-series/oneshots I’ve worked on in the past.  I hope you enjoy!  And yes, between the last part and this, I changed tenses, again, I can’t explain it, I just couldn’t write the last part without it being present tense and then this part just came in past tense…and yeah.  I think that’s the least of my problems though, all things considered.

Hearts Entwined // Hearts Unfurled // Hearts Unbound

AO3

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort at the end, but boyo we go through some stuff, depictions of violence and wounds/blood.  Elain is slightly unhinged. ~4k words

Hearts Reforged

Silver starlight glinted through the air as Elain stood out on the terrace that overlooked the city.  She had done what she could with her magic and her Seer abilities but in the end—all she was left with was darkness.

A chill still spread through her bones and her skin rose with bumps the longer she stood out here.  But she couldn’t return inside.  If she did, she would be met with pitying glances and forced attempts to calm her and coddle her.

Elain was a grown woman.  Female.  Whatever.  She could take care of herself.  She could think rationally and she could help figure out this problem.  If only anyone would let her.  No.  All they would want her to do was sit primly while waiting for answers.  Go bake something.  Let Nuala and Cerridwen distract her.

She felt that tell-tale sign of rage pluck at her belly.  She wanted to just be seen as something more than the sister who was delicate and special.

Elain fisted her hands.

Inside she could hear the others talking.  Feyre’s daemati abilities still hadn’t been able to reach Cassian or Azriel.  Nesta and Gwyn had felt nothing strange occur in their own mate bonds.  There was nothing more to be done until Helion answered Rhysand’s message.  Though, why the male didn’t just winnow to Day and demand answers, Elain didn’t know.  If they would take her seriously and more than just a hysterical girl, she would have insisted such an action be taken.

Feyre had practically done just the same when she was in a fury, she nearly destroyed Spring.  Nesta could threaten anyone she liked as long as she kept that cruel smile in place and promised to overthrow thrones.  Not to mention what Rhys had done in his past.

Shaking her head, Elain tried breath normally.  Now she was just laying useless blame.  It was only a matter of time before she made petty jabs as well and what good would that do?

Running a hand over her face, Elain sighed.  She was a Seer.  She would find Lucien.  The male might have been the bane of her existence but she would not see him come to harm. She couldn’t.  She’d only just started to get to know him.  She’d only just opened herself up to him.  

She didn’t want to lose him.  Not like this.

Elain tightened her thin satin robe over her night gown and returned to where the others were gathered.

Already, Nesta and the other Valkyries were dressed in their leathers.  In the last year since completing the Blood Rite, the three women had initiated other members into their numbers.  Training had proven fruitful and they were quickly becoming a well-seasoned group of fighters and protectors between the courts.  They were not the kind of females to back down from a fight.

The rage turned to fear quite quickly in her gut.  They couldn’t leave.  Not until there was some idea of what had happened.

“We can go and see what happened,” Emerie was saying.  Her wings, newly healed, stretched out behind her. “If anything, they’re holed up somewhere until danger passes.”

“Mor and I can winnow you as close to the border as we can,” Feyre added, “Rhys is still waiting on Helion.”

It would be death.

There would be blood.

Loss.  Too much.  The kind that you didn’t recover from.  Even with all they’d already endured—if something happened to any of them, there would be no coming back.

“No,” Elain said.  Her voice was soft, gentle as a spring rain.  That unease churned until it was a tight coil.

All eyes turned to her.

“Elain,” Feyre began.  She had a placating hand raised and that insufferable look she saved for Nyx in her eyes. “We know what we’re doing.”

“You’re walking to a death trap,” Elain said. “Don’t you see it?”

The looks everyone returned indicated that no, they did not.  But how could they?  They were perhaps just as worried as she and were finally wanting to find answers.  But you did not find answers this way.  Not when Elain still had something left she could do.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nesta replied.  Her voice was sharp and even as those steel blue eyes narrowed in on Elain. “You’ve never been on a mission like this.”

But she had killed a man.

Sometimes, Elain was convinced there were still flecks of blood on her hands.

Before she could say anything more, Rhys spoke.

“Nesta’s right, we needed to figure out what has happened.  Even if we go in slightly blind.” Rhys nodded to the Valkyries. “Helion has heard nothing.  He is willing to provide assistance if needed, though.”

“No,” Elain said again, her voice a little firmer. “Going in blind will only lead to greater trials.”

“Elain, you don’t—” It was Feyre now, but Elain had had enough.

“Am I not a Seer?  Will you not listen to me when I speak reason?” She asked.  Over the last year and a half now they’d poked and prodded at her abilities, but never had they taken her seriously.  Even now.

“You’re inexperienced,” Nesta said.

Elian smiled lightly. “Says you.  You don’t honestly think I spend all my time baking bread, do you?  Nuala and Cerridwen are excellent spies, but are too easy to slip away from sometimes.”

If the situation weren’t so charged with panic, Elain would have enjoyed the reactions of her family.

“Let me scry,” she said. “It’s the only thing left that we haven’t tried, I can do it.”

There was a beat of silence before everyone was speaking.  Nesta and Feyre were loudest, of course, and Rhys was trying to reign the conversation in.  Mor was intent on pointing out everything wrong with waiting more than they already have.  Gwyn and Emerie were mostly talking to themselves, but the general consensus was against Elain.

“He’s my mate!” Elain’s voice cut through the cacophony of noise rather nicely.  

Perhaps it was because Elain hardly ever raised her voice so loud or maybe there was a hint of magic in the air that curved along with her words.  Either way, they were all listening to her now.

“He’s my mate,” Elain said again. “We already know Cassian and Azriel are fine, otherwise Nesta and Gwyn would have felt something.  It is my mate that the bond—that he could—” she cut off, regaining herself. “It does not feel right to simply leave without knowing anything.  I can feel it.  I can practically taste it on the air.  Leave now and we will know more pain than ever before.”

Her own magic, that Seer and Sight within her, hummed in her blood.  It wasn’t prophecy.  It wasn’t logic.  But it was something heavy with power.

Rhysand and Feyre exchanged a look.  Their silent communication lasted only a moment before Rhysand finally nodded.

“You know we don’t have time to waste, Elain,” Rhys said.

She cocked a brow. “Really?”

It didn’t take long to find a scrying bowl and place it on the large oak table in the center of the room.  As she tied her hair back to remain out of the way, Elain promptly ignored Nesta trying once again to talk her out of this.

Elain knew how terrible Nesta’s own scrying experience had been.  She understood and appreciated her sister’s concern, but she needed to do this.  Not just to find out where the males were but what had happened to the bond.

It was disconcerting how cold her heart had become.  Elain had grown used to the warm little thread that had tucked itself around her that now that it was gone or dormant or whatever—she wouldn’t stop until she had an answer.

Curling her fingers around the bowl, Elain breathed deeply through her nose.

“We’re pulling you out after five minutes,” Rhys told her. “We can’t delay long then that.”

“Nothing’s changed with our bonds,” Nesta said quietly, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

Elain nodded to acknowledge that she’d heard them and then she tipped her head into the scrying bowl.

…

It started with darkness.

Pure and heavy.

Darkness that caressed her body, her soul, and then slowly began clawing at her eyes.  It was so gentle like that and Elain wondered what would happen should that darkness continue.

Her body jolted and she was tumbling through nothing.  Nothing but air.  Her senses were muted that she could hardly even feel the wind around her nor the cloying presence of that blackness.  She was moving without direction or guidance and if she wasn’t careful, she knew it could go on for eternity.

She was looking for something.

Something lost.  Cold.  She was cold.  

Where was the warmth?

She had to find it.  No matter what, she would find it.  

She shook herself and focused.  She focused on what was lost to her.  She focused on seeing beyond where she was now.  The darkness would not help her.  Not here.  She needed light.

As soon as the thought passed her mind, it was there.  Pale light spread forth before her and illuminated a lake side.  The water reflected the blue sky above and barely rippled in the wind.  But it was alive.  Elain could feel that much.  This was not a place to linger or remain.

Where were the males?  She needed to find them.  She needed to find that warmth.

The longer she remained here the colder she got.

Where are you?  She wanted to scream the words, but her mouth wouldn’t work.  All she could do was breathe.  No one would ever hear her here.

Darkness gathered began her and Elain tried to flee.  She wouldn’t succumb to that.  Not now.

There!

There were footsteps in the dirt.  There was a trail.  There was blood.

Where are you?

Immediately, she was thrown forward.  Rushing against some unknown force, Elain moved away from the lake.  She was running between trees, among rocks, she was flying.  Yes.  Yes. Yes.

And there!

The air pulled from her lungs as she came to a stop.  Two males were leaning over a body.  Two great pairs of wings were stretched out.  Two sets of voices called into the voice.

And Elain knew.

She saw the spray of red hair and the way blood spattered golden brown skin.  She saw the pain-streaked face of a dying male.

She was cold.

So cold as her heart gave a slow beat and something began to unravel in her chest.

No.  It could not be this.  This was not reality.  Nor was it the Mother’s will.  It couldn’t be.

Wait, she wanted to say.  Stay with me.  Lucien!

She needed to get to him but her body wouldn’t move.  She was rooted to the spot as something tugged at her mind.  She didn’t follow that prodding, not as Lucien died before her.

I just want to hear your voice, she thought.  Once more.

Elain.

Her name, soft upon her mind.  She knew that voice.  

Lucien! 

She didn’t know what she could do.  Not as this disembodied substance.  Not when the darkness tumbled around her feet.  Not as that tug on her mind came again.

Elain clutched at her heart as though she could pull it out and offer it in replacement for the male that lay dying.  She searched deep down for that bond that curled between them.  It wasn’t gone.  By the Mother, Elain would not let it be.

Another tug at the base of her skull.  Now it felt like hands were on her.  They kept pulled kept gripping.  

Come back to me, she insisted.  To the bond, to the male—she didn’t know.

But as she was yanked away from that scene, Elain could have sworn she saw Lucien’s eyes flutter.

…

“Elain!”

She was sprawled on the hard, stone floor gasping for air.  Her hair had loosened from its ties and was no washed around her creating a darkened veil.  Everything hurt.  Her body, her mind, the bond.

“No.” It was more of a groan leaving her lips, but Elain couldn’t manage anything else.  

Hands were upon her again and Elain shuddered against them.  They were only going to take her back, plunge her back into that cauldron.

“No!” She screamed it now, floundering against the hands.  She would not be changed again.

“Elain, look at me!” the voice was desperate and accompanied by soft hands that cupped her face. “It’s Feyre.  It’s Feyre.  You’re alright.”

Her hair was brushed back and when Elain opened her eyes she was met with her sister’s steady gaze.

“Feyre?” Elain whispered.  

“Yes,” Feyre said.  Then she was nearly shoved aside as Nesta took her place.

“Keep breathing, ‘Lain,” her older sister said, “keep breathing.  It will take a minute.”

Elain shook her head.  They didn’t have a minute. “He’s dying or he’s gone.  There was blood and there was pain.  There were no monsters left to slay.”

The scrying wrapped around her in a chokehold as she spit the words out.  She couldn’t help it.  She never could.  Her magic churned beneath her skin, desperate from release.

“Who?” Rhys’ voice demanded from somewhere behind. “Who is hurt Elain?”

Elain stared into Nesta’s eyes. “He’s going to leave me.  They always do.”

Her words were met with silence.  And then Nesta was gone. 

“We’re going.  Now!” Nesta ordered.

Elain shuddered and nearly fell over, but Feyre was right there.  And Mor too.  The two of them remained at Elain’s side, keeping her grounded as Rhys spoke with the Valkyries.  Elain heard none of it.  There was only one thing thrumming through her as she clutched Feyre’s hand.

Her mate was dying.  Her mate was dying.  Her mate was dying.

The thought sent little sparks of pain through each of her nerves.  She hardly knew the male and here she was--terrified she would lose him.  Elain shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut.  Mother above what was this was going to destroy her, wasn’t it?

“Wait!” Feyre cried.  She jostled Elain as she snapped her body around to find her own mate. “Did you feel that?  The wards shifted”

And then as punctuation to her words--a resounding boom echoed through the House.

In a matter of moments, the doors of the hall burst open to Cassian and Azriel holding an unconscious Lucien between them.

“Madja!” Cassian bellowed. “Now!”

Elain released a strangled cry as they settled Lucien on the table.  His shirt had been torn to shreds leaving the planes of his chest exposed.  Only, the once smooth skin was nearly as torn up as his shirt.  Great claw marks ravaged the skin and Elain caught sight of bone before Rhys blocked her view.

“What happened?” the High Lord demanded.

“Bogge,” Azriel replied shortly.  “Three of them.  Koschei must have known we were coming to scout.  Lucien managed to hold them off while we found high ground to better attack.”

“Idiot jumped in front of one when it came for me,” Cassian bit out.

Pulling free from Mor, Elain scrambled to the table and Lucien’s side.  The scent of blood pierced her nose and she nearly recoiled if not for the rise of Lucien’s chest.

“He’s alive,” she whispered.  “Still alive.”

“Barely,” Cassian said before thinking better of it.

But Elain didn’t hear him.  Not as she stared down at Lucien.  His skin had lost most of its color from blood loss and there was a pinched expression to his face.  Face he was breathing.  He was still breathing.

Madja came hurtling into the room just then.  She was already making demands of equipment she needed and telling any unnecessary bodies to leave.

“Get his mate out of here,” the healer said. “I cannot work with her over my shoulder.”

Elain started at that.  Then Feyre was there, trying to pull Elain away.

“Wait,” Elian said, her heart thudded painfully in her chest. “I can’t leave him.  No, Feyre.”

Her words were ignored and then she felt a brush of magic in her mind before everything went black.

…

It took a full day before Madja could say with certainty that Lucien wouldn’t mortally suffer from his wounds.  Despite the was the female had proven herself in the past, Elain was not ready to instill all of her trust on the woman.  Not until Lucien woke up.

Instead, she remained by Lucien’s bedside in his room.  It was still just as empty as when she’d come to him after a nightmare all those weeks ago.  But she could still find a little bit of Lucien’s personality peeking through.  Books were stacked on his bedside table, his closet neatly organized, even the subtle scent of cinnamon and rain lingered.

It should have been comfortable to be there.  Comfortable to be at his side and know that he would be alright.  Comfortable to feel him through the bond.  

She couldn’t help the worry though.  

After the last few days of not feeling him, of not knowing if he were alive or dead and then seeing him at the lakeside…

She remained by his side.

It wasn’t until dawn of the second day that Lucien woke.

As he groaned and shifted in his bed, Elain set aside the book she’d been reading and reached out to him.  The second her fingers met his forearm his eyes snapped open and a gasp tore from his lips.

“You’re alright,” Elain said.  She clasped his hand tightly, trying to convey the words. “You’re safe.  You’re alright.”

He did not seem to believe her.  Especially as that furrow between his brow deepened.

“Where—?” his voice was a rasp and he ended up coughing heavily before he could say anymore.

Elain pulled away and filled a glass with water from the pitcher on the side table.  She helped him sit up just a bit and take a long sip.

After another moment to collect himself, Lucien fell back into the mounds of pillows behind him.  Perhaps Elain had been a little too enthusiastic with her pillow stacking.  And blanket piling.  She wasn’t sorry though.

“What happened?” Lucien finally asked.  He wore no shirt, only thickly woven bandages over his chest and stomach.  The bogge had been very intent on killing him.

“You tried to play sacrificial hero,” Elain informed him, remembering what Cassian had said about Lucien playing bait. “And the bogge took you up on that offer.”

He grunted and closed his eyes. “Right.”

“You’re fine though,” Elain assured him. “Madja helped patch you up.  Feyre too.  Your own magic started kicking in eventually.  You’ll make a full recovery.”

“No new scars then?” Lucien asked.  He was grinning, the prick, and opened his eyes again.

Elain stared at him. “That’s not funny Lucien.  You could have died.  You almost were dead.  Do you even know what I—”

She cut herself off and focused on straightening her dress.  It was something simple, much like what she would have worn as a human.  Simple green with an uncut waist line that she could move easily in.

Lucien shifted, sitting up just a little bit.  “But I’m fine.  You said so yourself.”

She didn’t look at him.  Couldn’t look at him.  Not right now.  Because if she did, she would tell him about feeling the bond slip away.  She would tell him about feeling cold, alone, empty.  She would tell him about the fear at thinking that he was gone forever.

She couldn’t do that.  She hardly understood these feelings herself, why spit them out half formed and risk saying something unwelcome.

“You told me we would move forward together,” she reminded him.  There.  This was a safe path to travel.

Lucien blinked, remembering that night long ago. “I did.”

“And then you nearly died.”

One of his smirks.  Elain wasn’t sure if she should punch him or not.  He was technically not on death's door anymore.

“Worried, my lady?”

She would throttle him.  And she might enjoy it too if not for the surge of emotion building within her.  Elain turned away, not wanting him to see the tears that threatened to fall.

He sensed it though.  One hand reached out to touch her cheek and then slowly, he directed her attention back to him.  His smirk was gone, replaced by something softer.  His eyes, one gold and one russet brown, met hers.

“Elain,” he said, softly.

She swallowed hard. “I was scrying because we couldn’t find you.  We didn’t know if you were all safe or not.  And I was watching you die.  Azriel and Cassian were trying to save you but everything was cold.  It felt like…it felt like you were leaving me, Lucien.  And it scared me.”

The admission was hard.  She’d never spoken like this to him, not really.  It was the closest to talking about feelings they’d come to, really.  But she didn’t want to hold them back.  Not now that the bond was lingering in her chest again.  

His large hand cradled her face gently.  The feel of it was so welcome compared to the cold and the terror and the panic of the day.

“I heard you,” he murmured.  “Or felt you, or…something.  You were there, waiting for me.  Asking me to speak.”

She closed her eyes as he spoke.  His words, his touch, his simple presence was a balm against the ache that had been building inside of her for so long.

“I won’t leave you, Elain,” he said, “not unless you ask me to.”

Elain blinked her eyes open and watched him.  Still laying back in bed with bandages wrapped around his entire upper body it hardly looked like he had much say in the matter.  She told him as much.

“You look as though you’ll pass out if you even try to stand, Vanserra,” she said. “You are not going anywhere.”  

She took hold of his hand and clasped it between her own.  There were callouses along his fingers and near the base of his palm.  She wondered what he did to garner them.  Wondered what his life had been these long years.

“I will do what my lady commands,” Lucien agreed.

“Then this lady commands you to get more rest,” Elain said, “it’s hardly been two days, you need more sleep.”

Lucien let out a long-suffering breath, but his eyes were already drooping shut.  He was drifting off to sleep as he spoke again, the words soft and barely intelligible. “Thank-you, Elain.”

She waited until she was sure he was asleep before she settled his hand back on the bed and stood.  Madja should know he’d woken up. 

As Elain crossed the room, she glanced back once at Lucien’s sleeping form.  He almost looked peaceful now with his head cocked to one side and his expressions smoothed over.  But she had seen the wound.  And even though she knew Fae had a heightened ability to heal and Madja was the best healer in the Court--she worried.

The pain and loneliness from the past few days had eased.  Though, Elain doubted it would completely abate anytime soon.  She didn’t know if she’d be able to fully tell Lucien what she had experienced in that time.  If she were being honest, it was because she was scared.  Scared to feel those things again.  Scared to admit them aloud.  Scared at the possibility of something more happening with Lucien.

But then she remembered the joy at Madja’s words that he was healing well.  She remembered the hum of peace as she first sat at his side.  

And it was those feelings that bolstered her up and she smiled lightly at her mate before she slipped into the hall.  It would still take time for them to grow together, but Elain was willing to see where they would end up.

...

tags:

@aelinchocolatelover  // @sexy-dumpster-fire // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals // @emikadreams // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @highladysith // @fangirlprincess09 // @rowaelinismyotp // @vanzetanze // @cassianscool // @stardelia // @my-fan-side // @sjmships // @tillyrubes10 // @rhysandswhore  //  @story-scribbler  // @post-it-notes33 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @pastasiren // @lemonade-coolattas @foreverfallingforthestars // @feysand-loml // @realbookloverproblems // @ghostlyrose2 // @swankii-art-teacher // @foughtconquered // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @captain-swan-is-endgame  // @mystic-bibliophile // @cretaceous-therapod // @thenightgodess-feyrearcheron //  @thisloveseternal // @gracie-rosee // @magnifique1807 // @liars-lmao // @goddess-aelin // @thegloweringcastle // @tangledinsparkles // @the-lonelybarricade // @millsarcherfeykat // @sideralwriting // @nerdperson524 // @the-fae-are-taking-over // @sushisempai //​ @airam1017

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fic #fanfic #fanfiction #canon

[chaoticpizzalawyerbiscuit]

Too Much

A Continuation Of "Not Enough"

✨don’t forget to make your own request✨

• I don’t own any of Sarah J. Mass’ characters or any of her plots, I’m just a fan having fun. Also I do not own the images. This is story is mine though, so please do not copy •

Although is not as big as the other, there's a fluffly ending....

WARNING! this is freakyyyy, and its just as dirty as part one yall, so buckle up ;)

My shadows wrap strongly around her wrists.

“You know, last week I was not the only one who agreed to this arrangement.” I smirk as I kiss her jaw. “And you were eager for it, more than me.”

I moved to her neck, and a light moan slipped her mouth. I felt her hard nipples skim my chest ever so slightly, only a thin pice of fabric as a barrier between our skins. My hands traced her ribs and stomach, and her skin went taut with desire.

“I will ask you the same question,Y/N.” She shivered at my dark tone. “What do you want? To remind you why you’re mine?” I looked into her eyes.

She kissed me, savagely. Her mouth demanding and thirsty for me. She bit my lip, and growled. “Yes. Take me, Azriel.”

That broke my control, and I unleashed myself into her. Fingers twisting her nipples and teeth nipping at her breasts. I make my way down her body swiftly, rapidly reaching the apex of her thighs.

I spread her lips, expose her engorged clit and taste her wetness on my tongue. Her moans were unhinged as she tried to grind herself against me, but I let out a low laugh and hold her still. One hand spread on her belly, another groping her butt. As I entered a finger inside her, her grew louder. By the third finger, she was begging to cum.

“Do you want this, Y/N?” I ask against her.

“Yes, yes I do, by the Mother I do. P-please Az, I need it!”

“Then give it to me, baby. Cum for me.”

She exploded with a scream, her back arching off the bed. Her juices dripped down to the sheets, and I licked her clean as her body spasmed.

When I finished, I kneeled between her legs and put my hands on each side of her head, looming over her.

“Satisfied, darling?”

She half opened her eyes nodding slowly, her head and body still in a haze.

“Hmm, already?” I whisper into her ear, nibbling it. “But I’m still not done with you.”

With her wrists still bound together, I flip her onto her belly. My hand moves to her ass, caressing it lightly.

“I'm

SPANK

still

SPANK

not

SPANK

satisfied!”

SPANK

With each slap to her butt, a gasp came out of her mouth. Her backside was now becoming a light red, and she lifted it, offering it for me.

“Do you want more, my dear?”

She looks at me over her shoulder, and says.

“Yes. Take me again, Azriel.”

As the spanking was throughly delivered to her, my chest swelled with male pride, as she was withering in pleasure. Her thighs rubbed together in search of any friction and release, so I told her.

“Y/N, I’m not as mean as you are, wouldn’t you agree?”

My fingers went straight to her clit, “Oh heavens, yes, yes!” she cried out. I rubbed it, slowly at first, but as she moaned louder, I went faster and kept delivering slaps to her behind.

After seconds, she came once again. But I never stopped my assault on her clit. By the time another orgasm rose, I aligned my erection with her entrance.

When I entered, my length filling her, she came. But my thrusts never stopped, and Y/N was relentless. Everything I threw at her, she returned to me. Even with her body bound, she held her spell over me.

And so, with my length buried inside her, my hands traveled everywhere. They tugged at her hair, massaged her clit, caressed her breasts. Her moans turned into screams. Her orgasms merged into one.

My own climax arose relentlessly, hands tugging her hair, and both of us rode together towards that final cliff of pleasure… as it got closer

and closer

a n d c l o s e r

until

we

exploded

and stars danced in our eyes

Our breaths were loud as we lay tangled in each other, relishing in the singularity of this moment. The descent from that much pleasure was blissful, and yet there was nothing as incredible as she lay her head in my chest, tightened her hold around me, and whispered

“I love you”

#azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #acowar #azriel x reader #acotar #acomaf

[azsazz]

Might Bite Back

Vampire!Azriel x Human!Reader

Summary: Anon Reqs: "how do you think vamp az would react it he lost control of his blood thirst and accidentally hurt reader?" and "OMG a fic where Vamp!Az loses control and accidentally hurts reader and then he realises what hes done!! I LIVE for those fics, we need more vamp az!!!!!!!"

Warnings: Biting, blood, vampire things.

Word Count: 2,544

Notes: This belongs on the vampire Azriel timeline.

_________________________________________

Something startles you awake.

It isn’t a noise, it’s the lack thereof that startles you awake. 

There’s an eerie silence to the black consuming the room. You curse yourself for falling asleep when you’ve been so desperately aware of the fact that he lurks at night, watching, waiting.

Your body is rigid, heart stuttering loudly in your chest, and the only part of you that moves is your eyelids as you blink wearily, sleep still clinging to your body, your mind searching through a hundred scenarios, trying to pinpoint what is going on. 

This is different from the silence you’ve slowly become accustomed to, when you were taken in the dead of night by the undead. His fangs had gleamed in the moonlight and you’d screamed so loudly that the trees surrounding the secluded home shook. Crows cawed in warning, flocking from trees and night creatures startled from the woods. Your blood wooshed in your ears like the wind pulling your hair from your nape, carrying your sickly sweet scent to his parted, hungry lips.

Your heart pounds in your chest exactly like that night. When you had felt like nothing more than prey.

Turning your head slowly, as if the slightest movement might make the darkness snap, you look towards the door. The chair you’d stuffed beneath the knob is still in place, and though you know the flimsy construction of wood would not withstand an ounce of his force, it serves as a piece to make noise should it shift, in case you’ve fallen asleep, much like you had tonight.

You force your rampant heart to calm, ears straining over the waves of blood rushing through them as you listen for the silent entity sharing the home with you. You’ve picked up on the noises that you could, trained your ear to hear the signs of the vampire that has locked you in this gothic tower. The whisper of fabric on cold skin, since his silent steps are impossible to pick up. The shifting of the air in the rooms as he moves, growing colder with his menacing presence. The rustle of his wings when he stretches them in frustration. The shivers crawling up your spine whenever he’s near.

But right now, there’s nothing. 

“Azriel?” you ask into the darkness, and you sound nothing more than a terrified child. There are no monsters lying beneath your bed, waiting to snatch you up by your ankles. No, this monster roams the large home freely, sharp teeth on display so that you know exactly what he can do. The only time you’re even a smidge safe is when the sun blinds through curtains you force open daily, but even the sweltering rays are not here to help you now. You are petrified beyond all belief, despite the softer instances you’ve seen of the slightly unhinged vampire who’s trapped you in what you know will be your grave.

There is no answer to your call, but you don’t expect one. He’s a predator first and foremost, and he thrives off of the quickening pace of your heart, the sound of your blood rushing through your body, the shuddering of your bones as you tremble. You catch him sometimes, when you quiver before him, how he licks his lips, fangs pressing into the soft skin of his unfairly luscious lips.

Your mind is screaming at you not to move, not to get up and find out what’s awoken you and has you feeling this unease. Surely, Azriel cannot be in danger. He is the danger. 

No one has tried to breach your room, the chair hooked up against the door, and you wince at the scrape it makes when you pull it away and turn the knob.

The door gives easily, almost swooping in on a phantom wind. It’s not him. Your body is too accustomed to his presence by now. And the lack thereof a darkness that rattles you so deeply it makes your thighs clench, you know he is not near.

The hall is long and dark, freezing cold. So much so that you can see your breath puffing before your face. Azriel doesn’t understand that you need heat to survive in your inferior human body, and you won’t tell him. Maybe it will become so cold at night that you’ll fall into a peaceful slumber, each shallow breath icing over until your heart freezes in your chest. Then, you won’t be trapped anymore.

But there’s a part of you that’s driven down the hall, seeking him out. A part of you that you shove away when you wonder if he’s alright. A part of you that likes knowing that he’s there, watching you when you’re doing the most mundane things to keep yourself from getting bored to death in this hell. When you read in front of the window, or cook yourself something in the kitchen. When you put on a particularly expensive dress for what? For…for him.

Your footsteps are silent against the carpets but to him you know you sound as if you’re stomping around the corridor, making as much noise as possible. It’s normally your tactic during the days, wanting him to know your displeasure for this place. The thought of him being able to hear your soft steps, your hardly there breaths makes you quake in both fear and excitement, knowing how he always knows your location, and can seek you out no matter where you run.

“Azriel?” you call again, softly. It’s hardly a whisper at all, and there is no response.

Your fingers tremble where they’re pressed to the wall, following the darkened corridor. They brush over the frames of artwork curling at the edges, paint dusty and faded with time. You caress the wooden railing, following it down the staircase, ignoring the nagging in your mind that’s telling you to run.

A fire crackles in the hearth and you pause, confused. All this time Azriel has never kept a fire going, not even per your request with chattering teeth and bluish fingers. He doesn’t like them, and you don’t ask why. You don’t care why. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You don’t know what possesses you to move closer to it when the popping of logs is a clear warning sign.

Pausing on the last step, foot hovering before the floor, the hair at the nape of your neck prickles. It winds down your spine like an icy rope, settling into the very marrow of your bones. It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right.

Before you can whirl around, race back up the staircase to your room, a voice sounds softly in your ear. “You smell impeccable, crow.”

You whirl, a scream tearing from your lips as you tumble from the stair. You catch yourself on frozen toes, staring up at Azriel with wide eyes, who is shrouded in shadow. He’s standing with preternatural stillness, spine tall. His wings are tucked tightly behind his back, and the talons stick high above his head like horns. 

“Azriel?” you ask, taking a step back. Two.

He doesn’t answer, he follows. Azriel takes one step forward for every one you move away, towards the sitting room with the fire. Orange light bathes him, and you can feel it roaring hot at your back.

As the firelight washes over his stoic face, your stomach roils in horror. This is not the Azriel who had stolen you away, who had given you dresses and your own space, who tried to make you feel less like you were robbed of your former life and more like this had been a choice.

But none of it has been a choice. And you are reminded just what he is capable of at the sight of red-rimmed eyes, the lack of color, the baring of sharp fangs that call your name. 

Bloodlust.

His pupils have swallowed the stroke of hazel completely. You watch as his fingers curl and his nostrils flare when your heart triples in pace. His unfocused gaze sharpens on the column of your throat where your pulse pushes through your skin. 

“Please,” you beg, but he doesn’t seem to hear you. Azriel is no longer there, instead, the very beast that lurks inside of him has taken control and is thirsty for blood.

Azriel lunges and you scream, pivoting on your heel. If you can make it to the iron poker by the fire you may be able to slow him down, stun him as you claw at the front door to try and get away. It’s no ashwood, which would kill the vampire who is much too fast for you to even take a step, grabbing you and pulling you back into his chest.

You thrash, screaming, but your efforts are futile. No one can hear you in the depths of these woods. Your strength is no match for him.

Azriel must be in there somewhere, as he is not crushing your body into dust. No, he wants you otherwise unharmed except for holes in your neck. That, he doesn’t mind seeing, tasting. It’s exactly what he’s taken you for, isn’t it? Just when you’d begun thinking that he might not be as bad as the stories you were told when you were young, tales of bloodthirsty creatures who would tear your throat out to taste your pretty blood.

Now is your time.

His grip is strong around your wrists. You kick back with your leg but can hardly reach him. He is immune to your weak hits. You can feel him leaning over you, closer and closer until his fangs are a whisper against your skin, a tease pinpricking right over your thrumming pulse.

“Devine,” he whispers, and the sensuality of it rips through your body like a lance. As you part your lips to exhale another beg, he bites. You scream.

You tremble in his iron hold. His fingers feel like icepicks as they dig into your flesh. Your scream melts into something long as heat courses through your body, the adrenaline and sting of his teeth burning you to your core. It feels…good. 

It feels like you’re walking on flames, yet they aren’t burning you. They’re caressing you in the best way, holding you, cradling you like a babe. For the first time since you’ve arrived at this horrible place, you feel warm. Like Azriel is embracing you, and he is, because you’ve stopped fighting. His hands are around your waist, holding you tightly, and yours are buried in his thick hair. Heat courses through your bones, pooling between your thighs. Your mind whirls with pleasure as he suckles, the hot press of his tongue lapping your skin, mirrored in the pulse of your throbbing clit.

You relish in the feeling. His body pressed tightly to yours, the strain of his cock through the thin fabric of your nightgown. You can feel the way his muscles loosen the longer he leeches from your neck. 

And you enjoy it until you become woozy, when the euphoria seeps from your blood back into his mouth. When his grip feels like each individual finger is imprinted on your bones. Your neck throbs painfully, and your vision is blackening with shadows in the corners. Your head lolls a little, unable to keep it up.

“Azriel,” you choke, but it’s hard to get your lips to form the words. It’s difficult to do anything except lean into him, to let him take his fill. But you have to try, because this is not how you want it all to end. “You’re…” you huff a painful exhale, “You’re hurting me.”

He goes still, bones popping with the effort. His hold on your falters and you sway, and as badly as he wants to pull away, to run and hide in a whisper of darkness, he catches you, because he’s harmed you and the bloodlust has been wiped away by your words alone. Words he swore he’d never pull from you. Words that will haunt him for centuries.

You’re hurting me.

His vision clears, goes sharp, staring right at the two holes in your neck, thick, red blood still dribbling from the punctures. The beast in him rages to lean down and lick you, keep sucking at the marks until your already slowing heart stops completely. He wants to feel the last beat of your heart beneath his hands, his lips, but he forces himself to do the one thing he hadn’t been able to do tonight: focus.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in horror, when his mind catches up to what he’s looking at. You, looking so broken and fragile in his arms, pale. Your head rests against his chest, eyes fluttering with the strain to keep them open. Your mouth parts but no words come out. 

Azriel wants so badly to drop you, to get away from you, because he’s so stupidly allowed his bloodlust to consume him. He selfishly thought that he would be okay for a few more days, that he wouldn’t have to hunt in the aftermath of a brutal storm because all of the animals would be hidden away. He’s been stupid to think that, and the worst has happened.

He shoves the couch closer to the fire with a shove of his boot. The logs pop and he winces, hating the sound. He’d started the fire as a way to lure you down, the warmth calling to you. It was as much of a present for you as it was a distraction for him. A warning he was giving himself, not to enter the room with the fire roaring in the hearth. He hates the way the flames taunt him. You hadn’t made it to the room before your scent had stuck in his throat and his beast caught a whiff. 

Your body looks frail when he sits you down. Your eyes have closed and your lips have lost color. Azriel knows that if his heart was capable of pulsing, it would be a pounding drum in his chest, beating with worry. He races to your rooms, ripping your blankets from your mattress and is back by your side in a matter of seconds. He tucks you in tight, worrying over you as if you are a sick babe. But you’re not, you’re a pretty little thing that he’d taken in the dead of night for his own selfish reasons. For company, for your heart. But never for your blood. 

This is not how any of this was supposed to go.

Azriel’s mind races with thought. The wounds on your neck have stopped leaking, and they’ll close up quicker if he just licks over it one more time but he can’t force himself, not when he’d violated you like this, hurt you. He needs to leave. He needs to get as far away from you as he can. 

The lethargic beating of your heart tells him that you’re going to be okay. You will be wobbly for a few days, throat in pain, but you’ll live. He didn’t go too far tonight. He didn’t drink you dry.

So Azriel does the only thing that he can. The only thing that he’s ever been good at. 

He leaves.

#vampire!azriel #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #vampire!az #vampire au

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Unrequited pt. 2

azriel (acotar) x reader

*this is part 2! Sorry for the wait guys! I really struggled with this and low-key I don’t like it but I hope y'all do! I wanna write the scenes after this but idk how im gonna make it work lol. anyway, enjoy!

word count: 3193

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

What you hadn’t realized was that Azriel left a few minutes later, walking to your apartment to make sure you had gotten home safe.

All of a sudden he heard whimpers and labored breathing coming from the alley.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you laying on the ground and bleeding out. He felt a tug in his chest. A click. Panic instilled in him as he gently but swiftly picked you up and flew you to Madja.

“Hang on y/n, you’re so strong” he whispered

In those moments, he feared for you. Fear that was so strong. Something he had never felt before.

He rushed into the house laying you on the bed gently before he was shoved out by the Madja so she could try to save you.

Azriel alerted the others and then collapsed into a chair, sitting in silence. A tear slipped out of his eye at the thought he may have been too late to save you.

You. His mate.

Why, of all the times did the bond have to click while you were on the brink of death. In a situation where you may not make it out alive. It wasn’t fair.

He wondered if you had known. Could that be the reason why you had been distancing yourself from him? Because you didn’t expect or want him to be your mate? But if you had known you would’ve said something, right? You wouldn’t keep it a secret? So many thoughts kept racing through his head.

Could it have been because of Elain? He knew the inner circle wasn’t stupid, they all saw him drifting more and more to Elain. Could that have been why you had distanced yourself? He would be lying if he said he didn’t like Elain, but he would also be lying if he said he didn’t like you.

Your stubbornness. Your generosity. Your sense of adventure. The way you could get lost in the things you did.

Suddenly the door swung open and the others came into the room, worry written all over their faces.

Azriel could tell that Cassian and Mor had been crying on the way there.

“How bad is it?” Mor shook as she spoke. You could see the pain in her eyes. The worry she had for someone who was basically her sister.

Azriel’s expression was unreadable and he didn’t respond.

“Do you think she will make it?” Feyre asked, grief evident in her posture. “I- I don’t know” Azriel answered, “It was pretty bad,” he said quietly.

Just as he answered, Madja appeared from the other room. “She’s in rough shape, I don’t know if she’s gonna make it through the night. She lost a lot of blood.”

The room grew eerily quiet

“She’s stable for now, but I will stay here and notify you if any changes occur.”

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

Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain went back to the townhouse to try and get as much rest as they could. Mor, Cassian, and Azriel decided to stay in your room with you.

Tears started slipping from Cassian’s eyes once he saw your fraile body lying in bed, barely hanging on.

“Oh mother” Mor sobbed out, a hand slipping over her mouth. She went over to the bed you were on, gently sitting on it and grabbing to hold your hand. She leaned against the headboard and watched as your chest heaved.

The trio sat in silence for some time, watching your every move, your breathes, whimpers, and shifts.

Azriel broke the silence.

“She’s my mate. All this time and I never knew.”, the sentence coming out as a whisper.

Shock was painted on Mor’s face. “Y/n’s your mate? How di-? When?”

“It clicked when I saw her body lying there.” his voice started breaking “Why did it have to happen right now. Of all the times. Why couldn’t it have happened months ago. I could’ve had more time. This never would have happened. How do I move on from this?” his voice ending on a whisper.

“All you can do is hope to mother that she has the strength to pull through.” Cassian replied softly. “You know, this whole situation is so ironic.”, he said softly to himself, lightly shaking his head.

Azriel gave Cassian a look of confusion, wondering what he was talking about, but decided to drop it for now.

“Anyway, let’s try to get some sleep and pray the morning holds better news”

Mor had dozed off, back against the headboard and hand still holding yours. Cassian was sitting in the chair, head resting on the palm of his head, it still took him a few hours to fall asleep completely. Azriel, however, couldn’t sleep. The thought of sleeping while you laid like this. He felt guilty, the feeling that he may have been too late. For the rest of the night, Azriel sat in a chair next to your bed, shrouded in darkness, hoping you would be ok.

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

Sunlight peeked through the sheer blinds over the balcony door. The faint sound of birds singing flowed through the air. Light shined onto your face, causing you to groan. Groggily, you opened your eyes, blinking to adjust to the light filling the room. Your head pounded and you winced as you shifted in bed.

“Y/n?” you heard a whisper. You mumbled in response. “Oh! Thank mother you’re alright! We were all so worried for you. Wait, let me call Madja now that you’re up.” Mor rambled on causing you to smile slightly. “CASSIAN!” she squealed “Wake up! Look! Y/n is awake!”

Cassian jumped to his feet at her shout. “Oh my god!” he ran over to your side “I was so worried, I’m so glad you’re alright” he said, taking your hand into his. “Let me go call the others, they’ve been waiting for an update.”

Soon after, the rest of the inner circle came over to your room to check in and Madja came to see how you were healing.

“That was quite the wound you had. Make sure to rest for the next two weeks. No buts, we don’t want this opening back up from stress or straining activity.”. You groaned at the thought.

“But I feel fine now, it’s not a big deal! I can go back to doing my duties in 2 days. I’ll be good as new.” you pleaded, trying to convince Madja and yourself. Before she could respond, Rhys cut in.

“You will do nothing of the sort. You just got stabbed for cauldrons sake, if i catch you trying to do anything remotely straining, i’ll lock you in your room and have Cassian stand guard in front of it”

“Fine” you grumbled out

“Now that everything is settled, i’ll be coming to check on you every few days.” Madja states before leaving

After a little more small talk was exchanged, the inner circle decided to leave you to rest a bit more, but promised they would visit you as frequently as they could.

Except, one person stayed behind.

Azriel.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Is something wrong?” you asked

After a hesitant pause his voice rang out. “We’re mates.”

You felt a blow to your chest. When did he find this out? As if Azriel had read your thoughts, he responded “Last night. After I found you.”

“Oh”

“But, Cassian said something, how it was ironic, and I can’t help but wonder how long you’ve known”

“I-, I told Cassian that we were mates yester-”

“But how long have you known y/n.” his voice quiet and sharp as a knife, as if tendrils of anger were waiting to escape

“Since the diplomatic mission Rhys sent us on”, you whispered. You could feel the tears threatening to fall from your eyes

“That was months ago and you didn’t think to tell me?” You could feel the anger in his voice

“I thought you would have figured it out sooner. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry” tears started falling from your eyes

“You knew and said nothing. Why didn’t you say anything? You should have said something” he seethed. His anger was unhinged, a drastic change for the usually calm and collected shadowsinger.

“If you didn’t want to be my mate just tell me. I’d be glad to be rid of the bond.”. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. His anger dissipated. He looked up and saw your face, tears streaming down.

“I see the way you look at Elain, Azriel. I’m not some stupid fucking female. How do you think it feels to see your mate all over someone else. I wanted to give you a chance to find your own happiness without me burdening you with this. And if we’re being honest, if you had to choose between me or her, you would choose her. I knew you would be disappointed by me. I knew you wouldn’t want to be my mate, that's why I didn’t tell you.” your anger started boiling up. “Do you think it feels good to be rejected, especially by someone you’ve loved for a long time? I didn’t want you to be disappointed that I was your mate, the person you’ve waited so long for.” your voice tapered off at the end. “Can you leave please” you said softly

“No, wait, I’m sorry I-“

“Azriel. Get out.” your voice boomed through the room.

He left reluctantly, softly shutting the door behind him. Just as the door shut, the sobs that you had been desperately trying to hold back broke free. Your body shuddered as you hugged yourself, crying yourself back to sleep.

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

During the following weeks, you avoided Azriel at all costs. As soon as he walked into the room, you would walk out. Any required conversations were kept short. You did anything you could to keep your mind off of him, cleaning, errands, hell you did it all. It certainly didn’t help your recovery, but you did what you could to keep your mind busy and off of Azriel.

“Y/n stop please. You need to rest, how many times do we have to tell you. You’re only making the healing process longer” Mor ranted on.

“I’m fine, I doubt a wound, which is almost healed by the way, would be damaged by me doing chores” you emphasized as you rolled your eyes

“Maybe not by chores, but it is affected by your stress”

A moment of silence passed.

“He feels terrible, you know, he didn’t mean to say it. He just wants to talk to you.”. Mor didn’t risk saying his name because she knew it would only anger you more.

“Well I don’t want to talk to him, or deal with him, or see him, or think about him. At all.”. You grumbled. Your heart clenched, but you brushed it aside.

“Y/n, please. I love you two and it hurts to see our family like this right now.”

“Please, can we drop it, I-“ your voice cracked

“Yeah, of course. Just… keep an open mind, maybe?”

“Yeah, ok” you looked down.

“I’ll see you later tonight then, for Rhys and Feyre’s dinner party.”

“Sounds good.”. You pressed your lips into a tight smile as you watched Mor walk off. You had definitely contemplated not going today. All of the inner circle certainly knew what happened, maybe not all the details, but still enough, which made you feel exposed. You weren’t use to having your emotions splayed out to everyone like that, and it made you too vulnerable. However, Mor had threatened to pull you to the party herself if you refused to go, so being complicit seemed like the best option.

It was just one night. You would be fine… right?

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

It was nearing 8 as you finished getting ready for the party, which started at 8:30. You were wearing an olive green silk midi dress. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was still very elegant. And comfortable. You were touching up as Mor arrived.

“Ah, there she is, beautiful as ever.”

“I could say the same about you, darling” you emphasized

“Are you ready to go, I heard the party is getting started, and you know I wouldn’t want to miss all the cocktails”

A laugh mused on your face. You grabbed your purse before the pair of you winnowed to the house.

You arrived at the front door, scanning the scene when you got there. It was a cozy ballroom with french doors which opened up to a huge balcony leading to the gardens. There was a huge dining table in the center with plenty of space to mingle in clusters.

You hadn’t spotted Azriel yet, a sigh of relief leaving your body. You strutted in, arms linked with Mor, grabbing a drink off the platter. You weren’t even sure who or what this party was for, but you realized you had downplayed it after spotting Helion and Tarquin. The high lords in Velaris. But that was the least of your concerns, the only thing you were focused on was avoiding Azriel.

Spotting Feyre near Helion, you breezed over to say hi.

“Ah! Y/n! Helion, i’m sure the two of you have met a few times before!” Feyre smiled out

“Yes, I do remember you! I heard about what happened, how are you feeling?” He asked

“Much better than the last few weeks, that’s for sure. Although I must say, this alcohol is certainly helping” you giggled. “Well I just wanted to pop over and say hi, but I think I’m gonna go find Cassian now. It was so nice to see you again Lord Helion, enjoy your evening.”

“You too Miss Y/L/N”

You dipped your head towards the both of them before making your way through the room to find Cassian. Where was he for caldrons sake. You hadn’t seen him in a week because he had to go up to the illyrian war camps again. Pushing your way through the crowd, you bumped into a hard chest, spilling your champagne. Cursing to yourself, you started to apologize.

“Oh mother, I’m so so sorry, clums-“. Looking up your y/e/c eyes met strong hazel ones, which were burning into your soul. You felt your throat close up, starting to feel trapped in the crowed room

No no no no. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.

You knew it was only a matter of time before you would have to talk to him, but you couldn’t do it now. Before he could say a word, you pushed past him and bolted out to the balcony to get some fresh air. You had run to the corner, near the steps to the garden, out of sight from others. Taking deep breaths, you calmed your nerves. You would be ok, everything was fine. It would be fine. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

You decided to quickly go grab another drink before returning to the serenity outside. Leaning against the balcony, you stared out at the stars and the gardens. They were so beautiful, even in the winter, you thought to yourself. You basked in the silence, your thoughts drowning you.

Some time had passed before you heard footsteps approaching you on the balcony. You knew who it was without having to turn around, but you still couldn’t bear to be around him. You turned to leave but his hand caught your wrist, holding it firmly. You could feel the scars from his hands against your skin.

“Please. I just want to talk”

“What’s there to talk about Azriel, you made your feelings clear that day.”

“Just listen, please, and then i’ll leave you alone if that’s what you wish”

You sighed, nodding your head in defeat. You couldn’t keep balling up your emotions.

He led you back to the railing of the balcony before his grasp left your wrist. You tilted your head down looking at your feet and fiddling with your thumb.

“I spent 500 years pining after Mor because I was so afraid of maybe having a chance at love. I thought it was best to love someone who would never love me back so I wouldn’t get hurt. Then I met Elain. She helped me to open up more, and helped me to believe that happiness would be possible for me, with someone. I had given up on the idea of having a mate. I didn’t think I deserved one. I was ok with that and had accepted that.”

He let out a breath as he ran his hand through his hair, light curls falling onto his forehead. “When I saw you lying there and the bond clicked, I was so mad at myself. I shut out the possibility of having a mate for so long. You were my mate. My mate. I never thought I would be able to say those words.”

He paused.

“I was mad that you may not make it. I was mad that I didn’t find you soon enough. I was mad that we didn’t have more time. I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. I Just wanted you to be ok. And then when you told me that you had known for so long, I was angry. Angry that I hadn’t realized sooner, and angry that you kept it from me because you may not have wanted me or expected me to be your mate. And I snapped. Then you said the thing that I had least expected. You said you had loved me” He chuckled dryly. “I am so sorry, y/n, so very sorry.”.

His hand reached down to cup your face. He jerked your head up so you were looking at him. “What i’m trying to say is that I love you, but I understand if you don’t feel the same way anymore”.

The air had been knocked from your lungs. Your heart swelled and your eyes watered. Before you had realized what you were doing, your lips crashed into his. His mouth fit perfectly against yours. He was a breath of fresh air with a hint of mint. Azriel’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you into his body and he smiled against your lips. It felt so right. Everything about it. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you both pulled away, breathless. Your forehead rested against his.

You whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“I love you too”. As soon as the words left your mouth, he pulled you in for another kiss, his wings forming a cocoon around you. This one was more demanding. Passionate. A promise. You pulled away from his mouth and leaned against him, his arms wrapping around you.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Azriel said. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small black box. “It’s your Solstice gift, I was trying to find a good time to give it to you.”, he scratched the back of his head.

You gently took it from his hand. The box had a red ribbon wrapped around. Undoing the ribbon, You opened the box to find one of the beautiful necklaces you had been admiring with Mor. “Oh my Az. Its so beautiful. I love it. How did you know?”

“I may have had my shadows follow everyone around to find out what they wanted.” he laughed out.

You smiled. “Will you help me put it on?”. Handing the dainty chain to Azriel, you brushed you hair aside. Baring your neck to him. His fingers ghosted the soft skin, clasping the necklace together. He tenderly placed a kiss next to your ear, causing butterflies to erupt.

You cleared your throat. “I think we’ve been gone long enough. Would you like to get some food, Azriel?” you smiled.

“I would love to, my darling mate.” he paused before darkly saying “I am especially excited for the part that comes after I eat.”. You lightly smacked his shoulder before the two of you made your way inside, beaming.

taglist ---

@minnie-mitzel @itsbebeyyy @preciousbabymuffins @kexrtiz @vicisbookishblog @peneflop @millianec @agentsofsheilds 

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel acotar x reader #cassian #rhysand

[unhealthyfanobsession]

I feel like something that’s interesting about switching the perspective to third person that people don’t realize or think about is it’s still very much a personal/omniscient perspective. I think this a lot when people say Cassian doesn’t admire Nesta enough because literally every description we get in ACOSF where Nesta is viewed from outside of herself is from CASSIAN’S PERSPECTIVE. It’s not a detached description or an outside third person. It’s him and how he sees her.

Example is the dancing scene. This description is very clearly how CASSIAN sees the scene. Nesta as a conqueror of death, a glowing embodiment of Night and power and everything that brings him to his knees.

“the entire room straightened, eyes upon Nesta, upon this once human female who had conquered death, who now glowed as if she had devoured the moon too”

Imagine this scene from an Azriel third person POV. It wouldn’t be about Nesta at all, it’d be focused on observing others, the mission, and the court’s power, maybe like this:

“The entire room gaped at the eldest Archeron and the heir of Autumn, power simmering in Nesta’s eyes, desire burning in Eris’. Azriel could taste their fear, their apprehension at what these two might do if they united beyond a dance floor. His shadows deftly pointed out the wary looks in the eyes of the few who were perceptive enough to note his brother’s stiff posture and slightly unhinged jaw. Kier, especially, did not even want to contemplate the ungodly power that would land in Rhysand’s hands once the General of the Night Court claimed his mate. When death and war walked hand and hand through this Court of Nightmares.”

And THAT is why ACOSF is my fav. Because there’s some great lines about love in the other books, but in this one every damn line is just these two describing what they see the other as and it’s always so contrary to how they see themselves and my GOODNESS I LOVE THESE BEAUTIFUL IDIOTS!!

#nessian #nesta archeron #acosf #a court of silver flames #cassian #azriel #eris vanserra #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #nesta and cassian #nestaxcassian #sarah j maas #acotar #acomaf #acowar

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x reader: Pull You Down[*]

A/N: I feel like there’s a prominent theme of me initially writing a pretty vanilla fic and then spinning the wheel of my kinks and just randomly throwing one in

Side note: just assume his shadows removed the pancake from the stove…

Warnings: food play (honey pouring), pussy-eating, smut, not proofread

“Something smells good.”

Your lips hitch up into a smile at the deep drawl, roughened by sleep. Husky, and delicious.

You turn to meet Azriel’s morning-softened eyes, how the dark centre within his green ring melts like honey in the sunlight.

“Pancakes?” You step aside to reveal the stack you’ve created, a few toppings sealed in dinky glass jars to the side. Some jam (strawberry, raspberry, apricot), some honey, and some cream (with strawberries and nuts scattered over top).

He pads across the kitchen silently, the deep blue cotton of his night clothes swishing quietly. Initially, he’d been against the idea of matching pyjama sets, colour flushing his cheeks when you had first suggested it, but you’d worn him down.

Azriel’s arms wrap around your waist, solid warmth pressing against your back as he settles his jaw over your head. “Looks good.” You hum in response, a spark of pleasure heating your chest at the approval. “When do you want to eat?” You ask, flipping the last pancake.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he answers easily, still a bit lethargic from what was apparently a good night’s rest.

You smile a bit. “Someone slept well.”

His arms squeeze you in response, and he dips to your ear. “I was very worn out.” You stiffen, the pleasant soreness between your legs a gentle reminder of the night before.

“You were rather…unhinged.” You venture, pressing into him slightly so he would understand that wasn’t a bad thing. Sure enough, he nipped at the shell of your ear, silent encouragement for your feedback. “The riding crop was a pleasant surprise.” A quiet growl rumbles in his chest, full of masculine satisfaction. Maybe you curved your back a little, just to press into his hips. Maybe you wound against him too.

A shiver runs down your spine as one of his hands snakes up your front, tracing between your breasts as he cups your jaw. “Any other fixations you’d like to tell me about, pet?” Your breathing hitches, feeling the shift in atmosphere as he tightens his grip on you—more dominating; firmer.

You swallow, and you’re sure he feels the roll of your throat beneath his palm. “No, sir.”

“No?” He drawls, the hand atop your stomach tracing soft, teasing patterns with his fingertips. “None?” Your thighs squeeze together, hand tightening on the spatula as you feel his lips brush the tip of your ear. Your very sensitive, pointed ear.

You shiver.

Azriel lands a firm smack to your cheek for taking too long and you have to grit your teeth to keep from whimpering. “Answer, pet.”

“I…like when you surprise me, sir.” You admit softly. “When you…show your own tastes.” His hand tightens but he’s listening. Intently. “Depraved as they sometimes are.”

His hand dips below your nightgown, hooking beneath the hem that comes to the middle of your thighs. You’re body tenses as the pads of his fingers dance over your bargain mark: the empty circle with the crossed lines haloing it. “Depraved?” He drawls, his touch feather-light. “I think you should be grateful I’m willing to share my fantasies with a filthy thing like you.”

A shiver spider-walks down your spine, and you fight to keep from whimpering at his smooth tongue. His mouth opens over the skin of your neck, tongue swiping up the column of your throat, teeth scraping over your skin.

Your hands grip the counter, one squeezing the spatula— fuck, the pancakes.

You hiss, noting how the edges are already curling, the sign you need to flip it over—pronto. You reach forward, sliding the instrument beneath—

His hands drop to your hips, pulling you back and spinning you around so you’re further from the stove. His body flattens against your own, soft skin meeting unyielding muscle as his hips press into your own and you have feel him pressing into your belly. Over the bargain mark.

You open your mouth to scold him, the words on the tip of your tongue, but you see the gleam in his eyes. The spark. He’s just waiting for you to stumble. So he can pounce.

One hand is now wrapped around your waist, the other settled on your throat, resting with proprietary entitlement. You shiver.

“Look at me.”

You swallow, but raise your gaze to his.

His pupils are dilated, expanding across his iris’, devouring you as you watch him. His hand raises to your cheek, brushing up over your throat to swipe his thumb across your lip.

Azriel lifts you from the ground, shifting you into the air before dropping you onto the counter. You bite your lip—he’s not gentle in his actions.

“That hurt, pet?”

Swallowing, you dip your head, leaning back on your arms. “A bit, sir.”

His fingertips dance up the tops of your thighs, hooking beneath your nightgown and lifting, allowing his eyes to settle over your slick heat. He groans, thumb brushing over your hip—dipping lower to just above the apex of your thighs. The muscles in your legs tense with the need to buck against him.

“Good.” He breathes, eyes not leaving your cunt.

You’re so wet. He’s barely touching you and you’re already dripping down onto the surface. His lips quirk at the edges, a dark light glinting in his eyes as they glaze. “Maybe one day, I should leave you wrapped in my shadows. See what they do with you.”

Your jaw tightens with the effort not to squeeze your thighs together, to keep from moaning. His thumb dips lower, tracing over your glistening sex, light enough to be a deft brush of his fingers. Hardly a breath of stimuli. “Keep you on your hands and knees, while I’m out working. Leaving you two to get to know each other…”

As if in response, they crest at his shoulders, peering down at you with eager curiosity. You bite the inside of your lip to keep from whimpering. “I’m sure they’d like that,” he drawls, raising a hand for them to wrap around, rubbing against him as a cat would. “Maybe they’d collect all the slick that drips from this pretty cunt into a jar.” He picks up the pot of honey. “Like this one.”

The heat is boiling, bubbling beneath your skin, breaths shallowing. “I can’t imagine a single dish you wouldn’t taste good with.”

You draw in a shaky breath, hearing the glass clink as he sets the jar back down on the side. His hands settle atop your thighs, spreading them as he easily lifts your night robe from under you, peeling it up so it pools at your waist. Allowing your arousal to slick the counter. “Would you like that, huh? Like the idea of them having their way with your pretty cunt?” He drawls lowly.

Your lips part in need, desperately keeping yourself silent but you’re panting. You need him to touch you. Need him to do something.

He smacks you lightly, palm connecting with your cheek as the stinging sensation settles into your skin. A soft whine drags from your lips, and his eyes gleam. He’s wearing you down, layer by layer, stripping you bare until you’re a shaking, quivering mess at his feet.

“Answer, pet.”

If his hand would just drop a little lower. If his fingers would just sink into you. Even if he just put his mouth to yours, you would be happy.

“Sir…” you manage, back curving, tilting your head downward to peer up at him. His wings flare slightly, making him seem larger. His eyes hunt your mouth, tracking their movement with predatory focus.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” The words are barely a brush of his lips over your own, but you can feel their quiet threat.

Your head dips, “yes, sir. I would.” Need thrums beneath your skin, and you know he can sense how desperate you are. And he’s still withholding your pleasure.

He arches a brow in silent command, thumb now brushing over your inner thigh, circling in light, taunting patterns. You look at him with pleading eyes, quietly begging him to touch you.

“I—…”

Your lips part with a startled moan, and you smack your hand over your mouth.

His shadows had wound their way up your calves, over your thighs, settling between them, poised to strike. And when you had begun to answer him, they dragged over the slick mess that was steadily dripping onto the counter.

They pull away as quickly as they had arrived, leaving you wet, hot, and needy, beneath the mercilessly gaze of the shadowsinger. You can practically feel his satisfaction as he tuts, slowly.

“I thought you knew our rules.” He drawls, mouth so, so close to your own. You push against his grip, leaning for his mouth, but he lands another smack to your cheek in warning, and you squirm on the countertop. “Are you being purposefully disobedient, pet?”

You shake your head, “no, sir. I swear—”

He’s pulling you away from the side, and before you know it, his hand is fisted in your hair, forcefully bending you over. You gasp, his hips pressing against the swell of your ass, eyes rolling a bit.

“I think you need a fresh reminder. Isn’t that right, pet?”

Shit. What’s the right answer. Yes, or no? Which one will please him the most? Which one’s correct? Shit, shit, shit.

He laughs, and you know you’re fucked.

You help when his hand connects with your ass, making you flinch, breasts pressing against the cool marble, making you bite your lip. “Make one more noise,” he whispers beside your ear, “and we’ll see how long you can go without coming.”

Your breath catches.

Especially as his hand snakes down your front, the one in your hair moving to cup your throat. Your eyes widen as he smacks your clit, knees wobbling as you lean more of your weight into the marble, but his hand comes down again. Again, again, and again. Until tears are rolling down your cheeks.

So overwhelmed.

The mouth-watering press of his cock against your ass, the solid heat of him at your back, the sinful brush of his mouth over the nape of your neck. Your toes curl.

“Open,” he growls softly, tapping your inner thigh.

Tears spilling, you part your legs a little wider, having tried to close them when he was abusing your sensitive clit. “How many do you think you deserve?” He muses, teeth scraping your ear, and you wish he would put them in your neck. He knows that too.

“Five?” He murmurs, and a quiet sob breaks from you, shuddering beneath his powerful grip. “Ten?” He asks, revelling in your reactions.

He pinches your clit, and you so nearly whimper. From the pain, from the pleasure he’s keeping just out of reach. So close your fingertips could brush it.

“Thirty?”

You nearly give out, praying to the Mother he doesn’t give you thirty. You won’t last that long. There’s no way. You’re already so nearly done. Already so used. Even five is a stretch.

Tears brim at the edges of your eyes, vision blurring so you don’t notice his shadows gripping the jar he’d earlier set down. Nor as they pop it open.

Azriel pressing mockingly soft kisses up the length of your neck, making you melt into him, desperate for that soft touch. His mouth is heavenly soft, just the barest whisper of pleasure against your sizzling nerves and you release a shaky breath.

You can feel him shifting behind you, but think nothing of it.

Until something cool, and viscous is pressed to your clit.

Your mouth drops open in pleasure, in relief at the cold sensation to your puffy heat. You could beg for him to continue. Subconsciously, you press your hips down onto his fingers, smearing the thick substance.

“Want more?” He whispers. So soft. You could whine from the gentle attention. After the repeated stinging, the coolness of welcome.

The pads of his fingers move in slow oscillations, spreading it over your clit. You flinch as it’s spread thinner, and you can feel the twist of his lips against your skin. “Guess, pet.”

You struggle, mind stumbling over itself but you come up short when you feel his tip pressing against your entrance.

“I—…" you stammer, scrambling for words. Anything. Anything will do. But what is it? He won’t be pleased if you throw out a random answer. “Honey—… honey, sir.”

His hips roll forward, and both your hands cover your mouth as he slides in. He’s coating himself in your slick, pulling out then pressing in, until he’s nestled inside of you, hips flushed tight against your ass, making your eyes roll.

He doesn’t praise you for getting the answer correct. Why would he? Out of the pots and jars that are scattered at your side, the right answer was obvious. He won’t reward you for something so minimal.

You gasp as his finger rolls over your clit, the tiny sugar granules abrading the soft, puffy skin. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as he begins pounding into you, still painfully working your clit. He’s not pressing hard enough for it to properly sting, but it’s like he’s repeatedly scraping the sharp point of his canines over the sensitive bud. Enough to keep you crying—he likes it when you cry.

His shadows wrap over your hips, eager to join the fun, to set their darkness skittering across the expanse of your skin. They brush over your nipples, silky and cold, and you squeeze your eyes shut. It’s his way of punishing you, giving you the pleasure of having him filling you up—so deliciously and it’s enough to make your eyes roll for you to beg and plead and scream for more and more and you’ll be so good so good and so pretty for him however he wants.

But he wears away at you, the honey making it a sticky mess between your thighs.

You wish it was just his hands, his hands and his cock between your thighs, then you could indulge in the deftness, the skill he carries. You could weep at the memory of it. The soft touches at the beginning of your relationship before you properly discovered one another.

Tears roll as his hand smacks down, a sharp buck of his hips accompanying the pain, easing you out. “Drift of again and we’ll see what happens.”

All you can manage are shallow pants of breath as he slams into you, touching you just perfectly. Now that you’re focusing on it—it’s kind of nice… The scrape of the granules, itching that spot, rubbing over it, with the heat and softness of his fingers.

“Stop enjoying it,” he growls lowly beside you, and your brows curve upward, beseechingly. You can tell he’s nearing that edge—then he’ll be spilling, spilling all of himself, everything he can give, all of it, spilling all of it inside of you.

You tighten around him at the low timbre of the order, making pleasure rasp beneath your skin. But then he presses slightly harder, and you flinch. So sensitive. It’s too sensitive.

“Something you want, pet?” He drawls, his hips rolling so deliciously, dragging against the spot over and over again that makes your knees weak.

You manage a weak nod, a slight dip of your head as you’re made delirious by the pain and pleasure that is twining together inside of you, reforming to something glorious. “Please—…” you gasp, his hips bucking, making it difficult for you to form any words.

“Please…?” He taunts, softening the tight rings he’s been making around your clit.

“I need—…inside me—… Please, sir!” You stammer the words between the thrusts, his shadows nipping at your chest in a way that has your head falling forward onto the counter, so well used already.

The request sets something off in the male.

Azriel pulls back, shifting to stand upright so he can put the full weight of him behind every buck, every slam of his hips as he drives his cock into you. If you’re good, if you can make it through him without releasing a sound, he can return your pleasure. But only if you obey.

And with the mess he’s creating between your legs, he hopes to the Mother you will.

Your hands press hard against your mouth, teeth biting your inner lip as you feel him spill inside of you, hot cum filling you up as he rides out the pleasure you’re giving to him. Tears spill down you cheeks with pride. You make him feel like that. You drive him mad. You make him want to fuck you over the counter first thing in the morning.

His hips draw back, and Azriel watches as his cum drips from your glossy hole, groaning at the scent. How the creamy liquid mixes with your arousal, sliding down to the honey.

He gives himself a few moments, licking his lips as he hold himself back a little longer.

Then, he’s gripping your hips, walking you over to the dinner table where he promptly picks you up, setting you down atop its surface. “You’ve been so good haven’t you?” He says, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

You can feel as the atmosphere shifts with his change in demeanour, and you could cry with relief. He reads you so perfectly.

“Azzie…” you whimper, pushing against the shadows that are guiding your legs wider. He just smirks, mouth opening over your unmarked skin, eyes latching onto yours as he trails closer and closer to your centre.

A whine drags from your throat when his tongue laps over you, collecting your arousal on his tongue, his own release mixing and sweetened by the honey. He groans, eyes rolling for a moment, before he’s settling in.

Tears brim at the edges of your eyes at the sensitivity, but his tongue is so soft, and wet, and warm. Slowly lapping away the abrasive granules, until it’s just saliva and come that’s causing the mess of arousal.

“Az…” you whimper, barely managing to push from the table. “Please…please let me come.”

How can he resist.

Your flavour drives him wild. He could spend countless hours with his head between your thighs—days, even. It would be his own heaven, being able to bring you pleasure over and over, submerging himself in your heat.

That coil tightens, and you whimper, fingers tangling in his inky hair. “Azriel…” you pant, back arching. You’re so close. The thought of him cleaning that mess he’d made—

You moan, and it’s the best sound he’s heard.

“Don’t stop— Please! Please don’t stop,” you whimper, and you can feel that pleasure cresting.

He hums, suckling on your clit as he dips down, lapping up your centre, gathering your taste on his tongue as you fall apart then and there.

Beautiful. The way your hands fist, back arching, toes curling as your hips wind against him. It brings him his own pleasure, to feel you fluttering on his tongue, waves of euphoria washing your body in ecstasy.

A broken moan slips from your lips, mind flying high to the heavens as his mouth soothes you out, calming the arousal that had been begging to be unleashed on your body. He barely has a chance to stand before you’re hauling him closer—maybe his shadows shoved him forward, into you arms—mouth landing over his. Your flavours mix and moans echo through kitchen as you taste everything from his mouth.

“You’re so perfect,” you breathe over his mouth. “How are you so perfect?”

His heart aches at the words—he knows you believe them.

It has him solidifying his decision on how he wan to to spend the morning, his shadows already whisking away the stack of pancakes to your shared bedroom, his hand looping beneath you as you’re pulled to his chest.

He chuckles as your mouth attaches to his neck, teeth nipping possessively at his skin, making sure your own marks will bloom over his skin. He’s yours. No one else’s.

Never.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

#Azriel #Azriel shadowsinger #safeword series #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel smut #azriel fluff #shadowsinger

[elriel-oblivion]

So I started this in the last week of 2020, and I'm ready to post it 😊 I've still got a couple other wips I'd started before this one but I haven't been bothered to finish those lol so I'm putting this one out first. Anyway, this'll be 6 parts long; I'll prob put up the next part in three or four days.

I'll put word counts so you can gauge how long each part is and if you wanna read it 😅 Also lemme know if you'd like to be tagged

Word count: 2.2K

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part I

__

The shadows were colder than usual tonight. On better days, their chill wrapped Azriel's bones in an icy embrace, a comforting freeze numbing any semblance of feeling in his wasted heart.

But this miserable night, they were searing cold, the kind of cold piercing the highest of mountain peaks; the kind of cold that penetrated the brain itself. He shivered as he travelled through those shadows, dark mists and wisps coiling like vines about his head.

Maybe he was deliberately searching for the coldest areas. Maybe he wanted a complete absence of feeling: physical, emotional, spiritual. It would certainly be easier to feel nothing than trying to quell the frigid rage inside. How could an avalanche be stopped once it started?

Further and further he moved through his shadows, dawn chasing him from a few hours away. Mountains and villages surged past through those charcoal mists, making way to depthless forests and ravines. He clenched his jaw tight against the cold, memory guiding him home.

But the fresh blood he'd seen earlier, and the mutilated remains of that little girl, one wing torn off and lying bent at the edge of the dirt path ... Her unseeing eyes were glazed, that shine as bright and true on his mind as the glint of moonlight on the blade of Death. And her scream. Cauldron, it curdled his own blood.

He'd been but a minute late. A matter of seconds were all that stood between him and the sadistic bastard who'd brutalised that child. Barely a heartbeat in his lifetime.

He blinked once to rid himself of her stare. Twice.

The image remained, muddying with his path home. His hands clenched and unclenched, nails biting into his skin, but the girl's hazel eyes and her ashen skin and the fingers outstretched for that severed wing remained an imprint on his vision.

Why was this affecting him so much? It wasn't the first time he'd seen horrors like this. But if Azriel wanted to be honest with himself, some days were harder than others simply because they were. Some days, the despair rattled his core and tossed him far out - because he was a person and emotions, feelings, these things were too abstract to be boxed in.

Everything had a limit. Had Azriel ever truly reached his?

Sometimes Azriel himself didn't understand how he kept it all in. How he didn't react or display any sign of having seen or heard the things he did. Sometimes he was repulsed by himself because of it. At least Cassian and his rare vomiting showed some of the humanity inside.

Azriel gave away nothing. Was there even humanity in himself? Everyone but his family looked at him like he was an unhinged monster imprisoned by his Illyrian skin. Like he was moments from escape and they would be his first victims.

Or - not just his family. Her. Elain. Did he consider he family? Perhaps it was too early, or even too inappropriate to do so.

Either way, how could he stain the sudden image of her with himself, with the horrors he'd just seen, had always had the displeasure of seeing? She was lovely and warm and beautiful and he was dark and cold and hideous.

Elain. Something inexplicable stirred in him at the thought of her.

He tried to calm it, this heat, this single star in his midnight sky. But it remained. And it grew.

And he was disgusted. Ashamed. He was not worthy of her.

And it ached. Another unrequited love.

That word snapped something in him. Mocked him.

Love.

A choking sound ripped from his throat and he welcomed it, let it mount into a scream, let it tear through his body and soul. Like that monster was finally breaking free. It was invigorating yet scorching. It burned him from the inside out but the cold of those shadows permeated his mind so heavily, he forgot the essence of corporeality and only his soul seemed to drift.

His ragged breathing sounded, throat parched. Where was he? Through the shadows, all around him, there seemed only darkness. Was he flying? No, the shadows sang their usual baritone thrum as opposed to the high harmony of the wind.

Above, no stars glistened. His eyes strained but nothing peeked through. It wasn't often that his shadows became this thick; usually thin and wispy, they now shrouded his being, coalescing over, in him. He became the cold, a shadow, darkness itself, floating through the ether, higher and higher like ashes on the wind.

But even ashes settled down at some point.

Unless his soul truly were ascending, unless this truly were death. It almost seemed too easy. All the battles, those two great wars, the poison that shot through his veins and stole his breath as per Hybern's whim. Poison that sometimes woke him up in cold sweats, a phantom memory of its iciness picking through his body as though he were being cut up by the sharpest blade ...

Sometimes it even felt like his own blade.

No, this couldn't be death. A mere scream, the image of lives lost, a bloody fight - he hated to admit that these were commonplace among his memories, his life. But in doing so, he knew death was too easy an aftermath for what had happened tonight.

Death, an ascent. But he was sure when his time came, his stained soul would descend like the demon he was.

So he grounded, drifting down weightlessly until the solidity of rock steadied him. He would not go to that darkest of places yet. But he was still exhausted. So damn tired of everything. He feared that if he dropped into a slumber right now, he'd not get up for a lifetime. As it was, his legs almost gave out, but he forced some remaining strength back into them. All he had to do was get home now.

He stepped out of his shadows; Devlon's camp was quiet around him. A fire to his far right sputtered in the harsh winds and Azriel swept himself back into his shadows.

This time he travelled faster, composing himself, locking his muscles and bones up, clenching his jaw. He let that familiar cool comfort drain his rage, cleaning it through his veins before it settled in the frozen lake of his heart where the rest of his darkness lay, inescapable through the impenetrable foot of icy wrath and sorrow. He savoured his shadows, a confidant in their own right, thanked them for their understanding and the escape he found within them.

But they were growing warmer now. Azriel squinted through them as they shifted him across land and water - the scape of Velaris and its brilliant lights greeted him. Closer to home now, he could breathe with a looser chest but this was still unusual; his shadows shouldn't be warmer, they should be cool and refreshing, like the autumn night breeze beyond.

His wings rustled, body reacting to his shadows' autonomy before his thawing mind caught up. 'Where are you taking me?' he murmured.

Mist swirled about him and the shadows deposited him at the far edge of the dimly lit back garden at his High Lord and Lady's riverfront estate. Why would they bring him here? Rhysand and Feyre were at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were together in Illyria and Mor was at the Winter Court. As far as he knew, Amren was at her own apartment so the only person left was -

'Azriel!' came Elain's voice. It was distant in a way it shouldn't be.

Azriel leaned against a tree, pretending to fiddle with the Siphon atop his left hand. Breathing was difficult but he swallowed and exhaled in a shudder.

He needed to fully compose himself before anyone saw him like this. If only his damn shadows hadn't taken control for those last few moments, he'd be in his own home and lying in that swirling darkness in peace. Though, he supposed, it was his own fatigue that had yielded that control.

'Azriel!' Elain cried, stopping in front of him. Her face was caught between a frown and a wince and her arm was raised slightly. 'You don't look okay.'

As always, he was momentarily stunned by how unafraid this small female was of him. Here he was in his full armour, every bit the monstrous warrior that sent his people scurrying into their homes and locking their doors, and yet Elain stood strong before him. Like she saw not a killing machine but a person.

She never even commented on how his shadows made to disappear around her. Perhaps she hadn't noticed.

He swallowed before he let out what he thought was a light laugh. 'I'm fine, don't worry.' But he could hear the hoarseness of his voice, now facing the consequences of that scathing scream. And his limbs felt even heavier than before, like someone had injected liquid lead into them.

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she whispered, lowering both her gaze and arm.

He paused, trying to catch her gaze. The constant light in her eyes whenever she looked at him was a balm to his soul. He could use some of that right now.

He reached out an arm, so impossibly leaden right now - if he could just get to sit down -

'Can I wash your hair, please?'

He started. 'You want to wash my hair?'

Elain's eyes flicked back up to skirt over his, up to his hair, where they stayed pinned. 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

Shit. He hadn't even thought of his appearance after that bloody fight earlier. How that had slipped his mind? He ran a hand through his hair, and surely enough, crumbs of dirt rained down.

Although, he really hadn't expected to turn up here of all places. In the privacy of his own home, he wouldn't have cared if he were missing a whole damn limb, if only it meant he could sleep like the dead.

Not to mention that sleeping with a little mud was the least an Illyrian warrior's problems. But Elain's care was something of a punch to his gut. When was the last time someone had truly tended to him for reasons that weren't battle or holiday related?

'You've managed to get some on your face, too,' she said, brow furrowed as she stared at his cheek.

Her eyes were so deep and focused, he wished they would just meet his once. But of course, that level of scrutiny he'd come to learn from Elain meant shyness. Just shyness. She was so endearing, he could've laughed with such fondness if he weren't so damn tired. He wished this whole damn night would be over already.

His leg faltered slightly and he stumbled forward.

'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

He raised his brows at her, but she simply took his arm and began leading him towards the house. She looked so small before him but didn't slow despite dragging his bulk behind her.

Halfway across the garden, he pulled her to him with his free arm, his shadows saving the both of them the energy of walking through that mansion of a home.

'My bathroom,' she murmured. Elain didn't balk through the five seconds of that darkness, didn't even look surprised. She showed no sign of hearing the spike in his pulse either. Thank the Mother.

He set them in her bathroom, and she didn't look at him once as she flitted around the chamber, pulling a chair from her bedroom to the sink and grabbing a towel, soap and a jug from the cupboard. Standing there, his breathing began to smooth out.

The window was open, a chill breeze sweeping in. The faelights were dim and their placid light sent a dusky illumination over Elain's features. Some bottles of oils and herbs sat on the edge of the bathtub. Azriel had heard of people using oils for bathing, but herbs? Perhaps they were like flower petals, used for their scent.

Towel in hand, Elain waited at the sink, placing the soap and jug down. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this.'

Azriel nodded, tapping his Siphon. Within seconds, that second skin of cold scales and gleaming wrath was safely stored away. Just his plain black trousers and tunic were left.

Elain's eyes caught every moment of the transformation. 'It's beautiful, all of it.'

He didn't even know if she was speaking of his armour or the basic clothes underneath or what, but his face warmed slightly, wings rustling.

'Please sit,' she said, gesturing to the chair. As he did, she wrapped the towel around his shoulders, fingers hovering above his forehead for a few seconds.

Those seconds felt perennial. He almost shuddered as her fingers made contact with his skin. Her hands were so gentle as they pushed his head back, and he shifted in the seat. He lowered his wings, and she stepped into the space he provided. She was still as he got comfortable, only turning the tap once he was settled. There was a slight crease between her brows, and he clenched his fists to keep from smoothing it out.

Sounding so much like his own mother that his throat tightened, she whispered, 'You can close your eyes.'

So he did.

__

Feedback is welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

#elain archeron #azriel #elriel #acotar #elain x azriel

[snelbz]

Lost Time {19}

Summary: It’s been four years since Azriel ran away from Velaris and left behind everyone he ever loved  — including the girl left standing at the altar. Now, he’s back home, but can he try and pick up the broken pieces of his life, or has there been too much lost time?

@snelbz / @tacmc collab

Lost Time Masterlist

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A/N: Whoops has it been 12 years since I updated this? Yes, it has. Another chapter written with @tacmc. Enjoy!

Elain had made it her mission to give Nesta the best party of her life. She had no idea how many people would actually end up showing up, but Nesta would definitely be feeling the love. 

Her house was decorated to perfection. She had spent the entire morning cooking and baking, and her entire kitchen was loaded up with goodies, which is where she found Azriel, his mouth full of a chocolate cupcake.

When Elain came around the corner, he looked like a child who had been caught doing something his mother had told him specifically not to do.

“Hi,” he said, his mouth full, words muttered. “You look beautiful.”

“And you,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and wiping chocolate icing off his face, “were told to wait until after the guests got here.”

He grabbed her hand and sucked the excess chocolate off her finger but ignored the fire it ignited in her eyes, knowing they didn’t have time to play before everyone arrived. He knew Elain would have washed the icing from her hand, since even the smell of chocolate made her slightly nauseous these days. He couldn’t let that go to waste. “They needed to be taste tested.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “You’re worse than your son.”

As if on cue, Donovan ran in, dressed in his jeans and plaid shirt, nearly identical to Azriel, and asked, “Mama, can I have some of celery, please?

Azriel raised a dark brow. “Are we sure he’s mine?”

Elain snorted and put a few pieces of celery and a glob of peanut butter on a small plate. “Trust me, your terrible eating habits are nearly the only thing he didn’t inherit from you.”

Novan took the plate and sat down at the table. “Yeah, daddy, terrible eating habits.” 

The way he said habits had Elain laughing. Meanwhile, Azriel looked highly offended. 

The front door was pushed open and Nesta’s voice fluttered through the house. “El, this is beautiful!”

She came around the corner to the living room to find Nesta, teary-eyed, and Cassian standing behind her, shaking his head.

“I told you to get here after all the other guests,” Elain chuckled, looking pointedly at Cassian.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “She couldn’t wait, and she overpowers me.”

Elain sighed and was about to say something when small feet ran from the kitchen. “Uncle Cass!”

“Hey, bud,” he smiled, scooping him up. “You clean up nice.” The compliment was lost on the four-year-old as he replied, “Thank you, I took a bath this morning.”

After a breathy chuckle, Cassian set him down and he hurried over to his aunt. He gently hugged her belly. “Hi, Aunt Nesta. Hi, baby.”

With a fond smile, Nesta ruffled his hair. “Hey, bud. You look nice,” she said, throwing a glance at Cassian, especially when Donvan beamed up at her.

“Thank you! Look!” He ran over to where Azriel had just entered the living room. “Me and daddy are twins!”

The word had Azriel’s eyes finding Elain’s and he smiled softly before picking his son up. When he saw Elain getting misty-eyed, he turned the conversation to the couple before him again. “Did you figure out how to announce the gender yet?

Nesta’s eyes hardened and she turned to glare at Cassian. “I don’t know, Cass, have you decided how to tell your fiancée what we’re having?”

Elain spun and looked at him. “You peeked?”

He was biting his lip. “I peeked.”

“He peeked!” Nesta cried, crossing her arms over her stomach. “And now he won’t tell me. Or anyone, so don’t you dare ask.” She pointed at both Azriel and Elain.

Elain was gaping, and Azriel was just shaking his head. “That’s cruel, taunting a pregnant woman with information she wants to know.” 

“She said she didn’t want to know,” Cassian said, defending himself. “Until I knew, of course.”

His grin only widened as Nesta groaned. “He’s a complete a-.” Her words dropped off as she looked down at Novan. “Meanie,” she finished, after a moment.

Elain shot her a grateful look and said, “Well, you, sit down and relax.” She pointed to the couch and Nesta wisely did as she was told. She turned to Azriel, “Would you mind taking some pictures of…” She trailed off and gestured around the house. “I’m, just, sort of proud of it.”

“You should be,” Azriel said, kissing the top of her head. “Everything looks amazing. Of course I will.” She smiled up at him and he kissed her before turning to Donovan and saying, “I’ll need my assistant though, where’s your camera, bud?”

“In my room!” He was off, running up the stairs on all fours.

Azriel chuckled and followed him.

Finally, Elain pointed at Cassian, “You, follow me, I need to ask you a question.”

His eyebrows rose but he did as she said, following him into the kitchen. Nesta called, “You better not tell her!”

Shaking her head, Elain said, “As much as I’d love to grill you about my niece or nephew, that’s not what I need to ask.”

“Okay,” Cass said, leaning against the counter, eating the last remaining celery stick from Novan’s snack. “What’s up, Lainey?”

“Azriel’s ex came to see me at the shop yesterday,” she admitted.

Cassian’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Ianthe did?” Elain nodded, gnawing on her lip. He chewed slowly. “She’s got some balls.”

“She didn’t tell me who she was, but that almost unsettles me more,” she admitted. “It made it feel more like a threat than a social visit…”

Cassian was quiet for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I never met her, but from what Az has mentioned, she does seem pretty...unhinged.” 

The look on Elain’s face fell even more. “You don’t think she’s dangerous…do you?” 

Cassian hesitated, and it was all Elain needed to form an answer. “I couldn’t sleep last night, Cass. She left me so unnerved that I… I don’t know. I’m paranoid.” 

“We already told Az that there’s nothing we can do unless she makes a move,” Cassian said, his voice low. “But, if you’re feeling unsafe, I’ll be sure to have someone hang around here throughout their night patrol. Alright?” 

Elain nodded, but grabbed his wrist as he went to turn back toward the living room. “I don’t want Az worrying because I’m paranoid. You know? Because it’s probably nothing. So, just…keep this between us, yeah?”

Cassian frowned, but he nodded, nonetheless.

It wasn’t long after that guest after guest began to arrive and she heard the telltale sounds of merriment in her living room as they all greeted Nesta. The back door opened and Rhys appeared, carrying a massive tray of cupcakes.

“Fridge?” He asked, inclining his head towards.

Elain shook her head and told him to go ahead and take them into the living room, with the rest of the food. She heard steps on the wooden stairs and then Feyre appeared, carrying Lila.

“Hi! I’m sorry we’re late!” She hugged her sister and said, “Everything looks so good!”

Elain scratched behind the pup’s ear, earning her a happy bark and many attempted, sloppy kisses to the back of her hand. She chuckled and went to the sink to wash her hands before going back to chopping up more veggies.

Excited, little footsteps headed towards them. Donovan appeared and his eyes were as big as his grin. “Lila!”

Feyre smiled and put the pup down, who ran straight to her “cousin”, hopping and ready to play.

“Aunt Feyre, I took some really good pictures of Aunt Nesta’s party. I should take some of Lila,” he announced.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Feyre beamed, kissing the top of her nephew’s head. “Show me your favorite one and I’ll get it framed and hang it on my wall at home. Sounds good?” 

Novan’s eyes lit up. “Yes! C’mon Lila!” 

He excitedly disappeared around the corner, Lila just behind him.

“They make a good team,” Elain said, as she watched them go, fondly. “Don’t blink, Novan will try to hide her here so that you won’t take her back home.”

Feyre chuckled. “Oh, good, maybe he can potty train her, too.”

Elain laughed and closed her eyes, resting a hand on her stomach. She sighed dramatically. “Oh god, I’m going to have to go through potty training all over again.”

Feyre chuckled and said, “At least you have Az to clean up the bad ones this time.”

Elain tossed her head back and laughed. “Thank the Cauldron.”

Feyre helped her carry the veggie tray into the living room and Elain began playing host. She kept catching Azriel’s eye from across the room. The smile on his face, the secret the two of them kept, had Elain’s heart so full, she had to look away before her own smile was too telling to those around them. She kept checking on everyone, asking if they needed anything, until she felt slim fingers wrap around her wrist and tug her down on the couch.

Nesta said, “Sit with me. You’ve done more than enough today.”

Elain just rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you’re pregnant, and I am also pregnant, which means I know you’re exhausted,” Nesta said, laughing quietly. “Please? We’ll do gifts or something.”

Elain looked around hesitantly, but eventually sighed. “Okay, alright. Az?” She caught his eye across the room, where he had Novan on his shoulders and Lila propped up on his legs, wagging her tail. “Mind helping hand gifts?”

His smile was soft. “Of course.”

Elain got the room hushed down as she begrudgingly took a seat next to Nesta on the couch, Feyre on her other side with a notepad, ready to keep track of gifts for thank you notes.

One by one, Azriel gave gifts to Novan, who brought them to Nesta. Elain’s heart was so full. Her entire family there with her, Nesta happy and nearing the end of her pregnancy.

After Nesta had opened an entire nursery worth of gifts and had cried an insane amount, most of the guests had left and everyone was relaxing. The three sisters were sitting on the couch, discussing nursery colors when Cassian brought the three of them each a cupcake. Feyre immediately unwrapped hers and took a bite, as did Elain. Nesta just continued to explain the theme of the nursery they’d begun a few days before.

“Nes,” Cassian laughed, interrupting her as she debated the merits of having the changing table by the door or by the crib and she looked at him.

She asked, “What?”

He shook his head. “Eat your cupcake.”

“Not right now, I’m not hungry,” she said, turning back to her sisters.

“Take a bite of your damn cupcake, woman,” he chuckled.

She glared at him and unwrapped the cupcake without looking at him, and took a bite. Mouth still full, she asked, “Happy?”

He was shaking his head and laughing and Elain realized she heard a camera shutter just as Donovan asked, “Why does Aunt Nesta get a pink cupcake?”

Nesta froze, her eyes slowly trailing down to the cupcake in her hand as she swallowed the food in her mouth. Sure enough, the inside of her cupcake was pink.

“It’s pink,” she breathed, looking up to meet Cassian’s humored gaze.

He nodded, his smile widening. “It’s pink.”

A joyful sob left her mouth as she stood and made her way across the few feet of space that led her to her fiancé. She wrapped her arms around him as Miryam lifted Novan in the air and spun him around, making him giggle. 

Elain found Azriel’s gaze from the other side of the almost-parents and smiled, softly. 

“A girl,” Nesta cried.

“A girl,” Cassian agreed, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

Elain, pregnant and emotional, reached for a tissue on the side table. On the other side of the room, Novan tugged on Azriel’s hand. “Aunt Nes is having a girl baby?”

Azriel picked him up and stepped off to the side. Miryam was hugging Cassian, who had never looked more proud. “She is, buddy.” He frowned and crossed his arms, and Azriel couldn’t help but chuckle. “What is it?”

“I can’t play with a girl baby,” he pouted. “I wanted it to be a boy.”

Azriel smiles and kissed the top of his head. “I’m sure you did, but I promise having a girl cousin will be fun, too.”

He nodded, but the frown and subsequent line between his brows stayed. They watched the scene unfolding before them and Donovan rested his head on Azriel’s shoulder as he yawned.

“Looks like it’s just about nap time for somebody,” he said, singing the words.

Donovan shook his head, but asked, “When is she going to be here?”

He explained, “It’ll be a little bit longer. She’s not ready to come out yet.”

Nodding, he yawned and asked, “Will she be here before or after mama’s baby?”

He gently swayed, saying, “Before. Mama’s baby will be here around Halloween.”

“Spooky baby,” he mumbled and Azriel chuckled.

He repeated, “Spooky baby.”

After one more yawn, he asked, “Can mama have a boy, please?”

Azriel chuckled as he started with Novan up the stairs. “That’s kind of out of our control, buddy.” 

“Why?” He asked, quietly, his eyes starting to close on Azriel’s shoulder.

Azriel sighed, trying to think of the best way to explain the ways of the world to a four year old. Getting him to understand that babies grow in mommies tummies without getting too detailed was difficult enough. “Just because,” he said, at last.

Thankfully, he had taken long enough to reply, because Donovan was too sleepy to reply. His little arms had snaked around Azriel’s neck as they walked to his bedroom, and Azriel didn’t bother with more comfortable clothes as he laid Novan down and tucked him in. He was asleep before Azriel even left the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

—————

It had been a week since the Ianthe incident when Azriel got a call from an old friend in the photography business. The conversation was innocent enough, a discussion on different lenses and the best location for a subject in front of the sun.

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later, thanks, man,” she’d said before hanging up. “Oh, and by the way, congrats. I’ve heard you have a kid on the way. That’s awesome.”

He chuckled and said, “Thanks. Yeah, it was kind of a shock.”

He and Elain had been walking on air the past few days. They were having a family dinner tonight, after Elain went to her check up. She was a couple days shy of sixteen weeks and the family knew there would be new ultrasound pictures to ogle over.

“Yeah, to all of us, too,” Nuala had said. “We didn’t even think you and Ianthe were still together.”

It was a good thing Azriel wasn’t driving or he would have crashed without a doubt. Nuala said something else, but Azriel interrupted her and asked, “Did you say Ianthe?”

“Yeah, it’s all over her Facebook.” He could hear the unease in his friend's voice. “Why?”

“I gotta go, Nu,” he said, breathlessly, not waiting for her reply before hanging up and opening the browser on his laptop. A quick search had him on her page and all he could do was stare.

She had an ultrasound picture as her cover photo. Elain’s ultrasound photo.

He stared in shock, unable to process what he was seeing. He grew nauseous, and purely panicked. Aside from wondering how the hell Ianthe got those pictures, he wondered what other lies she was spewing across social media.

He scrolled down, each post making his heart beat faster and the need to puke stronger.

Every day, she had updated her status, sharing with the world her journey to motherhood.

Azriel was calling Rhysand before he could think twice. 

“Hey, I’m about to head into a meeting-.”

“Ianthe is making the world believe that she's pregnant with my kid.” The words rushed out of Azriel, and he didn’t take a breath as he continued, “She somehow got Elain’s ultrasound pictures and is posting them all over the internet.”

Azriel was greeted with silence, then a low, “Fuck.”

He could hear the typing of Rhysand’s keyboard and then a low whistle. “Elain at work?”

“Yeah, I just talked to her not long ago, everything was fine. She hasn’t mentioned seeing Ianthe again. Neither have I.”

The clicking of his keyboard continued and he said, “I’ve reported the posts, but you know as well as I do that she can just repost them. I can write out a cease-and-desist letter if you want, but-.”

Azriel was shaking his head, regardless of the fact that his brother couldn’t see it. “No, that’s exactly what she wants. She wants to know she’s getting a rise out of me.”

Rhys sighed and said, “I know.”

“Don’t tell Elain about this, please.”

The line was silent for a minute and Rhysand finally started, “Az-.”

“No, promise me you won’t tell her,” he said, interrupting him. “She’s already freaked out as it is, even though she doesn’t want me to know. I can see it. She’s barely been sleeping, and in her condition…” Azriel sighed and let his head hang. “I’ll handle it, I’ll deal with Ianthe. Just don’t mention this to Elain or Feyre.”

Rhysand groaned, and even though he didn’t approve of the request, he said, “Fine. Let me know if Ianthe tries anything else.”

Azriel stared back at the ultrasound picture on the model’s profile as he said, “I will. Thanks.”

Rhysand hung up and Azriel’s nerves went haywire. He was caught between the thought of wanting to track down Ianthe and shake some sense into her and wanting to go to Elain to make sure Ianthe didn’t make anymore appearances. If he tracked down Ianthe, though, she would know her plan was working, which would only inspire her more. And if he went to Elain, she would only grow more nervous and paranoid, which wasn’t good for her or the life inside of her. 

Azriel needed a drink.

Or a smoke. 

Or to pack up his family and take a vacation.

Currently, none of those were an option. He glanced over his shoulder to where Donovan had fallen asleep on the couch watching Power Rangers. It was close enough to his nap time that Azriel hadn’t bothered to wake him, just letting his son get some much needed sleep. He smiled softly, and turned back to his laptop, closing Ianthe’s profile and turning his attention back to the photo editor he’d been using.

True to his word, Donovan had taken tons of pictures of Lila, around three hundred to be exact. Most were of a vague black blur surrounded by rich hardwood or soft grass, but there were a few that actually turned out that he could work with. 

Azriel wanted the best for his son, he wanted him to know that he could do anything he dreamed of, even at four-years-old.

An hour later, he had three images edited to perfection, ready to print.

He woke up a sleepy Novan and packed him up in the truck, heading to a local print shop. It just happened to be across the square from the antique shop. After handing the printer a thumb drive, they told him the prints would be ready in a little under an hour, right about the time they’d be leaving for Miryam’s for a family dinner.

Donovan was a ball of excitement, so ready to see his first job, he continually called it.

Leaving the shop, Azriel eyed the antique shop’s store front. “Want to go see mama while we wait?”

“Yes!” He replied, without any hesitation. 

Azriel took his hand and they crossed the street, Novan a rested ball of energy. The moment the door opened and the bell chimed, Novan was yelling, “Mama!”

Elain came around the corner, a hand on her stomach as Novan ran toward her and threw his little arms around her waist. She raised her brows, laughing as she looked up at Azriel. “My two favorite boys, what a nice surprise!”

“Me and daddy are getting pictures made,” Novan said, smiling brightly. “One for Aunt Feyre, and one for our house!” 

“Is that so?” Elain asked, impressed. “Well, I can’t wait to see them.”

Azriel had just reached her, moving much slower than his toddler. When he kissed his wife, softly, Novan was covering his eyes. “Gross.”

Azriel snorted as he ruffled Novan’s hair. He looked at Elain, letting his fingers dance over her belly. “How did everything go today?”

She chuckled and ran a loving hand over her stomach. “It’s definitely getting cramped in there, that’s for sure. But all good. I go back in two weeks.”

Azriel released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Good. I’ll be there this time, I promise.” He kissed her again. “When can you close up? The prints will be done around five-thirty and I figured we could all ride to mom’s in one car, rather than two.”

She chuckled and looking down at her son, who was resting his chin on her growing stomach, gazing up at her. She picked him up, seeing the look on Azriel’s face, and shot him one that said I dare you to say something. He, wisely, did not.

Elain turned and headed back to the office. “I just finished up with inventory. I need to touch up this piece and then we can head out. But can you do me a favor, please?”

She sat Donovan down and he ran off to play around the store, before she turned to Az.

“Of course,” he said, leaning against the doorway.

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. “Please go get me a decaf coffee. I know I can’t have caffeine, but I think I can trick my body into thinking it’s getting it.”

Azriel chuckled, softly, and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Of course. Novan, you wanna come with me or stay with mama?”

“Stay with mama!” He was currently sitting upside down in a refurbished chair, so Azriel wasn’t going to argue with that.

“Okay,” he breathed, smiling at Elain. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, watching him go as he made his way back through the shop. There was a little coffee house just across the street, and after looking both ways, he hurried across the pavement, onto the sidewalk, and through the double doors. A cool blast of air hit him as he stood in line, waiting to order a simple large, decaf coffee.

The thought of Elain tricking her own self into drinking something with caffeine had him laughing where he stood. Gods, he loved that woman.

He ordered a coffee for himself, a frozen hot chocolate for Novan and Elain’s decaf and stepped to the side. He was scrolling through his emails when he froze.

“Funny. You never drank decaf before.”

Her voice had him on red alert and he’d spun to face her before she’d even finished speaking.

Her turquoise eyes sparkled as she cooed, “Hi, Azzie. Did you miss me?”

He couldn’t speak, didn’t know how to speak as he took in Ianthe standing in front of him. And how she was cradling her stomach.

Snapping out of it, he grabbed her by the wrist, not nearly as gentle as he should have, seeing as they were in public, and dragged her to the corner. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Her face was the picture of innocence. “What do you mean?”

“This!” He said, his voice raising slightly. “All of this. Coming to Velaris, scaring the shit out of my wife, pretending you’re having my baby? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He had the vague notion of someone calling his name, knew that his order was ready and he should leave, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

She was smiling and that was the scariest part of it all.

“Leave my family alone,” he seethed, finally dropping her wrist. He backed up toward the counter. “Don’t talk to me or my wife, and don’t you dare think about doing anything to my kids. Go home, Ianthe.”

She said nothing as he backed away, but that sly smile on her lips remained. 

It sent chills down his spine.

He forced himself to turn away, forced himself to take the drinks off the counter, and forced himself not to look back at her as he exited the shop. Everything felt wrong, every last ounce of comfort he had been clinging to have vanished.

She was crazy.

Actually insane.

And he knew for a fact that his words had meant nothing to her.

Azriel tried to look calm as he re-entered the antique store, finding Novan bouncing up and down as Elain painted an old vanity.

“Decaf for my wife, and chocolatey goodness for little man,” Azriel announced, forcing himself to sound chipper.

Novan was instantly on his feet, reaching for his drink with a thank you, daddy.

Elain took the coffee and put it to her lips, scalding hot or not, and murmured, “This will give me energy. This will give me energy. This will give me energy.”

Az chuckled quietly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading into her office and sitting down at her desk. He dropped his head in his hands and sighed. He knew he needed to tell Elain, but now was not the time. He’d tell her tonight, when they got home, after Donovan was asleep, after spending the evening with their family.

His phone rang, and it snapped him out of the downward spiral his thoughts were taking. After answering and finding out the prints were finished, he took a deep breath and made his way back into the store front.

He pressed a kiss to Elain’s head and said, “I’m going across the street to grab his pictures. Want to finish up and pick me up over there?”

She nodded and asked, “You want to leave your truck here and take my car?”

“It’ll save room at mom’s,” he said and nodded.

“Okay, give me five minutes.” She stood and kissed him and he was on his way.

He took Donovan’s hand and brought him with him across the street to pick up the prints. When Elain pulled up just over five minutes later, Azriel and Novan were sitting together on a bench outside of the storefront, looking at the two massive prints of Lila they had ordered.

Novan’s joyous laughter as he took in his work was a sound that Azriel would remember for the rest of his life.

“I’ll bring them to get them framed and then we’ll hang it up, okay?”

Novan nodded, excitedly. “Can we give Aunt Feyre hers at Meme’s? I really, really want to!”

Azriel laughed as Elain rolled down the window. “Of course.”

“Mama!” Novan yelled, jumping up from the bench and pointed at the print in Azriel’s hands. “Look! My picture!” 

Elain’s reaction was equivalent to someone admiring an ancient, prized masterpiece, which had Novan beaming.

Once they were in the car, Novan was going on and on about his picture, about how Aunt Feyre was going to love it, and how he was a photographer just like his daddy. Azriel thought his heart was going to burst.

“Can I see them?” He asked, and Elain smiled as she handed Azriel the two small, black and white images. He gazed at them, finally able to see a baby in each the pictures, rather than just a blurry blob. He didn’t realize he was crying until Elain took his hand over the middle console. He cleared his throat and whispered, “Wow.”

He couldn’t think of any other words to explain what he was looking at, how happy he was. Elain agreed, though, smiling and glancing at him. “Wow.”

Pulling into the driveway, Novan was bouncing in his seat, begging Azriel to get him out as soon as Elain had parked the car. After safely tucking the ultrasounds away in Elain’s purse, he did just that and Donovan was up the stairs and in the house before Az and Elain had time to laugh. He started for the porch step, but Elain grabbed his hand.

“Are you okay?” She asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “You seem off, baby.”

He’d tried his hardest to act normal, not to let Ianthe’s appearance affect him, but Elain knew him inside and out. She knew him better than he knew himself, so of course, she’d notice.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he said, “I’m fine. Just…got a lot on my mind.”

She nodded, completely understanding. “Well, come on. Let’s take some time to not think about anything but our family.”

His smile was genuine when he took her hand in his and led him up the stairs, and into the backdoor. They were all there, already, everyone circled around Novan, praising his camera skills and the picture of Lila.

“I’m going to hang mine right in the entryway so that everyone who comes to my house will see it the moment they walk through the door,” Feyre promised. 

“It’s just what we needed,” Rhysand agreed, with a wink. 

“Now I’m a photographer, like daddy,” Novan said, turning to smile at his parents. 

“Yes you are,” Miryam promised, as she wrapped Azriel into a hug, then Elain. “Everybody hungry? The tables all set and ready.”

“Yes, please,” Elain said, sighing as she rubbed a hand over her stomach.

“Before we eat, though, I need to see the new pictures!” Feyre called, Nesta agreeing as they went into the dining room.

Elain laughed as she pulled the little envelope out of her purse and set the bag on the counter before wrapping an arm around Azriel’s waist and walking with him through the threshold of the dining room.

She handed one of the pictures to Miryam and the other to Feyre and then stepped back to wait with Azriel. Rhys asked, “No gender yet?”

She shook her head. “We’re waiting until twenty weeks. I’m not dealing with another color swap fiasco.”

Elain’s very first nurse had jumped the gun and told her Donovan was going to be a girl. Naturally, so did Feyre and Nesta, and Elain had a nursery full of frilly, pink sparkles.

And then a month later, she’d found out she was having a boy.

Feyre handed the ultrasound to Nesta, who was already crying, and she looked at it with a hand over her mouth.

Cassian chuckled and pressed a kiss to her head and looked at the ultrasound in her hand and then to the one Miryam had just handed him. His eyes narrowed and he looked back and forth between the two.

“Wait,” he began, scooting closer to Nesta. “Why does mine say baby B, and hers says baby A?”

All conversation stopped as everyone looked to Cassian, where he was still looking back and forth between the two pictures. Nesta’s mouth had fallen open, Miryam’s hands had flown up to cover her mouth, but it was Feyre who was smiling brightly up at Elain, whispering, “Twins?”

Elain fell into Azriel’s side, her laughter contagious as she announced, “We’re having twins.”

“Twins?” Novan repeated, as everyone around him celebrated. “What’s twins?”

Miryam picked him up and sat him in her lap as Cassian handed her the two ultrasound images. Nesta was already crying with Elain in her arms and Feyre was hugging Azriel. Miryam set the two images on the table and said, “These are two different babies, but they’re both in mama’s tummy.”

His eyes went wide, “I get two babies?”

He’d begun to refer to the baby as his baby, and Elain thought her heart would explode every time.

“You get two babies, buddy,” she said, tears shimmering on her face.

Novan’s awed expression turned into utter excitement. “Two babies! Two brothers!”

Azriel hesitated, but Elain just laughed. “We’ll have to see, buddy. We don’t know if it’s brothers or sisters yet in there.”

Novan was quick on his feet, standing in front of Elain and pressing his cheek to her belly. “Please, someone in there be a brother.”

Everyone laughed, but Elain just ruffled his dark, messy hair. “Even if they’re both sisters, you’re going to be a good big brother to these two babies, buddy.”

He looked up at his parents and smiled. “I’ll be the best big brother in the world.”

#lost time #snelbz #snacmc #elriel #elriel lost time #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

[purewhitewolf]

Family reactions to the breaking balance:

Bataille felt the inevitable coming, he could feel the Earth spirit dying in his veins. It was just a matter of time until the affect caught up with him. This was a moment of decisions, what could he and a Charlotte die from the rapture of balance. "Charlotte! Let's get drunk and eat bacon!" He shouted as he swung open the fridge in all seriousness. He took out on of the beers that Ezra kept in there and opened the can without a care. He took a big swig of it, cringing at the flavor. "Ugh..that's disgusting..." He shrugged and kept drinking. "les dieux ne saignent pas" he mumbled

Zoran glanced up at the sunset, not sure what will happen to her if the balance broke. She was uncertain and her heart breaking. She turned to Familiar, fearing the worst. "Familiar...I hope I'll be an angel this time...if I die...but what if I don't? Will you leave me? Will you leave this mess of world behind? I don't understand any of this..but..I think we are going to lose this time. I...I don't have hope that Kaitlyn will save us.."

Ezra and Adrian were out on the patio, being there for support but hope was draining from them as it was from everyone else. They were sharing drugs to numb the pain. Staring out into the oblivion. There was barely an ounce of hope left in their hearts. "les dieux ne saignent pas" they both muttered through their foggy thoughts

Melody had slight affects to this, holding Clementine as she wailed loudly. The poor baby did not understand what hopelessness meant but she felt it as well. Melody groaned, not knowing how to fix this emptiness.

Kaitlyn tearfully stared on in horror of what she was witnessing. How did things get so bad so quickly? “Don’t make the same mistake we did.” Soft voices were heard.

“W-what?” Kaitlyn was shock to see another her...actually four of them.

Kaitlyn[1]: “You still have time, plenty in fact. You’re still at home with Past. She’s watching over your young body while the rest of you is here in our Purgatory. You’re not in full destruction or hopeless zone yet, Zero.”

“Wait... are you telling me everything I’ve been experiencing hasn’t actually happened?! I didn’t go hunting with Brooke and bond with her? I didn’t find Xander’s soulmate? I didn’t tell John to protect Past....we didn’t sing together? I didn’t kiss Césaire? Azriel and the other guides aren’t crumbling away at this moment? My guides haven’t met each other? The werewolves haven’t invaded the city?! Nicholas and Aeolus didn’t have that confrontation? Aya didn’t talk to Xander? Not everyone is dead?!! David didn’t rip my soul out in disappointment and sent me to Hell? Zoran isn’t a demon ruler?! Bataille and the others haven’t rot away before my eyes?! Past is still with me as my wife? Nothing I’ve been experiencing was real!!!”

Kaitlyn[2]: “It hasn’t happened to you, but it happened to all of us. We wanted to give you warnings of what will come if you do not remain focus, Zero.”

“So...I, and by extension my spirit guides, am going to have these memories that no one else shares. That none of those relationships have or will happen that exact way. All of that is gone? None of those events happened?”

Kaitlyn[3]: “Well the timelines are bleeding into each other as we speak, so they too might have memories of all of this happening. So they should be caught up on everything eventually as long as you do the first steps. Make John do the promise, bring your guides out, say a few key words to everyone... and all those memories will flood into their heads. Jacqueline is probably already caught up on all of this, but you should still make Icy talk to her.”

She looked at them feeling distressed by all of this. “W-why traumatize me with all of this? I vowed to never deviate from my objected. I had promised Past and all of them I’ll handle Samuel and the Phoenix as soon as we got back! I was not going to take a break!”

Kaitlyn[1]: “We thought so too. That nothing would distract us. Us first three got caught up in the relationships you’ve just witnessed... and others have killed Samuel without bringing the Phoenix. Without having that mother and child reunited... And there are more failures than just us four you see before you...”

She looks towards the last Kaitlyn who has been quiet. That fourth one looked slightly unhinged. “What about that Kaitlyn? What did the fourth do? Was she a lot closer to getting things done?”

Kaitlyn[4]: “I had killed the Phoenix. Then I killed Azriel and stole Lunette’s soul. Then I ate Past while she was in a coma out of grief. Don’t do that, no matter how annoying the Phoenix and the two princesses all are.”

“oookaaaay....Duly noted. I wasn’t planning on killing anyone but Sammy even if they were annoying, but I’ll take your advice.”

Kaitlyn[4]: Don’t eat your children either, Zero.”

“....................................................I won’t.”

Kaitlyn[3]: Another positive note is that we’ve already done most of the hard work for your relationships, Zero... You just have to start it and everyone will be caught up to what we had...” 

Kaitlyn[2]: “...just hopefully without all the death part.”

“What about Dimitri? How’s this new timeline going to work?-”

Kaitlyn[1]: DON’T get caught up in the details. Focus. Getting caught up in all that is what led us to these bad ends in the first place! ....But if it’ll ease you, Xander will remember and find Dimitri, then Dimitri will get hit with all those memories of a dinner that never, or maybe it actually had, happened... Everything relationship and information has been taken care of by us. Just focus on your objectives. No buts, no what ifs, no thinking just DO! You know where to look, you know what to do, GO FORTH DAMMIT!”

“.....I will.” She nods and faces a light in the distance “As soon as I’m back to myself. I’ll go straight into action. Thank you... for warning me. I won’t make the same mistakes.”