#tattoo artist!azriel

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 19)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: SMUT

Word Count: 5,592

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Masterlist]

Notes: The moment we've all been waiting for 😏 (took me like four days to write this)....Happy Valentine's Day 💙

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The kiss is searing.

It’s a desperate attempt to taste each other, devour each other as your lips part beneath Azriel’s without thought. Your teeth clack and the sound is loud in the silence of the gallery, almost startlingly so, but his tongue is brushing across yours in a tentative swipe before you’re meeting him halfway, kissing him even more urgently as the taste of him explodes on your tongue.

He tastes fresh and spicy. There’s a hint of the champagne he’s been drinking, and just like the fizziness of it, the feeling bubbles throughout your body pleasurably. You press yourself closer. His eyelashes are so long that you swear you can feel them fluttering against your skin. The feeling goes straight to your cunt.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you lose yourself into him entirely.

A new beginning indeed.

“Wait,” Azriel pants between kisses. His words tell you that he wants to pause this kiss that is more dizzying than any of the champagne you’ve had tonight, but the way his hands caress your face, keeping you close, the way that he continues to press his mouth against yours again and again tells you that he doesn’t want this to end either. “Princess, wait.”

Ice slips through your veins as you rock back from him a little. Is he already regretting this? I mean, you did just throw yourself at him like some simpering girl, but his reassuring grip slides down your arms, holding you close. Tingles skitter in wake of his touch, but you can’t help the part of you that’s suddenly terrified of what he’s going to say.

Azriel must see it on your face too, the worry, because his brows furrow slightly like he doesn’t understand your quick reaction to pull away. He’s stepping into you, plastering himself against your front. You can feel his cock, hard with attention against your stomach. You relax slightly as the warmth from your cheeks drips down to collect at the apex of your thighs.

“You’re drunk,” Azriel breathes, and the pinch of his brows becomes more tortured when you slide your hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck. Those golden eyes search yours frantically, but you don’t show him anything but the ache, the need for him you have and have been locking deep inside of your soul. “I need you to be sober when I fuck you for the first time, princess.”

“I’m fine,” you whine, clinging to him as tightly as he is to you. You roll your hips a little to emphasize what you want from him and Azriel makes a choked noise in response. “I’m not drunk enough to where I’d forget any of this, Azriel.”

And fuck, the way you say his name, no longer filled with hatred or annoyance. It’s a heady whine that makes his cock harder than stone. He thinks he might crumble under your touch like a delicate piece of his charcoal. He wants to be wrapped all around you, embedded into your skin like the chalky substance he favors. He wants to ink you with his touch, with his cum—

He shakes his head, erasing those thoughts from his mind. If he continues down that path he might just rip off your dress right now and—“Fuck,” he squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can for a moment, leaning his forehead against yours. “I want to fuck you in a bed, not on some hard floor.”

It’s an excuse and you both know it. He could lie you down right now and fuck you so hard that your tailbone bruises from the stone floors, and you’d probably thank him.

“Just put a canvas down,” you suggest, “Let’s make some art.” He grunts like you’ve just shot him, bucking his hips against you. You can feel how big he is and you want to unleash his cock from his pants, run your fingers across the hardness of it, taste him on your tongue—

“Easy,” he warns playfully, but there’s a clear strain to his voice that tells you that he wants to keep going. Sadly, Azriel pulls your hands from his belt. You hadn’t noticed that your fingers had moved to his waist on their own volition.

“Fuck,” you curse, wincing. “Sorry.”

“Say fuck again,” he says, distracted. The honey of his eyes is dripping with lust, pupils blown wide as they drink you in. The flush to your cheeks, the way you’re biting your tongue and batting your eyelashes up at him like you’re going to make him beg for it. He might. Azriel brushes his thumb across your lip, watching the way your mouth forms the words again. “Filthy, princess,” he breathes against your mouth. “Everytime you called me prick or asshole or whatever creative curses you could come up with, you don’t know how much I wanted to come taste them off of your lips, fuck them right out of you.”

He wants to know if you’ll make the same noises that you did on the other side of that wall that day.

You can’t help but to rub yourself against him. Your sex is throbbing with need. You moan again and Azriel sucks harshly on your neck. “Shit,” you whine. His hands are everywhere, winding around your body to hold you even closer. “Need your cock, Az,” you pant, and he’s kissing you forcefully, the both of you stumbling back a few steps.

“You’ll get it, princess,” he mumbles, hands dragging hot lines down your spine to squeeze a handful of your ass. You’re about to beg him again, because your failed attempts at convincing him to fuck you right here on the floor are not working, but the lights cut out, sending the entire gallery into a pitch of darkness.

Azriel groans and you can’t help the laugh that escapes.

“What the hell?” You question through your giggling, turning as you throw a look over your shoulder as if making sure that the entire room has succumbed to the same darkness. You don’t miss the way Azriel’s grip tightens on you as you move, and the action weakens your knees.

“Thesan told me this would happen at midnight,” Azriel supplies, digging into the pocket of his trousers for his phone.

You feign a gasp, “My very own Cinderella moment! I’ve always wanted one!”

The smirk in Azriel’s tone is clear when he answers. “Except, unlike Cinderella, you’ll be getting dick tonight.”

You swat at him, but in the dark you miss. He chuckles, deep and throaty, as if the current of your swing ruffled the fabric of his shirt. You clench your thighs. Being on this side of Azriel’s good mood is spectacular, but there is no way he can keep torturing you like this.

“I think it really sets the mood; don’t you think?” You purr, fingers fumbling for the top button of his shirt.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he grouses, catching your hands and guiding you through the dark gallery instead. The flashlight on his phone leads the way. Azriel keeps your hand tucked tightly in his own as you wobble back into your heels with a soft hiss, your aching feet already protesting again. “When I fuck you, I need to see all of those pretty faces you’re going to make for me,” Azriel all but growls.

You stumble, blaming it on your shoes and Azriel steadies you.

He swipes up the glasses from the floor and you pick up the nearly empty champagne bottle, where you return them all to the kitchenette Thesan built in the back, dumping them into the sink.

When you scold Azriel for not washing the glasses, he arches a brow, illuminated by the glaring light coming from his phone. “Oh, now you want to stay longer and help clean up?” He questions and you roll your eyes in response. “Is this my punishment for wanting to take you home and fuck you in a nice, comfy bed? C’mon, princess, you know just how soft it is, don’t you?”

You shiver at his words. That, for once, you’re both completely on the same page about something.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The ride back to the apartment building is both the longest ride you’ve ever endured, and the most tension-filled.

Azriel had called a cab to take the both of you home, and spent the time waiting by pressing you up against the back door of the building and kissing the life out of you.

It’s difficult to focus on anything other than his hand in yours, the soft and rigid texture of his hand. The way that his thumb smoothes gentle circles across your own hand where they lie intertwined in your lap. The warmth of his skin is both settling and forming a rock in your stomach as you think about what he’s endured to grace these scars upon his skin. That his step-brothers had been so cruel to take a flame to the artist's hands.

You try to swallow past the lump in your throat, breathing shallowly so you don’t make yourself sick with the thoughts searing through your mind.

The driver doesn’t try to make conversation and you’re thankful for that, but the silence is consuming, aiding in your negative thoughts.

As if sensing the turn of your thoughts, Azriel squeezes your hand, and gives you a gentle smile. It’s a crooked one, one corner of his mouth tilted higher than the other, but it’s easily the most beautiful smile you’ve seen. It makes him look younger, less like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. It makes you wish you had your sketchpad with you. Him looking at you like this makes you feel like there’s a garden growing in your stomach, a field of blooming flowers.

You frown when Azriel’s fingers untangle from yours but then he’s sliding that large palm scoots slowly up your thigh. You glare, glancing into the front of the car at the driver, who is paying no attention to whatever is going on in his backseat, which is perfect because Azriel’s hand is creeping higher, almost cupping your—

You splutter a little and the driver glances at you in the mirror.

“You okay?” Azriel asks, but you can hear the mirth in his voice, see the heat in his eyes, flashing in the streetlights.

You’re not all that sure that you like this new Azriel.

“Peachy,” you offer, using both of your hands to clamp down on his wrist to keep him from coming any closer to your already weeping cunt. The thin fabric of your dress does little to separate the warmth of his hand from your skin. “Just peachy.”

Azriel finds challenge in your response, and you’re no match for his strength as he softly brushes his fingers across the fabric covering your intimates. You exhale harshly and can feel the car moving faster as the driver presses harder on the gas.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You skip going into your apartment, trailing after Azriel with your hand tucked into his.

Your heart is beating wildly, like it’s trying to escape your chest. The closer you get to his door the more confident in your decision you are. You want him, want his hands all over your body, his eyes and hands on your skin and his cock plunged deeply into your cunt.

The elevator had been the only option to get upstairs because of your tired feet, but Azriel had thoroughly distracted your nervousness of getting back in the blasted metal trap by pinning you up against the door and slotting his lips over yours.

The both of you stumbled out onto your floor in a fit of laughter, helped along by the slight warmth that lingers from the champagne. Now, you’re mostly just drunk off of Azriel, his hands, the strain in his pants that’s calling your name, that gleam in his eye that you haven’t quite caught before…

“I’m going to get you some water,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. You had both creeped quietly into the dark apartment, holding your breath and listening for any movement. For college students, the weekend night is still young, and his roommates must be out because not a grunt of a wank or a moan from Feyre sounds. You follow Azriel’s mouth because you can’t get enough of the taste of him. His hands settle on your hips, eyes gleaming with amusement. “And after you drink it, if you still want to—”

“Yes, Azriel,” you cut him off, earnest. “My answer isn’t going to change.”

He studies you, golden eyes hungry with desire, before he nods, slipping from the room, the shadows of the dark living room swallowing him whole.

You bite back the smile threatening to tear your face into two at the sight of his tight ass in his black trousers. You can’t wait to rip them off and see what’s under them. 

Exhaling, you spin on your heel, kicking out of your shoes. Your feet sigh with relief as they fall flat against the hardwood floors, and you wiggle your toes, admiring his room. It feels different, somehow, than when it did when you woke up here hungover as fuck.

The light from the lamp beside the bed is soft, the pile of books stacked in pristine order as opposed to the ready-to-tip-over pile you remember. It’s clean, no piles of clothes on the floor like in Cassian’s room, no pair of panties thrown over the desk chair.

Azriel’s desk is the only thing you could consider messy, but even then, it’s cleaner that what your art stations look like when you’re working on a project. There’s a jar filled with chunks of charcoal, a cloth drenched black hanging over its side. There are loose sheets of paper and thick graphite pencils for sketching, and a luster of sketchbooks stacked in a neat pile, the one on top open.

You lean closer, squinting against the shadows to get a better look, and your breath hitches in your throat.

Drawing upon drawing, and they’re all of you. He’s made you look so beautiful that you didn’t even know you looked like this. Even the ones that he’s clearly drawn in a rush, before the memory faded, are impeccable.

It’s you in the elevator, head buried in your sketchbook, hat pulled low over your eyes. It’s you when Feyre and Rhysand forced everyone to have lunch together, tossing the grape at Cassian. It’s you, swallowing up at him the first day that you met. You sitting on the back of his motorcycle, rain plastered to your head, you—

You can’t help but to turn the page, all but collapsing into the desk chair. Some of the pages are filled with larger drawings, spreading across the spine of the book. When you’d eaten dinner with him, the shock on your face when you learned that he could cook. The following pages are a double-spread from when you were staring down at him when he was changing the oil on his motorcycle.

A hysterical laugh bubbles in your throat. You hadn’t realized that Azriel had been paying as much attention to you as you were with him. The drawings of yours that you dropped all over the floor of his hands are a tribute to that.

“What are you doing?” Azriel’s voice startles you. You stand from the chair and face him, but you don’t move any closer than that. He’s standing in the doorway, a glass of water in his hand. He doesn’t move closer, and when his eyes flick from the sketchbook to you , your chest hurts at the guarded look he wears.

“That sketchbook is filled with drawings of me,” you point at the sketchbook in question, even though he was just looking at it. In some speck of the world it might seem creepy, this sketchbook filled with drawings of you, but to you, it’s no different than children scribbling names of their cushes across notebooks. It’s no different than all of the drawings you have of him.

You watch Azriel’s throat work as he swallows. Like he’s considering not answering you at all. 

After a few, long seconds in silence, he breathes out a quiet, “Yes.”

“Why?” you ask, twisting your fingers together.

Azriel tracks the movement. Because you consume every waking moment of my life sounds too desperate. Because you chase my demons away sounds even crazier.

“Because I really like you.” It’s his first time admitting it, your first time hearing it from him. All of the times Feyre has tried to ask you about Azriel had been deny, deny, deny, because of this very moment right now. You hadn’t wanted to think about him like that, even when your mind was desperate to. You didn’t want to actually like Azriel, not after what he had done, but you find yourself admitting that you like him a hell of a lot more than you ever thought you could.

Bunching up the bottom of your dress, you curl your fingers around it as you take a step closer. He’s frozen in the doorway, watching you slowly drag the fabric up your body and over your head. You’d forgone a bra, and your nipples tighten in the chill of the room, underneath that piercing gaze of his. 

In the few steps it takes you to cross the room to him, your dress is on the floor and he can’t stop looking at your body, drinking you in like an artist does his muse.

“I really like you too, Azriel,” you respond softly. This is the most intimate thing you’ve ever done, bare yourself to him while he’s still fully clothed, being as vulnerable as he’d been with you back at the gallery. The ball is in his court, and the bulge in his pants has you hopeful.

Azriel curses. “Fuck, princess. You’re making my hands shake.” 

Your solution is simple, taking the glass from him and reaching over to set it on the dresser. You can feel the way his eyes rove your body as you move, hot like a knife.

Turning back to him, you slowly, gently take his hands in yours. They’re trembling a little, and it makes you ache.

He’s frozen to the spot as he watches you lift one of his palms to your lips, kissing it sweetly. It’s followed by the other, and then you’re dragging his hands down your skin and over your breasts, squeezing his hands around them, nipples tight with the pleasure of his skin against them.

Azriel’s breath hitches and your head nearly rolls back on your neck when his fingers twitch, fighting the urge to squeeze harder. You peer up at him. He’s so godsdamned warm, eyes dark and drinking you in like a delight. You want to feel his hands everywhere. Right this second.

“They’re not shaking right now, Azriel.”

As quick as lightning, Azriel strikes, lunging forward and scooping you off of your feet, kicking the door shut behind him.

You arch into his touch, the tightness of your sensitive nipples grazing across the soft fabric of his shirt. You moan into his mouth at the feeling and he swallows that sound desperately.

His room is small, and in two great strides he’s placing you on his bed and crawling up after you like a wolf getting its first taste of a kill.

You scoot backwards until you can’t anymore, and Azriel follows you like a worshiper to his God, like a starving artist to their muse.

His hands trail your calves to your thighs where he parts them, your clothed cunt on full display. The fabric is wet and you shiver at the cold of his room as it fights against your hot core, shivering harder when Azriel’s hot gaze drags down your body like a brush dipped in paint.

Like this, kneeling between your legs, he’s the one that looks Godlike. Strands of his black hair fall across his glowing eyes, and his tongue pokes out to wet his lips.

“My Gods, princess. Where do I even start with you?” he asks, his voice filled with awe.

You know that his question is rhetoric, but you can’t help the whine on an answer that slips from your lips.

“Anywhere you want.”

As if he can’t stand it a moment longer, Azriel’s hips find yours. His cock is heavy with need where it’s straining against the fabric of his trousers, and you keen as he grinds into you, fingers finding the buttons of his shirt as he watches you with hungry eyes.

Splayed out like this, on his bed, you look impeccable. A feast and he is a starving man. Biting your lip as he rubs himself against your cunt. The part to your lips, glistening in the lamplight. He drinks you in, memorizing each and every single ounce of you before your fingers find the sliver of exposed skin that grows with each button he takes off.

He’s smooth, warm, and the ridges of his muscles feel like a puzzle beneath your fingers. You know exactly where he fits, right up against your body.

Azriel’s shirt falls to the side and as if he knows the intended path of your thoughts, he’s leaning over you, caging you between his elbows as he stares deeply into your eyes. You can’t help but watch in response, suddenly so sure that you’ve spent too long arguing with him. All this time, you could’ve been doing this. 

It looks like Azriel is realizing the same, as he dips down to kiss you sweetly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against your mouth again, following the words with another whisper of a kiss.

“I’ve already forgiven you,” you say, delirious from the feeling of his tongue against your neck. Azriel sucks lightly and your breath hitches, thighs quivering to wrap around his taut waist. “But if you get inside of me right now, I’ll forgive you again.” 

Azriel lifts his head. With the way that his dark hair falls into his gold eyes, paired with the slight smirk on his face, it sends your heart into a rapid flutter. He’s utterly breathtaking, and something blooms deeply inside of you. 

The things you’ve learned about him, from him, this man who hasn’t let his hardships keep him from doing what he loves.

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, princess,” Azriel says, and you almost whine when he pulls away from you, but he’s kissing his way down your body, sucking a pert nipple into his mouth and rolling his tongue around it while his other hand massages your free breast. Your fingers find his shoulders and you dig your nails in, hissing as he rolls your nipple between his teeth. Gods, you need his cock, right now. “I have to taste your sweet little pussy first.”

“Please,” you beg as his hands trail down your sides, snapping the waistband of your panties against your hips in a tease.

“Might have to keep you here all night. So I can study your body with my tongue,” he says, leaning down to lick a stripe up the inside of your thigh. “My hands,” Azriel continues, and the words are accentuated with a brush of his knuckle down the center of your core. The thin fabric of your panties does nothing to ease the feeling of his touch. You keen deeply, and somewhere in the haze of the storm that is Azriel that accompanies his every touch, you don’t realize he’s slipped from his pants and boxers, his thick, full length on display. “And my cock,” he finishes, rubbing himself against your soaked panties.

“Az,” you mewl desperately, but you don’t have to wait any longer because he’s already peeling your panties down your legs and settling himself there, admiring the way your pretty cunt flutters and glistens with need.

Your fingers are already fisting the sheets and it’s an effort to peer down at him, watching in anticipation as he finally, finally, lowers his head to your weeping cunt.

Fucking Gods, is Azriel wicked with his tongue, sweeping a deep stroke through your slit. He groans and the sound of it reverberates against your clit and it’s all too much already. You figure he was going to be good with his hands, being an artist, but this…the gentle to harsh touches of his tongue against your clit is otherworldly.

You gasp as he fucks into you, keeping you from scooting up the bed where your feet are planted in the sheets with his hands on your hips, holding you to his face. He’s a man undone, delirious on your taste alone. He can’t wait until his cock gets to feel this.

Azriel works his tongue, fucking into you with such hunger. He sucks greedily at your clit and you arch off of the bed. One of his palms slides across your hips, pressing you back down. He doesn’t care that you’re squeezing his head with your thighs, only cares about the sounds that he’s ripping from your mouth.

They sound even better on this side of the wall.

A finger replaces his tongue and you’re full on squirming now, fingers buried deeply into his hair as you guide his head, the flick of his tongue too good that any words besides “yes,” eddy from your mind. Azriel’s knuckle brushes the bundle of nerves inside of you and you’re seeing white, cunt clenching around his finger, grinding your pussy into the feverish flicking of his tongue as you ride out the best orgasm of your life.

You cunt aches, and Azriel’s still going, so you use your grip on his hair to jostle him a little, whimpering to get his attention.

It takes a lot more strength for Azriel to part from your cunt than he thought. Your sweetness is still on his tongue, coating his mouth when he looks up at you, dazed, as if he’s the one that’s just come from a taste of you. But no, he’s still painfully hard, trying not to rut his hips into the bed while you squirmed for him.

He wants you to do all that squirming on his cock instead.

“You alright up there, princess?” Azriel teases, crawling his way up your body once more. Following the guidance of the hand in his hair, he slants his mouth over yours, sharing the taste of you in a lazy kiss.

You hum languidly, eyes shut in bliss from the orgasm. You peek your eyes open to peer up at Azriel, who’s admiring you with a soft curve to his mouth. He looks so handsome when he smiles that it has you wrapping your legs around his hips, the both of you groaning as his cock slides through your slick folds, teasing.

“Condom,” you gasp, canting your hips to slide your wet and fully interested cunt across his length. He’s so big, and you’d be going down on him if it weren’t for the way that you desperately need to feel him inside of you, right this fucking instant.

Azriel reaches over you, pulling open the drawer of the small table next to you. He roots around for a moment and then he’s pressing back on his haunches, tearing open the condom wrapper and pulling it out.

“Let me,” you offer, and his eyes turn a shade darker when he passes it over.

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his cock in your hand, hot and heavy, silky like heaven. You can feel your slick around the length from where he’d nearly driven you to insanity with that teasing grind against your cunt, and in retaliation, you give his cock a tug, reveling in the low growl that comes from the back of his throat.

“Princess,” he threatens, and your thighs jolt, trying to shut around your screaming clit at the sound.

You don’t wait for Azriel to take charge. As soon as you roll the condom on you’re brushing the head of his cock against your cunt again, slicking him and lining him up with your entrance, looking up at him with those big, innocent eyes.

“Fuck me, Az. I can’t wait another minute.” 

His lips meet yours in a bruising kiss and he slowly presses his cock into you.

“Fucking fuck, princess. You’re so tight for me.” His words are shaky against your mouth, as if he’s struggling to hold himself back from pressing into you all the way, from cumming with a singular touch. 

You mewl his name on the breath that’s forced from your lungs with each inch he plunges into you. Gods, he looked big, felt bigger in your hand, and as he works his cock into your heat, you’re not too sure he’s going to fit all the way. 

But the words he’s whispering into your ear, onto your skin have you melting. The finger he slips between your bodies to play with your clit is distracting enough to where you’re focused on the pleasure he’s pulling from you. 

And then his cock hits that spot, nestles up against it when your hips meet, and you cry out in joy. “Right there, Azriel. You feel so good.” Your fingers dig into the long lines of muscle down his back, trying to hold him closer, as if you aren’t already touching in every way possible.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this moment?” he asks you, accentuating his words with a slow roll of his hips that makes you both groan, your nails biting into his skin like the needle from his tattoo gun. It drags a shiver up his spine as a fleeting thought zips through his mind, one of you, naked and sitting on his cock, giving him another tattoo. He’ll teach you how to hold the tattoo gun and let you have free rein with it, because anything that you can give him, he wants. Azriel squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to burst at the visual. If anything, he can’t wait to coat your virgin skin in his ink. There is so much canvas for him to work with, all smooth and perfect, waiting for some artwork. “When you were touching yourself on that side of the wall,” he pants, pulling out and fucking back into you slowly. The drag of your walls so tight around his cock is perfect. He won’t last long. 

You gasp as he bottoms out again, throwing your head back into the pillows. “You heard that?”

His hum is strained, and he can’t help but to kiss you. “You’ll have to show me how you touched yourself some day, princess.”

You moan loudly at the thought of that, gripping him tighter. Azriel sitting in his chair, charcoal poised above his sketchpad as he watches you with dark eyes, while you touch yourself to the thought of him. Just how he’s touching you now, tight, little circles around your clit.

“I heard you with that guy,” Azriel continues, and his thrusts become harsher, deeper. “With that fucker from the coffee house. I bet you faked it with him, all that laughing and sighing. I’m going to find out if those noises were real or not.” You shiver at his words, but Azriel couldn’t be further from wrong.

“We didn’t fuck,” you pant, bucking your hips up to meet his. Azriel makes a choked sound, canting his hips to hear you keen wildly at the change of angle. And then, because you know it will make him come undone, you say, “All of this is just for you, Az.”

Azriel nearly cums at those words alone. The coiling in his bones is so hot that he readjusts for better leverage, and fucks into you with abandon. Gods, he loves the way that you’re clinging to him, the way your cunt squeezes his cock tightly, like you never want to let him go.

He’s been a fucking fool all of this time. A Godsdamn fucking fool. He could’ve had you like this, milking his cock dry, making these sounds that threaten to tear the walls down. He could’ve had his hands all over you, because you seem to like the way that he’s touching you, even with how fucked up they are.

“I’m going to memorize everything about this perfect body of yours, princess,” Azriel groans, thrusting deeply. He can tell you’re on the verge of your own orgasm, with the way your cunt squeezes him, the way those gorgeous eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth parts, letting out those filthy noises he revels in. “We’ve got all night. Let me see you cum again, princess. Cum all over my cock. Oh, fuck, princess. That’s it.”

Your orgasm rocks through you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath away. You hold onto Azriel like he’s your lifeline, trembling in the aftershocks. The white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins is incredible, and you wrench your eyes open at the sound of Azriel’s shaky warning.

Azriel follows you into serendipity. He wishes he were painting your body in white strokes. It’s always been far from his favorite color, but he thinks it could quickly become his favorite if he could see his cum splattered across your skin. 

For the first time, you don’t care that it’s loud on this side of the wall. 

Because you’re on it.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @homeslices @quinzzelx @carlandonorri-s @juniper-july19 @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92

#acotar #azsazz #midnight muse #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #artist!azriel #tattoo artist!azriel #art school au

[shadowdaddies]

Oh my God! ❤️❤️❤️ I love your stories. Idea, Azriel dominated by his mate, f!reader?? You know, tied up and a lot of smut. Azriel always takes control, but what would happen if his lover took control??? ❤️‍🔥Thank you 🩵

Thank you so much honey! I think it would be a big deal for Az to let himself be put in such a vulnerable position for the first time, so this is some fluffy body worship bc he deserves a lot of love💜

Adoration

Azriel x f!Reader

Warnings: smut, light bondage, body worship, wing play, oral m!receiving, p in v sex

You fastened the silk ties securing Azriel’s wrists to the headboard, leaning back to press your naked body against his as you cupped his cheek with your hand, looking him in the eyes. “Is that comfortable enough, Az?” you whispered, searching his face for any sign of distress. 

This was the first time he’d allowed you to take charge in such a way, and you thought you might be more nervous than he was. Azriel looked up at you, giving an encouraging smile. “Yes, love. This is fine.”

Feeling encouraged by his reassurance, you moved to kiss him deeply, lightly rolling your hips against his length, causing him to groan so that you could slip your tongue inside his mouth. You felt him grow impossibly hard beneath you, and you smirked as you pulled back from the kiss, sitting up to straddle him.

You looked down, admiring Azriel’s form beneath you. He was so breathtakingly beautiful, as if a fine artist’s masterpiece came to life, and you were sure to take this opportunity to admire him. You traced your fingers along the swirls of his tattoos before pressing a kiss to his chest, right above his heart. You poured love through the bond as you continued kissing your way up his neck, sucking on his pulse point and licking over the mark, eliciting a groan from Azriel as he tried to lift his hips up towards you.

You laughed softly, kissing him on the lips as you felt him reciprocate the love and admiration through the bond. You trailed back down his body, making a point to kiss all of his scars as you brought a hand up to one of his wings. You traced your finger along the prominent vein in his wing at the same time you licked a stripe up the vein that ran along his shaft, causing Azriel to buck his hips as he shouted your name. You pressed a kiss to his tip, and once again positioned yourself to sit atop him. Your now dripping center pressed against his hard length, but you didn’t guide him inside you yet.

You rocked your hips gently against his, spreading your wetness along him and switching to circle your hips, rubbing your clit against his cock in a way that pulled loud moans from both of you. Continuing your teasing movements, you leaned over to the wing you’d been tracing with your fingers, replacing them with your tongue as you moved your hand to the other wing. Azriel again arched against you, pulling on the restraints as he gritted out, “FUCK, angel! I need more.” 

You let out a kitten lick and murmured against his wing, “don’t rush me while I worship you, Azriel.” His chest was heaving at this point, and just you felt his cock twitch under you you pulled away completely, earning a frustrated groan from Az. Before he could protest, you positioned yourself above him and finally sank down onto his cock, alternating between rocking back and forth and circling your hips as you moved slowly up and down his length. Azriel tried thrusting up into you, but you pushed his hips down to the mattress as you continued to ride him. When you sensed he was getting close again, you leaned forward, kissing him passionately as you bounced more forcefully against him and ran one finger along the talon of his wing. He came with a roar, moaning and panting against your mouth as he came down from his orgasm.

You reached up to untie his hands from the headboard, pressing kisses to his palms and wrists as you massaged them. “Was that alright, Az?” He gave you a feral smile as he nodded, “yes, angel. That was perfect.” He quickly grabbed you by your hips and flipped you over, taking the silky tie from your hands as he went to grab your wrists, winking at you as he murmured against your ear, “my turn.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #azriel imagine #acotar smut #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #azriel acotar #acotar #acomaf #acotar x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x female!reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x f!reader #kinktober #acotar kinktober #azriel acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #azriel #acosf #acotar fanfic #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar azriel #azriel smut #azriel fluff #acotar imagine #Azriel acotar smut

[fawnandshadows]

How You Get The Girl

Chapter 23

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Language

AO3

“I feel awful,” Elain said, pulling the seat belt away from her belly. “I can’t believe this happened.” Inky guilt settled into her veins as she thought of the photo that had been making waves online. She hated the guilt that lurked inside of her because she was so proud of that photo  — of how beautiful it was, of how Azriel’s artistic talent and passion was on full display. His affection. But that picture was for them. Not the entire world. 

“How are you holding up?” Azriel said from the driver's seat, reaching over to place one hand on her knee while the other rested on top of the wheel. The dark tattoos and his corded muscles was a nice distraction from everything on fire outside of the car. 

“I can’t believe this ruined Feyre and Rhysand’s plans.” Elain pouted and sunk further into the passenger's seat. 

“I wouldn’t say we ruined their plans.” Azriel said, flicking the turn signal to turn onto a dirt road. 

“We hijacked it, at the very least,” Elain grumbled and looked out the window, watching the leaves rush pass as they drove into the dense forest. “They were planning on having a romantic getaway at Rosehall and now we’re crashing it. And like a week before they even get here.” 

“Elain,” Azriel said softly, squeezing her knee. “Your photo was leaked. You have the right to be upset.”  

“I know,” Elain whispered, peeking at him from the corner of her eye. His strong profile, made up of straight lines and a beautifully sloping nose, looked confidently out the window, and the glow of late afternoon sun landed on him with a gold outline. “And your phone was compromised. Your privacy was violated because of me. I never should have told you to take that picture.” Her fingers played with the ones that laid comfortingly on her knee. 

“Hey,” Azriel said firmly, his eyes cutting to hers meaningfully before turning back to the road. “I should have deleted that picture. I should have never taken it in the first place, but I was being selfish. And how much training did I have to sit through where they expressly told us what not to do?” 

Elain pursed her lips and fought the urge to argue. To put all the blame on her shoulders. 

“You know what I hate?” Elain whispered, placing her hand flat on top of Azriel’s and seeing how small it looked in comparison. “How they can say such nasty things about such a beautiful picture,” She scrunched her nose and threaded her fingers through his. “I mean, if it was a professional shoot and that picture was in a magazine? People would be fawning over it. But because it was on my boyfriend's phone I’m somehow a slut? A tramp? It’s ridiculous.” 

She looked up at him and saw the muscle in his jaw ticking. Elain leaned across the console and placed her free hand on the left side of his face to pull him towards her, and then kissed the tensed muscle in his jaw. 

“It’s not fair.” Azriel stated, frustration clear in his voice. 

Elain leaned her head into his shoulder. Her forehead pressing into him. 

“I was thinking,” Elain said hesitatingly, unsure if this was the best time to bring it up. “But I don’t think I want to model anymore,” She felt his body tense under her and continued. “You know it was never something I really wanted to do, and I feel more and more detached every time they call me The Face, and after this whole experience I’m sick of that entire industry.” 

A short silence fell in the car. 

“I want you to do what makes you happy.” Azriel said, this thumb brushing over the soft skin of her hand he was holding. 

“That’s,” Elain started and cut herself off when she felt a burning sensation in her eyes. “That’s one of the things I love about you. You don’t care if I’m a model, or what I’m posting on my instagram, or anything that comes with all of that. You just care about me.”

Elain pressed a kiss into his shoulder before pulling back, and when she looked through the windshield she saw them pulling into Rosehall’s driveway. 

“This isn’t how I saw us being here for the first time, as a couple I mean. Obviously we were both here before with my family.” A blush tinged her cheeks. 

Azriel put the car in park before turning to face her. His eyes were intense and caring in a way that made her stomach contract. 

“This is how I see it,” Azriel said, his voice warm and lovely. “I get to spend a week alone with my gorgeous girlfriend, away from all the bullshit we normally have to deal with. And despite the reasons why we’re here — we’re still together,” He leaned closer to her and Elain felt herself leaning forward as well. “And I am going to do everything in my power to make this the best week of your life.” 

A smile bloomed on Elain’s face. 

“Did you pack the condoms?” Elain whispered, as if they were in a car full of people and she didn’t want anyone to overhear. 

Azriel raised an amused eyebrow at her. 

He rested one elbow on the center console and brought a hand up to rub his index across his bottom lip to keep from smiling. 

“I did,” Azriel said, almost smiling. “Are you planning on taking advantage of me, Elain?” 

“Maybe,” Elain moved even closer, her smile taking up more real estate on her face. “Is that a problem?” She unbuckled herself and shifted so that she was sitting on her knees, facing him fully. Hunched over and uncomfortable, but she wanted an unobstructed view of her boyfriend. 

Azriel smiled fully at her, his dimple deep in his cheek. 

“Let me get back to you on that.” Azriel joked, and Elain playfully swatted his arm before leaning in and pressing her lips against his. 

His strong hand came up and tangled in her hair and their lips moved slowly against each other. 

Excitement raced through Elain, pushing out any lingering feelings of frustrations with their situation. She was looking forward to time with Azriel and was going to relish every second they got to spend together, no matter the circumstances. 

When they pulled away, Elain was panting and she could feel her lips tingle from their kisses. 

“Tonight? Do you think?” Elain questioned breathlessly, her hair feeling too hot and heavy against her damp neck. 

Azriel’s eyes darkened as they looked at her. 

He shifted his hand to rub one thumb along her soft jaw. 

“Are you ready?” Azriel asked, and when Elain nodded her head Azriel swallowed loudly. “If you get too tired tonight and just want to sleep, then we can push it back. There’s absolutely no rush, Elain.” 

“I know,” Elain whispered and gently brought their lips together again in a brief kiss. “But I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?” 

— —

For some reason Rosehall always smelled like Spring and Autumn, even in mid summer. Elain was sure it was some combination of the leaves from the thick forest and the wild roses that were found all throughout the grounds — it was one of her favorite smells. The kind of smell that always brought with it serenity. She could be sincere here away from the rest of the world. 

The large cabin was rustic and full of large windows, and a calmness filled Elain as soon as she stepped through the threshold holding her backpack. Azriel tried to steal it from her hands, but she wouldn’t let him. 

“I could live here,” Elain admitted, setting her bag down before plopping down on an old, puffy leather couch in the family room. She gazed at the large stone fireplace across her and wondered if she could convince Azriel to start a fire for her in the middle of summer. “Just you and me,” She raised herself up to peer over the back of the couch at him. “What do you say?” 

“Are we completely secluded, or can family come visit?” Azriel asked, unloading one of what looked like ten bags he was carrying from by the front door. He slowly walked across the wooden floor to her and placed his brown hands on either side of her from behind the couch. 

Elain lifted to her knees to get closer to him. 

“They can visit.” Elain stated, looking up at him. 

Azriel hummed in response and his lips uplifted into a soft smile. 

“Then I think we could make it happen, but I can’t promise your parents would be the best landlords.” 

Elain cringed and shook her head. 

“This is our fantasy, please don’t mention my parents.” 

“Sorry, babe.” 

Elain grinned and wound her arms around his neck. 

“I love it when you call me pet names, I hope you know that.” 

“You always look like you melt when I do it.” Azriel admitted, a blush dusting his cheeks. 

After a small pause Elain said, “Always? Even before we got together?” 

Azriel nodded in admittance and Elain gasped, softly slapping his chest. 

“That’s why you always called me names?” 

A guilty smile ate at Azriel’s lips. 

“Well, yes, but I really can’t be blamed for calling you beautiful, though. It’s a fact.” 

“What do you like that I do?” Elain asked, flushing. 

“I like it when you touch me,” Azriel said, and rolled his eyes at the look of Elain’s face. “Not like that, pervert, but when we’re sitting together and you reach for my hand. Or when you push my hair back. When you randomly hug me. Stuff like that.” 

“Oh,” Elain breathed, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I was worried you might think I was clingy.” 

Azriel shook his head and said, “Never.” 

Elain bit her lip and played with the hair on the nape of his neck, running her fingers through his curls. 

“You know,” Elain said, wetting her lips. “We don’t have to wait for tonight to…” 

Azriel’s body stilled beneath her fingers. 

“I’m going to bring the food in from the car,” Azriel said slowly. Deliberately. “And you’re going to wait for me. In your room.” 

He leaned down to give her a hurried kiss before rushing out of the house. 

Elain felt giddy and grabbed her bag and ran up the steps. 

-------

tagging: @123moiaussi @fuckmelifesucks @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @duskwhisperer @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes  @magnolia-blossom87 @sheenabeene @nivem565  @casuallivi @rhysiedarling @elain99-blog @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita @shy-violet-soul @thisloveseternal

-----

I'm back!!!! This is my first time posting since the New Year and I hope everyone has had an amazing 2024!!! I went ghost mode in January to avoid HOFAS spoilers and work has been a different kind of intense lately, but I'm hoping to be much more active again :)

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing #how you get the girl chapter 23

[fandom-friday]

Happy Fandom Friday!

I’m submitting some artwork I’ve fallen in love with the past few weeks (sorry, no Star Wars today!)

This artwork by @/elizianna.the.one (insta) is of a female character from the Crescent City books. Her name is Perry, and I love how the artist draws her. She may be an omega but she looks like a badass, and she’s gorgeous. The ponytail? The tank? The eyebrows? 10/10.

This artwork by @/gabsgabx (insta) of Day and Night (from Crescent City books) is stunning. The way Day looks at Night is so soft, and knowing the horror of her backstory, I love seeing her so content and just utterly in love. The look in her eyes, especially is so raw.

This artwork by @/tswaney17 (insta) of Azriel (from A Court of Thorns and Roses series) gives me life. The detail in the apron’s design, his tattoos, the scars on his hands, and the intense concentration on his face is divine.

Finally, this artwork by @/gessueter (insta) of Elain and Azriel dressed as Padme and Anakin for Halloween makes me so happy. The colors in Elain’s dress are so beautiful, and the way Azriel is holding her hand is so tender. I love them dearly and it’s so fun seeing them dressed as Star Wars characters.

Thank you for all you do, Karrde!

THANK YOU FOR ALL OF THIS AWESOME ART! I love each piece here for different reasons. You've got badass, you've got ethereal, you've got baking and a crossover near and dear to my heart. These are all so wonderful, Alli! Thanks so much for sending them in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #art rec #fan art #perry ravenscroft #crescent city #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #star wars #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #anakin x padme

[delulustateofmind]

ACOTAR Head Cannons: Batboys Getting a Tattoo

We know the batboys have their Illyrian tattoos, here's how I think they would react during and how they treat you when you get your first one!

A/n: This came to my mind while I was getting my 7hr tattoo done today :( These boys living in my mind rent-free. Didn't edit as I wrote this on my notes app during my session :)

Rhysand:

Would definitely be the type to talk to their artist the whole time.

I don't think he would overshare, but would hold a friendly conversation that could come across as flirting

His smile and laugh? Artist is now blushing.

Rhys could probably do an 8hr session easily with no breaks

Probably a high pain tolerance just talkative

Now...If you were getting your first tattoo

Rhysand would probably tap into your mind and make sure it doesn't hurt (with your permission of course)

Would hold your hand

Would say things to make you not focused on the pain (if you were feeling any) "Darling does that hurt? You're doing such a good job though. You're going to look so stunning when this is done, I'm so proud of you. Such a good girl" he'd whisper in your mind, his voice dripping with sultry warmth.

Cassian:

Cassian has fought literal wars and probably has been impaled more times than anyone could count.

HE FEELS NO PAIN <- For a fact, I think he would be talkative like Rhys, but he would be a snacker for sure.

Would bring his little snacks, I'm thinking gummy worms. Especially if he was having a long session.

Wouldn't need breaks.

Talkative-wise, I think he would ramble about little things, maybe share stories of his battles with various creatures.

Now for your first tattoo

Cassian would hold your hand, thankfully, you could grip his hand as hard as possible and this man wouldn't even flinch.

Would definitely playfully tease you anytime you winced.

I don't think he would be flirty in front of the artist out of respect but he would say words of encouragement in a teasing way.

"You're only halfway there mamas! You got this!" or some stupid dad jokes like "You're not just getting inked, you're becoming a masterpiece that I'll be worshipping later ;)" (Idk why but I think Cassian would have a collection of dad jokes)

Would bring you, your favorite drink and snacks of course.

Azriel:

Azriel would not feel any pain, if he did, he wouldn't show it.

I feel like he would for sure be a sleeper or would just stay quiet with his eyes closed.

Could do long sessions as well at the others, probably a bit longer than both Cassian and Rhysand. If there needed to be a 10-12 hour day he could do it.

For your first tattoo

I am a firm believer that Azriel would be an amazing tattoo artist, given his experience. His lines would be so precise.

Therefore I think he would honestly be your artist.

He would be the one to design/do your piece and would be super gentle when doing the ink. Constant check-ins with you to make sure that you're doing okay.

If you were feeling talkative, he would talk. Though I think he would be so gentle that you would fall asleep.

I don't think he would use his shadows (hygiene you know) but maybe for aftercare if your tattoo is wrapped he will use them to cool down any swelling.

Would say things like: "You're such a good girl for me." or "This area is going to be a bit sensitive, but you'll be fine, won't you, pretty?"

#acotar #acotar azriel #acotar series #headcanon #acotar headcanons #rhysand acotar #cassian acotar

[queentala]

Tropes I cannot stop thinking about:

Tristan Flynn x malakh!reader enemies to lovers

They don’t go along at the beginning but during mission the reader covers Flynn with her wings, saving him from the bullets. He feels guilty and tries to make it up to the reader, accidentally falling in love with her.

dog person Aedion x cat person reader

“Baby put that cat down, please. We’re not adopting another one.”

“You’re not fair. I didn’t complain when you brought home sixth dog!”

“We have already five cats!”

“Why don’t you love me?!?!”

Azriel x pirate!reader

The one that fell in love with with skies and the one that got addicted to the sea. Also, Azriel flying over ocean as the reader stands on the mast, laughing as wind blow her hair in every direction, her eyes never leaving her lover’s figure.

Ruhn x tattoo artist!reader

Ruhn once visited her tattoo studio because one of his friends recommended it to him. He got crush on the reader immediately as he saw her and fell in love once he heard her laugh. Now, he keeps coming to get more and more tattoos only to hear her talk as she tattoos him.

Bonus points if once she asks about his scars and Ruhn opens up to her. Then, Ruhn - king of flirt, is struggling to find words as he tries to ask the reader out for a dinner.

Gavriel x reader that is addicted to adrenaline

The most collected and responsible man you know falls for the loud, adventurous girl that gives him heart attacks every five minutes.

“Go big or go home!”

“Darling, I beg you, just once let’s go home.”

“Yeah no way. Now, wanna go bungee jumping?”

But when they finally go home, she falls asleep curled up in his arms like a little baby and Gavriel can’t help but stare at her peaceful countenance.

(platonic) Fenrys x Lorcan’s mate!reader

She match Fenrys’ sarcasm and wildness like no one other. They always run around the palace, pranking everyone or telling jokes and stories at 3 am in the kitchen while cooking late night snacks. And Lorcan either follows them around, all grumpy and annoyed because Fenrys stole you from him, or sit somewhere with his arms crossed, trying no to show his jealousy as he watches you two.

But the reader always manages to make it up to him with kisses.

Lidia x reader that also was forced to serve Asterii since childhood

They’re assigned on a mission together and at first it’s only professional teamwork but soon they discover none of them really wants to do this. They become closer friends, they open up to each other and then realize there might be someone in this world that is worth fighting for. Basically, two traumatized girls find home and peace in each other.

Bonus points if Ruhn comes later and they take him in, becoming three traumatized babes that found love in each other.

Connall Moonbeam x ballerina!reader

She's one of the best ballerinas in Doranelle, one time she gets invited to the ball thrown by Maeve to perform and entertain guests. Connall feels the bond snap the moment he sees her. He falls in love with her soft smile, kind eyes and graceful moves.

He sits with her late at nights in theater, just the two of them, watching her practice, hypnotized with her moves, pure love radiating from his eyes.

He walks with her before and after every practice and never misses even one of her performances. He finally feels like he belongs somewhere and Fenrys is so happy that his brother found love.

Sooner or later I’m going to write stories for all of the above.

Also feel free to add more. <3

#tristan flynn x reader #azriel x reader #ruhn danaan x reader #gavriel x reader #fenrys moonbeam x reader #lidia cervos x reader #tristan flynn #azriel #ruhn danaan #gavriel #fenrys moonbeam #lidia cervos #tog imagines #acotar x reader #tog x reader #cc headcanons #throne of glass #acotar #cc hoeab #cc hosab #aedion ashryver x reader #aedion ashryver #connall moonbeam #connall moonbeam x reader

[hlizr50]

Fanfic updates

Nobody asked for it, but I'm letting you know anyway! Marketing and all that, right?

Anyway, tell me what you're looking forward to most! Let me know what else you want to see! My asks are always open, so if you have more ideas, I PROMISE I do write them all down. Some of them just get addressed more quickly than others!

I might even have snippets for some of these, if you ask nicely enough!

Earned, Not Taken - RuhnLidia BDSM AU (in progress)

Lidia's previous Dom and boyfriend, Pollux, was an abusive POS. Ruhn teaches her what a real Dom is, with some high stakes as we go

Of Police and Pen Names - Gwynriel AU (in progress)

Gwyn is a romance author, writing under a pen name and keeping as low a profile as possible as she tries to escape her past. Azriel is a private investigator who makes a really bad first impression.

The Marked - RuhnLidia Tattoo Shop AU

Inspired by the Marked Men series by Jay Crownover. Ruhn is a popular, wickedly talented tattoo artist. Lidia - with all the outward appearances of a good, straight-laced girl - comes in wanting a back piece, and Ruhn dismisses her. But he'll find out that there's more to her than her prim exterior, and that they may have more in common than he thinks.

Gwynriel Kink-tacular

Basically I was salty about the age-old "Gwyn and Az can't be kinky because she's an SA survivor" spiel, so I made a long list of kinks in which they will engage.

Crossover Orgy fic

Started with my brain thinking, "Gwyn and Flynn would be fun", and then escalated into Frat Pack and Bat Boys and their ladies all gathering to have some fun. Lucien and Helion and Tharion and others also allowed.

#fanfic #fanfiction #crescent city #acotar #gwynriel #ruhnlidia #daynight #gwyneth berdara #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #ruhn danaan #lidia cervos #crescent city fanfiction #sjm #sjm fandom #acotar fanfic #gwynriel fanfic #wip #fanfic wip #shameless plug

[ofduskanddreams]

Inked Lilies pt. 3

Summary: The tale of flower shop owner Gwyn and tattoo artist Azriel climaxes and concludes in this third installment ;)

Warnings: NSFW (18+ only please), references past SA

Here are the links for part one (by @headcanonheadcase) and part two (by @shadowsingerofnight) and the acotar writing circle masterlist.

Okay, this is 10.6k words. Yeah, I know it's not short—whatever; there was a lot of ground to cover here. Listen though, it's 50% filth okay? Enjoy. Thank you my besties @damedechance and @hlizr50 for being such lovely betas (🤠 iykyk)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It feels like that one time in middle school gym class during their soccer unit when Gwyn had been playing goalie and she’d jumped to block a shot and hit her head on the metal frame of the goal in the process. 

The world is bleary and fuzzed, like her mind was replaced with dandelion down. There’s a ringing in her ears. The cartoons where someone’s head is crashed between cymbals suddenly make a lot more sense.

“What do you mean? ‘That you could do nothing to save Catrin too?’” Gwyn hears herself ask, the words as slow as syrup poured straight out of the fridge.

Azriel clears his throat. Gwyn pulls herself up to sit on the counter she’s been leaning against.

That darkened hazel gaze flits to the floor before meeting her face. Her inhale is sharp. His eyes are anguished.

“I was the one who found you in the alley and brought you to the hospital.”

I was the one who found you.

Gwyn had been telling herself that it was her imagination.

That it was a simple coincidence Azriel’s scars reminded her of the ones on the hands of the man that helped her.

“They’d already left by the time I found you. And Catrin.” He adds, not meeting her eyes so she watches his Adam's apple bob with a hard swallow. “I called the police but the hospital was blocks away and you were in such bad shape. I—I checked her pulse first.” A muscle in his jaw jumps. “Then I checked yours.”

The words are painful for him. She can hear that much. They are like shards barely held together by half-dried glue. They claw at his throat and make it hoarse at the same time that they shred through her, lodging themselves in her lungs and making air an excruciating thing to consume. 

“You were still alive.” His voice cracks. “I left her there. I fucking left her.”

Azriel turns away from her, raking both hands through his dark, wavy hair. 

“She was dead.” Gwyn hears the stilted words walk off of her tongue and fall flat on the herringbone wood floor.

“Because I was too late.”

“What do you mean?” She asks again, not understanding.

Gwyn hears him make a pained, exasperated kind of sound. His sculpted shoulders are heaving in the shadows cast by the orange streetlamp and watery moonlight. 

“I mean that, if I hadn’t gotten distracted and stayed out so late, I might have made it there in time to save both of you.”

The sheer arrogance of this man is enough to jumpstart her back into crisp reality. 

“Bullshit.”

“What?” Azriel whips around.

“Bull. Shit.” Gwyn makes sure to enunciate. “Unless you’re somehow Batman under all of… that.” She gestures to, well, all of him. “Or you illegally carry a gun.” She shivers at the memory of cold metal against her bruised skin. “There is no way in hell you could have taken on all five of them.”

Something in Azriel’s lamplit eyes shatters. Maybe it implodes. 

So very slowly, he sinks into one of the chairs near the door and lets his head fall onto the arms crossed on top of his parted knees.

“She was already dead.” Gwyn says again, as much as the reminder kills her. “But you got there in time to save me.”

Azriel shakes his head, like he doesn’t believe her. 

“Do you want to know what the nurses told me when I woke up in intensive care?” Gwyn jumps down from the counter and stalks towards him. She will make sure he hears this even if he doesn’t want to. 

“They said I was only alive because I had a guardian angel.” Remembering that afternoon when the world came into slow focus and she was missing half of herself is like walking through a briar hedge, no roses all thorns. “They said if I’d gotten to the hospital even ten minutes later than I did, if I hadn’t gotten an anonymous blood donation, I would have died.” 

Gwyn’s teal eyes narrow as she looks at his golden brown arms, exposed by the short sleeves of his expensive looking gray t-shirt. At the veins standing out, blue-green beneath the black swirls of his tattoos.

“Anything else about that night you’d care to share while we’re at it?”

Azriel whispers something under his breath.

“I didn’t hear you.” Gwyn knows she should try and rein back the bite to her words. But honestly? She’s livid. 

Years. It had taken years of therapy for her to forgive herself for not making Catrin leave the club earlier that night, so that they could have walked back when the streets were still bustling with people. It had taken years to speak the words to her reflection, ‘It was not my fault. It was no one’s fault but theirs.’

If she wasn’t allowed to blame herself, there was no way she would let Azriel shoulder that corrosive guilt either. No fucking way.

She stops less than a foot in front of him, waiting.

He looks small like this. All backlit by the outside lights, crumpling inwards, hunched shoulders and hanging head.

A part of her wants to prompt him to speak again, but she knows this is like that first day. That Azriel just needs a minute to collect his thoughts. It’s the remembrance that she thought he needed to feel safe before opening up that has Gwyn sinking to crouch before his bent knees.

The urge to comfort has her freckled hand stretching out to rest lightly on Azriel’s forearm. His skin is so hot… no; Gwyn’s hand is freezing. She tries to snatch it away, but Azriel moves with a feline grace, a predatory speed that makes her heart flutter as he grips her hand with one of his own and makes a summoning motion with the other.

She gives him her other hand without really thinking through the action. A pleasant shiver sparkles up her spine as the warmth of Azriel seeps into her icy fingers.

Finally he lifts his head and looks her in the eyes, briefly. One deep inhale, his shoulders rise and fall. Hazel eyes fixate on a spot near her shoulder. That’s okay.

“You had already lost a lot of blood when I got you there. One of the nurses pulled me aside and asked if I would donate because the hospital had a shortage. I said yes—I’m O-neg so I donate monthly. It wasn’t a big deal. I’m just….” That muscle in his jaw twitches and Gwyn half wishes her hands weren’t trapped so she could smooth away the tension with her thumb. “I’m so sorry, Gwyn.”

The four words are a penitent whisper.

She responds with four of her own, laced with steely conviction. “It’s not your fault.”

Azriel scoffs.

“No.” The ferocity in her voice surprises her. It makes Azriel meet her eyes again—good. “You were a passing stranger, a good samaritan. The only thing you were responsible for that night was saving my life. Blaming yourself over ‘what-ifs’ is pointless. Believe me—I spent years doing it.”

Gwyn pauses to take a deep breath. “If you hadn’t pulled me out of that alley, Catrin and I would both have died that night. But because of you here I am, years later, opening my shop and making Catrin’s dream a reality.”

The edges of her vision are blurred with unshed tears. Azriel’s too are lined with silver.

“You did nothing wrong. You saved me. Do you understand?” Gwyn asks.

Azriel bites the inside of his cheek as he searches her face. His eyes squeeze tightly shut, a single tear escaping past his thick lashes. He nods. A single jerk of the chin up, then down.

Because her hands are still held tightly between his, Gwyn leans forward onto the balls of her feet and captures that tear in a butterfly light kiss before it can reach his jaw.

At the press of her lips, his eyes fly open. The moment stretches out between them as Gwyn draws back just enough to look at him. It’s heavy and foretelling like swollen clouds darkening the sky. Teal searching hazel, and hazel searching teal; they are close enough to share breath, but neither is breathing. 

Gwyn recalls the astronomy class she took in college. One diagram on the textbook page about stellar collisions is clear in her mind’s eye. Stars are moving things with set trajectories. Two things can happen when two stars, on their predestined paths, collide. If their meeting is violent, both are reduced to stardust and hydrogen gas. Nothing remains.

However, if the collision is slow, if the stars have been nearing each other for some time, they merge. They come together to form a new star; hotter and more brilliant than either had been on their own.

She thinks that this is the closest she’s ever come to knowing how that feels. The heartbeat’s pause before two stars meet.

“Gwyn,” He sighs her name, “Please. For—”

She doesn’t want to hear it so she silences him the only way that makes sense with her hands still trapped away. 

His lips are just as warm as his hands. Warm and pillowy soft and shocked-still. She presses her lips against his more firmly, an invitation to yield. One that he accepts. 

The kiss is soft and firm and slow and hungry all at once; each using their lips to say what words can’t adequately capture.

I hate that you carried this around with you for years. Stop being so stubborn. I’ve never felt about a person this way I feel about you. It scares me, but I want you too much to be afraid. This is so fast but I feel like I’ve known you forever. This feels right. Gwyn hopes he can understand.

Azriel breaks the kiss with one last near-reverent peck. At some point, his hands had left Gwyn’s to cup her face. She steadies herself, still crouching on the balls of her feet, by holding onto his thighs. Firm muscles shift under her palms.

“I can’t forgive you Azriel, because you’ve done nothing requiring my forgiveness.”

“Nothing?” He arches an eyebrow, a playful spark returning to his gaze.

Gwyn huffs a little laugh, “Okay. I forgive you for running away the other night and abandoning me half-naked in my office. Better?”

“Mhmm,” Azriel hums in agreement as he strokes her cheek, softly smiling. “That was rather stupid of me, wasn’t it.”

“It was.” Gwyn agrees, a light flush warming her cheeks and the top of her ears.

“It was hard to think straight with my hands on your skin, Gwyneth.”

God, the way he makes her name sound sinful….

“How do you know my full name, Azriel?” She draws out his own, a little smirk tugging up the corners of her mouth. “Have you been researching me?” 

Her pulse rushes faster at the wicked little grin forming on his mouth, still flushed from her lips. “It’s printed at the bottom of your receipts. ‘Cashier 1: Gwyneth B.’”

“Ah.” Anticlimactic. 

His grin widens. Her eyes narrow.

“If it’s so hard for you to think while you’re touching me, should I really trust you to give me a tattoo? Maybe I should ask Cassian instead.”

Gwyn watches the emotions play out on his face: indignation, confusion, rage, and finally a heart-stuttering determination.

“I’m better than Cassian. At least for the style you want. I have a more… delicate touch.” The word is saturated with a different kind of quality assurance that makes her stomach clench. “Besides, I’ll be wearing gloves during the actual tattooing—it’s protocol.”

“Okay.” Gwyn says, standing up. She shakes out the stiffness in her legs from crouching for so long.

Azriel rises too, looking down at her incredulously. “You want to do it tonight?”

“Were you joking earlier?” She mimics his intonation. 

“No, but—”

Gwyn places her hands on the hips of her jeans. An auburn brow arches in challenge, and Azriel (smart man that he is) shuts his mouth.

“Good. Now,” Gwyn glances around the still dark tattoo parlor, “Where do we start?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“This will be your first tattoo, right?” Azriel asks as he hands her a consent form on a clipboard.

Gwyn nods, crossing her legs beneath her on the black vinyl table. The lights are on now and they are near the back of the shop. 

She had been expecting bright, fluorescent lighting but that’s not the case. The lights are dimmer and cozier than she remembers; the collection of neon signs decorating the walls create a pleasing haze of colors. There is a small spotlight looking thing next to Azriel’s cart that she assumes will be how he can see her tattoo clearly. 

 Everything is very clean and the smell of antiseptic slowly fades from the air, replaced by the warm cedar scent of the candle Azriel lit while he was wiping everything down.

“Normally, I would advise against this placement for your first tattoo.” Azriel speaks clearly and calmly, his voice radiating assurance that he knows what he’s doing.

This is him in his element, Gwyn realizes. It’s….

Really fucking hot, Mind-Nesta finishes the thought for her.

He takes a step closer to the table as he continues speaking, “I’m not trying to scare you, but most artists and patrons agree that tattoos on the ribs can be some of the most painful.”

Gooseflesh erupts in the wake of Azriel trailing the back of a finger down her bare arm, like he can’t keep himself from touching her. He’s looking at her for a confirmation that this is okay.

“I know.” Gwyn nods. She’d been researching the idea for weeks. 

“Since some of the tattoo will be near scar tissue, it’s possible that the damaged nerves in the area will dull the pain. It will also help that all you want is an outline, no colors or shading. The tattoo itself should only take forty-five minutes tops.”

She glances at the aqua neon digital clock on the wall. It’s 8:51 PM.

“Take a second to read and sign the form. I’m just going to grab a few things.”

With that, Azriel disappears through the curtain that acts like a door between the parlor and the offices behind it.

Gwyn is a jumble of emotions. Excitement and anticipation buzz in her veins, mingled with a little trepidation. She knew that it would hurt, but the scar was evidence of a much greater pain and she’d made it through that. Besides—this is Azriel. Gwyn knows that he will do everything he can to lessen the sting.

The form covers all of the basics she knew that it should from her research so she signs her name with the black pen hanging on a string tied to the metal clip.

Azriel returns holding a stack of textiles in his arms. He places the square pillow on the table beside her, “Since you’ll be laying down.” The navy blanket he hands her is so soft and fuzzy and… it smells like him. “So you don’t get cold without a top on.” He explains, not entirely successful at suppressing his smile.

“And those?” Gwyn tips her head to the two shades of folded black fabric still in his hands. 

Azriel shakes out the thinner piece first. It’s a t-shirt, a very large t-shirt. The second one is a hoodie that looks like it will swallow her. 

Her brow furrows and she looks up at him quizzically. 

“To wear afterwards. I don’t want you to wear a bra for the first eight hours. After that, if you have to, pick something on the looser side so that it doesn’t press into the tattoo too much as it heals.”

He says it all with that business-like tone, but Gwyn can’t help the blush creeping onto her cheeks. She supposes that Azriel has probably given a lot of women the same speech before a tattoo. Gwyn suppresses the irrational jealousy blooming within her at the thought.

“Where did you get these?” She asks, deciding that she needs to think about something other than how many other girl’s Azriel’s had his hands on.

To her surprise, a rosy color stains Azriel’s cheeks as he reaches an arm to rub the back of his neck self-consciously. 

“I uh….” He takes a breath. “I live in the apartment above the shop.”

Well that explains why the blanket smells like his cologne—it’s his. As are the clothes.

He’s watching her carefully, trying to gauge her reaction to this information.

“Thanks.” Gwyn offers him a smile, as he re-folds the clothes and sets them on a nearby chair. Once his hands are free, she gives him the signed form. “What’s next?”

He puts the form into a drawer of his cart and walks over to stand directly in front of her before answering. Watching her face, Azriel lifts his hand and slips a finger beneath the straps of her bra and tank top where they rest on her left shoulder. Slowly dragging them towards the freckled precipice where her shoulder becomes her arm, there is a smile on his lips.

A warm shiver rushes up her spine. His golden-green-brown eyes look the same as they did the other night when he’d reached for the hem of her shirt.

“Next,” Azriel says, his voice lower than it had been a moment ago. “I get to take these off. If that’s alright with you.”

With the sound of her pulse pounding fast in her ears and the concentrating heat behind her navel, it’s all Gwyn can do to swallow and nod.

Her hands clench into fists, gripping the blanket in her lap so that she doesn’t reach for him. There will be time for that later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Goddamn mother-fucking fuck.

The stream of vibrant curses in her mind is endless. Gwyn doesn’t let any of them escape through her gritted teeth. Not that she can unclench her jaw at this moment, even if she wanted to.

She tries to focus on two things, and two things only. First is controlling her breathing—in through the nose, out through the mouth—in and out and again and again. Second is the sensation of Azriel’s gloved thumb tracing soft circles on her side as he holds her skin steady beneath the tattoo gun buzzing in his other hand.

‘Buzzing’ isn’t the way to describe it. ‘Slicing her open with red-hot metal over and over’ or ‘taking a barbed jackhammer to her bone marrow’ would be more appropriate.

Her knuckles are white where they grip the blanket covering her bare chest. A single tear tracks down her cheek and she lets it, wanting to stay as still as possible. It’s gravity pulling that droplet out of her tear ducts and dragging it down the freckled and flushed skin. Simple physics, not the pain. 

“You’re doing great, Gwyn. I’m almost done.” Azriel tells her. Beneath the encouraging words, his voice sounds…strained.

Pointedly attuned to every sensation regarding her body, Gwyn registers the softest brush of his lips against the back of her shoulder.

Another saline drop splashes onto the table. 

But it’s worth it—turning pain into beauty, a scar into art. She reminds herself of this with each measured exhale. Catharsis hurts before it heals.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I’m fine. You don’t have to carry me.”

A clear plastic bandage covers the thin black lines decorating the reddened skin of her ribs beneath the world’s softest and best smelling t-shirt and hoodie. The tattoo is beautiful, following the upwards curve of the scar towards her back. The clothes are lovely too. Gwyn wonders if she can make them permanently go missing from his wardrobe.

“Your lips are pale and I forgot to restock our downstairs fridge.” The no-nonsense edge of Azriel’s voice and stare make Gwyn realize that arguing will get her nowhere.

Before she even finishes letting out her resigned sigh, Azriel’s arm ducks beneath her knees as the other reaches around her back and he pulls her into his arms, mindful of the tender flesh beneath the bandage where it brushes against his chest.

Gwyn isn’t a small person. She’s five-foot-nine barefoot and works out at least three times a week. She’s proud of her curves and hard-won pounds of lean muscle. But Azriel scoops her off that table like it’s nothing. It makes her heart dance a funny little jig.

Jesus Christ woman, relax. Just let Adonis reincarnate carry you up to his apartment— 

I got it, mind-Nesta. Gwyn interrupts her friend's cerebral commentary.

—then jump his bones. 

If she were alone, Gwyn would roll her eyes. At least the mental version of Nesta is as much of a horndog as the real one.

“Hold onto me.” Azriel whispers the order low into her ear.

Even if she didn’t want to (which isn’t the case) Gwyn’s body responds before she fully processes the words. The arms she already has draped around his neck tighten.

Her heart stutters again, like a car backfiring, when Azriel holds her against him with a single arm and opens the door at the top of the stairs. 

What Gwyn had imagined his apartment to look like—it wasn’t this. 

Four massive, arched windows punctuate the far wall, grouped in pairs. There is an expanse of wall between the middle two, matching the space where the parlor’s front door is below. In the darkness, she can make out a flat screen mounted there and a cabinet beneath it, a large sectional that faces the tv, two doors on the right side of the apartment and one on the left.

Azriel doesn’t let go of her until light illuminates the clean lines of the modern kitchen to the left of the door and Gwyn is sitting on the marble countertop directly across from a double door stainless-steel fridge that she suspects is twice, if not three times the size of her own. 

All this does is add another layer of mystery to the man backlit by the bright light of the refrigerator as he looks for something inside. Tattoo artists didn’t make this much money, did they? He has to have a side gig or something.

Eyes on the prize, Berdara. Mind-Nesta reminds her.

The prize being the sculpted ass in front of her; that loose-but-not-loose fitting vintage jeans do nothing to hide.

Yeah. The other thing that had helped her live through the forty-five minutes of inky needles searing into her side was thinking about that kiss earlier. Between that memory and Azriel’s steady encouragement of words and touches throughout the process, Gwyn’s underwear is quickly becoming an near-uncomfortable level of damp.

It doesn’t help that she is braless, wearing his clothes, and sitting on his kitchen counter like they skipped ahead a few steps in the order of operations that Gwyn would be more than happy to check off before the sun rises.

“I have orange juice or grape juice.” Azriel turns as the fridge door swings closed with a soft snick.

She blinks quickly to focus on the two juice boxes held out before her, reaching for the purple one.

Azriel snatches his hand back before her fingers can find purchase on the cardboard.

She is getting angry, about to fire off a snippy remark, when he pulls the plastic-wrapped straw off the side, unwraps it and stabs it through the foil dot. Then he hands it back. Casually. Like he hadn’t just opened her juice box for her and given it to her with a smile that went straight to her ovaries. Damn.

Gwyn takes a long sip. The grape juice tastes like second grade: recess kickball, scented markers, and pea-gravel from the playground denting her palms. It makes her smile.

“How do you feel now?” Azriel asks, leaning against the spot of the counter beside her. So close that his arm brushes her shoulder.

Gwyn takes another sip of juice before answering. She hates being wrong but Azriel had been right. The grape juice is nectar coating her veins and coaxing her back to life. Her blood sugar really had dropped more than she’d thought while getting the tattoo.

“Better.” Gwyn leans into his arm, just the littlest bit. “Thank you. For…”

For the juice? For the tattoo? For opening up to me? For saving my life? 

“This.” She decides that’s the safest option.

The arm she is pressed against, gives her a playful little nudge. “Of course.”

That silence stretches out between them again, like the taste of lightning in the air before a late August thunderstorm. Gwyn finishes her juice box.

According to the little clock on the oven, it’s not yet 11PM. 

The tension, like electrons zipping between their cloth-covered skin, has Gwyn remembering the feeling of Azriel’s lips moving hungrily against hers. Her thighs press together half-consciously seeking a hint of friction. She feels Azriel’s body stiffen beside her.

Before Gwyn can wonder what that means, Azriel pushes off of the counter and comes to stand in front of her, bracketing her in with a thick, corded forearm braced against the marble on either side.

“Hi.” The surprised, reflexive greeting escapes her lips before she can stop it. Her face warms.

It’s worth the embarrassment when Azriel cracks a smile that brings out a dimple on his left cheek.

“Hi.” He repeats the word softly, reverently. Those hazel eyes lazily look at her, from one eye to the other, to her lips, then back up. He’s clearly amused, even as his palms come to rest on her knees and she lets him draw them apart so he can stand between them.

Gwyn scoots closer to the edge of the counter, decreasing the space between the button fly of his jeans and the zipper of hers.

“So, does this tattoo count as one of the flowers in that bouquet you were talking about?” She asks playfully.

Azriel takes a half step closer, his hips flanked by one of her knees on each side.

“No. Trust me Gwyneth…”

Damn him with the “Gwyneth.”

“When I ask you out, my actions will make that very, very clear.” 

“Good.”

“Good?” Azriel arches a dark brow. The gravelly drawl to his question swirls molten low in her stomach.

I blame you for this boldness. Gwyn silently curses the Nesta who has taken up residence in her mind.

She swears she hears her friend’s laugh. 

“I don’t go home with people on first dates.” Gwyn’s teal eyes fall to his lips. To his lower one, bitten to suppress a smirk. “But here we are.” There’s a breathless quality to her last phrase.

She finally pulls her eyes up back to his. The green-golden-brown irises are being overtaken by the spreading black of his pupils as he searches for something in her gaze. His throat bobs as he swallows, his body and hers drifting closer and closer. It almost feels like there is a thread tied behind her ribs, tugging her towards him.

“But here we are.” Azriel’s voice is quiet, like he’s speaking in a cathedral and these are holy words.

Her forehead presses lightly into his. She’s aching to be kissed. The sparks from their dinner caught hours ago. What was at first a low fire burning, the past two hours have fanned into the brilliant flames licking up her bones. It’s almost incomprehensible how much she wants him.

But Azriel doesn’t move any closer and Gwyn has never been a patient person. 

Her hand snakes through inky waves and she tilts her face up at the same moment she pulls his lips down to hers. 

This kiss is different than before. Where Gwyn seeks to move faster, Azriel’s lips move infuriatingly slow. Gwyn runs her tongue along the seam of his lips and Azriel pulls away, taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting. Hard enough to sting, the little hurt is soothed away with a peck as something close to sternness filters into his gaze.

“Greedy.” Azriel says, brushing her slightly swollen lip with the thumb of the hand gripping her jaw.

“Is that a problem?” Gwyn levels him a challenging look in response. 

“Hmmm,” Azriel hums in smug contemplation and the sound goes straight to her clit, his thumb stops stroking and presses into her lip lightly. There’s a possessive quality to the way he touches her and she can’t get enough of it; of the way his eyes and his hands make her feel like the star in his solar system. 

“Tonight it is.” He drawls, sending a shiver up her spine that makes his grin widen.

Her lower lips juts out in a pout at his words, “Why?”

“Because tattoos are an invasive procedure. I need to make sure you don’t do anything to mess up my hard work.” Gwyn can see the playful spark in his eyes, the shadow of a dimple near the left corner of his mouth, despite his serious tone.

It’s odd. She doesn’t feel nervous or hesitant with this, with him. The last time she had sex with a man (because sex is consensual and what happened in that alley wasn’t) was a few weeks before Cat’s death. 

Gwyn has wanted to reclaim this part of herself for a while now. Well—reclaim what she hasn’t been able to on her own, this final rung to climb. She was just waiting for the moment, the person to feel right. And he does, astonishingly so.

“Well,” her hand drifts down from his hair, tracing the line of his throat, down past the crew neck of his shirt, across the hard muscles of his chest that she can feel beneath the fabric. It comes to rest on the side of his ribs—the exact spot where his ink now marks her skin. “We can’t have that now, can we? I’m already too attached to it.”

She can feel his heartbeat thundering behind the flesh on his bones. Gwyn knows that he is just as affected by her—it sends another thrill up her spine. 

“No. We can’t.”

And, with those three words spoken roughly, Azriel pulls Gwyn into him, kissing her hungrily as his palms run up her thighs and beneath them. Then Gwyn’s arms are wrapping tightly around his neck as he pulls her off of the counter, carrying her out of the kitchen and through one of the doors she spotted from the entry.

“You taste like grape juice.” Azriel says, the words breathless as he kicks the door closed behind them, still moving forward.

Gwyn is giggling as she tries to catch her breath so she can be kissing him again. “You gave it to me,” she says in her defense.

“I like grape juice.” He replies with a wicked little grin.

“Hey!” Gwyn squeaks in surprise as she is tossed away from Azriel’s body effortlessly. She’s in the air for half of a heartbeat before a mattress indents beneath her. A bed that smells faintly of cedar and the warm spicy-fresh aired scent of his cologne.

I’m in Azriel’s bed. 

He laughs at her indignant squeal and it’s one of the best sounds Gwyn has ever heard.

“What did you just say about being gentle?” She points out as Azriel crawls onto the bed until he is hovering over her, keeping most of his weight suspended above her.

“I never said anything about being gentle, Gwyneth.” His voice is so low it rumbles a growl as he kisses a spot just below her earlobe. “I suggested that you let me take the lead—if you want, that is.”

Fuck. A fresh wave of heat concentrates between her thighs.

Azriel pulls back, cupping her cheek to really look at her. “You’ll be in control the whole time. You tell me to stop or—” he takes her hand and raps her knuckles against his chest three times “tap out and we stop, no matter what or when.”

And she knows he means every word he’s saying. Knows it from the open honesty in his face, the vulnerability in his eyes; she knows it in the marrow of her bones. 

So Gwyn says the word she’s been holding back since he called her greedy, since he kissed her downstairs, since that day in her office when he first touched her skin. 

“Please.” She tries to arch up and kiss him, but a scarred hand gently presses her back into the mattress where he can see her face clearly.

“Is that a yes?” She’s glad that his voice sounds as saturated with desperation as she feels.

Her hand finds its way back into his hair, nails raking gently against his scalp as she draws him down towards her. 

“Yes.” She says, the words brushing her lips against his.

Before the last constant fades, his lips bridge the gap, tasting and teasing and consuming until all she can think about is him and how he tastes like purple Mr. Sketch.

Her fingers find their way beneath the hem of his shirt, palms exploring the shifting planes of warm, hard muscle.

“Thank fuck.” Azriel says as their swollen lips part, both of them panting. He grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head in a smooth motion. 

I’m so screwed. Is the only thought repeating between Gwyn’s ears as she takes in the muscled expanse of his torso, the scrolling black tattoos winding up his arms and across his chest. Azriel clothed is already a devastating thing to behold. Azriel shirtless…. Yeah, she’s screwed.

But something in the blood-red, beating thing behind her ribs tells her that she doesn’t need to worry about Azriel ruining all other men for her. That it’s him. That she doesn’t want, won’t want anyone else.

The rush of her pulse in her ears sounds an awful lot like ever, ever, ever.

Kneeling over her, his warm hands reach for the bottom of her borrowed sweatshirt. The question is clear in his eyes. Gwyn nods. Absent is any of the self-conscious hesitancy she would have expected from herself. 

Maybe it’s because their conversation before the tattoo had felt more intimate than any physical act she’d ever committed. 

Maybe it’s because this is Azriel. The hunger in his eyes is for her. He thought the ugliest part of her was beautiful.

The room is comfortably warm but Gwyn’s nipples are already peaked as Azriel discards his hoodie and t-shirt somewhere beyond the king-size bed.

“Thank fuck.” His whisper sounds devout. His blown pupils take in her breasts, the rosy-brown nipples aching for attention, the galaxy of the freckles across her skin.

She can’t withhold her laugh, “That’s the second time you’ve said that.”

Azriel punctuates his words with kisses down her neck and collarbone. “I’ve. Wanted you. Wanted to kiss you here. And here.”

His kisses bear the shape of a smile. He moves down, trailing his lips towards the valley between her breasts. “And here. And here. For weeks, Gwyneth.” 

Goosebumps rise at the sound of her name, practically a growl his voice is so low. 

“Just let. Me be. Grateful.”

Whatever comment she was going to make is replaced by a long moan as Azriel’s lips come down around her nipple and he flicks the sensitive peak with his tongue. Her back bows off the bed as one of his hands reaches for the other one, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger and sending lightning strikes of pleasure to her needy clit.

His lips and fingers swirl and pluck until her body is taut and thrumming with want, writhing and aching to be played.

“Az!” Gwyn moans, half-delirious with pleasure and frustration as his lips and hands don't stray below her waist, where she really wants him.

He releases her breast with a wet little pop, pulling back to look at her. 

“Beautiful.” Azriel says the breathy word like he’s talking to himself, just as he did in her office when he saw the scar. 

His chest rises and falls with each long pull of air. Gwyn feels the loss of his touch, its absence almost painful. She sits up, her hands tracing the elastic band of his underwear that peeks over the top of his jeans. Gwyn’s hands stall of the buttons of his fly as she kisses the black swirls of ink on bronze skin. Beneath her lips she can feel his breathing grow more labored. She reaches down.

Holy fuck. Is her first thought as she palms him through his jeans. The man is at least six-foot-three and he held her up with one arm, Gwyn knows she shouldn’t be this surprised by the size of him. Azriel is hard. So hard and long and thick and… fuck.

“Fuck.” The gasped curse falls from his lips at the same time it echoes in her mind.

Gwyn presses the heel of her hand into him again, watching his eyes shutter while his hips jerk towards hers.

Her fingers tug at the top button of his jeans. Azriel’s answering nod is instant, his eyes a little needy. 

She likes him like this. The quiet, composed man she met that day of the opening already coming undone at the touch of her palms.

The buttons ripple apart as she peels one side of them towards her. Azriel hops backwards off the bed, kicking the denim down his legs and ripping off his socks and then he is back on the mattress, pushing her down into the comforter and nipping at her bottom lip.

Through the delicious haze of lips and tongues and softly biting teeth, Gwyn reaches for him again. She strokes him through the soft cotton of his boxer-briefs, eliciting a growled moan that dances from his tongue to hers.

Azriel’s hand wraps around her wrist before she can do it again.

“Hey!” Gwyn wants to whine. She wants to touch him, to feel him and what she makes him feel. He doesn’t let her.

He collects her other wrist and pins them loosely above her head with a single hand. The other traces a line over her lips before cupping her jaw.

Azriel’s hard gaze manages to admonish her at the same time it makes her feel cherished. “None of that, beautiful.” He ducks down and tugs her earlobe with his teeth; his voice is authoritative, amused. “I have plans for you. I can’t have you getting ahead of them.”

“What plans?” The words come out in a rush of air as Azriel’s lips close around a spot where her neck meets her collarbone and he sucks. 

Pleasure blooms from the spot, making her squirm. Then that weight he’s been holding up descends and he grinds against her. His erection presses the fabric of her jeans and panties into her clit, making her gasp and wriggle to try and move her hips to get more friction. 

Azriel chuckles as his lips finally release the sensitive skin. It’s a dark, heady sound filled with promise. Gwyn knows that there’s a purple rose blossoming near her throat and she loves that—the idea of his marks on her skin. A calla lily and a rose.

“Beautiful.” Hazel eyes track the movement of his calloused finger tip dragging across the mark as he whispers that damning word again before meeting her eyes. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes are a little glassy.

“What plans?” Gwyn asks again, her annoyance at his inaction seeping into the words. Her body feels like the fuses to a thousand fireworks, all sparks and heat and anticipation. She’ll implode if he doesn’t start touching her again, she’s sure of it.

“I’ll tell you, Gwyneth, if you promise to hold still.” He leans towards her; his breath is warm on her lips.

Golden bursts burn brighter. Hold still? How can she hold still like this? She wants to kiss him, he’s so close. She needs his lips, his tongue, branding themselves on her skin, her soul.

“Can you do that for me? Can you try to be good, beautiful?”

She has to bite her lip to stop herself from tipping forwards and tasting him. Gwyn manages to nod.

The hand pressing her wrists into the mattress lifts away, grazing the sensitive skin on the underside of her arm, trailing lightly down her side, up and around to….

Oh God.

His thumb and forefinger pinch her hardened nipple, rolling it and it takes more concentration that she thought she was capable of to keep her wrists above her head as her back arches off of the bed. 

“Look at me.” Azriel’s words fan against her lips.

Gwyn’s eyes open, she’s not sure exactly when she squeezed them shut.

“Good girl.”

There’s stardust gathering in the corners of her vision as Azriel finally closes the distance between them, kissing her roughly as he palms her other breast and grinds his hard length against her again. His praise is like a flint strike, a little fire jumping and lighting her up synapse by synapse.

“My plan.” He drawls, teasingly as his hands leave her skin. “Is to taste you. To make you come on my tongue with my fingers inside you, beautiful. Then, when you’re soaked and begging for me, I’m going to fuck you until the only name you remember is mine.”

“Okay.” Gwyn nods rapidly.

Azriel chuckles again, arching a single brow, “Okay?”

“Yes.” She adds when he doesn’t move to touch her. “Please?”

His smile grows and, to her disappointment, he leans back to straddle her with a soft shake of his head.

Gwyn is a heartbeat away from begging when he pops the top button of her jeans and tugs the zipper. 

Thank God.

Then he’s backing away from her, stepping off the end of the bed and pulling her towards him gently by the backs of her knees.

“Hands.” Azriel warns her when she tries to push herself up to watch.

Her wrists flop back down above her as she huffs. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kinda bossy?”

“Hmpf.” Azriel snorts, letting go of her ankles once her ass is nearly hanging off the edge of the mattress. “All the time.”

She can hear the smile in his voice.

Gwyn gasps when his hands wrench her jeans and underwear down her hips and thighs and cast them aside once her feet are free. And then Azriel is kneeling before her. A large, scarred hand wrapped around the inside of each of her thighs as he parts her legs.

The familiar warmth of self-conscious embarrassment rushes to her cheeks and she tries to close her legs. Those strong hands don’t let her move an inch. Those hands—the ones that saved her, held her up, and turned her skin into a work of art—keeping her bared to him.

Gwyn lifts her head as much as she can without moving her hands. Azriel’s eyes are dark and sparkling, she can see that his cheeks are pink in the soft light of a little lamp near the window curtains.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a brat, Gwyn?” His voice sounds rougher as he takes her in. She’s never felt so exposed, but she likes the way he’s looking at her, the way he wets his lips.

Seeing him there—kneeling before her—Gwyn shudders at the thrill that runs through her. It’s a sensual kind of powerful feeling she can’t put her finger on.

“All… the time.” Where she finds the coherence to volley his words back, she isn’t sure. But it’s true. Nesta likes to joke about it.

Azriel smirks at her. She watches as he leans closer, close enough that she can feel his breath against her pussy. Then those eyes flick back to her core. He isn’t touching her yet, but the heat in his gaze is stupidly erotic. It’s teasing her with a phantom touch as Azriel whispers, “Fucking beautiful.” 

She’s lost count of the times he’s spoken that word tonight, each time more to himself than to her.

But numbers and counting and words and thoughts fly out of her mind like thistledown at the first stroke of his finger up and down her slit. Colors swirl behind her eyelids at the first long lick of his tongue from her entrance to her clit.

“Oh….” The shocked sound escapes her parted lips as his warm tongue leisurely swirls around her clit, teasing.

“Fuck, Gwyn. Already so wet for me, beautiful.” Azriel’s words are the gasoline to her fire. His mouth descends upon her like she is the only thing that can satisfy his unappeasable thirst.

Her whole body flushes with heat and need as his tongue explores her, tasting and tempting. Already, she can feel that tingling heat concentrating near her lower spine. She tries to grind against his face when his tongue circles that bundle of nerves without touching it. Gwyn nearly comes at the sound of his dark chuckle rumbling through her as he pins her hips to the bed. His tongue finally flicks her clit at the same time he slides a finger into her, knuckle deep.

“O—fuck.” Her words are half gasped, half moaned as her body bends in towards that touch.

Azriel drags his finger out slowly, pausing to circle a spot that elicits another keening sound from the back of her throat. Gwyn is faintly aware of the fact that she is panting. That her legs are thrown over his shoulders. That she has never felt this turned-on in her life, and that she is feeling things she didn’t think were possible.

A second whorled finger joins the first and they press into her, stretching her, filling her. 

“You’re so damn tight, Gwyneth.” Azriel’s voice sounds hoarse, restrained. Those fingers push further, twisting and his lips seal around her clit, sucking.

Gwyn flies apart.

Those fuses burn up. 

The whole world pauses in that half second that her body tenses, freezes and then a thousand fireworks explode. Cascading waves of heat and color and unbelievable pleasure consume her. 

Slowly the stardust and sparks of her condense and her senses return. Her head is thrown back against the mattress as she rides Azriel’s slowly pumping fingers.

“Fuck.” Gwyn exhales sharply as her body tingles back into focus. “Azriel. Fuck.”

She can’t stop the convulsion that overtakes her as he presses a soft kiss to her sensitive clit, those fingers still moving lazily in and out.

“Use your hands, Gwyneth. Watch me.” Azriel’s gravelly voice demands.

Gwyn pushes up on her elbows. She’s barely done it when Azriel stands and clasps the nape of her neck, pulling her to him without breaking his rhythm.

“Good Girl.” He whispers against her lips. Then he’s kissing her, consuming her senses. She can taste herself, a little salty, a little musky, and underneath it all is the faint sweetness of grape juice.

Another sharp breath wooshes out of her as Azriel adds a third finger.

He freezes, his eyes search hers in concern. “You alright?”

“Yes.” She grinds herself down onto his fingers impatiently. “Az—God—don’t stop.” 

Gwyn thinks he whispers thank fuck again, but she can’t be sure becuase her tongue is in his mouth, demanding more, drawing a low groan from Azriel’s throat.

“Look, beautiful.” He pulls away from her, watching his fingers disappearing into her slick core. “Look at your pretty cunt taking my fingers so well.”

Gwyn whimpers as she looks down.

She’s never whimpered before in her life, but this is apparently a night of firsts.

The sound is desperate, needy. Then again, so is she.

Nothing has ever felt like this. Ever.

Nothing has ever looked as beautifully obscene as Azriel’s long, scarred fingers glistening with her arousal as they fill her, getting her ready for him. He twists his wrist with every push and pull, brushing her g-spot as his thumb starts to circle her clit.

Azriel pulls the next orgasm out of her, even more dizzying than the first because it takes her completely by surprise when his teeth close lightly around her oversensitive nipple at the same moment his fingers curl up and his thumb presses down.

She only stays upright as her body pulsates tight and loose and tight because his free arm is wrapped around her back. They are both breathing heavily as he drags out her pleasure until she’s mumbling nonsense interspersed with the words “Az” and “please.” 

She shivers when his fingers finally pull out of her, and the void they leave behind feels…incorrect. The past however many minutes of pleasure have felt more right than anything she can remember. 

“Fuck, beautiful. Look at you.” Azriel holds his wet fingers up with wanton reverence. Gwyn bites back a moan as he meets her gaze and sucks the first finger into his mouth. Okay, correction. That is the most obscene thing she’s ever seen. 

“You taste….” He releases his ring finger with a disbelieving shake of his head. “Damn perfect.”

He licks his middle finger before drawing it between his lips. Feeling like her mind is moving half a second behind her body, Gwyn stands up on her shaky knees on the bed before him. She places a hand on his chest to steady herself, wrapping her other one around his wrist before he can clean off his index finger.

Gwyn doesn’t really know what she’s doing. She’s going off of instinct and years of porn and erotica but this is what she wants to do.

Never breaking eye contact with Azriel, her tongue traces a trail up his slicked forefinger and then she draws it into her mouth, looking up at him through her lashes. A moan sounds in the back of her throat as she tastes her arousal and the salt of his skin, a sound that Azriel echoes as his eyes darken while he watches her.

Gwyn rocks back onto her heels when his finger is thoroughly cleaned, reaching out to palm him through his black boxer-briefs.

“Can I touch you now? Please?” She wants to taste him. The idea of going down on a guy never really appealed to her before but her mouth is watering at the prospect of him. She just wants to make him feel a fraction of what she just did.

Azriel’s answer is to hook his thumbs into the elastic and pull it down without hesitation. 

Fuck. 

Gwyn has no shame in admitting that she’s seen a fair amount of erections through a screen and a few in person. None of them, none, have been so… pretty.

That’s the only word she can pluck out of the cottonwood fluff of her thoughts as she takes in the red-lavender head weeping a dew drop of precum, the dark veins pulsing beneath brownish pink skin and making his cock bob before her, beckoning.

Azriel takes a step towards the bed; Gwyn reaches out and wraps a hand around the base of his cock and—ohsweetmother—her fingers barely touch he’s so thick. She forces her eyes up to his face, to see his reactions as she drags that hand up, squeezing lightly. His eyelids flutter when she presses her thumb into the glistening bead at the slit of him and she spreads the precum down as she makes another pass, gripping a little harder.

“Yeah—a little rougher. Shit, yes. Just like that, beautiful. Oh… fu-uck, Gwyn—yeah.” Her strokes grow more confident with each hissed praise and curse.

He’s standing at the edge of the bed now and she’s back on her knees. Azriel’s eyes are screwed shut, his cheeks flushed with pleasure. So, without warning or preamble, Gwyn leans forward and wraps her lips around him. Her tongue swirls over the swollen head of his cock and Azriel moans loudly above her.

“Gwyn.” Azriel chokes out her name, his hand snaking into her hair and pulling her off of him.

She doesn’t get a chance to protest because Azriel is kissing her. How it’s possible that this kiss is even hungrier than the last hundred, Gwyn isn’t sure. He’s climbing over her, drawing her up towards the headboard and pressing her down.

“I was… just getting started.” Gwyn pants as they part for air.

“You promised. Beautiful.” He kisses the bruise above her collarbone with a delicate sweetness she feels in her toes. “I’m going to come while I’m fucking you. Remember my plan?”

“I do.” Her hand cards through his hair. “You never mentioned when you were coming. Only me.”

His thumb presses into her lower lip, she opens her mouth in response to the pressure. He looks almost wistful as he says, “Don’t worry. I’ll fuck this smartass mouth of yours soon enough, Gwyneth.”

Goosebumps break out all across her skin. “Fine,” she huffs, “then fuck me now.”

“So impatient.” Azriel croons, even as he leans in and kisses her smiling. “But you’ve been a good girl.”

Gwyn shivers. He grins, “You like it when I call you that?”

“Mmm Hmm.” 

“Noted.”

She can’t help the stupid smile on her face as Azriel drops a kiss to the tip of her nose before leaning over and opening a nightstand drawer. 

Her gut clenches with anticipation as she watches him tear the foil packet with his teeth. How she is ready to go again after already coming twice, Gwyn isn’t sure. She’s just going to accept that things with Azriel lie firmly in the realm of subverted expectations and be done with it.

He rolls the condom down his cock and Gwyn swallows. He’s really big. Even after three fingers…. No, she wants him more than his size gives her pause. She knows he wouldn’t do anything she wasn’t ready for. Just knows it. Like she knows there are stars in the sky even when it’s cloudy.

That thought makes a fluffy warm feeling explode in her chest. He settles over her again and her hand is in his hair and her mouth is slanting over his as he grinds himself into her slit, coating himself with the slickness he drew out of her. 

He reaches between them and she can feel the head pressing into her, but then it’s gone and rubbing against her clit in a way that makes her writhe. He does it again. And again.

“Stop teasing me.” Gwyn gasps into his mouth as he sinks into her half an inch and withdraws. “Just fuck me—please.”

That earns her another dark chocolate chuckle.

“Well,” He rubs his erection between her pussy lips, then presses the head against her clit in another long slide that has her eyes fluttering closed. “Since you asked so nicely.” 

Azriel pulls his body away from hers a little, so he can watch her. He nudges her thigh with his knee, spreading her wider. Then he guides himself to her entrance. There is no teasing, no more patience, as Azriel slides into her with a single long thrust.

“Oh, fuck—Az!” Gwyn gasps at the same moment Azriel hisses “Fuck, beautiful.”

She’s pretty sure her eyes roll back into her head. If that’s physically possible and not just an expression.

Never. She’s never felt anything half as good as this—Azriel stretching her walls, filling up every millimeter she has to give. Fuck.

Her eyes are squeezed shut so she can’t see the way his green-brown-golden eyes shutter as he slowly draws back before pushing back in.

“Az. God.” Gwyn manages to open her eyes despite the molten gold swirling in her core. She needs to see him, kiss him. So she does, pulling him down to her so that she can feel the heat of him radiating onto every part of her.

“Gwyn.” His voice sounds a little strangled; eyes look a little wild as their swollen lips part. “You’re so fucking tight.” 

She nods rapidly, “You feel so good.” He’s so exquisitely hard that every press of him into her strains her sensitive flesh, pushing her towards that blinding pleasure just this side of pain.

Her imagination is not up to trying to guess how incredible this feels for him if this is how it feels for her. Even though his thrusts are slow, they bring stars to life behind her eyelids. 

He pulls out to the tip again, then slowly sinks back into her and she writhes against the strictly controlled movements. She suspects he is holding himself back. That’s the last thing Gwyn wants.

“Fuck me harder.” Gwyn tells him, leaning forwards to say the words into his ear.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Azriel grits out.

“You won’t. Azriel—please.” That golden light is still circling low in her gut, but she needs more. As much as he can give her—she’ll take it all. “Please.” Her ankles press into his lower back, trying to draw him further into her.

His next thrust is a little faster, a little rougher. As is the one following it. She watches him watch her as he carefully builds up speed. He’s intoxicating. The intensity with which Azriel approaches everything is focused solely on her and she needs more.

“Azriel.” Gwyn wills some steel into her thready voice. “I need you to fuck me.” She kisses him again, fierce and desperate, hoping he can feel just how sure she is about this, about him, about whatever this is between them.

Her message, spoken by lips meeting lips and tangled tongues, must get through to him because she feels a hand go to her left thigh. He hooks that leg over his shoulder, pushing it forward and tilting her hips so that he’s hitting a new angle. It’s deeper; every hard push reaches her innermost wall.

“Yeah—just like that—oh….” Suns burst behind her eyes as Azriel finally starts thrusting into her with powerful strokes.

The only sounds that fill the room are their labored breaths, the wet sound of Azriel’s cock pounding into her, and their mingled moans and curses.

The light eddying in her core grows brighter with each snap of his hips. Her nails rake down his back, pulling him as close to her as she can. Gwyn understands now—why the French word for orgasm means “little death,” because she already knows that her life will never be the same after tonight. That she can feel herself falling to pieces with each thrust, and she knows Azriel is crumbling as well. 

There are no more walls, no more guarded eyes. Just them, at their most raw. Beings composed from the dust of primordial stars. 

Azriel’s arm comes around her leg over his shoulder and he starts circling her clit with his thumb as his other four fingers press her stomach down. 

Her eyes want to close, to narrow down the amount of sensation that her mind is trying and failing to process but she forces them open. She wants to see him—see them—when they fall from that quickly approaching peak.

The digits splayed across her stomach push her down onto him as he drives into her and her building climax feels like sparkling lightning, white and electric up her spine.

“I can feel you getting close. Feel your tight little pussy quivering around my cock.” Azriel breathes. Even flushed, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat just like hers, he manages to look smug. “I fuck you so well, don’t I?”

She would roll her eyes if they weren’t already rolling for another reason. Gwyn is close, it's like gravity dense and low between her hip bones. Gravity drawing her in towards Azriel. The inevitable pull of slowly colliding stars.

She bites Azriel’s lip as that searing light burns hotter and she feels it pulling her up. Higher and higher she floats, suspended in all of him. His scent, his eyes, the little groans he makes in the back of his throat, his hands, his cock. Azriel. Azriel. 

“Azriel!” Gwyn moans around his tongue. “I’m—I’m going to—”

“I know.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Me too. Let go, Gwyn. Come for me, beautiful.”

Those words are all it takes to shatter her. She chokes on a gasp, her airway constricting as everything seizes. Her head falls back into the mattress. Golden white light edges her vision, suffuses every cell. She’s falling. She’s flying.

All she knows is Azriel. Azriel’s arms banding around her and pulling her against him as they fall apart together. Azriel’s throaty moan “Oh Gwyn,” as his release takes hold of him and they shudder together, pulse together. As one. As two souls linked in that moment. Two stars burning, merging, flaring; her and Azriel, until she isn’t sure where he ends and she begins.

“Azriel. Azriel. Azriel.” The shower of stardust settles back into the marrow of their bones and Gwyn realizes she’s whispering his name. A litany, a prayer.

“Gwyn.” The exhausted, content smile on Azriel’s face above her as he whispers her name might be the best thing she’s ever seen.

They lay entangled until their breathing has slowed. Azriel slips his limbs out from hers, going through a door Gwyn assumes, when she hears water running, is the bathroom. Then he’s back and handing her a glass of water, followed by a warm damp rag. 

“Stay the night?” Azriel asks once they are cleaned up. He’s laying on his stomach beside her, head resting on his crossed arms as the closer of his two hands toys with a lock of her hair spread out on the pillow.

“I was hoping you would ask.” Gwyn responds softly. 

He turned the light off before getting back onto the bed, but the moonlight diffuses through the semi-sheer curtains over the large window. It’s a dreamy kind of light, faded and glimmering. Sudden dread courses through her.

“Pinch me.”

“What the hell—why?”

“Goddamnit Az, just pinch me.” Gwyn holds her arm out to him in the moonlight.

“Oh.” It’s a sound of realization. He huffs a laugh, “Think I’m too good to be true, Gwyneth?”

“Shut up,” Gwyn grumbles to the ceiling, thinking they are past the subject. She doesn’t deny it though.

“Ack!” She can’t help the startled squeak she makes when Azriel’s hands suddenly flip her towards him, drawing her into the solid warmth of his chest.

Laughter rumbles through him as Gwyn squeaks again when she feels a sharp pinch on her bare ass cheek. Then his palm is caressing the spot gently, rubbing away the pain.

“Hey!”

“You asked me to pinch you.” His defense makes a mockery of innocence.

“I meant on my arm.” Gwyn rolls her eyes though she knows he can only see the top of her head, her nose is somewhere near his sternum.

“I liked my version better.” Azriel teases back, the offending hand drifting sweetly up and down her spine.

“You’re a dick.”

“You like my dick, beautiful.” His chuckle vibrates right into her sternum, filling that space in her chest with another warm rush. When Gwyn doesn’t deign to respond he asks, “How does the tattoo feel?”

“Until you brought it up, I forgot it was there.” She answers honestly. That hour she spent downstairs as Azriel’s canvas feels like another night so much has happened since then.

“We’ll take the bandage off in the morning and I can show you how to clean it.” Azriel rolls onto his back, guiding Gwyn’s head to rest on the soft space between his shoulder and chest.

“You could just ask to fuck me in the shower you know? No need to wrap it in the guise of professional courtesy.” Gwyn yawns as soon as she finishes her sentence.

Azriel’s laughter is cut off by a yawn of his own. Gwyn traces the grid of muscles on his abdomen as a quiet settles over them. She can feel herself drifting off. The heavy tide of sleep tries to pull her into its lull.

“Just one thing—” She yawns again, “—before we fall asleep, Az?”

“Hmm?” He grunts, the sound rough and sleepy and it makes her smile.

“Don’t forget—you still owe me a bouquet, and a date.”

----tagging:

@azrielshadowssing @vikingmagic33 @booknerd87 @velidewrites @the-lonelybarricade @violet-shadows @thehaemanthus @mystical-blaise @houseofhurricane @carol-pisarro @the-bookish-valkyrie @amandapearls @lifelessdollinthesea

#acotarwritingcircle #gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #gwynriel #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel smut #modern gwynriel #gwynriel au #acotar fanfiction #acotar au #gwynriel supremacy

[mmvalentine]

Lover Like Me Pt 1 | Feysand

Sooo.... okay I wasn't planning anything but then I was whingeing about how SJM wimps out on her morally grey characters and it got me thinking about the opposite. Instead of a badass being actually soft what about a softie with a secret dark streak yknow? Anyway I don't know who is still reading these but here's yet another modern AU. I hate leaving the safety of my drafts.

[update: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14]

Tamlin had never liked Rhys, and perhaps this was the basis of his appeal.

I’m not too proud to admit it- the first thing I wanted to do after we split up was to shove something in Tamlin’s face. Anything. I got a tattoo a few weeks after I moved out, just because Tamlin said that girls with tattoos had ‘ruined themselves’. And because I wanted to make sure that he no longer knew what I looked like naked.

And there was Rhys in the waiting room, flirting with the receptionist while I filled out the waiver for first-time clients. He was wearing a black singlet and jeans that had seen better days, his left arm wrapped in cling film so I couldn’t see what latest addition he had made that day. He was in so many ways Tamlin's opposite. I used to think that Tamlin looked like a movie star, the kind you would find on a yacht, partying with models. Rhys looked like should be fixing a motorcycle, or something. I looked back at my clipboard quickly, but not quick enough to avoid Rhys saying “Feyre?” and sitting down next to me.

I had known he’d gone to high school with Tamlin; after I’d moved to Tamlin’s home town we’d bumped into Rhys in the grocery store. Tamlin tersely introduced him while I leaned on the handle of the shopping cart and tried not to choke on the density of the warring male hormones between them. In fairness to Tamlin, I did think Rhys was gorgeous when he threw me a dark and wicked grin. Just to wind Tamlin up.

And then I’d run into him here and there, but never really had any kind of deep or meaningful interactions.

Tamlin didn’t like me to have deep or meaningful interactions with anyone, except him. And his mother, Alis. Her I was allowed to speak to. But even she was afraid of him.

“He’s not a good guy,” is all Tamlin would ever tell me. Ground out between clenched teeth with no further explanation.

One time he said it in front of Rhys, and all Rhys did was wink at me and say, “he’s right you know.”

So there I was in the tattoo studio, scared shitless because I’d never been particularly good with pain, but Rhys knew the artist I had chosen and convinced her to let him sit down with me during my session. He sat backwards on a chair, leaning his forearms on the backrest and distracted me while the needle buzzed. Held my hand at first, and then started telling me outrageous stories about him and his buddies Cassian and Azriel. I focused on the deep rollling of his voice and shocking violet of his eyes until the needle on my arm was just background noise.

And that was how he found out Tamlin and I had broken up, and how I told him I was barely covering costs in the studio I had just moved into, and how he ended up getting me into a low-cost apartment in the projects where he lived. The paperwork went through within the fortnight.

“You’re just in the apartment next to me,” Rhys is telling me. He’s walking with a stack of my boxes in his arms, while I trail behind nervously clutching a suitcase. He's wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt that hugs his biceps, and I still can't see his new tattoo. “On the other side of you is my cousin Mor, who is just going to love you.”

There is certainly part of me that questions how quickly I've decided to trust Rhys, especially given how well it turned out the last time I put my trust in a man. Then again, I don't have a lot of options. At least this time it's my own house where I have my own keys and pay my own rent.

“Right,” I mumble. “And how did I jump the queue and get this apartment again?”

Rhys just flashes a toothy grin at me, and says, “Because I’m the king of Velaris.”

We reach the apartment and Rhys braces one foot on the wall next to the door, so that he can balance my boxes on his knee while he fiddles with the keys. They clack against the silver rings on his fingers. He pushes the door open, gets a hold of the boxes again and then steps through.

Tamlin lived in a huge house on a lake, with marble floors and columns in the foyer. It was beautiful, and empty, and cold. I had a room to myself, which I thought was weird when I agreed to move in with him, until I learned that his parents had never shared a bedroom and he just kept that tradition going.

My new apartment is smaller, not even comparable, really. It’s a one-bedroom apartment with a short balcony and thick, cream carpeting that looks like it’s recently been replaced. I set my suitcase down on the floor while Rhys puts the boxes on the dark kitchen counter, and step through the double glass doors on the far wall.

The Velaris flats are on a council estate and the view is amazing. You’d expect the projects to be in some awful, nothing neighbourhood, and some of them are. But these ones are a block where half are commission housing and the other half are private rentals, and when you walk out onto the balconies there’s nothing but mountains as far as the eye can see.

“It’s not much,” Rhys says. “We’ll get you a couch and a lamp though and that will make all the difference.”

“It’s perfect,” I say, and before I really think it through I step close to him and wrap my arms around him. Rhys freezes for a second, and then hugs me back.

“I’m glad,” he says quietly.

There’s the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind us, and we pull apart.

In the doorway stands the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s wearing a sweater dress that loves her curves, and she’s got long golden curls like an old Hollywood star.

“Mor,” Rhys greets her. “This is Feyre.”

“Hello.” I give an awkward little wave, but Mor sweeps into the room and hugs me like an old friend.

“Feyre,” she says. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you all week.” She even smells divine. Mor pulls back and surveys the room.

“Rhys are you moving Feyre into an empty room?” she asks.

“Well,” Rhys answers defensively, “I thought she’d like to pick out her own furniture.”

Mor turns to Rhys with exasperation painted on her lovely face.

“She’s moving into this shoe box because she doesn’t have any money, jackass.” She looks to me for confirmation, and even though she’s right, I don’t want to seem ungrateful to Rhys.

“Well..” I stutter.

Mor rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry babe, I’m here now and I’m gonna take care of you.” She kisses my cheek swiftly, and promises to be back soon. The free-flowing affection is unexpected but I find that I like it. I hear her yelling for Cassian and Azriel on her way out, and then it’s just me and Rhys left in the apartment.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t even think,” Rhys starts to say.

“No!” I stop him. “Are you kidding? I didn’t have anywhere else to go, I don’t even have enough money to get a plane ticket back home. You really saved me.”

Rhys still looks chagrined but doesn’t say anything more about it as he helps me unpack. He brings a small bookcase from his house, because apart from clothes and a few kitchen things, my belongings mostly consist of books, my art supplies, and a handful of knick-knacks. I don’t know what he does with his own books.

“You know,” Rhys comments as he stacks the shelf. He’s organising books by what seems to be colour, while I slide plates into the kitchen cupboards. “If you really want to go home I’m sure we could find a way to get you there. There are cheap tickets.”

I shudder. “I don’t actually want to go,” I admit. “My sisters and I… we don’t get along.”

Rhys frowns, perhaps thinking of his own family and how close they seem to be. “That bad?” he says.

“Well, I moved in with Tamlin to get away from there, so that probably gives you an indication.” At first I thought it was so nice, the jealousy. How much he wanted me, after years of being unwanted.

“Ah.”

“Actually, it was Nesta who told me to do it. She said it’d be one less mouth to feed and it was the least I could do.”

“So Nesta was putting food on the table after your dad died?" We had gone over some family history in that tattoo session.

“No,” I say casually. “I was.”

Rhys’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t push.

“And you?” I start putting cutlery in the drawer. “Is this where you grew up?”

Rhys nods, seeming to concentrate on arranging a few little figurines along the edge of the bookshelf. “My dad was actually filthy rich but he was also an asshole.  My ma was able to leave because she got a placement under a domestic violence claim so we came here. And we brought Mor because she begged to come and her parents didn’t give a shit what she did.”

I didn’t know that about them, and I’m not sure how to respond. Before I can, Rhys continues.

“Cassian and Azriel were the only ones our age around here so we became close very quickly, and then when we turned 16 Mor applied for her own place and was lucky to get one in the same estate. I stayed though because Ma was pretty sick by that point. She only got another year or so after that so I’m glad I did.”

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. Rhys just shrugs.

“I’m sorry for you, too,” he says, and I know he means not just my family.

At that moment the door bangs open and Mor is back, a flush on her cheeks making her even more beautiful. She grins at me, before hollering over her shoulder.

“In here, boys!”

Next thing I know, two very large men are hauling an assortment of furniture into the house. The bigger one grunts as he drags a dark blue sofa into the room, and then goes back out only for the smaller one to set down a coffee table in front of it. The big one returns with what looks to be a dismantled bed frame, and goes to set it down but Mor flaps her hands at him.

“In the bedroom Cassian, come on use that pretty head of yours.”

“Sorry Feyre,” he says with a look at me, and moves off to the room down the hall.

“Nice to meet you,” is all I can think to say, and then the other one- Azriel, I guess- staggers through the door with a mattress.

“Mor,” I say tentatively, when Cassian is hauling in a wardrobe, “where did all this stuff come from?”

“Off the back of a truck,” Cassian grins at me on his way back out, and my jaw drops.

“He’s messing with you,” Azriel tells me, and then carries a night stand past me.

“There are a lot of poor people living here,” Mor explains. “But there are a lot of rich folk right in the next street. You just walk around the rich areas and see what people are throwing out, so much stuff is brand new. Thank the gods for gentrification, huh?”

She repositions a lamp that Cassian has brought in, and suddenly the little apartment looks like an actual home. For second hand furniture, Mor is right. The pieces are slightly mismatched but they’re in excellent condition, and much nicer than anything I could afford. People say that empty spaces look bigger but somehow, with everything in place the small room feels like all the space that I need.

The whole process takes mere minutes and I’m speechless. Cassian is stretching his enormous frame out over the two-seater. Azriel is leaning in the doorway and Mor is still making minor changes to the placement of things.

“Thank you,” I say, and there should be more but all I can do is inject as much feeling as I can into the words.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood,” Azriel says.

“Now about that pizza…” Cassian looks meaningfully toward Mor and she rolls her eyes.

“Rhys, I promised them pizza.”

Rhys sighs and pulls out his phone.

“Oh let me,” I say. “You’ve all done so much for me, the least I can do is get the pizza…” but Rhys is already putting his phone back into his pocket.

“I’ve got their order saved,” he says with a wink. “You can get the next one.”

“My order is four pizzas,” Cassian tells me. “I don’t care what’s on them, I just need there to be four.”

“I’ll remember that,” I promise.

“Az likes pepperoni, cheese for Mor, mushrooms for Rhys.”

“Got it.”

“Now let me tell you my definitive rankings for pizza in the area, it is not the same as Rhys’s.”

There’s a collective groan from the group, but I’m just so happy to be here, I’d listen to them talk about grass growing.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door.

“That was quick,” I say, and open it. But it’s not pizza.

“Lucien?!”

My ex-boyfriend’s best friend stands there, clenching and unclenching his fists. He’s slightly out of breath, and got a swollen lip and a bruise forming over one of his cheekbones.

“Vanserra? What are you doing here? And what the hell happened to you face?” Rhys has appeared behind me, and I remember that all of these guys went to school together. Lucien doesn’t answer him, just looks at me with desperation lighting in his eyes.

“Feyre,” he says. “Feyre I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to tell him, but he… I’m so, so sorry.”

I draw a shaking breath and don’t want to hear this. “Sorry for what, Lucien?” I breathe.

“He’s coming,” Lucien tells me. “Tamlin’s on his way over right now.”

***

Oh shit that ending makes it seem like I'm writing some kind of snuff piece i'm not lol it's just a hiccup dw

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @achernarlight @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @hopefulacademia @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream @themoonthestarsthesuriel @rarephloxes

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #here we go again #when will i learn #rhys x feyre #new AUs are so scary i hate it #does anyone even want another chapter fic #no. yet here we are

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 17)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,902

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

There’s a knock on your door and it’s the one time you’re thankful that Rhysand has taken Feyre out on a date.

Your heart thuds uncomfortably fast in your chest and your hands shake with nerves as you smooth them across the skirt of your dress one last time.

After you had parted ways with Lucien at the coffee shop yesterday, you’d taken a solo trip to the mall to search for something to wear to the opening of Azriel’s exhibition tonight.

After trying on too many dresses to count, you had settled on this one, black and elegant, the fabric clinging to your curves in all of the right places. The store employee had halted in her tracks on her way through, as you stared at yourself in the full length mirror, contemplating whether it was too simple, or too fancy for the event.

The woman had been overcome with emotion, complimenting you so many times that you weren't even sure how to acknowledge her gushing after the plethora of nervous thank you’s you’d offered in response.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous. Azriel has made it clear that he’s not trying to impress you tonight, and you shouldn’t be trying to either, but you want to look nice for the occasion anyway. This is a real exhibition, not put on through the art school, and it’s the first you’ve been personally invited to, by someone you like or not, and you wanted to be dressed appropriately.

You’d done up your hair in a simple, yet elegant style. Your makeup accentuates your staggering beauty, matching the dress, and you’ve slipped into a pair of black kitten heels, low enough to be considered appropriate for the occasion, but tall enough to give you that boost of confidence.

Overall, you look smoking hot.

But you’re still facing nervousness as a knock on the door sounds again. It’s gentle, not impatient like you’d expect Azriel to be. He’s promptly on time, seven thirty just like he said he would be, and you have been ready for fifteen minutes, making sure you were punctual as well as not to piss him off.

With a last breath, you open the door.

It’s Azriel, of course, and the sigh you were in the middle of releasing wooshes out of you with force as you drink him in. 

You know that he’s a handsome man, shockingly so, but tonight he looks like a god. He’s wearing simple black trousers with a matching black button-up, the top three buttons undone to show off the tips of the tattoos across his collarbones and his golden skin. 

His hair is clean and brushed, and it looks like he may have taken a pass at it with a bit of gel because it’s perfectly set in a naturally tousled look.

He looks incredible. Good enough to eat.

In your trance, you hadn’t noticed that Azriel had fallen into a similar one, golden eyes going molten at the sight of you in your dress. You don’t see the way that his heart picks up in his chest, how his fingers curl into fists to stop himself from reaching out because they’re stuffed deeply into his pockets.

Shaking yourself from your stupor, you clear your throat lightly, trying to dispel the tightness lingering there.

Azriel blinks once, twice, and his eyes meet yours again. 

“You look…” he trails off, eyes dipping down again. He needs you to turn around so that he can get a full view of you, but he shoves that thought from his head as quickly as it enters. “Yeah,” he finishes awkwardly, lamely. He wants to punch himself, because your cheeks go red.

“Uh, thanks, I think,” you respond softly. You don’t invite him in because you’re still too stunned to say anything more. Of course, Azriel looks amazing in his normal t-shirt and jeans, but seeing him dressed so smartly has something warming in the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t overthink it, princess,” Azriel continues, schooling himself back into his stoic self. “Are you ready to go?”

You nod, “Let me just grab my bag.” 

Azriel waits by the door while you turn and now he has the entire view. The back of your dress is low, showing off the length of your spine. It curves around your bottom like a fucking peach and it’s difficult to force his eyes away from the sight of you like this, but he manages, shifting on his feet as his cock twitches in his pants.

You lock your apartment door and follow Azriel down the hall. You can see the muscles of his shoulders straining against the fabric of his shirt and you wonder if that’s why he hadn’t buttoned the top buttons of his shirt, because they’d surely burst. Your gaze travels lower, into betrayal territory, and you bite your painted lip at the sight of his taut waist and tight ass.

Good enough to eat, indeed. 

“Elevator or stairs?” Azriel asks you as you approach the end of the hall. There had been a maintenance team who had been working on the elevator after you’d been trapped within its metal confines, and it is now back up and running. You haven’t been on it since yesterday morning, and you’re still feeling a little weary of it, so you opt for the stairs.

Azriel slows his pace as you carefully make your way down the stairs in your heels. They’re not tall, but the dress is snug around your calves and ankles, and you really can’t trip up not only because you don’t want to embarrass yourself, but because you don’t need to give Azriel the ammunition. 

“Are we taking your bike?” you question as you reach the lobby landing. You pause for a moment to tug your dress back into place. You wince. You hadn’t thought about trying to wear a dress on his bike. “Because I don’t think I’ll be able to get on it in this.” 

Azriel thinks that he could help you out of it, and he doesn’t dare look at you as he pulls out a pair of keys from his pocket, showing them off. There’s a few keys attached to the ring, along with a fluorescent keychain with the words ‘getaway car’ scrawled in bright ink.

“We’re taking Cassian’s car,” Azriel says, holding the front door of the building open for you. “If that’s alright.” 

“More than,” you exhale thankfully, shoulders relaxing their tension. You hadn’t wanted to start an argument this early in the night, and thankfully Azriel has been nice enough to accommodate you.

He seems so unlike the Azriel that you know that you almost ask if the real him has been abducted or something because he’s opening the passenger door for you, telling you to mind the rust and hole in the floorboards, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on, and shutting the door behind you before making his way around to the driver’s side.

“Cass staying home tonight?” you question, breaking the silence. The vehicle had started up with a rough cough, and the ride is bumpier than you remember it being the first time you were in it, but you’re sure you’re being hyper aware of everything right now because you’re nervous.

Azriel shrugs. He’s tapping his fingers nervously against the steering wheel and you can’t help but to stare, noticing each groove and patch of marred skin. The beauty of something so torturous happening. You still don’t know what it is that caused that scarring, but for him not to let it stop him from creating his art, you’re in awe.

“He lets me use his car sometimes, if I let him use my bike.”

You raise a brow in shock. “You really trust him on that thing?” 

Azriel huffs a laugh and your heart stutters. He glances at you and your heart completely stills at the gleam of amusement in his golden eyes. “I trust Cass with my life.”

The rest of the short ride is silent, except for the loud sounds of the hardly running Bronco and the tires against the road seeping in through the hole in the floorboards between your feet. If it’s because Azriel is nervous, you don’t know. You don’t know him well enough to know his tells, but he’s still tapping along the steering wheel. Otherwise, he is as cool as a cucumber.

You, on the other hand, are stewing in your nervousness. You’re feeling jittery, on edge the closer and closer you get to the building Azriel’s exhibition is being held in. It’s not far from your apartment, but each rotation of the tiers closer sets your teeth on edge.

You know that this means nothing. Joining Azriel tonight isn’t anything more than someone not wanting to be alone. You know that he doesn’t care much for your opinion, he had made that clear yesterday in the elevator, but with the attention on him all night, there’s bound to be some on you as well. 

On the other hand, it feels like more than just an event he needs someone to attend with. The mere twitching of his fingers gives away how important this night is to him. You can’t help but to wonder why he hadn’t invited Rhysand of Cassian, if he trusts them with his life. Why wouldn’t he want to share such a moment with them? And why bring you?

Azriel rolls the car to a stop between a packed, well-known restaurant and a jewelry store. Flanked by each store is an elegant, sleek looking gallery. The outside is covered in black marble, and the lighting looks expensive and bright, the sign above the door reads ‘Opulent,’ in large black letters. 

The front matches the name.

There are black curtains pulled down across the large windows beside the door. They must be pulling them open later in the night or even later in the week when the exhibition is open to the public.

You turn, looking at Azriel who is staring out the front of the car, hands twisted tightly together in his lap. 

In a move of confidence, you gently place a hand on his shoulder. He flinches and you watch him try to cover it up, but it’s too late, you’ve already seen the pain flashing across his gaze. You rip your hand from him as fact as you can.

“You ready?” you ask, and you don’t like the way your voice trembles a little.

Azriel nods once, then again, firmly. “Yeah.”

He opens your car door for you once more and allows you to find your footing before he’s locking up behind you. There’s a bit of a breeze now that the sun has dipped down behind the large buildings and you shiver a little, more so when Azriel places a warm hand at your lower back to usher you inside.

His skin doesn’t breach yours, touching only the sliver of silken fabric just above your ass. His palm is a heavy weight against you, and the mindless rubbing he’s circling his thumb in has your knees wobbling a little as you walk, warmth stirring to life in the bottom of your gut.

Your breath catches in your throat so harshly you nearly choke, stepping inside of the well lit area. The gallery is empty of patrons, but filled with art. The most beautiful charcoal drawings you’ve ever seen line the walls. Most of them are drawn on large canvases, bigger than your torso, and you can instantly tell how much work has gone into the creation of them, because they’re simply breathtaking. 

“There he is,” a man greets with a broad smile. You tear your gaze from the artwork on the walls as Azriel gently nudges you further in the door. You blush, not realizing that you’d stopped in your tracks upon seeing the gallery. You don’t know where to look, it’s all so beautiful, but you politely drag your gaze to the man headed your way despite wanting to stare at all of the artwork. “The man of the night! And who is this lovely lady?”

His voice is rich and deep, much like the color of his upswept eyes, glowing bright with excitement. He approaches you and Azriel, patting the artist on the arm as if he knows that he doesn’t favor shaking hands or hugging. You watch, waiting to see if Azriel flinches like he had in the car when you’d rested your hand on him, but he doesn’. There’s a tightness to your body and an edge to his jaw that tells you he might have anticipated the move, as he eases slightly once the man’s hand is removed from his arm.

“Thesan, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Thesan. He is the owner of Opulent.”

“(Y/N),” Thesan greets you with a firm handshake and a knowing look in Azriel’s direction. He rolls his gold eyes in response as Thesan turns back to you. “So nice to meet you.” 

“You as well,” you smile softly in response. You don’t know why Thesan had given Azriel that look, and you’re not sure you’re going to find out because Thesan is whisking Azriel away, talking of some loose ends that need finishing up before the doors open to the show in fifteen minutes.

“Are you going to be okay out here while I go with Thesan?” Azriel asks you, and it’s almost jarring, how polite he is tonight. When you wave him off with a nod, he continues, brows furrowed a little like the thought of leaving you alone bothers him. Perhaps he’s worried you’ll do something to his art. A blasphemous thought. “I will only be gone for a few minutes. Feel free to look around if you like. I’ll bring you a drink on my way back.”

“Thank you, Azriel,” you answer, and his gaze lingers before he turns away, leaving you and his exhibition alone.

You look around at the empty gallery, unsure of where to start. The only sound throughout the space is the clacking of your heels on the floor. You refrain from pulling out your phone and texting Feyre and spilling the entirety of your night. You’re so nervous you hardly even know what to do with yourself.  You feel awkward, like an imposter as you decide to start nearest the entrance to the street, keeping a few steps away from the large drawing lit brightly on the wall. 

The piece before you is so dark you can hardly make out the forms. The entire canvas is black with deep sweeps of charcoal, only light areas have been reigned in by an eraser. You stare at it for a minute, two, allowing the painting to speak to you. 

It feels lonely, despairing, almost, and the next one you move to is an angry stroke of work, lines thick where Azriel had clearly pressed harder into the rough canvas as he drew. A canister of something spilling across the floor in waves. Two eyes ripple in the reflection of the liquid, no, there are four, their pupils malignant and cruel.

The image sends shivers crawling up your spine.

Each piece is more beautiful than the next. You find yourself both enthralled and rushed, wanting to spend as long as you want in front of each picture while you have the room to yourself, rushed because you want to see all of the work before others arrive. 

The charcoals become lighter, happier as you follow the path that you’re walking around the room. In the center, well lit and clearly the centerpiece of the collection, is a canvas that you’re not entirely sure could fit in through the front door of the building.

It’s titled ‘Not an Accident’ as per the plaque beneath the canvas. As it towers over you on the wall, you feel small, glued to your spot, throat thick and eyes prickling with tears as you scan the work, absorbing its utter, raw beauty.

A pair of hands, clenched together like they’re praying. Each finger presses into each other in a desperate way, as if seconds away from clawing through the skin. One is perfect. Smooth, clean skin, while the other is marred, so familiar that it makes your throat ache.

The skin of the second hand is puckered and ruined, tortured by something great, something that will always be carried, by both memory and sight. It’s Azriel’s hands, you would be able to recognize them anywhere, and the smoothed skinned one must have been what his hands looked like before whatever accident happened. It’s strong, healthy, fingers calloused with life. The other is tender, fresh skin pulled tight over jutting bones and weak muscle.

A tear escapes the corner of your eye, but you don’t wipe it away.

This artwork is a harrowingly beautiful sight. 

You hear the soft footfalls of Azriel moving closer, but you can’t tear your eyes away from the masterpiece in front of you. 

He strides up beside you, looking up at his work. 

“Are you ready for the event to start?” 

You nod, wiping the lone tear that has escaped. You don’t think Azriel notices. 

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I think I am.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist P.1: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @homeslices @quinzzelx @carlandonorri-s @juniper-july19 @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho

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#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #artist!azriel #tattoo artist!azriel #art school au #acotar au

[fieldofdaisiies]

Important question from one pineapple lover to another...

Between sexy tattoo artist Azriel and sexy businessman Azriel (seriously though when is he not sexy 🙄), who would you go on a date with? And what drink would you order??

Aaaaah omg, hi fellow pineapple lover😍

oh god, this decision😭 I need a little moment to compose myself now that I think about both…but…

sexy tattoo artist Azriel — I am now thinking about him tattooing me, after having been pondering about getting new tattoos the whole day yesterday.

Please, just imagine, his scarred hands with rings (!!!) holding the tattoo gun, creating are on your body while with his other hand he softly holds you in place, softly saying things like "doing so well for me", "so brave", "such a good girl" 😮‍💨

I totally drifted off, so tattoo artist Azriel and I would order wine 🍷

What about you?💛

#azriel #chat with daisy🌼

[shallyne]

Feysandmonth Day 6: Obsession

another one

another fluffy piece. There will be a lot of fluff without plot this month and I hope you'll like it.

Words: 827

TW: none

Feyre gets a tattoo by her boyfriend, Rhys.

She welcomed the pain. Honestly, she was very excited about it. Not just because of the result she had planned together with her boyfriend for quite some time now but also because it gave her a chance to watch him as he was absorbed in his work. As a strand of his raven black hair fell into his face. Feyre raised her hand and brushed it back. "Thank you." he murmured. She smiled at him, even if he didn't see it. She couldn't keep her excitement back when she was around him, even two years in their relationship. They had met when Feyre got her first tattoo. Before she got her first tattoo. She was looking for good artists that she could trust and that's how she found Rhys. They started talking and Rhys showed her his previous works and not long after, Feyre got her first tattoo. It wasn't as scary as she thought because she fully trusted Rhys. After that day they kept in contact but it wasn't until two months later that Rhys asked her out on a date and that's when they started dating. Now they were here, two years and a few tattoos later.

"What are you thinking about?" Rhys asked.

"Just how excited to see it when it's finished." Feyre answered.

"Me too." he answered.

Feyre turned her head when the door opened. Cassian smirked at her, crossing his arms. "Again?" he asked. He stopped at her side, looking at Rhys's work. "Oh, your hand? Does it hurt?"

"Not yet." Feyre grinned. Cassian pulled a chair closer and sat down. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, it's nice actually. Rhys doesn't talk when he's focused." Feyre said. Rhys chuckled and Cassian snorted in response. "You could have told me before. I would have held your hand the whole time."

Feyre rolled her eyes at Cassian. "I don't need anyone to hold my hand, I'm a big girl, you know."

"I know you don't but it's still nice, isn't it?"

Feyre sighed. "I suppose." and took Cassians outstretched hand. He winked at her and started to talk about his day. That he just came back from the gym and how he kicked Azriels ass. Feyre held back her giggle to keep still as he spoke. Rhys threw some corrections in as Cassian told her about the time where he kicked Rhys's ass. He stayed the whole time as Rhys worked on her tattoo and towards the end, Azriel joined them too.

"Another one?" he asked. Feyre snorted at the similar reactions between Cassian and Azriel.

"I think she's obsessed." Cassian answered for her. "It's our fault."

"Don't worry, Cass. I had most of them already planned before I met you guys."

"Oh really?" he asked. "How many more do you have planned?"

"One." she answered and smirked at him. "Or two."

Azriel chuckled, standing behind Rhys and watching him work.

Cassian grinned and leaned forward. "Where?"

She planted her hand on his face and pushed him back. "None of your business."

"Is it?" he asked. "Do you really want Rhys to do all of your tattoos?"

"You're right, I should give him a break." Cassian nodded. "Azriel is doing the next."

Cassian gasped, holding his heart. "I am wounded, Archeron."

"Did you design it?" Azriel interrupted Cassians dramatics. She smiled at him. "I did!"

"I like it." he replied.

"What would your mother think about your tattoos?" Cassian asked. They both grinned as Feyre replied. "She would hate it!" She held up her free hand and they high fived at that. Rhys laughed when they did and Azriel shook his head, smiling.

When Rhys leaned back, telling her that were done, Cassian leaned over to inspect her hand. "Good job, Rhysie." Feyre held her hand up to show Azriel, he nodded approvingly.

"I love it!" Feyre said. Rhys beamed at her.

"Wait, turn around. I want to take a picture." Cassian said. Feyre laughed and turned to him. He turned her arm until he was satisfied and took the picture. Azriel did the same, quiet as always. "I'll send it to you, Rhys."

As Rhys cleaned his stuff, Azriel and Cassian said goodbye and went home. Feyre waited for Rhys, so they could finally head home, too. When he walked back to her, he slid his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple. "You really like it?" he asked.

"I promise you, I love it! It's beautiful." she said, pressing a quick kiss on his mouth. "I can't wait until Nesta sees it, she's gonna have a heart attack."

Rhys smiled. "You cruel thing."

"Me? Never." she said as she took his hand and they headed home. "You know I already have a plan for the next one."

"The one on your back?" Rhys asked.

"Exactly, that one! I already sketched it out." she explained.

Rhys laughed, pulling her closer to him. "I can't wait to see it."

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #feysand month #Feysandmonth #Feysand Month 22 #Feysandmonth22 #feyre archeron #feyre #feyre cursebreaker #high lady of the night court #high lady feyre #feyre darling #rhysand #rhys #high lord rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand archeron #high lord of the night court #feysand #feysand fan fiction #feysand fanfiction #Feysand fanfic #feysand fluff #feysand fic #acotar fanfiction #cassian acotar #cassian #azriel acotar #azriel

[emilystheories]

Artist credit for the art used in my Tik Toks!

(WORK IN PROGRESS)

Aelin, Nesta, Bryce and the eight-pointed star theory:

Title photos: mftfernandez

Aelin, blue fire: AlexandraCurte

Cauldron: ACOTAR Official Coloring Book

Nesta and her sword: Swiftyfox

Nesta and her star tattoo: izziesdrawings

Bryce and her Horn tattoo: JanaRunneck

Bryce with the star on her chest: diana.dreamsart

Bryce, crescent moon backdrop: lauregal

Bryce, star lighting up: bethgilbertart

Bryce and Danika, rose gate: mftfernandez

Bryce and Danika, desert backdrop: bethgilbertart

Bryce hugging Danika: heyvossie

Bryce and Danika, the Drop: Gabrielle Ragusi

Bryce and Danika, tongues out: CLXE art

Danika portait: mftfernandez

Danika and her wolf form: espadadevalkiria

Elain is a mystic theory:

Elain manipulating strings (title photo): avoccatt_art

Ariadne: elizianna.the.one

Bat Boys: TaliaNobel

Elain, portait: sage.and.other.herbs

Elain tracking the Suriel: sketchesanmin

Nesta and the Cauldron: ACOTAR Official Coloring Book

Elain with a knife: krasnyzmeya

Maeve: Morgana0anagrom

Rigelus: elizianna.the.one

Erawan: Morgana0anagrom

Frat House, Crescent City: madschofield

Aelin: aiphos.s

Bryce is the 7th Asteri theory:

Bryce, title slide: mftfernandez

Bryce, third slide, holding sword: mftfernandez

Ithan: elizianna.the.one

Connor: Stacia Reverie

Bryce, crescent moon backdrop: thedustyshop

Bryce, headshot portrait: alrun.art

Bryce and Hunt, kissing: thalia_art_

Hypaxia: elizianna.the.one

Bryce, standing shot, white shirt: elizianna.the.one

Bryce and Ember: artywings

Bryce, holding starlight: m.alinki

Hunt, portrait: Bloodydamnit

Bryce, white dress: Morgana0anagrom

Red-haired fae woman: plushchimera

Mor as a Banshee theory:

Mor, title slide: Wictorianart

Eris: Morgana0anagrom

Mor, holding wine: bethgilbert_art

Mor, flowing red dress: dianadworak

Mor, headshot: Morgana0anagrom

Mor, leaning on balcony: mftfernandez

Mor, official art: Charlie Bowater

Cassian, official art: Charlie Bowater

Mor, long-sleeved red dress: starofvelaris

Mor, Azriel and Cassian: jenna.draw

Mor, plunging red dress: rounnac

Mor, hair flowing to the left: adamar.art

Danika: sncinderart

Inner Circle: aiphos.s

Maeve is Queen Theia theory:

Maeve, title slide: Morgana0anagrom

Rhys and Ruhn comparison art: cebanart

Rhys, headshot: whett_paint

Ruhn, headshot: whett_paint

Maeve, spiderweb backdrop: sncinderart

Rhys, shadows: RioBurtonArtist

Rhys, headshot, white background: arz28

Maeve, headshot: eelistraie

Ruhn, headshot, purple background: faeriereverie

Maeve, lounging: evilienne

Erawan: Morgana0anagrom

Ruhn, headshot, gray background: faeriereverie

Maeve, standing shot: evilienne

Cormac: elizianna.the.one

Maeve, side facing head shot: (unknown, cannot locate artist).

Library: ACOTAR Official Coloring Book

Aelin, falling through worlds: AliceMariaPower

Aelin, holding sword: elsalikesbooks

Aelin, standing on balcony: demihu

Rhys and Feyre, starfall: Emi D

Nesta and Dread Trove: mistilteinn.art

Kallias and Viviane: starofvelaris

Whitethorns: Thalia

Gavriel: Morgana0anagrom

Aedion: Morgana0anagrom

Tamlin: Dominique Wesson

Thesan: Moragana0anagrom

Yrene: Rachel Hanke

Maeve, sitting on throne: mistillteinn.art

ACOTAR careers video:

Inner Circle, title slide: Charlie Bowater

Feyre: bethgilbert_art

Elain: bethgilbert_art

Rhys: Charlie Bowater

Nesta: bethgilbert_art

Azriel: Moragana0anagrom

Cassian: Morgana0anagrom

Tamlin: Dominique Wesson

Gwyn: mftfernandez

Lucien: Dominique Wesson

Ianthe: Moragana0anagrom

Emerie: mftfernandez

Mor: bethgilbert_art

Amren: bethgilbert_art

Suriel: madschofield

Beron: Moragana0anagrom

Helion, lounging: The Beautiful Darkness

Helion, portrait: Moragana0anagrom

Azriel and Bryce as mates theory:

Azriel, title slide: jessdraw.s

Azriel blindfolding Bryce: witchlingsart

Bryce, star shining on chest: bethgilbert_art

Azriel, zoom in on knife: rosalynnart

Bryce, zoom in on sword: carlosgzz003

Bryce, yellow dress: sashac_art

Bryce, white/gold plunging dress: mftfernandez

Azriel: Moragana0anagrom

Bryce and Azriel: brielyasmin

Azriel, glancing sideways: rosalynnart

Azriel, holding knife: naarielart

Bryce, pale gold dress and leather jacket: mftfernandez

Cormac: elizianna.the.one

Jesiba: Moragana0anagrom

Einar Danaan: elizianna.the.one

Azriel, back facing: anawinarts

Bryce, headshot portrait: alrun.art

Azriel, torso up portrait: Dominique Wesson

Hunt: faeriereverie

Bryce, standing shot, white shirt: elizianna.the.one

Azriel and Elain: caitlin

Azriel and Gwyn: witchlingsart

Bryce and Hunt: myhopeart

Bryce and Azriel: mbohnet_art

Hunt will die, but he will be resurrected in the Dusk Court theory:

Hunt, title slide: sashac_art

Hunt, mid-air, electricity in hand: emiliesnaith_art

Hunt, head shot, crown of thorns: Ivy Gwendolline

Hunt, head shot, portrait: Bloodydamnit

Hunt, arms crossed: ghostinthegvrden

Bryce, sword behind back: mftfernandez

Ruhn, portrait: faeriereverie

Cormac: elizianna.the.one

Danika, back turned: mftfernandez

Bryce and Danika: Xena Fay

Yrene, purple dress: artzzofkae

Yrene, portrait, blue dress: Moragana0anagrom

Danika, forward facing: alrun.art

Danika and Baxian: arospaintbrush

Danika, back turned, long ponytail: Moragana0anagrom

Bryce and Hunt, kissing: thalia_art_

Danika and Bryce: sncinderart

Nesta and Cassian: Leah Fry Art

Rhys and Feyre, starfall: clarywhy

Danika and Bryce, sitting, back facing: megmontrey

Hunt and Bryce, embracing: gabsgabx

The Princes of Hel are the Valg theory:

Aidas, title slide: sncinderart

Valg demon, title slide: evilienne

Aidas, standing, crossed hands: Moragana0anagrom

Aidas, Bryce and Hunt: sncinderart

Aelin and Valg: may12324

Erawan: Official art, TOG card game

Nesta with her sword: mystery.artistz

Long blond haired man: toherys

Ramiel: doodlesbyclo

Yrene: Moragana0anagrom

Bryce, headshot portrait: alrun.art

Yrene, using her power: Demi Hu

Rigelus: elizianna.the.one

Nesta and Dread Trove: mistilteinn.art

Amren, angel form: ACOTAR Official Coloring Book

Rhys, lounging on throne: p.dulcis

Cassian: aconitte

Nesta, glowing: StarbitArt

Nesta, star tattoo: izziesdrawings

Nesta and Cassian: Leah Fry Art

Aidas, portrait: faeriereverie

"Why don't you just give up" SJM trend video:

Aelin, fire background: arzis

Elide and Lorcan, flood: ilik_art

Yrene, using her power: Demi Hu

Gavriel and Aedion: emiliesnaith_art

Manon and Abraxos: emmih

Feyre, music UTM: palesile

Elain killing Hybern: theclevercrow

Valkyries: ellyness5

Lehabah's final stand: ajn_art

Bryce and Danika, "light it up!": radiance_and_reveries.art

Hunt's father theory:

Hunt, title slide: mftfernandez

Hunt, arms crossed: ghostinthegvrden

Amren: bethgilbert_art

Amren, angel form: inkfaeart

Amren, holding wine glass (left): p.dulcis

Hunt, head shot: Bloodydamnit

Amren, holding wine glass (right): mftfernandez

Hunt, sword behind back: nessiarts

Hunt, crown of thorns: sashac_art

Hunt, looking sideways, lightning in hand: rachelsrealm

SJM parallel universe theory:

Feyre, Bryce, Aelin, title slide: Kyn Erie

Aelin, falling through worlds: AliceMariaPower

Nesta and Dread Trove: mistilteinn.art

Rhys, headshot: whett_paint

Ruhn, headshot: whett_paint

Valg demon: evilienne

Ruhn and Rhys, back to back: _julpers

Aelin: mftfernandez

Lidia: mftfernandez

Lorcan: Moragana0anagrom

Azriel: Moragana0anagrom

Fury: Xena Fay

Amren: alrun.art

Gavriel: The Beautiful Darkness

Tamlin: mftfernandez

Lucien: mftfernandez

Bryce: mftfernandez

Jesiba: Moragana0anagrom

Manon: Katie Morgan

Merrill: Rezwana Dimechkan

Rowan: Moragana0anagrom

Jurian: Morgana0anagrom

Yrene: artzzofkae

Thesan: janarunneck

Asterin: Moragana0anagrom

Nesta: Moragana0anagrom

Elide: Moragana0anagrom

Elain: Moragana0anagrom

Hunt: sncinderart

Cassian: Moragana0anagrom

Danika: Kenya Powers

Aidas: sncinderart

Aelin, Bryce, Feyre, back facing: gabsgabx

Tamlin's character video:

Blond long-haired man, title slide: Q5E4 (?)

Blond child, sideways facing: (unknown artist)

Blond child, sky background: sharandula

Blond man standing, holding guitar: BoA

Tamlin, playing fiddle: mbohnet_art

Blond royal, facing right: Katy-K

Blond royal, kneeling down: Katie S

Tamlin, portrait: LadyKalynne

Amarantha: Coralie Jubénot

Blond man carrying wounded woman: Nami64

Tamlin and Feyre, back facing: dreamkingdomstudios

Tamlin and Feyre, embracing: olegleus

Feyre holds knife, Tamlin on ground: ACOTAR Official Coloring Book

Tamlin, depressed: naarielart

Feyre, crying at bottom of stairs: LuminaCrest

Tamlin, holding rose: p.dulcis

Rhys kissing Feyre: arz28

Feyre consoling Tamlin, Rhys behind: meridyan-art

Rowan and Aelin: montherox

Manon: Morgana0anagrom

Azriel: Morgana0anagrom

Nesta: jheedit.s 

Blond man, pulling at sleeve: Alinurart

Tamlin, sideways facing: mftfernandez

Rhys: Charlie Bowater

Feyre and Tamlin embracing, Feyre reaching for Rhys: rachelsrealm

Tamlin crying: inkfaeart

Long-haired man, looking forward: kimberly08

Tamlin on tree stump, hunched over: wilderheart13

Blond-haired man, head tilted: noteye

Tamlin's beast form: (unknown?)

Man playing fiddle in garden: Applibot

Elain is possessed by Koschei theory:

Elain with a knife: krasnyzmeya

Elain looking out window: ya-ariart

Mr Archeron: (unknown?)

Valg demon: evilienne

King of Hybern: Morgana0anagrom

'Evil' Elain: inkfaeart

Elain and Azriel: ACOTAR Official Coloring Book

Nesta and the Cauldron: ACOTAR Official Coloring Book

Azriel, holding knife: naarielart

Elain and Azriel, linking arms: arti.ris

Elain, portrait: mftfernandez

Lucien: TKadoura

Elain, back facing: uurtemis

Kaltain: Morgana0anagrom

Elain, black hovering crown: vincry

Elain stabbing Hybern: KrasnyZmeya

Throne of Glass word no longer exists theory:

Aelin and Rowan, cover photo: Emile Smith

Aelin, back facing: demihu

Bryce, back facing: Alexandra Curte

Bryce, necklace: unknown artist

Bone Carver: Charlie Bowater

Aelin and Rowan: mistilteinn.art

Valg possession: evilienne

Danika: mftfernandez

Tharion: sncinderart

Yrene: Rikki does art

Danika and Bryce, desert backdrop: Beth Gilbert

Yrene, using powers: demihu

Bryce, using powers: Isabelle Smith

Lidia: mftfernandez

Aelin: mftfernandez

Aelin on Lord of the North: montherox

Aelin and Rowan's rings: drawnexplore

Day and Night: FeyLuna

Aelin, portrait: Morgana0anagrom

Ruhn, portrait: faeriereverie

3 MC's and 3 MC love interest photos: Kynerie

Gavriel: Morgana0anagrom

Aedion: Morgana0anagrom

Tamlin: Dominique Wesson

TOG characters: Charlie Bowater

ACOTAR characters: Jess.draws

CC characters: Stacia.reveries.

[bookofmirth]

Honestly? I think that Sjm won't make El/riel endgame simply because Feysand and El/riel are the same. Well… their aesthetics are the same. El/riel doesn't have the amazing banter (do they even banter at all?) that Feysand has.

Rhys and Azriel: dark, mysterious, literally death, cold, cruel, and whatever dark sh*t they're into.

Feyre and Elain: light, both are associated with flowers, soft, passive, both were described as fawns.

Not to mention the looks: Archeron sisters- brown hair, white skin + bat boys: black hair, brown skin, wings, tattoos.

It's just that every time I see artworks of either Feysand or El/riel, I need half a minute to realize which one it is. Now that I think about it all.. let's say El/riel happens and all the theories that El/riels made are true. Elain becomes the high lady of the dusk court (which is a dark court like the Night court considering the word "dusk") or at least Elain does the same job as Azriel. Azriel saves her from the "abuser" Lucien and Azriel will let her choose, she finds her voice, and then Elain finds out Azriel is her actual mate, etc… Did..did that all not happen to Feyre??? Haven't we all already read this?

People also still think that El/riel is a Hades&Persephone retelling when Sarah confirmed that Feysand is the retelling of that story. Some of them were so happy that the artworks that Sarah has saved on Pinterest in the acotar pinboard because they thought it was El/riel when it was all Feysand. This says a lot.

That is one of the reasons I don't ship El/riel. It's just a meh- version of Feysand. You can see the clear difference between Nessian and Feysand. These 2 ships are soo different, I forget that they're "2 brothers + 2 sisters". But El/riel…

Worst of all is that El/riel barely interact. they haven't done anything beyond finger brushes and shy glances. Azriel has not thought beyond sexual fantasies. When exactly did they really banter? Where is the deep angst that El/riels always talk about because nothing stands in their way, except Elucien's mating bond which… can be just rejected. Lucien will leave Elain alone. I mean- they're the ones that claim Lucien loves Vassa so the mating bond won't be a big issue, right?

Friend... the number of fan arts I have seen where I literally had to read the caption to be sure it wasn't feysand. And that's not a comment on the artist because it could be beautiful and amazing and wonderful and I could never make something like that, but there is little to nothing separating feysand from what I guess people think e*riel will be. Meanwhile I see fan art of nessian or elucien and I know with 100% certainty exactly who that ship is, because of the body language, their facial expressions, the variety of clothing and objects and scenery that is unique to them as individuals and as a couple. Since e*riel is my notp I just view all their fanart as being feysand. It's super easy, there's little to no difference.

Like, not only have we read all of this already, but this theory for how e*riel would go is all about the plot, and NOTHING about who those characters are as individuals! Why would Az and Elain end up having a journey that's so, so similar to feysand, if they are unique individuals with their own values, histories, goals, friendships, etc.? You mentioned how completely different nessian is, and yeah, it's because Cassian =/= Rhys, and Nesta =/= Feyre. They're very different people, and they have very different interactions.

Nesta had a major emotional journey. So did Feyre. What is Elain's, exactly? What makes Elain's emotional journey with Az any different than it would be with any other character? No matter what, she has to start being assertive, stop accepting whatever comes her way, and start deciding what she actually wants in life. Making a conscious decision to accept OR reject the mating bond is better than her current "guess I'll do nothing" attitude. It's not about saying "no", it's about asserting herself.

There is nothing about Az that makes that journey more likely, and the fact that he actually holds her back when she *is* assertive, and that he has a history of doing this with Mor as well, is the main reason I don't ship it. Az is not good for Elain's personal growth, full stop. He doesn't support her at all, he just sees her as something to protect, not to respect. And that's about those two people as individuals and how they interact! Fuck the plot and the aesthetics. If sjm's ships didn't give us emotional payoff, we wouldn't be into them.

Is it that we have so little content of Elain and Az actually interacting that people just insert aesthetic in place of personality?

I've thought about making a list of all the dialogue that those two have ever exchanged in all these supposed books of buildup but it would be so much work for so little payoff... 😌

#guess I needed to rant #haven't done that about them in a while #i just hate it #it's my notp #five years and counting #antielriel #ask #anon #acotar

[thesistersarcheron]

💔📃 😚😮

💔 Least favorite ship you have written about?

Hmm... I wrote the beginning of a Gh*stbusters (2016) J*llian H*ltzmann/Er*n G*lbert fic for my ex from high school & college, and she never even commented or acknowledged its existence, not once. Anyway, in addition to being an ungrateful fic recipient, she was an extremely invested cosplayer and, like, morphed into the characters she cosplayed for years at a time. She was also a tattoo artist and gave herself multiple awful tattoos related to these characters. (And, unfortunately, the Jared Leto Joker smile tattoo on the back of her hand was when I knew I would ghost her. Without getting into 16-year-old Elle's trauma, my ex deserved it.) The more I type, the faker it sounds, but I swear to god it's true and I need therapy for it. Anyway, that's my least favorite pairing to this date. I orphaned that work and happily forgot it existed until recently.

📃 Ever written something inspired by someone elses fic?

Not that I recall. I've been writing for 13 years now, I have the memory of a goldfish, and I used to RP on tumblr, so it's likely that I have. I was reading a chef's kiss Nessian fic this week and was tempted, but the author is so cool that I'm too intimidated to ask.

😚 A fic you like writing more than other fics?

viciousness & intelligence! I may get busy or have some inspiration slumps, but I love the way Azriel torments himself over loving Nesta & Cassian.

😮 Anything you included in your fic that you didn’t expect people to like?

I wrote a 7-part plotless smut fic so Azriel and Cassian could Eiffel tower Nesta right after her bond with Cassian snaps in ACOSF, it turned into a 20-chapter longfic, and then I made Az dom Nesta into domming Cassian through a blowjob halfway through his romantic arc with her. Also, people seem to be on board with changes I'm making to the Blood Rite in v&i, while most of the fandom is embracing "The Blood Rite is super perfect girlboss power" discourse instead of "The Blood Rite was nonsense garbage and Briallyn had zero brain cells for arranging it" discourse again.

Send an emoji to ask a question about my fics!

#answered #reverie-rose #my fics

[moodymelanist]

I wrote a gywnriel tattoo artist & librarian au once, but a lot of people were interested in seeing Gwyn as the tattoo artist and Az in the quieter more introverted role. Maybe something like that? :o Or, my old reliable fic trope that usually people haven't tried before is Professional Cuddling 😅 Best of luck to you!!

I'm *so* sorry this took so long for me to get back to you about, but I'll be going the gwyn tattoo artist/azriel librarian route for the first day of @sjmromanceweek. that will be posted tomorrow<3

#asks