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readychilledwine · 6 months

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hi, would it he okay to request one where it’s reader x azriel and they’ve been struggling with fertility/getting pregnant. And after a while reader finds out she’s not only pregnant but with triplets😭😭 and they’re all crying happy tears together sith the ic and celebrate😭😍

I was struggling with fertility and finally got pregnant after so long and I couldn’t be happier, so seeing dad az would be so amazing, but I read ur latest post so if it’s a lot then please feel free to ignore ❤️❤️

No. This is perfect. I can do this. 💙💙

Azriel Week Day 6 Prompt - Past and Future - Threefold

Summary - After years of trying and unsuccessful attempts, you and Azriel finally receive everything you've asked and prayed for threefold.

Warnings - high-risk pregnancy, labor (nothing graphic), babies, illusions to miscarriages, inferred toll of pregnancy on mental health (its hard.)

A/n - this fit too perfectly for @azrielappreciationweek dad Az is my favorite to write as a father simply because his inner child deserves to heal 💜

Madja and Rhys held your upper body as another bout of sickness ripped through your stomach. You hadn't felt right for several days now. You were exhausted and irritable, and lately, nothing has stayed down.

Rhys pulled your hair back, rubbing small circles into your back. "I can call for Azriel, y/n," he offered again. "He's only doing some follow up things in Windhaven. There are no new issues."

Madja looked at the High Lord. Calling for him silently in her mind. It was clear to the healer what was going on, and she wanted you on bed arrest immediately. You and Azriel had been trying and struggling to have a babe for years. She inclined her head to Rhys, motioning for him to follow her.

"She's pregnant," she boldly said. "The scent is faint, meaning it's early, but her morning sickness indicates multiples." Rhysand's face fell, joy, happiness, fear, sadness all washing over him. You and Azriel were the last of the circle without children.

He and Feyre had 4, Cassian and Nesta had 2, Lucien and Elain had 2. Even Mor and Armen had adopted children. But you and Azriel? You had been trying for years now, and unsuccessful attempt after attempt had led to you two in long fights, heartache, and emotional turmoil.

"Were they even trying?"

Madja nodded at the question. "We tried one last alternative method. It was very painful for her. That's why I need you to command her to bedrest, Rhysand. For them."

The High Lord reentered the bathroom, gently picking you up after you finished brushing your teeth and began the pathway to your room. "You're done working for today. I'm calling for Azriel." Madja opened the door for him, watching as he gently set you down on the soft sheets and blankets you had already started subconsciously nesting with. "You will not leave this bed unless one of us is here with you."

The Riverhouse set food and water on the table, indicatine needed you needed to eat. "Madja, what's going on?"

The old healer looked at you. "I'll be able to give you a better answer once Azriel is here and I examine you."

Azriel flew hard. Not wanting to be away a single second longer after Rhysand's urgent message. He landed with a thud, and instantly went into Rhysand's office where he and Cassian sat in silence. "Where is she? What's wrong?"

Rhys motioned for him to sit and Cassian handed him the whiskey he was nursing. Rhys sighed, "She's pregnant. Madja thinks there's multiple. You're both done. You will distribute your missions until further notice and stay with your mate." Rhys paused as Azriel threw back the expensive whiskey. "Madja is with her and waiting for you for the exam."

You were laid back, Azriel holding your soft hand in his scarred ones near his mouth as he kissed each knuckle. Madja was glowing, hands over your abdomen. You watched her mouth twitch and Rhysand stop pacing in the corner before he started to just laugh. "You are indeed pregnant, my dear. With three healthy developing children. Maybe 6 weeks." Azriel's face fell first, looking at Rhysand in panic. "I will leave you two with your High Lord. He is aware of my opinion given your history." Madja left the from gracefully, a firm smile cemented on her face as she walked into the hallway where the Inner Circle waited.

Rhysand moved to the foot of the bed, leaned on the post as he looked between you and Azriel. "You're on bed rest. You will not leave this bed or go anywhere alone. No training. No long walks. No long trips into town. We," he motioned between himself and Azriel, "will set the nursery. You, my dearest y/n, will no longer lift a damn finger." Azriel had not moved, his eyes locked on you. Rhys took the silent message, leaving the room as Azriel moved onto the bed with you, his mouth immediately on yours as that dam broke and tears began to fall.

"3?" He asked in shock, a hand going to your stomach. "And 6 weeks? You're already to where-"

"I know," you interrupted softly. "If we can make it 2 more weeks, it'll be the furthest we've made it." Azriel's hand tilted your head to his, and he kissed you softly.

Azriel paused. "Rhys is asking Madja if she'd be willing to stay here with her own chambers. They're also all setting up a rotation to ensure one of them is always with us."

You nodded, hand going over his to rest on your stomach. "3."

"3," he whispered back.

6 weeks passed without complications. At, 12 weeks and you were halfway to that safe period Madja had promised. The healer had her hand over your stomach, glowing in her magic and happiness.

"Such healthy little heartbeats." You felt Azriel's body language relax and his hand gently squeeze yours. "Everything looks very healthy so far. I will not lift the bedrest, though."

You looked at Azriel, silently pleading for him to advocate for you and were met with a soft apologetic gaze. "No," he commanded softly. "You stay here. I stay here. We stay here." House arrest, bed rest, that was the only issue so far. You were used to your work, to running daily, to anything but this. Madja left with a small smile as Azriel whispered thank you, and you began to cry. "I know, my love-"

"No you don't. You do not know what it's like to be trapped here. I can't even go outside without Rhys or Cassian appearing out of fucking no where. I miss the sun, the grass." You took a deep breath. "I am confined to this house and it's many walls for the well being of our babies. I understand that, but what about my well being, Azriel? What about my mental health?"

Azriel looked down, your normally selfless mate. "I'm sorry, y/n, but until I know something as simple as laying in the sun won't hurt them, I will support you being in the home, maintaining low stress levels. I will see if I can find a compromise. Perhaps an atrium? I know you've always wanted one."

You woke up to that the very next day, Azriel, Rhys, Lucien, and Cassian were all shirtless with other workers. A room facing your favorite garden had been wrecked, the furniture all moved. They had started at sunrise and at nightfall it stopped. Between magic, skills, and your husband refusing a break, you had a skylit atrium. Rhysand moved to you, covered in dirt and sweat, tilting your chin to place a small kiss on your temple, then Cassian, then Lucien, the last leaving his hand ok your already large stomach for a little while with a happy smile.

Azriel was moving the furniture back, shadows assisting every step of the way. He finally entered the room, lifting you gently from the chair you were reading in, and placing you in the lounging couch he had moved into the full glass room.

"Az-"

"I love you," he interrupted. "And I'm sorry you're having to make this sacrifice for us and our family, but please know I love you. Please know I am just worried. We've lost so much, too many already. Please, y/n, meet me here. Let this be our common ground until Madja says otherwise."

You had no choice but to nod, eyes locked on the beautiful night sky you had not seen in what felt like months. "I'm hungry." Azriel smiled at the statement. His eyes lit up as he felt your gentle caving down the bond. "Could you perhaps bathe and feed me? Maybe out here?" Azriel nodded, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Before you blinked, your third trimester was half way over, and suddenly bedrest was all you could think about. You were uncomfortable, large, constantly feeling as if the babes were using you as a personal playground. You and the Twins were in the kitchen when it happened, tight pain shot through your stomach and wetness came, your hand flew to Cerridwen and she supported you immediately, screaming for Madja as she moved you to sit.

The next several hours blurred together. Rhysand appearing and having Cassian help him carry you to a tub per Madja's request. Him holding your mind as he apologized over and over.

It made sense that this was happening now. The one time there was a mission that required Azriel. The one time he was in the Mortal Lands, having to spy on the Queen furthest from your home. Rhysand held your hand through the process, Cassian helping support your body as every inch of you felt like giving up and going out.

Until that first scream came. That first wail of life. That first tiny little body handled to one of the twins, small perfect wings intact. "Push, y/n," Rhys whispered softly. "They need their siblings." It could have been but moments, possibly hours. You didn't know. But a second cry came followed by the door slamming open and Azriel running to your side, allowing Rhysand to move and help with the babes.

"I'm so sorry," you kept saying, guilt hitting you at his bittersweet joy of missing two of the babes being born. "I-"

"It's okay. I'm here for this one." Azriel kissed your temple. "Two have wings, my love. You are doing so well."

The third cry came soon after, your body wanting to be done before finally giving out as Azriel and Cassian waited for Madja to heal you the best she could. She nodded and they removed you from the tub, body absolute done as you rested in Azriel's chest.

Cassian had gone to the babes, his excitement too heavy. Soon the whole Inner Circle and Nyx sat in the room, waiting for Madja to begin the announcements. She walked one of the babies to you, "First Born, winged, healthy weight for a triplet. Boy." Azriel stilled, his grip on your hand tightening.

Rhys walked the second over, a familiar soft look in his eyes, "Second born, winged, also healthy and hungry. Boy."

Cassian was sobbing holding his little bundle, looking at Azriel and then nodding. Your mate's dam broke, handing you the two sons instantly and reaching for the baby Cassian had. "Third born. Wingless for now, we all know that won't be the case forever, though. A little smaller than Madja would like. Girl."

Azriel held her close, his eyes locked on her perfect little face as tears fell. "You promised," he reminded you gently. You were too busy, admiring your boys to even respond. They were holding hands, both searching for their sister. "Y/n."

You broke your stare, brows knit in confusion. "They're your lineage, Azriel. You know you have last say in their names." Madja and the Inner Circle now stood closer as Azriel studied the babes one by one, never letting go of his daughter.

"Ophelia," he handed her gently to you. "After my mother." He took one of the boys, stroking his little cheek softly. He was holding the second born, who was wearing a serious pout. The was the largest of the three, little wings trying to stretch already on his back. "Ramiel. Because I have a gut feeling." Nyx laughed gently, silently asking to take his cousin and get him situated for a bottle. Azriel gave him to his nephew, a look of warning on his face. He took the oldest, who immediately took a scarred finger into his tiny hands. "Opinions, love," he asked you before realizing you were feeding your daughter. "She just decided to latch on there, huh?"

"Pretty much," you looked at your oldest son, the second smallest. Face all smiles. "Arnan," you looked to Armen. "After his aunt who found the method that brought them into the world." She was at Azriel's side immediately, taking the babe from him without him even putting up a fight.

*3 months later*

You and Azriel sat in the nursery. The boys in his arms, feeding softly from bottles, your daughter in yours breastfeeding. Figuring out a schedule to ensure all of them breastfed once or twice a day had been difficult but the routine was easy now. Ophelia slept best through the night after skin to skin and breastfeeding. Arnan was less fussy in the mornings when his breakfast came directly from you. Ramiel napped better after an afternoon breast feeding. "They're holding their heads up so well," Azriel cooed. "My strong boys." He was a male obsessed and in love. He was frequently out your shared bed at night, and you'd find him, sleeping with all three of them on his broad bare chest in the nursery. He was the perfect father despite not having an example of how to be one.

"I think our sweet girl will get there soon," you kept watch on her, holding her little hand as she reached for you. "We're just a Danity little thing, though so Heaven forbid daddy has to carry and coddle us more." You teased them both as Azriel's jaw dropped.

"I can't help it, love. Look at her, look at those eyes, that nose, her little smile. I'll carry her to Spring and back by foot." He stood, burping both of the boys and laid them in their cribs before coming to sit in front of his girl. "I want her when you're done."

"You say that until they poop."

"They're so warm and happy after breastfeedings, y/n." He watched as she unlatched by choice, reaching for her father's familiar voice and he took her. "And her belly is all full. And she's so happy. My little star. The perfect ending to our family's constellation." He walked her to her crib, continuing to coo her. "All of my little stars," he turned their mobiles on, watching as they all slowly shut their eyes and then walked to you.

He left the door open a crack, escorting you to your adjoining bedroom. Once inside he kissed you, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he did, and rested his forehead against yours. "I love you."

"I love you too. Let's go to bed. Please. They hardly napped at all today. Nyx got them that damn toy and I am still deciding if our nephew gets to live." Azriel laughed quietly, moving to the bed with a hand holding yours. "Perhaps tonight you could stay here."

He paused, staring at you as he pulled the blanket over you two. "I don't know what you're talking about." His cheeks were slightly flushed. "I always stay the night here."

You kissed his hand. "Of course you do, Azzie. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, y/n."

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azrielweek2023 #dad!azriel x reader

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ellievickstar · 1 year

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His Second Choice?

A/N: So my first ever fic was Azriel angst…thus, this. I have curated what I consider to be the worst thing of all time, being someone’s second choice, especially if you are their soulmate.

Summary: When then mating bond finally snaps into place, what are you meant to do when you realise your mate has another in his heart, will you break it off to save yourself, or will your mate be able to save this heartbreak?

Request: N/A

Pairing: Azriel x Witch!Reader, Azriel x Elain, Nessian, Feysand.

Warnings: Angst. Tears. Mentions of witchcraft. Elain Slander. Being someone’s second option. (If you are in a similar situation, BREAK IT OFF. He or she is not worth it), Azriel being incredibly stupid. Elain slander. Thanks to @azrielhours for helping me come up with the idea! I also added my own take of the Hanahaki Disease with Azzy. Hope you enjoy, love you babes <3

My Masterlists & Rules

~*~*~*~*~

You walked down the hall, and noticed that there was a slight bounce in your step, smiling as you recalled the reason why. Today was finally the day, after weeks of going on countless missions for Rhys, Azriel could finally have dinner with you as usual, and just in time to. Today you were celebrating finally being able to finish the last book of your series, quite popular now, no doubt thanks to Feyre's connections to a famous publisher, which allowed the series to get the exposure it needed. (A/N: Is this how publishing books work? Someone please educate me)

Thanks to the help of Mor and Nesta's fashionable taste in dresses, they had picked out a wonderful dress. It was a dark navy blue, azriel's favourite colour, which faded into white with golden accents. The sleeves were off the shoulder, lined with flowers sewn and embroidered into the top. You were in absolute awe when you saw it and had tried it on immediately, thankfully it fit you well, and you wished the two females well before heading to bottom of the stairs to the House of Wind, where Azriel agreed to pick you up.

You wondered what he'd think as you fidgeted with the layers of your dress, occasionally summoning spells to pass time. During the first hour, you just played with your magic, bored. During the second hour, you begun to worry that he might have been injured during the mission. During the third, you were ready to summon Rhys

That's when Cassian and Nesta came across you and asked you why you weren't with Azriel and you made a painful realisation.

You had stood there, waiting like a fool. Thinking that maybe, your mate would still care enough to at least show up if he was tired from his mission. Stood there, until Nesta and Cassian came across you, Nesta demanding to know where Azriel was, Cassian puzzled as he claimed Azriel had come home hours before. And that's when you knew he had forgotten. And it hurt.

You shouldn't have been upset. After all, he could have been so tired and just landed in bed immediately, he could have been flooded with paperwork for the mission. Cassian offered to bring you to the House of Wind but y ou waved him off, telling him to enjoy the rest of his night with Nesta and not to worry about you.

You couldn't winnow. But you could do something else. After ensuring that no one could see you, you waved a hand in the air. Drawing precise shapes from memory. A light glowed in your hand, slowly swallowing your arm, then the rest of you. And when you closed your eyes because of how bright it was you felt the atmosphere shift. And with your fingers crossed you opened one eye, then the other, to see yourself standing in the living room of the House of Wind.

Witchcraft.

You had grown up as a witch, travelling across Prythian with your family and friends. That was before Amarantha's rule, before...everything. Before you witnessed you family slaughtered. Before you mustered up so much power you shouldn't even be alive. Before your friends needed to go into hiding. Before everyone thought witches were evil. And it wasn't just you. Bryaxis, was something of an old friend. You were no stranger to the weaver, the bone carver or the suriel. They had all been...friends. And such association with had had cause your kind to be deemed evil.

So you hid your power, you hid your identity. The only people you ever told was the inner circle, save Feyre's two sisters. You weren't comfortable with sharing it with new people, and everyone understood. You had told Nesta vague details, but tears had begun to form in your eyes and she embraced you, telling you that it was alright if you didn't wish to speak of it yet.

The memory made you smile. But once you remembered the situation at hand, it turned into a frown. Reaching out to that mating bond, you grasped it, but there was nothing on the pother side. Though Azriel was your lover, he hadn't experienced the bond for himself yet. You would wait for it to click for him, you didn't want to rush him.

Laughter caught your attention, and the distinct sound of your mate made you freeze as you faced the balcony. There they were. It was clear as day as your mate entered the House of Wind with Elain. Elain. You'd known that they had grown closer, but to leave you with no explanation and spend time with someone else. You blanched.

Azriel's eyes found yours and as they trailed down to your dress, the colour drained from his face. He truly had forgotten. Not for any rhyme or reason but because he was busy with someone else. Your vision began to blur, but you swallowed as you asked him one thing.

"Why?" It was so soft, you couldn't recognise your own voice. But Azriel flinched. You searched for an answer in his eyes but found none as he looked away. You begged him silently for a good reason, a good answer, anything but-

"I guess I just forgot, and she needed me for something important," It was as if he had slapped you. Turning away, tears streamed down your face, and with a wave of your hand a blinding light flashed and you were gone. Azriel left on his knees as he had tried to grab you, to convince you to stay, to let him make up for what he had forgotten, but never once thought about what he had just said, what he had just implied.

~*~*~*~*~

"He didn't!" Mor gasped. You nodded sadly and Nesta huffed as she sat back in her chair. Feyre was quiet as she stirred her tea. You couldn't imagine how they both felt. On one hand, Elain was their sister, but to even attempt on a man who already had a lover was beyond both of them. Feyre shook her head, in disbelief and disappointment. She exchanged looks with Nesta and cleared her throat.

"Perhaps, we sheltered Elain all her life, but it is no excuse for what she is doing, whether she realises it or not. I will speak to her about the issue at hand, but don't worry, I won't tell her about the bond," You smiled gratefully at the high lady and she excused herself to go to the bathroom. You couldn't help but be envious of the relationship she had. Though you would never want to date the High Lord, you wished that Azriel would care for you as much as Rhys did Feyre.

Sighing, you set your cup down, ready to leave for a meeting with Bryaxus - who was more than overjoyed when you begun to regularly visit him - and then you felt it, it was like your heart was being ripped out of you as you gasped, heaving, coughing. Mor sat up, alarmed, and Nesta moved to hold your back, soothing you. You hacked and watched in horror as blood and what looked like the petals of a flower came spewing out of your mouth.

You knew this disease.

You knew what it would do.

You knew what needed to be done.

"Get Madja," You coughed out to Mor, "Now! I need her now!" Raising your voice, you began to cough up more petals and more blood. Mor instantly winnowed out and was back within a few minutes, Madja hot on her heels as she rushed towards you. Your mind spun as you processed everything. Not this, anything but this, please.

After your coughing fit that scared the wits out of Mor and Nesta, you explained the disease to them. Madja nodded at your every word as she inspected the kind of flowers that you had coughed up.

Red Tulips. Soulmates.

Marigolds. Hurt.

Daffodils. Unrequited Love.

You cursed under your breath. Feyre had just returned and was quickly filled in on the situation. She paled as she took in the flowers, their meanings. Hours of listening to what Elain said flowers represented and now Feyre wish she had forgotten all of it. You started heaving again and Madja made you lean forward as you coughed up more petals into a paper bag.

Unbridled pain roared through the veins of your body as it began to come in paves. Whimpering, you brought your knees to your chest, but the coughing didn't stop. You were in near tears. How could you let this happen? Years of hearing about this disease and you were now victim to it. You couldn't help that your mate was in love with another, but why was this so much worse than the stories? You had seen the events of the disease transpire and it was no where near as bad-

"It's because you and Azriel are mates. In other cases, this only happens between two lovers...never mates. Mates usually have an instant connection, so it's very rare for one half to love another person entirely," Feyre explained. Nesta muttered something about how Tamlin should have gotten this cursed disease, but Feyre then explained that there was a difference between 'love' and 'obsession'. This couldn't be happening. You groaned into your palms, maybe you should go to the bathroom, lest the next thing you know you can't move.

Standing up, you took one step, then another, your vision bagan to tunnel, and you turned back to the sofa. You had to at least get back to a lying down position, but before you could, darkness hugged you like a warm, welcoming blanket.

~*~*~*~*~

Mor yelped as she rushed to keep Y/N from falling. Feyre immediately reaching out to Rhys to get everyone to go to the House of Wind immediately. It was an emergency. Rhys was there with Lucien in a heartbeat. For a second, Mor wondered where Azriel was, when booming beats of wings could be heard. Cassian rushing in, letting out a sigh of relief as he spied that Nesta was safe, Azriel with Elain in his arms entering soon after as he set her down.

Feyre, Mor and Nesta all scowled at the Shadow singer, assuming that it was because of Y/N he nodded at them apologetically. Which in turn made them all exchange enraged looks, Feyre making a mental note to tell Rhys to cut Azriel's hefty salary by at least half. Still a sizeable portion, but maybe he's start thinking about the consequences to his actions.

"We're here because of Y/N," Mor started and Elain scoffed. Feyre and Nesta were taken aback by the rude behaviour. Having enough of so many problems, Nesta spoke up. "Is there a problem, Elain?" Elain rolled her eyes and picked at her nails.

"Y/N is just jealous that Azriel decided that he didn't want to be with her anymore. Besides, there are so many other males for her, why those she have to target Azriel?" Nesta gritted her teeth, ready to yell at her ignorant sister, but decided against it as Mor began to speak.

"Y/N has contracted something called Hanahaki Disease, a disease cause my unrequited love towards another," This made Elain snort, but Mor continued, ignoring her, "Usually there would be time to try several cures, but in this case, it's..." More trailed off, unable to find the words, unable to utter the thing that would confirm her own fears. Feyre continued for her.

"She's dying. Fast. Madja says we have a day at best, hours at worse," The words were almost unheard, Cassian stared at Nesta, the devastation on her face, he glanced to Azriel, the bastard's face remained impassive, but as he reached to his mind, absolute chaos. Pain. Suffering.

Azriel felt paralysed when he heard the words. He might never be able to make up for the mistake he made. The hurt he caused his lover. But, something made him stop.

"You said usually, there would be more time. What's the difference in this case?" The question made Feyre pause. She glanced at her sister and friend but they both looked unsure. Should they tell him? They had sworn not to tell anyone but in a situation like this...

"You are her mate," Nesta softly muttered. So soft, that if it wasn't for everyone's Fae hearing, they would have passed it off as the wind. Elain gasped ion anger, and Azriel fell to his knees. No. It can't be. He mustn't have heard it right. His mate? But as he reached into his soul, he grasped the at the foreign golden thread that was foreign to him all this time, and tugged it hard. Images flooded his mind and he begun to weep.

The shadow singer, hardened by years of battle, war, and torture, begun to weep as he saw an invisible golden thread reach out, and go through the door where his mate probably was. And for the first time in centuries, he understood her. He saw her pain, her memories, her thoughts.

Horrified, he witnessed himself saying those words to her. Telling her that Elain was more important, telling her that another female was more important than his mate. He wanted to know when she found out about the bond, wanted to demand why she never told him, but now wasn't the time. He needed to get to her.

Faster then anyone could stop him, he got to his feet and ran. Tearing through the door and stopped as he saw her. She was so pale, sweat beaded down her forehead as her breaths were laboured. She wasn't even conscious. Shadows sang as they danced around her figure. Not right. Dying. Sick. Disease.

He felt himself being pulled back by Cassian, asking him to calm down, asking him to listen, but he couldn't. He was panicked. He couldn't leave her, not again, he needed her. He couldn't lose her after just finding out. It took both Rhys and Cassian to haul Azriel away, he screamed after his mate, screamed as he prayed, he didn't know to who, but if there was any slight chance that they'd let her wake up, if there was at least one good thing he'd done in all his existence that allowed him this one good thing, he'd bargain with the Gods for a chance to live the rest of his life with his mate. Would bargain away his own life.

He didn't know how long it was until Madja came out with a solemn look. He didn't know how long it was he stood there when she uttered those defining words. "She might not make it," Before she dragged him to the side.

"What is your relationship with Y/N?" She demanded. Azriel's head spun as he tried to recall what happened. "I...it's complicated," Madja paused at seeing the shadow singer falter after 500 years of walking through life without a care in the world. However, the answer he was giving was not going to help her save Y/N.

"Define it shadow singer! Give me details! Let me know what was happening that she became so ill!" She snapped. Azriel flinched. He knew she had every right to be annoyed at him. He was the cause of the illness and he couldn't even think straight, couldn’t even try to save her.

“I hurt her. I hurt her and I shouldn’t have, I stood her up, and then told her another female was more important. I grew distant. And now she’s suffering. Because of me,” He swallowed and Madja nodded. He ran his hand through his hair. Panic danced in his eyes and Madja sighed. This was complicated, never in all her year did she need to treat such a complicated case, even when Illyrians were on the brink of losing their wings. Even when she had to treat battle wounds that would leave the faint hearted in shambles.

She shook her head, turning to leave, voicing only one instruction as she walked out, “Break off whatever relationship you have with that Archeron Sister, and pray that you’re mate will wake,” He nodded and Madja left the shadow singer feeling empty, feeling as if he had nothing left in the world.

~*~*~*~*~

His foot steps felt heavy as he walked to the living room of the House of Wind. He couldn't believe this. All his life, he'd dreamed of meeting his mate. He'd dreamed of living out his life together with her, and now he might not even get to right the wrongs he had made. He might not even get to tell her that he was sorry for hurting her.

"So? What do we need to do?" Mor demanded as he came into view of the rest. He sighed as looked down at his scarred palms, ones who had done harm to thousands and he hadn't regretted it, not once. Until now. His own mate. Maybe karma really did exist. Maybe he shouldn't have been so cruel to so many people.

"I...I have to break up with Elain or she dies tonight," He said shakily. Everyone stared at him. Elain rolled her eyes once more. “What a drama queen. She’s such an attention seeker, right guys?” She looked around but no one seemed to agree. Her eyes seemed to flicker between surprise and resentment. “You guys are stupid, she’s not dying she’s just faking it,” She tried to say but Cassian brought a hand up, stopping her.

“You, dumb brat. You’re sisters have shielded you all their lives and the one time you have an opportunity that you aren’t just an empty headed child, you blow it!” Nesta tried to calm him down but everyone could tell that a part of her agreed with what her mate was saying. Rhysand then chimed in, “A member of my court, one of my closest friends, is dying. And you have the audacity, the gall, to say that she is attention seeking? I don’t care that you are my mate’s sister, but that disrespect will not be tolerated in my court, even so, my mate would agree with me. You have been born and raised sheltered and shielded from a broken world and instead of being thankful, instead of feeling an ounce of appreciation towards the female who saved your damn life, you ruined hers.” Feyre nodded, and as Elain looked around, she realised that no one was siding with her, not even Lucien.

She huffed, enraged by the outcome of this, before strutting out of the house of Wind. Nesta felt disheartened, she had been so protective of Elain that she had now turned into this uncaring monster, it made her feel like she had failed. Her emotions were echoed down the bond and Cassian turned towards her and hugged her, pressing her against him gently. The scene made Azriel feel alone, and so guilty. He could have had that, if he had just opened his damn eyes, if he hadn’t hurt her the way he did.

But now, he didn’t even know if his mate was going to make the end of the day. And he prayed to whatever god there was out there, that he’d get one more shot to make things right.

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: Should I make part 2???? Idk T^T Hope you enjoyed <3

PART 2 IS OUT

@aroseinvelaris

If you wanna be tagged: Just ask and remember to specify if you wanna be tagged in just part 2 of this fic, all Azriel fics, any specific character fics/series, or just all my fics in certain fandoms. <3

#Azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x elain #azriel acomaf #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel #angst #Cassian acotar #acotar character x reader #Acotar #rhysand acotar #lucien acotar #acotar fanart #azriel shadow singer x reader angst #Azriel x reader angst

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sapphicmsmarvel · 2 months

Text

feysand x reader: the afterglow

set after getting together but you don't necessarily have to read that to understand this one!

under the cut bc its over 1K!

tw: a bit of anxiety

-After you guys officially mated, you knew the world was gonna take it weirdly.

-There’s never been a triad bond that would be so well known.

-To be honest, you were mostly nervous about how the inner circle would react.

-You knew they loved the three of you dearly. But you also weren’t stupid and knew this was unconventional. You also knew you were freaking over nothing but alas, you were still anxious about it.

-In the middle of the frenzy, Rhysand sent a message saying that you had accepted the triad bond and you three would be gone for a bit.

-When you guys came back, it was a party. Mor had hung up a banner that said “congratulations!” There was a buffet table full of foods that Elain had clearly worked so hard over.

-Cassian was…collecting coins from everyone?

“I bet that you’d be the first to make the first move.” He explained.

Technically, he wasn’t wrong. It was you yelling at them that made the first move.

“Did everyone know before we did?” you asked as he collected a few coins from Azriel.

“Well, Rhysie isn’t subtle. Feyre was oblivious to your struggle just like she was to Rhysie-“

“Hey!” Feyre pouted. “You aren’t wrong, but hey!”

You kissed her cheek. “And you!” Cassian pointed to you. “Are affectionate with everybody! Do you know how hard it was to convince Feyre and Rhysand that you actually liked them like that!”

“I’m so sorry my reluctance to fuck our friends made your life harder.” You said dryly.

He scoffed, “better be!”

“Quit yelling at my wives, Cassian.” Rhysand said darkly, the alpha-asshole coming out.

“Here we go.” Feyre muttered.

“Made it two minutes this time.” Mor added.

“Instead of two seconds.” Amren finished.

Cassian gave you a smile that you had you wincing, because you knew what was coming. “Hey Y/N, want a ri-“ He didn’t get to finish because of the punch to his stomach from Rhys.

“Welcome to the family.” Mor nudged you. “Even though you were already in.”

“I’m just relieved I don't have to see Y/N pining anymore.” Nesta said from the doorframe. “Over twenty years of that bullshit.”

You should’ve hit her harder when you were kids.

Azriel, Lucien and Elain, like the sweethearts they were, just smiled without a sarcastic comment.

-Your next worry was Nyx. How would you fit into his life? Would you be a stepmom or another mom?

-You easily loved him more than anything, that was even before being mated to his parents. Now? Somehow you loved him more.

-You were holding him one day when Rhysand sat down next to you on the porch swing. You were just enjoying the breeze with your-well it felt wrong to call him your son but you were his parents' wife?

“How are two of my favorite living beings?” Rhysand said kissing you.

“Good but what kind of greeting is that?” You chuckled.

“I know he’s a person, but it’s weird to call him that. He’ll always be my baby.” He cooed and brushed back Nyx’s tuft of hair.

Rhysand sat next to you, putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. You leaned as much as you felt comfortable with Nyx in your arms. You didn’t like not being on your guard when you were holding him. He was precious.

Rhysand kissed your temple, you felt peace. You were just missing one vital part. Feyre usually came home from the studio around this time. Rhysand and you had accidentally made it a tradition to sit out on the porch and wait for her.

“Do you want kids?” Rhysand asked. “You don't have to answer now.”

“I mean, I kinda have one now. Kind of late to say no.” You giggled and gestured to Nyx. “He may not be biologically mine. And I can be a stepmom or stay Auntie. Whatever’s the most comfortable with you and Fey. I don't want to overstep.”

“Would….would you be one of his moms?” Rhys asked, you could tell he was incredibly nervous.

“I would be honored.” You whispered, your gaze never leaving the baby's sleeping face.

You missed the look of utter adoration that Rhys shot your way.

Pretty soon, Feyre joined you guys on the porch coming home in paint splattered overalls and a paint stained face. She was glowing, you could tell how happy that studio made her. It made you incredibly happy.

She leaned down to kiss Nyx, then you, then Rhys who pouted about being last. But he was okay with it, he loved your family so incredibly much. It kind of scared him what he’d do to protect it.

Later that night, Feyre came up behind you in the mirror as you got ready for bed. She pressed her head against yours. Your cheeks lined up perfectly and were smushed together. Her arms were wrapped around your waist.

“You are his mother, if that’s what you want to be”. She whispered. “I may have birthed him, but I would be honored to share the mom spot with you.”

“Fey, I just did my skincare, you can’t make me cry like this.” You said, your voice wobbly. She squeezed you tighter in response, her nose scrunching with her closed mouth smile, her eyes half closed and lips scrunched slightly. She kissed your temple and went back to Rhys.

That was that. Rhysand was dad/daddy, Feyre was mom/mommy and you were mama.

-The next thing on your list was how the court would see it. The Inner Circle doesn’t give a shit (which was to be expected) but the Court of Nightmares? That’s where you were worried.

They didn’t take to Feyre that well, then Nyx. Now you.

Rhys called you out on your bullshit one night while all of you were getting ready for bed.

“What’s up with you? You’re more nervous going to the Court of Nightmares than you were before.”

“Well, we weren’t mated then.” You said back, you tried to avoid being snippy but your stress levels were high.

Clearly, he knew you were being snarky because he gave you a raised brow and held his hands up in surrender. You sighed. “Ugh, baby I’m sorry.” You said. You set down your hair brush and crawled into his arms.

His chest shook with restrained laughter. “Love, you’re allowed to be nervous-“ He was cut off by Feyre coming into the room.

“Ooh, are we snuggling?” Feyre said. And with the excitement of a five year old she catapulted into bed.

The three of you bounced and laughed. “I’m nervous about going to the Court of Nightmares.” You admitted, playing with a string on the blanket to avoid looking at Feyre. You could avoid Rhys’ gaze easily since you were sitting with your head laid against his chest and in between his legs.

“Why?” Feyre brushed your hair behind your ears.

“Because…” You made a helpless gesture. “It's really scary.”

“You’ve been there before?” Feyre asked.

“Yeah well I wasn’t fucking the High Lord and Lady.” You sighed.

“Okay, you aren’t just fucking us.” Rhysand squeezed your hip. “You’re our wife. What label do you want them to know you as? Consort?-“

“I’ll rip your dick off.” You growled. “Consorts aren’t treated with the respect they deserve.”

“Agreed.” He said.

“Do you want political power?” Feyre asked with zero judgment.

“You know that’s not why I married you two.” You grumbled.

“But would you want it?” Rhysand pushed. His hands roaming over your skin, he knew how much the contact helped your anxiety.

You shrugged. “It’d be a massive adjustment. However….I’d love to help people and actually have the power to do so. But there’s…”

“Hm?” Feyre continued to stroke your palm.

“This is gonna sound bad but I don't mean it to be.”

Feyre smiled and based on the pulsing down the bond, Rhys was too. So you continued. “There’s no room for me to help rule.”

“Who says?” Feyre challenged.

You sputtered and Rhys decided to take you out of your misery.

“You know, there also wasn’t such a thing as High Lady when Feyre came into our lives.” He stroked down your back, his hands ending at your hips.

“And?” You asked.

“I rewrote that rule, and I’ll rewrite it again for you to be in it. You are our equal in every way and I refuse to let you be reduced to a ‘consort’ that is, if you want to be a High Lady.”

And that was it. The next day, the day you were supposed to head to the Court of Nightmares, you delayed it. Much to the confusion of your Inner Circle.

You were sworn in as a second High Lady.

How the Inner Circle found out was quite funny. Az had a feeling, Nesta and the Valkyries were happy for you. Mor and Amren just looked at Rhys with a secret High Lady? Again! Cassian used it as an excuse to celebrate that night so the group could ditch their Court of Nightmares persona.

When Azriel introduced you, he said, “Rise for your High Lord Rhysand, Highy Lady Feyre and High Lady Y/N.”

The three of you walked in, you in the middle, Rhysand and Feyre on either side of you.

You felt beautiful, respected. Even though you knew Keir would be a problem.

You were alright with those problems, as long as you had your family with you.

#feysand #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acowar #acotar x reader #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #rhysand x reader #feyre x reader #feysand x reader #feysand x reader fluff #inner circle x reader

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coralseacourt · 4 months

Text

🧡Broken Love🩵 🐚@coralseacourt🐚

✨Summery:✨ The youngest Acheron Sister gets rejected for Elain.

Love is sweet but revenge is sweeter. After a broken heart comes a broken court part three of broken love.

✨Warnings:✨ naughty scene

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Part 3:

I m a traitor.

A liar.

The evil Personified.

At least that’s what they want to believe.

That the innocent girl I was, had turned on them without good reason.

They would never understand that revenge led me.

Revenge for all those hours I had spent alone locked up in their prison tower.

It had been a golden cage.

A prison I would never return to again.

🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸

The doors opened and a cruel smile played around my lips.

With Eris right by my side I entered the High lords meeting Room.

Every pair of eyes found us in an instance.

Gasps and shocked faces all around us.

One Face particularly shocked. Azriel.

Just for a second my eyes swiped over his beautiful but furious face.

The newly crowned High Lord next to me chuckled and laid his hand on my bare back.

The game was on. And I was ready to play.

“Violet?” Of course feyre was the first to speak.

But I didn’t gave her any indication that I had heard her.

The growling from the other night court members was harder to ignore.

“ Tztz would you please not growl at my pet. She has claws and I rather don’t want her to use them.” I smiled dangerously at Eris.

“ I thought you promised me that I could play.” I said with a sensual tone. “I haven’t played in so long.” I glanced at Rhysand who looked like he could throw up at any given moment . My eyebrow raised I walked closer to the table where everyone sat.

My mental walls pulled up and tightened.

“Soon my sweetness. Nightmares are not made overnight.”

Eris strolled to the only free chair left and sat down like a king ready to conquer.

I narrowed my eyes and let my fingers drive over the top of the marble table.

Long fingernails clacking on the cold stone.

“I like to play. Don’t you High Lord of the Night?” I smiled cruelly at him.

His mask slipping away for just a second.

But I saw. I saw straight through him.

Then the moment was over, he straightened up and narrowed his eyes.

Ah there he is.

Rhysand.

The most powerful High lord of prythian.

“Violet. I see you.” He paused for a second pulling invisible dust from his jacket.

His pause seemed intentional and I had to think back to the words that had started it all.

Do you want to be seen?

“are in great company. And I thought you finally had the guts to go and be on your own. Seems you only changed sides.”

His face changing to a cruel mask of authority.

I tilted my head to the side looking at him like a predator analyzing its prey.

“I like being in his company and being his pet. It gives me satisfaction to know he can do whatever he wants with me.”

I smiled devilish and let one of my hands glide up my throat over my chin.

Playing with my lips and licking one of my fingers.

The growl that came from behind Rhys let me look up.

Azriel. His hand on his knife, teeth fletched and his black eyes staring me down.

”What has become of you? Look at you being the whore of autumn scum.”

I laughed out loud not bothered by his hateful words.

I put a innocent face up before saying.

“Oh but Azriel. I have only become what you have made me.” All night court eyes turned to the Shadowsinger surprised.

“Az? What does she mean with that?” Feyre, her eyes had teared up and my face softened for just a second before putting my mask back on.

“I don’t know what she is talking about.”

I giggled.

“Of course you don’t honey. But it doesn’t matter either way.”

I turned around and walked to the waiting hand of the only man that knew the rules of our new game.

“Now that we have this issue cleared, I want to announce our marriage.” The Autumn High Lord took my hand and kissed it gently.

Feyre gasped.

“No, you can’t do this. Rhys do something.”

But the Lord of Night only stared.

“Rhys, please she is my sister. He can’t marry her. What about Azriel’s Connection .” “Feyre stop talking.”

I stiffened.

First because of the mention of any kind of connection with the Shadowsinger.

But then because this asshole had dared to quiet my sister down.

Now I was angry.

And angry me did not hold back anymore.

With only a wink of my power, that no one had ever known about I called my shadows and let them rise behind me like a black wall that would withstand anything and anyone.

Eris was chuckling next to me while I stared at the shocked faces of all high lords and their companions.

My teeth fletched and my eyes glowing green with power.

“ If you ever dare to talk to my sister like that again you will regret it.” Everyone tensed at the words of my threat only Eris stayed calm.

“Wonderful now you angered my little nightmare. “

He pulled me into his lap and put a hand on my neck squeezing it softly before pulling my hair to the side to kiss my throat. Calming me down I realized.

My shadows disappeared in an instance.

“She is a Shadowsinger.” Helion leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“I m right here you don’t need to talk over my head I can and will talk for myself.” He only raised his eyebrows in response.

“You haven’t been like this before, what changed? Please tell me violet. We can fix this. I know we can. “

Feyre was now pleading with me and deep inside my heart broke but I had to do my part, had to play this character.

“There is nothing to be fixed. I m exactly who I want to be.” Was all I said and the attention finally was turned to the official meeting points.

But I could feel his eyes on me, could feel something else too. I scrunched my forehead in confusion.

Why could I feel jealousy.

Hot headed blatantly obvious jealousy.

The problem was that it wasn’t my feelings.

I looked up Azriel’s eyes gleaming at me.

And that’s when I could see what I clearly felt. Jealousy.

🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸

It had been hours for the high lords to finish. We were the first to leave for the room we would spend the night in to continue the meeting on the next day.

A fire was burning when we entered. Cozy.

“Violet come here. “ I turned around to look at the male with the softest red hair.

I walked slowly towards him until we almost touched. His hands cupping my cheeks.

“Are you alright?” I blinked a couple times before catching myself.

Eris was a great High Lord but concern was not his strength.

So, for him to try to be gentle was new.

I pulled away.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I? This is what we’ve been working towards. Remember?”

He straightened up and back was my sensual Companion.

“I have to say , i was surprised how good you handled yourself.”

I only raised my eyebrow before strolling back towards him letting my hands slide softly down his chest pulling his dressshirt up to have better access to him.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

A moan escaping his full lips while I was letting my fingers glide over his hot skin, down to his leather belt wich I opened with swift fingers.

“You are a naughty little vixen.”

“I know, but would you want me any other way?”

He chuckled before laying his hands on my shoulders and slowly pulling my dress down making it pool around my legs.

I was now completely bared in front of him.

“You really are as beautiful and cruel like one of my darkest nightmares.”

With strong arms he suddenly lifted me up and pressed me against the wall. My head falling back while his tongue circled around my peaked nipple.

Nipping, biting, licking.

“I need to be inside of you like you are inside of me every second, every moment of the day.”

And with that he pulled his pants down and started to slip into me first slowly until he was completely hidden inside of me, then hard and fast until the world erupted around us.

Stars filling my vision and moans leaving my lips.

And while i experienced complete Bliss the Shadowsinger next door was drowned in darkness having to listen to us.

✨Taglist✨

🪸@impossibelle

🪸@going-through-shit

🪸@marvelouslovely-barnes

🪸@mis-lil-red

🪸@isa1b2h3

🪸@darling006

🪸@the-sweet-psycho

🪸@chessebookgirl

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azsazz · 6 months

Text

Change Your Ticket (Part 5)

Rugby Star!Cassian x Reader (A Modern AU)

Summary: Dating famous rugby star Cassian Bailey is a dream. What's not one is keeping your secret relationship under wraps. Will you and Cassian be able to keep from the limelight or will your relationship crumble because of it?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,541

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Notes: ugh. i don't like this one.

_________________________________________

“What?”

There’s no way she just said what you think she said. You wouldn’t be able to hear it with the pounding of your heart and your blood rushing through your ears, you can’t even decipher her next words as the floor falls from your feet.

How would she know that? You pride Mor on her innate ability to find out most information about almost anyone, she’s like a secret agent sometimes. Once, when Feyre had had told you and Mor that her sister Elain was to be engaged to a man no one in her family liked, Mor spent two nights digging into his socials and finding out everything she could about the bastard. To this day, Elain still doesn’t know who it was that sent her those anonymous screenshots and photos of him with another woman.

But right now, you don’t think it’s possible for Mor to have found something out like this. You and Cassian have been so careful, to the extend where you’d been a little paranoid even, always checking your surrounding and planning the times you and him meet up down to the second. You’re anal as fuck about it, but it’s worked for eight months. So why isn’t it working right now?

“I know you don’t want me to repeat myself,” Mor huffs down the line, but her voice is all static, your ears ringing. Your phone is buzzing incessantly in your fingers and your arm is numb with it. You’re terrified to pull the device from your ear, not knowing who or what kind of messages you’re receiving right now.

The elevator rings, signaling its arrival to your floor, and the doors sliding open almost feel like a death sentence. On numb legs, you step forward and off the elevator, Mor’s voice still echoing in your head. You’re dating Cassian Bailey?

Bright flashes jolt you from your thoughts. Whipping your head to where the front entrance is located, you quint, holding your hand up to block some of the glare. Your stomach drops to the floor at the sight. A crowd of paparazzi wait outside, snapping pictures of you through the lobby’s clear windows.

Holy shit. This is real. This is really fucking happening.

You’re not prepared in the slightest. You don’t know what to do, your mind is racing with a thousand thoughts a second and the strobes coming from the front of your building blind you, leaving white spots in your vision, taking out another one of your senses. Mor is rambling on in your ear, shrill sounding, and if you could make out the words through your muddled mind, you figure she’s scolding you and feeling a bit betrayed by you keeping this a secret from one of your closest friends.

Outside, the people shout. Their words are muffled by the thick glass, but it only adds to the anxiety scorching your veins. The collar of your shirt tightens around your throat and your breathing turns shakey. You’re frozen to the spot, halfway out of the elevator, the doors trying to slide closed but your body against the sensor keeps them angrily pulling back open.

The people waiting for the elevator upstairs are probably pissed.

“Mor?” you ask, and she falls silent. You must not sound like yourself because Mor never lets anyone interrupt her. Ever.

“Yeah?” Her tone is cautious, obviously picking up the emotion—or lack thereof—in your tone.

“What’s going on?”

It’s the only thing you can think to say. Your mind is being hammered with thoughts and the bright lights trying to blind you aren’t helping in the slightest but your feet are frozen to the ground. You know you look like a deer in headlights and that you should move, force yourself to do anything besides stand here like a fool for them to get all of the pictures they want—

Your body surges into action, striding out of the elevator and turning down the hall, giving them your back. You can hear their pathetic pleas for you to turn around and walk their way, but you know better than that. They’re here for one thing and one thing only—to see exactly who Cassian Bailey is sticking his dick into.

Rumors and stories will be swirling by tonight. Your phone buzzes in your hand again and you’re sure these pictures are already up in the tabloids, social media, every inch of the internet they can reach. You wonder if Cassian’s seen any of it and then remember that he’s finishing up practice, so he won’t be by his phone to see all of this for at least another hour.

You’re all alone in this.

Mor sighs your name sadly, and your chest squeezes tight as you round a corner, putting a wall between you and the paparazzi. What she’s about to say isn’t going to be something that you want to hear, but maybe it will make it all the more real.

“There was a picture of you in the Morning Mail,” she explains, and your throat tightens. The Morning Mail is a stupid tabloid online that updates every morning. Most of the time it’s filled with silly stories of random acts of kindness or pranks gone wrong with the occasional post about the current celebrity gossip. You didn’t even know that many people followed the account. Mor does because she’s been on their feed a few times and it gained her thousands of followers overnight. “You’re wearing his shirt.”

You want to choke. You never leave the house in Cassian’s clothes; you make sure of that. You’ve been so careful all this time, parking down the street from his place when you visit, forcing him to take a car and get dropped off since people are surely tracking his personal license plates. You don’t sit with the other families in the stadium at the home games, and Cassian doesn’t even follow you on social media.

You’re wearing his shirt, you echo, wracking your brain for any chance you may have slipped up. Nothing comes to mind, and when you hang your head, it hits you full force; the t-shirt you’d stolen of his in your rush to avoid his more than cheeky attitude this morning. Distracted by his wandering hands, his charming smile, you’d shoved one of his on, tucking it into your slacks before rushing out the door.

“Fuck,” your voice wobbles, tears pricking your eyes and emotion thickening your throat. It’s a black fucking cotton t-shirt, and apart from the sheer size of it and how it hangs loosely from your body, you haven’t the slightest idea of how they know it’s his. But it is, and they know.

A quick glance around the corner has your heart stammering in your chest. The photographers look like a bunch of wild animals, climbing over each other trying to catch a glimpse of you. You pray that their flashes are reflecting off of the glass and ruining their photos, but surely, your luck has completely run out if this is how your Monday is going.

You need to get out of here, now.

“I’ve already called Feyre,” Mor says down the line, and you’re confused on why you weren’t the first call she’d made when she continues. “My attempts went right to voicemail, and I called you right back as soon as I let her know. We’re already on our way to your place but we can swing by if you want a ride?”

“Yeah, I—”

“(Y/N)?” Tarquin’s voice startles you as he peeks around the corner. His bleached brows are furrowed deeply, a frown painting his face when he catches the frazzled look on your face. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Ah, so he’s also seen the mass of crazies outside trying to capture a front cover photo of you.

You have a choice right now, to lie to your coworker and say that you have no idea what’s going on or who they’re trying to take pictures of, or confide in your best work friend who’s been with you since the start. Literally, you both started on the same day and have been inseparable since.

You choose the latter.

“Would you mind giving me a ride home?” you ask, holding your hand over the speaker of your phone while you talk to Tarquin. “It seems as though my car is surrounded by strangers.”

With a quick glance back in the direction to the front doors of the building, Tarquin agrees, tone hesitant and a little confused, but he’s gracious nonetheless. “Sure, I can do that. Let me bring my car around the back and I’ll pick you up there?”

You nod, thankful. “Yes, please. Thanks, Tarq, you’re the best.”

He smirks genuinely and you’d roll your eyes at his antics if you weren’t shaking down to the bone. With a wink, Tarquin makes his way through the crowd, and you can hear his cheerful voice as he shoved through the doors, obviously loving all of the attention.

“Mor?” you ask into your phone once he’s gone, “I’ve got a ride, just meet me at my place.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“So…are we going to talk about why all of those people were asking me about you and trying to get pictures?” Tarquin asks once you’ve successfully made it out into the busy traffic and away from the fleet of paparazzi surrounding your place of work.

Tarquin had picked you up at the back of the building and you all but dove into his car before any of the photographers could catch a glimpse of you. Your coworker had shoved a baseball cap in your direction, one with the Sealion’s logo on it that you reluctantly shoved on your head, slumping down in your seat so you weren’t seen.

Your phone has been buzzing constantly, and you’re worried you might actually have to get a new number with the onslaught of texts, calls, and notifications threatening to send your phone into the same shock you’re currently experiencing. Your parents have even been trying to get through, but you haven’t had the guts to answer any of them or even dare to look on any social media platform. You’ve just been staring at the screen, constantly lit with incoming messages, buzzing fervently in your lap.

You glance at the clock on the radio, blinking 5:32. How could your entire world have turned upside down in the matter of thirty-two minutes? You’ve gone from normal girl working a nine to five at a graphic design firm to Cassian Bailey’s girlfriend all because of a fucking plain t-shirt.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get over that, the fact that an oversized, black cotton t-shirt is your downfall in all of this. It’s mind-boggling to believe that someone had connected the dots that quickly, but there are some avid fans of Cassian’s that you wouldn’t dare to go head-to-head with.

“What’s there to talk about?” you speak softly, defeated. With a sigh, you shut your phone off. It’s the best way to avoid what’s going on on the internet until you can wrap your head around everything and what you plan to do about it. You’re exhausted already, just attempting to think about it. You let your head fall to the side, the leather squeaking against your head as you look over at your friend. “You heard them, Tarq.”

Everything that you’ve worked for, your privacy, your art, might all be ruined. Gaining your own following in the graphic design community had been hard, and now that you’re about to be known by the world doesn’t sit right with you. How are you supposed to make really work-related connections when people might only be seeking you out to get closer to Cassian? The thought of being used like that makes your stomach roil. Your trust issues are about to be through the roof.

You stare back out at the traffic and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Your brain hurts and you just want to be in the safety of your home.

“So, you’re dating Cassian Bailey,” Tarquin says, like if he almost can’t believe it himself. A sharp pinch to your shoulder has your eyes shooting open and your body bolting upright, only for the seatbelt to lock and nearly choke you.

Yelping, you glare at your friend, but his ice blue eyes are focused on the road. “Hey! What was that for?”

“For not telling me, obviously,” Tarquin scoffs, glancing over his shoulder and flicking on his turn-signal to switch lanes. You peek out of the passenger mirror, anxious that one of the photographers caught a glimpse of you leaving and has somehow followed you thus far.

“I didn’t tell anyone, if it makes you feel better.”

You’re answered with a roll of his eyes.

You don’t know what to say, how to respond to Tarquin, how to respond to any of this. All you want to do is crawl in a hole and hide away for the next few years. How are you supposed to go about your day normally when everything is anything but normal? You’ll be expected to show up with Cassian now, be there in the crowd for the home matches, you know people will be looking for you.

A headache splits your skull at the thoughts running rampant in your mind. There are so many things to think about now, each and every move you make is going to have to be calculated. You’ll have to think about what you’re going to wear, how you’ll present yourself, thinking about what to say before you speak. Anything you do now will reflect on Cassian’s career, and fans will be blaming you for his mistakes.

It's all too much.

“How long has this been going on?” Tarquin asks softly, as if sensing you’re stuck in your head and need help getting out. You don’t really want to talk about you and Cassian at all right now, but you shove those impending thoughts aside with a sigh, and talk to your friend.

“A little over eight months, now.”

“Is he hung?”

You splutter, choking on your saliva, and Tarquin laughs. This, this is why he’s your favorite coworker. Tarquin isn’t afraid of saying what’s on his mind, no matter how HR unfriendly the question may be.

“I’m not answering that,” you laugh, craning your neck to look out the window, hiding your hot face. The blush staining your cheeks is answer enough.

Tarquin tuts, turning down your street. It’s empty, and you breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls up to your building and there isn’t a crowd of people shouting your name and trying to take your picture. A little of the tension eases from your shoulders.

“Do you want me to pick you up for work in the morning?” Tarquin asks, pulling over to let you out.

You shake your head, gathering your things. “I’m going to call in sick tomorrow. Don’t know what I’m going to do after that. Do you think Alis will let me work from home permanently?” You ask. Alis, your boss, is a strict woman who you can’t seem to figure out if she likes or dislikes anyone that works for her.

Tarquin huffs, “I doubt it. She’s tough as nails, that one.”

“Might just have to quit then, I suppose.”

Your friend’s jaw drops and he looks at you with eyes of betrayal. “You are not going to leave me with the wolves like that! I’ll come drag your ass out of this apartment everyday if I need to.”

“But if I quit, you’ll get to take over Tamlin’s project,” you tease, and his eyes widen comically. He hadn’t thought about that one, apparently. Unlatching the lock, you slide out of the vehicle. You lean down, looking back at your coworker. “Thanks for the ride, Tarq. I’ll text you later.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Feyre and Mor meet you at the door to your apartment, their arms packed with grocery bags filled with candles, ice cream, frozen pizzas, and a lot of alcohol.

“You look like you need it,” Feyre had said when you eyed the bottle of vodka she’d unloaded on your counter.

You do.

You have no appetite, picking at the crust of your slice of pizza. Your stomach stirs sickly, the never-ending thoughts consuming you as you fill your two best friends in on the last eight months you’ve spent with Cassian, from when you’d accidentally run into him at the grocery store late one night after a horrible date gone wrong, to this morning, when you’d slipped into his shirt and hastily left for work. You’d left out the part about Cassian trying to seduce you back into bed, but your friends got most of the story.

“This is insane,” you groan, shoving your plate away from yourself with a sigh. “What the hell am I going to do?”

You hadn’t turned your phone back on, you hadn’t wanted to. You left it in your room when you’d gotten home and changed into your most comforting clothes, stuffing that fucking shirt that got you caught to the bottom of your hamper in rage.

Snuggling deeper into your hoodie, you drag the bottle of vodka closer to yourself, pouring a heavy-handed shot. The alcohol burns your throat on the way down and you grimace, focusing on the burn instead of the pricking at the back of your eyes that hadn’t gone away since you’d all but fallen into your best friends’ arms.

“First, we’re going to need to start brainstorming how to get you out of this. Thankfully, I have a little bit of experience with this sort of thing.”

And she does. Mor has been in the tabloids more than a few times, and most of the time it’s a semi-true story with made-up aspects to really make it seem juicier than it is. She was once photographed coming out of a popular restaurant at the same time actor Harry Hybern was headed in to meet with some friends, and the media had a field day with it. As much as she liked the actor, Mor was upset with the fact that he is thrice her age. You would’ve hated being on the other side of that phone call when she’d dialed the magazine that printed the article, demanding a retraction.

“What’s the first thing you usually do when this sort of thing happens?” you ask. Maybe talking to Mor about her experiences in the public eye will make you feel a little better, if not offer an idea of what you can do yourself.

“See how cute I look in the pictures,” Mor answers, unabashed.

You huff out a laugh in response, Feyre giggling into her glass. “That’s the first thing I do when I see you in the media too, Mor,” she says with a grin, “That vomit green look from the other day? Not your best work, and (Y/N)’s plain black t-shirt tucked into her slacks was so cute! I’m totally stealing that look.”

“Go ahead,” you wave her off because you’re never wearing it again.

Mor glares a little, pouting. “Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Helping our friend and her sudden fame. I’m thinking Cassian’s dick will take care of most of the emotional turmoil,” she says and Feyre laughs a little too hard. Mor reaches into the bag and pulls out a notebook, flipping it to the first page. “We’ll start with some brainstorming—"

A knock at the door startles you from your wallowing. Back straightening, you glance at your friends taking up the other side of the kitchen island, eyes wide and heart hammering in your chest.

“What if it’s more photographers?” you whisper, and your fingers tremble a little so you clench them instead.

Mor and Feyre share a glance, a flash of worry crossing their features as if they hadn’t thought about it.

“I’ll get it,” Feyre decides, placing her half-drunk glass on the counter as she stands. The blanket droops from her shoulders, flopping onto the back of her stool like you want to be right now, a puddle of fabric and emotions. “If it’s them, I’ll say that this is my place and I don’t know who you are.”

“Good idea,” Mor compliments, nudging your glass with the beck of her hand. She gives you a soft, encouraging smile. “Drink up, (Y/N). It’s probably not the paps, but we’ve got to get you less paranoid so you can think better.”

“Not sure getting wasted is going to help with my thinking,” you mutter, tipping your glass back anyway, “But whatever.” Mor is ready when you remove the empty cup from your lips, already pouring you more. You’re glad to have such amazing friends to drop what they’re doing and come over in your time of turmoil, and they haven’t even laid into you yet about keeping this huge secret from them.

Small victories, and all that.

“(Y/N)?” Feyre calls from the other room. She sounds shocked, almost, and the sound of it makes you want to throw the blanket over your head and cower like a fool. “It’s definitely not the paparazzi.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Change Your Ticket Taglist: @justasillylittlegoofyguy @starsinyourseyes @jdeclerc @indiedash @kennedy-brooke @tothestarsandwhateverend @azsteris @obsessivereaderchick @aalxrose @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielover @bookishbroadwaybish @itsinherited @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @vellichor01

#cassian x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #cassian #rugby!cassian #cassian au #change your ticket #acotar au

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heycasper22 · 20 days

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Acotar long theory - Rhysand & Gwynriel.

Spoilers all SJM books

Rhys Knows about about the mating bond between Gwyn and Azriel.

This is a theory that I can really get behind anyway and here's why.

Staring out with SJM retconning the events surrounding the raid on the temple in Sangravah. In ACOMAF Rhys states he had to wait for confirmation from Azriel that Sangravah had been raided, Mor also appears to be shocked by this news so we can take for granted that Azriel was either there or obtained the info to pass on to Rhys.

In ACOSF however SJM changed this to Azriel definitely being there, first and slaughtering all the Hybern soldiers, then Mor a few minutes later and then Rhys arriving in person.

This is actually the part of the recton that I find the most interesting. That Rhys himself turned up. Sarah could have retconned it so Azriel then Mor and Cassian winnowing in together with less tampering with what she originally said. Rhys often delagates tasks/missions to others.

Having Rhys present leads me to believe that there would be some purpose in his being there, Mor I think could be accounted for as a female presence to help the priestesses. Gwyn even specifies what the characters do, Azriel kills, Mor heals but not what Rhys did.

So what purpose could Rhys have had in that scene?

Was he put there just so that he was already introduced to Gwyn and could snipe at Nesta when he sees them together in the training ring? He already knows why all the Priestess are at the HoW library, he could have sniped at Nesta wether or not he knew her personally or not.

For this I'd like to look at some examples of Rhys talking about his own power, the particular way he describes what he was doing with his power while UTM

"I made a web between all of them, actively controlling their minds every second of every day, every decade, to forget about Velaris, to forget about Mor, and Amren, and Cassian, and Azriel." - ACOMAF

"anyone flying or traveling near Velaris would see nothing but barren rock, and if they tried to walk through it, they’d find themselves suddenly deciding otherwise." - ACOMAF

“Amarantha didn’t know they existed. And when someone tried to tell her, they usually found themselves without the mind to do so.” - ACOMAF

We know that it is in Rhys' wheelhouse to make people forget and importantly to make people switch tack when their mind strays towards a subject he wishes to remain a secret. Imagine you wish to tell someone something but suddenly all it slips away and now you're just wondering if you left your oven on.

So if you will, go on this journey with me, and we say for instance, a mating bond snapped into place for Azriel and Gwyn upon their first meeting, how truly, truly terrified might she have been in that moment. After everything she'd just been through.

Gwyn says that Azriel "slaughtered them all"

Could his rage have been something to behold even for Rhys to know what it was? As Ruhn can tell when Hunt goes into a Mates rage in HOSAB?

Could Rhysand have snatched Azriel's mind in that moment, and made him forget? Just tied a little knot in his mind and held onto it all this time?

I suppose a good question is would Rhysand do that, because we know that he could.

In ACOWAR there's a scene that's brought up frequently in regards to ships and has been gone over quite thoroughly but I'd like to go over some bits and pieces that interest me for this theory however.

The conversation Rhys and Feyre have before leaving for the Hewn City chapter 24.

Feyre feels guilty for entering Lucien's mind without consent, albeit she did this because of her deep concern for Elain.

'Would you have done it? '

'Rhys considered. Yes. And I would have felt just as guilty afterward.'

Rhys confirms he would go into a friend's mind, and that he would feel guilty for doing so.

He then goes onto assuage Feyre's guilt, determining that she had a good reason to do what she did. A 'for the greater good' sort of reasoning.

We see this reasoning resurface in Rhysand in ACOSF where he makes a poor choice in hiding the real risk of Feyre's pregnancy to her. He didnt wish to upset her, and wanted a solution to hand before he informed her. This isn't necessarily about the really poor choice he made more that he believed he had sufficient reasoning.

To go back to ACOWAR ch24:

Feyre asks if Rhys thinks Lucien and Elain are well suited, he doesn't really give and answer except to say that Lucien is loyal and fiercely so, and then we get this interesting choice of words:

“So is Azriel.”

“Azriel,” Rhys said, “has been preoccupied with the same female for the past five hundred years.”

Not in love with Mor, but preoccupied, distracted by.

Then immediately afterwards Rhys, who never really tells Feyre what to do, basically asks her not to get involved in Azriel and Mor's business. As though he really takes no issue with his brother being 'preoccupied' with Mor.

Rhys also does not offer any comment about Feyre's thoughts on Azriel and Elain as a couple.

As for Azriel's ACOSF bonus chapter, a lot of people where mad at Rhys, either for him interrupting an Elain/Az kiss and meddling in their business or just for the simple fact he seemed to be 'throwing his weight around' a little bit.

Rhys' surface level explanation of this as a Ruler makes sense, but let's look at a potential different angle.

"What if the Cauldron was wrong?"

Rhysand blinked. "What of Mor, Az?"

Azriel questions the Cauldron and the first thing Rhys does is to bring up someone he knows Az is preoccupied with, a 500 year distraction to keep him chasing his tail.

"The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another"

Rhys' face drained of color.

Rhysand does not pale easily. From my checking, that descriptor for him seems to be reserved for if something really upsets him or freaks him out (like Feyre talking about her death)

So for him to drain of colour, that sentence has to have really really bothered him, guilt perhaps at something he has done?

We know a mate bond can never truly be broken or go away, but for the males it can "drive them mad"

Could this be concern over Azriel's mental state not just because of the rash decision to kiss Elain where anyone including Lucien could see, but for what Rhys thinks might happen to a mated male when he does not remember that he is mated or who to?

"You believe you deserve to be her mate?"

This could be Rhys looking for that reasoning, has he done the right thing or made a huge mistake.

"Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her."

This seems pretty extreme, unless however you alone understand how truly messy things could become, aside from all the explanation he gives about Lucien, including the blood duel (Which is odd for Rhys to mention as he knows Lucien is Helion's son)

Gwyn is Nesta's friend. Azriel is already physically spending time in Gwyn's presence, perhaps Rhysand is hoping he'll be able let go soon. How mad you might be at your brother being so close to everything he ever wanted and him fucking it up, even if it you had a part to play in it. You would put your foot down. Hard.

"So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her."

Where is the: 'Hey brother I know how you must be feeling but dont worry, there must be a special someone out there who loves and deserves you, get out there and look!' ?

The options he confronts Azriel with are, hey what about the girl we all know you're never going to get with or failing that, pay for a sex worker? Seems like Rhys might actually be limiting Azriel to people he believes he won't form an serious relationship with doesn't it?

"Snarl all you want."

"But if I see you panting after her again, I'll make you regret it."

This actually stuns Azriel out of being angry, Rhys doesn't do this sort of thing normally.

So if you add this up with Rhys saying Elain would have the full support of the Night Court should she wish to reject her mating bond, why would Azriel have to stay away from Elain forever? If that's what she wanted and he wanted.

Something so out of character for Rhys it shocks Azriel, just to set up a forbidden love trope?

As mentioned some were pissed at Rhys for all this.

But SJM likes to do this to us, she likes for us to BE ANGRY at characters, and then give us an explanation that breaks our heart or at the least helps us understand later down the line. (If I factor in my long Elain theory we might even be thanking him for interrupting!)

Because Rhys would have done this for Gwyn, not for Az, but to protect her, to try and offer her some peace while she heals.

If this theory where true, I'd like to imagine that he had a conversation with her and let her know that full stop that Az wouldn't try and pursue her unless she was ready wether that be 2 years, a decade or never.

But again what we have seen is Rhys being down right horrible sometimes, if he believes it's for the greater good, then we usually get the actual explanation for it later.

Further on in the BC Azriel obviously interacts with Gwyn.

"For a heartbeat their gazes met. He blocked out the bloody memory that flashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now"

Did he block it out?

Or did he just get too close to remembering everything.

Did Rhys yank on that leash?

"I just. . . I know you like to be alone."

Gwyn most definitely could have perceived that about Azriel, but in theory she also could have asked someone who knows him to tell her about him.

'Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow. something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch.

But--- sleep. He needed to at least attempt to get some.'

'He wouldn't go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but...'

These buts... These sort of... interrupted thoughts, paired with sense that Azriel isn't entirely sure why he's doing some things. It does give the sense of other forces at play.

I know some people like to go in for the Gwyn is lightsinger theory, personally I don't (I address this in my long Elain theory) Especially with the points at where these thoughts are cut off.

I know some also like the 'fake bond' theory like Aelin/Rowan/Lyria. Maeve of course having similar powers to Rhys, I'd find it much more likely however that Rhys would use his power to 'hide' a bond for good, than to fake one, for evil. Or even to fake one full stop.

Mating bonds are powerful things though as we see in ToG even with an altered mind Rowan is still attracted to and still falls in love with his actual Mate.

Does Rhys really have the power totally control everything about Azriel's bond to Gwyn now that he's actually interacting with her? Perhaps they'll fall in love before Gwyn and Rhys fess up to having known all along.

One would think though that Rhys trying to keep a hold on such a powerful and primal force might affect Azriel though...you would expect to see something more than interrupted thoughts, something more physical like oh, I don't know...

Headaches? 😉

Again this is just a theory, theories are fun and we all like to rummage through the text and try and figure stuff out through this long wait. I can't believe it ended up being this long even though I really tired to stick to the topic at hand! Plausible or not plausible? If you got this far, thanks

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #acotar theory #anti elriel #anti e/riel

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separatist-apologist · 21 days

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Fuck Me Up, Florida

Summary: Elain has some regrets- she'll bury them in Florida.

Read on AO3

Before:

Elain stood on the edge of her cottage, arms crossed over her chest. Maybe they’d taken things too far this time but there wasn’t room for this interloper, this stranger from an even stranger land. She and Lucien had lived in the swamplands for centuries—they would outlast the so-called witch seeking to take their territory.

But Lucien’s face…oh. He knelt beside her, head bowed as blood crusted over his golden skin. “You should go—”

“I’ll kill her,” Elain replied calmly, drawing forth the magic pulsating against her fingertips. She might lack Lucien’s ability to shift himself at will, to take on the terrifying form of the alligators that guarded the waters, nor could she rip out a throat with her teeth.

Elain could merely gaze into the future and reshape it to her will.

The witch—Amarantha, they called her—was from another place with crueler, colder rules. Her magic was just as old, but twisted and dark and wholly out of place in the warm, sunlit paradise. Elain had seen how it ended, saw the witch crumble to dust, though when she tried to see how, the future shifted wildly into a kaleidoscope of color.

The witch could be defeated. She would be defeated, if only for what she’d done to Lucien.

So Elain waited, dagger hidden beneath the cool material of her skirt, while Lucien continued to kneel beside her. He wanted to leave while they were still intact, but Elain refused. This was their home. She’d give it up over her dead body.

“Is that so?” Amarantha purred, stepping from seemingly thin air. Everything about her set Elain’s on edge. She was bone pale, with eyes so black they seemed to bleed against the whites of her eyes. Her hair was the same shade of freshly spilt blood and around one long, spindly finger she wore a ring made from a real, moving eye.

Her dress slithered against the mud, silencing the once lively world. “You’ll leave over your dead body?”

Lucien’s head snapped up, tasting the iron tang of magic mere seconds before Elain did. Amarantha pointed at Elain, eyes burning with deathly amusement.

“No—!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Amarantha purred. Elain was frozen, trapped in a swirling mass of air. “She’ll be back.”

“Don’t,” Lucien pleaded. “I’ll do anything—”

“I want nothing from you. Only her and her meddling sisters. Let’s play a game…just to make it fair. I won’t kill her, little demon. She’ll be reborn and given one mortal lifespan. Bring him an offering of flesh as a sign of our bargain…and in return, if you can convince her to tell you she loves you, I’ll return her memories.”

Elain wanted to scream at Lucien not to take the deal. It was a fools errand—to rob her of her memories, to make her think she was mortal and then present her with a male who looked so inhuman no human would ever stand to be in his presence.

Say no, she tried to plead with her eyes. Feyre and Nesta would avenge her. Lucien looked up at her, face still freshly scarred, and shook his head. He knew it was impossible—a fools bargain. And still.

“It’s a deal.”

Elain took a breath.

And then she was gone.

Now:

She didn’t know how it happened.

One minute Elain Archeron had been listening to Graysen go on yet another tirade and the next…the next her hands her bloodied and Graysen was laying there lifeless, eyes glassy and tilted toward the vaulted ceiling. If she wanted to be honest with both herself and God, Elain would have admitted that she’d simply lost her temper.

He wasn’t yelling at her. Not this time, anyway. Instead, Graysen yelled about immigrants, he yelled about his politics, he yelled until his face was red and he realized that the only person left to yell at was her. And Elain was simply tired of apologizing.

She’d wanted him to just stop. To give her a moment to think, to settle her galloping heart. Even when she slept it was never peaceful, never deep. She tiptoed through her own life, making herself small and sweet so as not to draw his ire.

She’d always been that way.

What had been different, she wondered?

But she knew the answer to that, too. Two years of marriage—and two years of infidelity. She’d discovered it the week before when his phone lit up at three am, just in time for Elain to get up and use the bathroom. She couldn’t say what was different about that night, too. Maybe it had been the Georgia heat. Or maybe her body knew something her brain did not. Elain had spent the night scrolling through hundreds of love sick messages, and a hundred more that painted her out to be a frigid, standoffish wife who didn’t care about her husband's needs.

Any woman dumb enough to believe the tired story of the neglected married man deserved whatever she got. Which, in Elain’s estimation, was a man who yelled about everything all the time. He didn’t yell at that other woman, though.

He called her beautiful.

Elain could still remember when Graysen had talked to her like that, too.

So when he started yelling, Elain’s patience was already shredded thin. There was simply no more good will left. She’d picked up a heavy crystal face and smashed it over the back of his head. Graysen had pitched forward, forehead slamming against the sharp edge of their coffee table, rendering him dead before he ever connected with their hardwood.

She’d intended to turn herself in. That was the reasonable thing to do. Nesta was a lawyer, Feyre was married to old money—she figured she could spend a decade or so behind bars, even if orange did wash her out.

The world worked in mysterious ways. As Elain was picking up her phone, 911 already dialed, her phone dinged a warning.

Hurricane Elaine scheduled to make landfall on…

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Elain burst out laughing. Hurricane Elaine? Really? Surely it was some cosmic joke and yet…

“Hello?”

“Sorry,” Elain said, still laughing like a lunatic. “My daughter, she…sorry.”

The annoyed operator on the other end huffed out a sigh, assured Elain it happened all the time, and ended the call.

Hurricane Elaine.

Elain was on the Florida-Georgia line, just far enough from the worst of the coming storm. It was a six hour drive to Destin, risky considering Elain had moved her husband's dead body to the back of his truck. If anyone noticed or stopped her, it was all over.

But if they didn’t…

Oh. But if they didn’t.

Graysen had a timeshare in Destin. It wasn’t much, though he was proud of it all the same. She’d never liked it, truth be told but in that moment, standing beneath a starry Georgia sky, Elain used their points and booked a week. It was the kind of thing Gray would do. He never wanted to evacuate, never took these kinds of threats seriously. Elain would dump his body in a swamp and then say the water simply swept Graysen away.

Maybe it would take her, too.

Elain didn’t have a preference one way or the other, truth be told. She merely thought getting away with his murder was another outcome she could live with right alongside being swept away by the sea. She thought about all of it as she drove in the dead of night, amazed by the traffic trying to leave Florida as Elain tried to enter.

Every couple songs on the radio warned about the impending storm. She didn’t care. Eain was giddy by the time she pulled into the resort, careful to hide Graysen’s body beneath a tarp. It couldn’t stay in her car for long without risking being caught, not with the Florida humidity. She simply needed to check in to make her story believable, and hope no one bothered checking the security cameras.

“You’re brave, checking in,” the cheerful woman at the front desk told her.

“Or stupid,” Elain replied with an easy smile. “My husband thought we’d have the pool all to ourselves.”

“Ocean, too,” the receptionist said before handing Elain the keys. “We aren’t required to evacuate but if things get any worse, you should.”

“I will,” she swore like a liar. All she needed was that key and a plausible alibi, after all. She’d been here, not committing any murders. Was it a crime to be stupid? No, especially not in Florida.

They could suspect her all they like, Elain didn’t care. She was free of Graysen without the mess of a divorce.

Would she feel grief once the dust had settled? When Graysen was nothing more than a few picked over bones at the bottom of a swamp would it all hit her? Would relief turn to misery? Would she lie awake in bed missing the warmth of his body?

Climbing back into her car, already warmed from the Florida heat, Elain decided she couldn’t let herself care. Not right then, anyway. Besides, if Elain was honest with herself, she was having a disturbing amount of fun.

Rolling down her window, Elain let the wind ruffle her hair like an affectionate parent as she grinned, cheeks pink from the humidity. If a hurricane was on its way, the world gave no sign of it. Though, Elain had turned from Destin to make her way toward a swamp that would become Graysen’s final resting place.

Good riddance, she thought. This was where she’d bury all her regrets, her mistakes, her ghosts. Maybe herself, too, though it was too early to make that determination. Maybe once Graysen had been dumped and Elain was alone in the resort, hurricane winds pounding against the roof.

Maybe.

Truth be told, Elain didn’t want to mourn or miss him. Her whole marriage felt like she’d been grieving a man who’d died the day she met him at the altar. He’d once been kind and sweet, had looked at her like she was the sun and he was merely a frigid planet begging for warmth. He’d been the one who’d changed, who’d embraced cold so brutal no light could penetrate his rotted heart.

Killing him had been an extreme course correction and yet…and yet Elain couldn’t find the empathy people had always praised her for. Couldn’t find anything but the knob of the radio and then her voice singing along, loud enough to be heard over the rush of the road. Nevermind that there was a dead body in the back of her stolen truck—the songs were all bops as palm trees became cypress and mangrove.

The air was thicker somehow, as if charged with magic. It was tempting to think that was just Florida itself and not her own delirious joy seeping out of her. She was nearly finished with the whole debacle. Her heart pounded as she pulled off the main road, tires betraying her in the mud as she crept deeper into territories unknown.

This was the hard part. As Elain cut the ignition, she considered for a moment the absurdity of her plan. If it worked, it would be sheer luck and nothing else. There was blood in her apartment, tire treads in the mud, and a hurricane on the horizon. She ought to go back to her original plan and call her older sister for help. Nesta would know what to do, would be able to get her out of serious trouble.

Elain knew if she dumped this body, there would be nothing Nesta could do to soften that blow. There would be no painting Elain as a victim but the aggressor, the abuser—everything Graysen had been before she took his life and made him part of the Florida ecosystem.

Elain took a breath before deciding fuck it. She’d come this far, hadn’t she? Might as well see it all the way through. Elain hopped from the cab, flats sucked into the mud so deeply she thought she might need to abandon them altogether. Managing to get her feet out of the mud, Elain pulled the tarp she’d half wrapped Graysen in from the back of the truck until his body slid to the ground.

The Florida heat was getting to her. Or, maybe it wasn’t the heat that was making her feel a little manic but the humidity—whatever it was, Elain let out a soft laugh before grabbing Graysen by his limp arms. She tried hard not to look too closely at his gray skin, eyes trained on the path ahead. Just get him the water, she told herself.

Television hadn’t prepared Elain for how heavy a dead body was. Graysen didn’t look like such a solid man but right then, Elain wanted to scream as she inched him forward, sweat dripping from her nose.

She was leaving DNA everywhere—if she didn’t get caught it was simply law enforcement refusing to do their job entirely. As she dragged him toward the murky water, Elain considered that she was merely digging her own grave, too. She ought to climb in after Graysen and let the alligators have her, too.

In the end, Elain kicked Graysen into the water with a heaving breath of air. He plopped into the green tinted water with a heavy splash that silenced the insects, if only for a moment. Shoulders aching, she braced herself against the sticky bark of a leaning tree, eyes closed.

It was done. She’d done it. There was no going back now. She could have turned back anytime before Graysen sank to the bottom of the swamp but now…now there was no way in hell Elain was getting in that water to try and drag him out.

She needed to leave. Spend the week in the timeshare at the pool until the hurricane hit and then…she didn’t know. She had no plan, no idea how to go about things and she was terrified to google any of it.

Elain opened her eyes, surprised to find she wasn’t alone. A man was coming toward her as he pulled thick, auburn hair up off his face in a messy bun.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes gleaming. Three long, vicious scars cut down one strange, gold eye that didn’t match the brown of the other.

Elain nodded her head, heart pounding in her throat. What had he seen? Mouth dry, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, Elain could do nothing but wait as he came toward her. He wore light clothing that looked far more comfortable than her own, the white cotton of his shirt sticking against the muscular contours of his chest.

“What are you doing so far out here?” he pressed, eyes sliding from her to the water just beneath her. There was no evidence of what she’d done if he ignored the path she’d carved through mud and vegetation dragging Graysen’s body. And if he walked just half a mile toward the gravel road, she’d find Graysen’s truck parked, the doors flung open and likely filled with mosquitoes.

“I like nature,” she told him. It wasn’t even a lie—Elain worked for the botanical garden back home and maintained her own in the backyard she’d once shared with Graysen. “I’ve always wanted to see a swamp.”

“Could have taken a tour,” he said, eyes twinkling. “The alligators are real aggressive out here.”

“They can’t be that bad if you’re out here,” she shot back, unsure why she was being so combative with this man.

Something green glimmered beneath the collar of his shirt, inked against his skin. What kind of tattoo was it, she wondered?

“I practically live here,” he replied as he came closer, hands jammed in his pockets.

“You work in a swamp?”

He only shrugged. “It’s a living, right?”

“Well, if you’re not afraid of gators, neither am I.”

He came closer still. “There’s worse things in gators out in the swamps.”

Elain froze. There she was, in the middle of nowhere talking to a stranger who had appeared seemingly out of thin air. Her hair curled in the humidity, her face slick with sweat and yet he seemed serene. Unbothered by the heat, the heavy air, or their surroundings. Elain took a step backward.

“Right. Well I uh…should be going.” He didn’t try and stop her, seemingly amused as she made her way back up the path. “Watch yourself, Elain. There’s a hurricane coming, you know.”

She only nodded, turning her back on him to rush back to the car. She was too stressed to deal with the stranger in the swamp. Elain didn’t let herself think about him until she was back in the room at the resort standing beneath cool shower water.

Watch yourself, Elain.

Had she told him her name? Elain genuinely couldn’t remember. The stress of everything was getting to her—maybe she had. In that southern kind of way, a greeting that included letting him know who she was so he knew she was no threat at all.

Why not tell him what she’d done, too? Hi, I’m Elain Archeron and I murdered my husband.

Make it easier on the police when they went looking for witnesses. She could have given that man the murder weapon had it not been shattered in hundreds of pieces on her living room floor. Still, Elain replayed that parting sentence over and over in her head. Elain, Elain, Elain. Why had she told him her name? Why hadn’t she asked for his?

Should she have done something more? Assured him she was just a normal woman lost in the heart of a swamp she had no business being in? Had he watched her drag that body and merely waited to see what would happen? She was more concerned with getting caught than what she’d actually done, which also worried her.

What kind of person murdered their husband?

She did, apparently. Elain didn’t think she was a bad person—just sad. Mad, too, that things hadn’t worked the way she’d wanted to. Angrier still that she’d loved him the way she had and in the end, it hadn’t even been good enough. She still remembered insisting to Nesta that Gray was her soulmate and their love was the thing of legends. It was love so pure, so perfect, so timeless that one day people would write books about it.

She supposed she hadn’t been wrong about that last one. Some true crime junkie would pick up this story and write about her. Would they call her a Black Widow? No, she decided as she laid there in the dark listening to the wind. She had no intention of remarrying, after all, and certainly wouldn’t kill another man. But they’d come up with some other offensive nickname for her, labeling her without really knowing her heart.

Elain fell asleep easier than she’d expected to, though her dreams were confusing and vivid. She was back in that swamp, wading deeper and deeper into the water as something made its way toward her, gold eyes reflecting the moonlight onto the water. Blood—no, hair—fanned out behind the creature and when he raised his head to smile, teeth sharpened to a point.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, his voice cutting through the still night. Elain couldn’t move, frozen in place as he came further and further out of the water. The green on his neck, she realized, wasn’t a tattoo but scales and behind him, a tail propelled him forward just as surely as his legs did.

She couldn’t scream. Trapped in mud, Elain could only stand as he came closer and closer, water dripping from his bare chest. The opaque water obscured his bottom half which was for the best—she was certain she didn’t want to see it.

He reached out to touch her, golden skin somehow glowing in the moonlight, and—

Elain woke to the sound of thunder, sheets sticking to her sweat soaked skin. The doors to the balcony attached to her bedroom were flung open and though it wasn’t raining yet, puddles of water pooled on the tile floor. Elain sighed loudly, palm pressed right above her breast in an attempt to silence her screaming heart.

It was just a dream. A nightmare, truly, borne of her guilty mind and her fear she was going to be caught. Elain forced herself to get up, grab a towel from the bathroom, and wipe up the water. This time, she made sure she locked the balcony doors so the wind wouldn’t blow them open before she crawled back into bed.

The nightmares were the same, though.

And when she woke, the doors were opened again.

Unwilling to take it lying down, Elain went down to the front desk to ask if she could be moved. Her doors, she explained ruefully—if there was a hurricane, she didn’t want to deal with water flying in. The person at the front desk was far less sympathetic to Elain’s cause and though they didn’t say so, it was clear they thought she and everyone else still at the resort was an idiot.

She tried not to let it bother her.

She needed to just stick to her plan. It was a terrible plan, admittedly, but it was too late to back out, now. Elain spent the day sitting outside by the pool holding a book in her hand, too nervous to read even a page. She kept waiting for the police to descend on her, led by the man haunting her nightmares.

There she is, he’d say with open accusation. There’s the woman who murdered her husband and thought she could get away with it.

They didn’t come. Frantically checking the news every couple of minutes, Elain found more warnings of the tropical storm about to descend on them, found other stories of murder, but nothing about her. No one had called to check in on Gray—not even the woman he was having an affair with. Elain had his phone sitting on her bedside table, monitoring it for anyone who might be worried about him.

No one was.

It was almost too easy.

If it hadn’t been for the nightmares, Elain might have just turned around and gone home. Maybe that would have silenced her nightmares. Elain dreamt of the man again, noting the way the green scales seemed more repetilian than those of a tattoo. This time, as Elain waded into the swampy water, she found her voice again.

“Who are you?” she asked, white nightgown floating around her.

He offered her a truly terrifying smile, those teeth tinged red in the moonlight. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he told her again, his voice a haunting melody.

“Why?”

He was close enough she could smell the earthy scent of him. It was familiar, somehow, though she was certain she’d remember if she’d seen him before.

He merely cocked his head, standing to his full height. Water sluiced off his body and though she knew this was merely a dream from her stressed out and panicked brain, Elain’s eyes dipped between his legs all the same. Now she knew it was a dream because men should only have one appendage…and this man had two. What was wrong with her?

He didn’t seem concerned with her gaze—not amused nor offended. Instead, he stepped forward, reaching for a long curl between two long, strong fingers.

“Mate,” he whispered, reaching for her before she could stumble back. It was just a dream, she told herself…and yet it felt real. Elain swore she could feel the sharpened claws against her back just as surely as she could feel the warm water enveloping her.

“What about alligators?” she breathed, earning a soft chuckle from the creature holding her.

“You don’t need to worry about anything harming you,” he said, dipping his head to run his nose along the shell of her ear.

“Because this is a dream,” she said, eyes closed.

Another laugh drew shivers up her spine. “Whatever you say.”

But it was a dream, even if it felt real. She knew she’d wake up and the door would be open because subconsciously she wanted to get caught. “What’s your name?”

“Lucien,” he replied, running a finger over her cheek. How long had it been since someone had touched her like this? Like she was special, cherished—loved?

“Why are you waiting for me?” she questioned, deciding if it really was a dream, maybe it didn’t have to be a nightmare. Maybe she could enjoy herself in the privacy of her strange fantasies. Maybe the scales, which she found softer than she expected them to be, were representative of something.

“You’re my mate,” he murmured. Hadn’t she just read a book about that? The men hadn’t been so strange looking—merely more handsome versions of humans, their ears a little pointed, their teeth a little sharper. Elain relaxed in his arms as she realized she was merely trapped in a strange dream about the men she read in books.

“Of course,” she said, amusement lacing her tone. He cocked his head, wet hair plastered to his bare shoulder.

“You don’t believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Elain declared blithely, kicking her feet gently in the water between them. “I think I left a body in here.”

“He’s gone now,” Lucien informed her. Oh, how Elain wished that was true. “Who was he to you?”

“My husband,” she said mirthfully as she inclined her head toward the moon overhead. “He yelled a lot.”

Lucien’s grip around her body tightened. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not in the ways that matter.”

“They matter to me,” he said, and of course they did. Elain loved herself and this man was merely an extension of her own mind. Still, pretend or not, it felt good to have someone care about her.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she told him, turning to look him back in the eyes. It was here she found those scars again and wondered what had caused them. Would her mind fill in the gaps for her? “Who did this to you?”

He chuckled, catching her wrist to press a kiss to her open palm as she tried to run her fingers over the grooves. “Another male was interested in my territory. He tried to take my eye, I took his throat.”

“How very vicious of you,” she teased. “Are you half alligator, then?”

“Simply put, I suppose,” he said, the amusement in his gaze sharpening to something she didn’t recognize. It was almost desperation that stared back, a plea to know something she had only forgotten. Elain felt the strangest rush of deja vu, though it faded into the night before she could grasp it, a balloon whose string was just out of reach.

“What are you? Can I ask that?”

“You can ask me anything you like,” he told her, his voice dropping an octave. Elain felt a rush of want as he waded further into the water, clearly unconcerned with the lurking danger.

“I am…” he trailed off, clearly trying to find the words before he turned to look at her again. Elain was tracing the scales adorning his shoulders and neck like tattoos, trying to remember the last time she’d touched anything reptilian. “Old, I suppose.”

“How old?”

“Old,” he emphasized.

“You don’t look old,” she said, half laughing at how predictable her daydreams were.

“I age slowly,” he informed her solemnly. “You did once, too.” “Oh? Before what?”

Skimming his hand over the top of the opaque water, he said, “You’re my curse, now.”

“How do you break the curse?”

Those strange, reflective eyes found the same glassy water they were floating in. He didn’t say, but Elain knew because this was her dream, her fantasy, her imagination. “It’s love, isn’t it?”

He looked so hopeful as he met her gaze. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.

It was a dream. “You seem like you’d be extremely easy to love.”

Pressing his forehead against her own, Lucien exhaled softly. “Let me show you.”

Lucien brought them to the opposite end of the swamp, unconcerned with his nakedness or the fact that she was openly staring at him. Well, not at him so much as what was slowly rising between his legs—two appendages, one longer than the other by a good inch. Elain didn’t need him to explain how they worked, though she was curious as to the point. Surely, from an evolutionary standpoint, one was enough?

Taking his hand, Elain let him lift her from the water, well aware he was just as fascinated by her form which was no longer hidden given the way her nightdress clung to her body.

“What are you going to show me?”

Lucien didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her, sharp teeth grazing her bottom lip. Elain let him, reflecting that even though this man was a monstrous figment of her imagination, it had been a while since someone kissed her like they meant it. Like they wanted her. Maybe, she thought, this was some kind of weird metaphor. The only man who could ever love her was a monster, after all—just like Graysen.

Or maybe she was the monster.

After all, she was the murderer. Lucien was just a man she’d seen in the swamp that would one day testify at her trial while she remembered how they’d had sex in a dream. Elain kissed him back, surprised to find he tasted warm and sweet—like a warm, summer day. This was the type of dream she liked—the sort where she could feel pleasure without the endless guilt that seemed to fill her.

She could taste blood in her mouth, slipping back into her throat as his tongue chased after it, kissing her with a frenzied hunger that Elain wished was real. The trick was not waking up before she came—Elain had never quite mastered that

She knew it was a dream for sure when he lifted her nightdress, swatting her hand when she tried to touch his bare skin.

“Just you,” he breathed, scales glinting in the moonlight. No man would ever, she decided as Lucien ran his own hands down her now naked form. It was almost like touching herself, forcing an awareness of her body that Elain rarely had. She didn’t pay attention to how it felt when someone's fingers teased her breasts or the way cool skin felt against her own. Or, she hadn’t in so long she’d forgotten what true pleasure could be like and he hadn’t really done anything.

“What do you like?” he asked through a heavy breath of humid air.

“I…” Elain was suddenly too embarrassed to tell him. Everything felt real—Lucien sank to muscular knees, his thick tail curling around the pair of them.

“Do you like this?” he asked in a husky voice as his forked tongue traced shapes against her upper thigh. To keep balance, Elain slid her fingers into his thick, silken hair.

“Yes,” she admitted while he lifted her leg up off the ground, hooking it over his broad shoulder. Little ridges adorned his spine, flexible when her toe brushed up against one. Elain was fascinated with his form—more man than creature, but not human at all. She might have demanded an answer had that tongue of his not licked up the length of her.

Elain nearly toppled over, but Lucien wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her closer while cupping her ass in one of his large, strong hands. He groaned with pleasure, the sound drowning out the screaming, watchful cicadas in the background.

“And this?” he demanded, licking again.

“Yes,” she breathed, head thrown back so she could look up at the stars. If she’s been more articulate, she would have told him that she liked it too much, and Gray had never wanted to do it. It took too long, he’d complained which of course only made it take longer. Elain was so self conscious every time he did go down that she never finished and often just counted to two hundred, faked it, and let him move on.

“I need to taste you,” Lucien informed her, pulling her so close against him she wasn’t convinced he could breathe. She would have told him he was already tasting her if she’d been braver and less afraid that at any moment she was going to wake up and realize the whole thing was just a really weird, yet really good dream.

Because it was her dream, Elain didn’t have to worry she was taking too long. In fact, Elain wanted to drag her pleasure out. His tongue was just rough enough to provide the smallest amount of friction while his mouth was otherwise soft and warm. Perfect, she decided with a sigh.

She wanted to spread herself out. Maybe Lucien knew it, or maybe the ground merely hurt his knees. All she knew for certain was in the span it took to draw breath, Lucien was on his back and she was straddling his face, staring down the length of his rigid, muscular body. She wanted to touch him and so she did, spreading her legs as wide as she could get away with so she could lean against him.

Lucien moaned when she pressed a kiss against his stomach. Distracted, she half forgot what he was doing with his mouth. It was just…well, two cocks were endlessly fascinating to her. Why? What was the point? Elain reached between his legs and took the thicker, larger one in her hand. It was ridged, she realized with wild desperation. What would it feel like? Would her mind even know? Was she imagining this because she’d been shopping for vibrators a month earlier and stumbled upon some truly strange looking dildos?

“Fuck,” Lucien panted, inclining his head away from her swollen pussy to look at her. “You don’t—it’s fine, just…just come here—”

Lucien put his mouth back on her with a vengeance, determined to distract her so thoroughly she couldn’t pleasure him, too. It was a game now, trying to get him off even as waves of pleasure began to build in her chest, threatening to drown her at any moment. Had anything felt better?

Lucien writhed beneath her, prompting Elain to reach around for the second one and grip it, too. He gasped, breath warm against her throbbing cunt, before returning to licking circles around her clit.

They came within seconds of each other—though Elain didn’t get to see any of it. Body throbbing, the sound of thunder crashing pulled her from her dream, body still roiling from her orgasm.

“Christ alive,” Elain swore softly, pushing the blankets from her body to close the balcony doors again. She knew she’d locked them before bed, had pulled the handles to be sure they were firmly locked.

Water was pooled on the floor again, her bare feet splashing in puddles as she made her way back to the ensuite bathroom. All Elain could think about was the man—the stranger she couldn’t stop dreaming about and his strange, inhuman features.

She’d nearly forgotten why she was dreaming about him. It was only after Elain had cleaned everything up did she recall that oh, right. She’d killed her husband and her brain was apparently trying to decode this information in the form of giving a strange swamp man two penises.

Elain was going insane. Seeing things that weren’t there, manifesting her own downfall. Was this what if felt like to be haunted? Only, there were no ghosts—only her own guilt tormenting her while she slept.

Elain shoved a chair against the balcony doors before she went back to bed, forced to lay on the opposite end because the mattress felt wet, too. Sweat, surely.. And the swamp man didn’t return, though when she woke the chair was back in its original place beside the window and the doors were open again. Outside, the world had gone red, the sky tinged with blood. Elain felt as though she’d manifested it herself, though that was pure arrogance to think she had any affect on the weather.

Her phone was screaming at her to get out, pinging emergency instructions from the resort on where to go when the hurricane made landfall. Elain planted herself in her bedroom determined to see this lie through. It was the kind of thing Gray would do, besides—he never too much stock in the hysterics, as he called it.

And she was so pathetic that she would have sat beside him and waited to die. Elain told herself she’d be fine, even as fear skittered up her spine. Sirens blared just outside and when she stepped toward the window, Elain could see the storm on the horizon. She took a breath, intending to go sit back in bed and try and read her book. Elain would have, too, had she not seen him coming out the sea itself, eyes trained on her bedroom window. He was merely a dot, a doll walking so far below her Elain was positive he couldn’t see her.

And yet she knew he could. Wind whipped around him, blowing his hair this way and that though he didn’t seem bothered by it. Elain watched, mouth half open, as a palm tree was shoved violently to the ground as though a giant hand had pushed it there. But the man didn’t budge, kept walking as though it were a perfectly normal day.

Oh god.

Elain rushed to the door, locking it before making her way out of her bedroom. Where was she going to go? She turned, standing in the living area, eyes trained on the beach. The man was gone and for a moment, Elain consoled herself that she was just crazy. He didn’t exist, her mind had merely snapped and when this was all over, she’d check herself into an asylum.

Elain looked away for a moment, turning toward the little kitchenette she hadn’t used. “You’re okay—” The glass shattered, sending Elain flying to the floor, arms thrown over her head to avoid getting hit by debris. Unable to hear her own thoughts over the wind, Elain tried to recall what she should do in the middle of a hurricane.

Cool fingers curled around her upper arm, hoisting her up into the air. Elain turned her head, horrified to find herself cradled against the half naked skin of the strangely scaled man. “You,” she accused, certain all this was his doing.

His smile was grim, eyes wide and round. He looked scared. “Me,” he murmured, his deep voice cutting through the noise. “It’s time to go home.”

“I’m not going—” the wind screamed as water pelted the pair of them, stinging her skin with each new assault. He didn’t seem concerned at all, ignoring the glass crunching underneath them as he walked her toward the bedroom.

“We’re going to die—”

“You’re going to remember,” Lucien interrupted, tail swishing angrily behind him. He looked catlike in the stormy dark, eyes glowing like sunlight cutting through shadow.

“You’re not real,” she breathed as he ripped her night dress in half. He certainly felt real.

“You know me,” he breathed, staring down at her. “You love me.”

“You’re a monster,” she replied.

Lucien grinned, betraying two rows of sharp teeth. “I’ll show you a monster.”

She tried to push him away but Lucien knew better. Knew he could have her if he wanted her—had already touched her, tasted her. Her protests were weak, silenced the moment his mouth was back on hers. He was real—they were real. She almost forgot about the screaming wind rattling the windows and pushing glass around the living area.

“You brought me an offering,” Lucien panted, hitching her leg up around his now bare waist. When had he taken off his pants? “Tell me you love me.”

“What offering—”

“The body. Your husband,” he spat, eyes darkening at the memory. “Tell me you love me.”

“I hate you,” she replied as he wrapped both hands around her bare thighs and wrenched them open.

“Wrong answer,” he replied. Elain kicked at his chest as Lucien lined himself up not just with her pussy, but her ass, too.

Their eyes met. “Does this feel real, now?” he whispered, inching himself forward just enough to punch the lungs from her breath. “You know me.”

“I don’t,” she replied as something metallic lodged itself in her nose. The world was ending in an explosion of air and water and yet a strange bubble seemed to exist around them. Words, just on the tip of her tongue, if only she could remember them, begged to be released. To finish a spell long since cast.

Lucien waited for a heartbeat, his hope etched over his features. When Elain said nothing, Lucien pressed himself closer to her, cocks intruding on her body like an old, familiar friend. Elain swore she’d never felt anything like it and yet her body stretched on instinct to accommodate him. Even when Elain wriggled, trying to create some resistance, her body simply allowed him to slide easily inside.

“Why two?” she panted, gritting her teeth to adjust to the feeling of being stretched to capacity.

“I can’t impregnate my mate if she doesn’t feel pleasure,” he replied breathlessly. His hair fell like a sunlit curtain between them, his eyes bright and earnest.

“Lucien,” she breathed, nails cutting against his biceps. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you—but who are you?

“Yes,” he managed, pulling himself out of the sticky wet that was her body. Spitting in his hand, Lucien lubricated his shaft now halfway buried in her ass before he thrust himself back in and

Elain was forced to admit that it all felt good. Her back arched of its own accord, eyes rolling upward in her skull. The ridges lining his cock made each new thrust sharper, the pleasure brighter.

“Our bond goes beyond marriage,” Lucien told her as colors filled her vision. “What we have is stronger than love.” His fingers stroked between her legs, rubbing tight circles around her clit until Elain was panting and writhing. She was going to come right alongside the hurricane bearing her name and then what? The windows would give way and the world would one day know of the woman who died because she decided fucking was more important than evacuating.

She didn’t care. Elain pulled him closer, running her hand over the flexible spines running the length of his back until she found the tail protruding just above the swell of his ass.

“Please,” she begged, wrapping her legs around his waist. Lucien whined in response, sweat dripping down his forehead as he ran his nose along her own.

“I can’t stop,” he told her, pressing a kiss along the corner of her mouth. “If you don’t say it, we start all over.”

“I love you,” she said, half meaning it. What did hurt, she decided? He was so obviously insane and maybe so was she, because she was still fucking him, wasn’t she? Maybe this was what she deserved.

Lucien’s pace quickened and with each new thrust a new memory came flooding through her awareness. A cottage on the edge of a swap, a cauldron filled with bubbling liquid. A male half hidden in the water, gold tinged eyes looking for predators as his red hair fanned out behind him.

Amarantha.

Her horrible bargain.

Elains vision.

“Lucien,” she said, fisting his hair so he had to look back at him. He recognized her words, the look on her face.

“You’re back,” he whispered, still thrusting into her though his rhythm slipped into wild, animalistic thrusting.

“You feel exactly as I remember,” she told him, dragging her nails down his back. “What took you so long?”

“Let a man wallow for a century or two,” Lucien replied, kissing her again. “Come for me. Now.”

She did, though not because he told her to— because she was already desperate and close and Lucien was pushing every button she had. Elain tightened around him as Lucien babbled unintelligibly about how wet and tight she was. Some things, she supposed, would never change. The world would.

But not them. Never them.

Lucien came loudly, roaring over the wind she’d forgotten about. Was there a hurricane? Had she been afraid of it? That seemed almost laughable to her now. Turning her head as Lucien buried his own in the crook of her neck, Elain stared out the window coated in violet raindrops.

For a moment, the storm was the only sound between them.

“You borrowed my magic,” Elain accused once his breathing steadied. She could feel his come leaking down her leg, slipping between the spaces his cocks occupied.

“You didn’t know how to use it,” Lucien replied with a sheepish grin.

Elain poked him in the ribs. “Is she dead?”

“Not yet,” he told her, gaze darkening. “Feyre drove her out a century before.”

“Let's finish it, then.”

“In time,” Lucien promised, withdrawing himself so he could offer her his hand. “Home, first.”

Elain grinned. “Home, then.”

#happy friday #elucien #vangator time

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lovemyromance · 14 days

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idk why but i think itll be forced if gwyn and az get together. Like say elain accepts the bond and gets with lucien and azriel knows he has to step back and then suddenly he likes gwyn and they started to form a bond and get together. like... no. thats not it at all. like at least do some type of slowburn for gwynriel if elain and lucien get together. (Idk why but I keep thinking itll be like a forcing thing if elain and luc get together because they know they are mates. LIKE IT JUST WONT HIT THE SAME) But, I think thats why im so built up on elriel and cant fully ship the other ships because theres nothing for me to fully ship.

My meeting got cancelled just now and I'm in a silly goofy mood so let me just say this: if I were SJM and I for some reason DID intend to write Elucien or Gwynriel, I would not have done it this way. I don't think any writer would've done it this way.

The way the books are currently written, it is a clear setup for Elriel. People who deny that are those who still hold out hopes for their preference of ship, but the writing does not support that. It has not supported that since ACOWAR.

Not that I am in any way SJM equivalent but here's how I would've done it, starting from ACOWAR, which was when she started actively planning Nesta & Elain's spinoffs. (And this is in no way Anti Lucien or Gwyn. But I'm tagging it anti because I don't want them getting any ideas lmaooo)

1. The second they got back to the Spring Court, have Lucien grow a backbone and tell Tamlin he's going after Elain. Not simply "Get her back" but "I'm getting her back." (Ring any bells?)

Not wait for Feyre to leave and tag along to see if Elain was "worth fighting for", not simply think about how Elain had been thrown at him, not even think about Jessiminda. I would've had Lucien take action himself. He would've left to go after Elain immediately, and Feyre would've followed HIM - or waited till she got the spring court fucked up and then followed him.

2. Have Lucien be patient with Elain. Have more than just one awkward conversation with Elain. Have Feyre observe multiple moments between them. Have Elain slowly soften to him or get used to his presence. Have Lucien sit in the garden with Elain. Have him frown at her words and bring them up to Feyre and actually try to help her. But most importantly I would've had Lucien figure out her powers. (Sound familiar? Good. It should.)

3. Have Azriel go volunteer to find Vassa, not Lucien. Perhaps he goes into the library to research (starting the foundation for Gwynriel very subtly). Have Lucien join the IC as they fight at SC, have Lucien join them at the HL meeting. Have Lucien go into an angry rage at seeing Graysen and how that man's words hurt his mate. Have him comfort Elain and say "I'll wait - however long it takes."

4. Have Lucien save Elain from Hybern's camp. Have Lucien go feral and break the wards around the camp - setting up for his parentage plotline - and winnow in and save her. Have Elain kiss his cheek. Have Elain finally see him in a different light. (Wow where have I seen this before?)

5. Have Elain willingly invite him to Velaris at the end of ACOWAR. Have Lucien take her up on that offer.

6. In ACOFAS, have Elain & Lucien get each other presents. Elain does not get Azriel a gift, just Lucien. She appreciates the gardening gloves. Gets Lucien ... a fishing rod or hair tie or something idk "here's a rod: for all the fish that you catch with your hands" 🤣🤣🤣 Lucien laughs and Feyre thinks "wow I've never seen him so happy"

7. Continue to develop their relationship in the background of ACOSF. Lucien offers to help Elain train her powers in the background (idk how he would but still). He is there at solstice and gets her another gift. Cassian thinks Elain is sneaking around with him but won't admit it. Lucien goes with them to Hewn city and gifts Elain a dress that suits her better and is from the Day court or whatever. There's a bonus chapter with LUCIEN's POV where Elain & Lucien are about to kiss but they get interrupted and Lucien feels bad he pushed her too far so he says sorry this was a mistake. Miscommunication trope ensues.

8. After ACOSF, start their book with a major conflict that comes up immediately. For some reason, Lucien & Elain go to Day court to research and train her powers - maybe they have a Seer there idk. make something up, a la CC3 translation bean. Their friendship has been steadily growing since ACOWAR, and now it turns to love.

I would've set Elucien up for a slow burn, friends to lovers romance from the second Elain got chucked out that cauldron.

But again, SJM did not write it that way. She wrote all those key pivotal moments with Elriel, not Elucien. It would've been so easy to do the storyline above. It would've made us root for them more by the time their book came around. Lucien was a main character since book 1 (before he fell off) so their story would've been eagerly anticipated.

And I could do this same thing for Gwynriel, but she didn't exist until ACOSF so it would be much much shorter and basically would be Nesta noticing ACTUAL romantic moments between Gwyn & Azriel (not "bye Shadowsinger" or "you're new ribbon Az" but actual romantic attraction - like Azriel physically helping Gwyn cut the ribbon and touching her - with her consent ofc - and Gwyn blushing at him). Like - do the antis realize how EASY that would've been? I dare say it would've been easier for SJM to write Gwynriel than any moment with Elriel at that point in ACOSF, because Nesta spent more time with Gwyn.

There's absolutely no way SJM wrote the books this way with all this Elriel buildup, just so she could have a shock factor (?) of "Elain & Lucien are mates but she avoids him for 3 books and gets with Azriel but SURPRISE- Elucien is actually endgame! And Az gets with Gwyn!"

That just doesn't make any sense. At all.

#elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar #azriel #pro elain #elain #antielucien #antigwynriel

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mxigo · 1 year

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soul sick | part 1

SERIES SYNOPSIS: It’s hard enough watching the male that holds your heart pine for another woman, one that is the definition of beauty and grace, but to watch him fall for another yet again after you feel the mating bond snap into place is its own hell. A hell that makes you dangerously ill.

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: you get ready to go out with Azriel after his check in with the Illyrian camps, but things don’t go as planned.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing. a relatively tame first chapter

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

NEXT CHAPTER

a.n. if i get anything wrong i’m blaming it on my shit memory and the fact that i haven’t finished acowar and haven’t read acofas and acosf. really just going off what i remember and what i’ve read in other fics. enjoy!

It has been three months since Feyre’s sisters were Made and subsequently brought to the Night Court. You’ve done what you could in aiding their transition to fae life, even getting as far as calling Nesta a friend, cold façade and all. But while you have gained a friend, you’re beginning to lose your best friend, and the male that you love, all at the same time.

It first started with him checking in for a second after the two of you had come back from being out and about in Velaris, then it turned to him apologetically explaining that he already had plans with Elain for the evening, and now, you hardly see him at all anymore.

It’s become more often than not that he spends his time with Elain, leaving you on the back burner, as a second thought to his plans now. You have other friends, yes, but you don’t remember a day where you haven’t at least sent notes back and forth to each other since you became close. It’s like you’re missing a part of you, something that is supposed to be there but isn’t anymore, and your body knows it. Why did it have to be him? She has a mate waiting for her for crying out loud, one who you can tell just genuinely wants to know her, and Azriel is entertaining her, knowing full well what her position is.

Guilt eats at you for these jealous feelings, knowing that the girl has been through so much when her entire life was ripped away and was literally turned into something that she was taught her entire life to fear. You want to be accepting and carefree about the situation, but it is literally impossible when you catch him looking at her with the intense adoration that you have yearned for decades for, and she has simply swooped in and stole him from you.

But tonight, you and Azriel have plans to go out into Velaris for the night for dinner. It’s your tradition that you’ve had for years to catch up after his return from his visits to the Illyrian camps, something to help him unwind. You just hope that for a single night that you can forget about it.

The new dress you bought just yesterday is a beautiful deep burgundy color, the hem falling just above your mid-thigh, long-sleeved, and the neckline plunges lower than what you are used to wearing. You were able to find a pair of nude heels that fit you perfectly in a corner shop. You were even successful in keeping your hair styled for the occasion. It was safe to say that you looked stunning, and there was a glimmer of hope that it wouldn’t be left unnoticed by him.

The heels’ click echoes off the paneled hallway as you scramble to finish getting ready, knowing that you need to leave. You stride into your bedroom, beelining for the jewelry tree on your vanity. Considering the colors that you’re wearing, you think a gold set would be the best, and you know exactly which to wear. Gently, you pick up the teardrop Alexandrite earrings and necklace that Azriel had bought you after one of his trips to the Summer Court. The gem’s color shifts between purple and green depending on the light source, easily making them your favorite pieces.

It hurts a bit when you try to put the earrings in, meeting a bit of resistance as it’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, but you’re able to get them through without too much trouble. The necklace thankfully clasps easily around your neck, the pendant falling in the middle of your chest. The delicate gold glitters in the candlelight, making you smile at the memory of Azriel giving it to you. With a shack of your head, you snap out of the memory’s haze, misting yourself with perfume as a last thought before leaving your bedroom.

The click of your heels echoes off the buildings lining the road as you make your way to Rhys’ townhouse to meet Azriel for drinks before dinner. The night’s cool breeze causes your flesh to break out in goose bumps, but it feels nice over all.

The door unlocks as you turn the knob, and the house becomes alight as you enter. The candles flicker to life to bring the house into a cozy atmosphere, and even the fireplace roars to life to stave off the last of the early spring chill.

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimes, signaling the turn of the hour at seven o’clock. Your heart flutters, excitement filling you knowing that he’ll be here any minute. You make your way into the kitchen, pulling out Azriel’s favorite whiskey and your favorite liqueur, grabbing two tumblers out of the cabinet to set it all out on the table.

Minutes tick by as you wait for him to winnow into the kitchen like he always does, a soft smile on his face as he holds out his elbow like the gentleman he is to winnow you wherever you want to go. You settle into a cushioned seat in the adjoining living room, picking up a book that has been left out and flipping open to the page that you had left on.

Those couple of minutes turn into five, then into fifteen, and then by thirty minutes, you’re constantly glancing between the clock and the kitchen, anxiety eating away at you. Azriel has never been late like this before, and if he’s ever late, it’s only by no more than five. Your stomach rumbles as hunger makes itself known, and you set down the book on the table to stand up. Maybe something happened that’s causing him to be late, but there’s a little voice that’s whispering to you, saying that he’s forgotten about you, that he’s preoccupied by a certain sister.

You shake your head, setting the book back into its spot to stand up and head back into the kitchen. You pour a drink and watch as the dark amber liquid swirls into the cup before settling around the ice. More minutes pass as you finish the drink only to pour another, still waiting, hoping that he will pop into the room, spewing apologies as he tries to explain why he was so late.

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, it is Rhys that winnows into the kitchen, startling you so bad you nearly fall off the stool.

“Mother, Rhys, give a girl a warning before you snap in like that,” you joke, righting yourself up. Your eyes meet his, and you’re confused because he’s confused, staring at you like you are crazy.

“What are you doing here? Are you meeting someone?” he asks, his head tilted slightly as he stares still.

There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, but you want so badly to be wrong about what’s happening.

“I’m meeting Az here. We’re supposed to be going out tonight like we always do when he comes back from the camps, but he’s late. Have you seen him by chance?” A look passes over Rhys’ face, and you recognize that look immediately, your face dropping, heart hammering as you wait for those few words.

“Oh, sweetheart, he left the House with Elain,” he whispered, like you would shatter at just those words, and you suppose you do.

Your breathing stutters, and it’s like the world goes fuzzy, the sounds muted as your breaks cracks. Never in all the years have you been friends with Azriel has he ever forgotten about your nights out when he comes back, let alone either forgetting or just flat out choosing to spend it with another female and not tell you. And of course, it’s with Elain.

Your lungs shake as you take your next breath, reality coming back into focus as you realize that Rhys is still in front of you, worry etched across his face as he too realizes what has happened. You knock back the rest of your drink, and your hands shake as you pick up the glasses to take care of them and to put the bottles away. In an effort to try to get Rhys to go away, to be alone, you put on a fake smile, looking at him.

“Oh, well, I guess I shouldn’t have expected that we’d be going out tonight without checking in with him to see if he was free. That’s my mistake, but thank you for telling me, Rhys. I’ll clean up here and I’ll get going,” you try, but he just shakes his head.

“Nonsense. Leave it, I’ll take care of it later. Let me take you home.”

“Honestly, Rhys, I’m ok. It’s just a misunderstanding on my part. And my home isn’t far from here at all, and the night is nice. You don’t need to winnow me,” you insisted, already done with rinsing out the glasses and putting them away. But your voice is shaking ever so slightly, sick to your stomach, and you know that Rhys notices.

He grimaces, debating with himself on what to do.

“If you’re sure,” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and you nod. “I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”

“No! No, you don’t have to do that. Seriously, Rhys, it’s not a big deal,” you beg, and finally, he relents.

He nods once before stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“You’ll let me know if you change your mind, right,” he asks.

“Of course,” you promise, and he pops back out of the house, leaving you to truly process the situation.

He took Elain out instead. He left you, that same voice whispers, louder this time. Tears sting your eyes, and a half-sob rips out of your lungs, a hand flying up to your mouth to prevent any more from leaving. But you’re fruitless in your efforts to contain your emotions as tears start spilling over, splattering onto the table.

You leave the townhouse in a flurry, harshly wiping at the tears. The house goes dark behind you and the lock snicks shut, leaving you in the night’s chill. Then all at once, your face crumbles as your emotions make themselves known. You try to reason with yourself that there’s no reason to be upset because it was true when you told Rhys that you never did confirm with Azriel if he didn’t already have plans, you just assumed.

But you never have to check in, he has always been there.

“Fuck,” you whisper, walking down the cobbled road back to your townhouse, furiously wiping away the stray tears.

The walk back is quiet for the most part, and you’re thankful that you don’t run into anyone. You would never let yourself live it down if someone saw you in the state that you’re in. You almost make it back, but as you look up, your heart drops and your veins fill with ice as you recognize two figures walking your way. They are so enraptured with each other that they haven’t noticed you yet, so you quickly move over to the edge of the road, hopefully giving yourself enough space that they don’t see you.

You continue walking, arms crossed, and hair falling around you to shield your face, and you’ve just passed them when you spare a glance, making eye contact with him.

Fuck. You walk faster, eyes trained on the ground.

“Y/N?” he calls out, but you keep walking, quickening your pace.

“Y/N! Hey, wait,” he shouts, and this time catches up with you.

A calloused hand closes itself around your arm, effectively stopping you. You whip your head around to face him, and he looks at you in confusion. His form towers over you, and you’re so close you can smell the cologne wafting off of him. You watch as his face crumbles while he looks you over, and it almost seems like he’s panicking.

“Please, just allow me a moment to explain,” he begs, but you shake your head, eyes screwing shut to prevent him seeing the frustrated tears.

“It’s fine, Az, really. I just wish you would have told me instead of having Rhys be the one to tell me where you were,” you whisper, your eyes now trained on his chest, still avoiding his eyes.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s confrontation. Even if all you want is for someone to feel what you’re feeling, and to confront them about what they’ve done, you can never bring yourself to do it, to hurt them like they had hurt you. So right now, you just want him to let you go so you can let yourself fall apart and piece yourself back together in the comfort of your home.

He is helpless as he sees you put up your walls, trying to keep your emotions in check by shutting them off entirely. It’s something that he’s never been on the receiving end of, and it crushes him to know that he’s who caused this.

A cold whisper ghosts over your wrist, and you look down to find a shadow caressing you anxiously, but it only makes you even more upset, the corners of your lips forcefully tugging down and eyes burning. Blood thunders in your ears, and you can feel your hands shaking, and no doubt Azriel can feel it too, which just makes you panic harder.

“Please, let me go I just want to go home.”

“Y/N,”

“No, Az. Just—”

“Azriel? Is everything ok?” A soft, ethereal voice breaks the moment, your eyes snapping over to the culprit.

You’re horrified as she walks over, the object of your ire making herself known. She looks absolutely breath taking dressed up, and you can’t help but understand for a moment why he would choose her over yourself. She’s absolutely perfect, and you’re… not.

She stops just behind him, placing a delicate pale hand on his back, looking up at him with worried eyes. His gaze snaps from you to her, and it makes you sick as you watch his face soften for her. You take the moment of weakness to rip your wrist away, giving yourself a step to breathe.

Azriel looks between the two of you, confliction painting his face as he tries to decide what to do, but you don’t give him the chance.

“I used to believe that you wouldn’t go as far as this, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

He reels back like he was physically slapped, looking back at you in astonishment.

“What is that supposed to mean,” he begs, his eyes wide as his grip grows tighter around your wrist, but if you say what you want to say, you’re going to irreparably damage your relationship with him. Despite how you feel, that’s the last thing that you want.

You sigh, closing your eyes and shaking your head, just wanting the conversation to end. “It doesn’t matter. Enjoy your night, Azriel.”

You spin around and high tail it away from him. Although you just want to be left alone, it still makes your heart break even more when he doesn’t try to come after you.

The guilt eats at you again knowing that you ruined his and Elain’s night, but that selfish part of you is glad that you did and made him feel like shit.

Thankfully, you make it back home before you lose it, sobs racking your body as it all comes out. The pain of being pushed aside for someone else yet again comes to a head from tonight’s events. In a fury, you rip off the dress and heels, slinging them somewhere to be found later. You all but drop your jewelry onto the vanity, letting it clatter against the dark wood top. Tears still pour out of your eyes as you rifle through your liquor cabinet, pushing to the back to grab a bottle of dark and strong whiskey, but you slam the door shut as the thought of whiskey being Azriel’s favorite pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

So instead, you crawl into bed for the night, staining your white sheets with your black-tinted tears.

Heavy thudding at your door drags you from sleep, making you groan as you have to peel open your eyes. The sun is blocked out by the thick curtains, confusing you even further as you try to figure out what time it could be. A headache makes itself known, pulsing behind your eyes causing you to groan as you sit up. The thudding continues, and you can’t help but snap.

“Give me a Mother-damned second! Fuck!” You slip from the sheets, stumbling across the room to get to your dresser. You pull a pair of pants and a t-shirt from a drawer, throwing on them on as you make your way to the door. You pray it’s not Azriel, but it’s more than likely it is. He’s the last one you want to see right now. Hopefully, he’s smart enough to stay away for a little while so you can cool off, allowing the whole situation to blow over.

You yank the door open, squinting at the bright sunlight, but they snap awake when you see Mor and Cassian in front of you instead, the latter standing against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“Uh…” You’re at a loss for words, guilty for the way that you had screamed at them.

“Get ready, we’re going to lunch, and you’re going to tell us why Azriel came home like his fucking puppy died,” Mor says, inviting herself in and grabbing you to lead you to your room. You look back at Cassian, eyes begging for help, but he just shrugs. Bastard.

The blonde immediately starts riffling through your wardrobe, picking through dresses and outfits, but you’re not sure what she has in mind. You allow yourself to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Cassian’s footsteps announce his entrance as he takes a seat on your love seat.

“What’s this?”

You pick your head up to see Mor holding your dress that you left in a ball on the floor. Your face flickers for a moment before you reign it back it, allowing the emotionless mask to take place.

“Nothing,” you whisper, letting your head fall back onto the bed.

It’s silent for a moment as Mor and Cassian look between themselves then back to you. It’s obvious something happened between you two last night, and the story won’t come easy from either of you.

The bed dips as both of your friends sit on the edge, one on either side as the flop down next to you. They remain quiet, but the tension and everything that you’ve been feeling makes your chin tremble, and you bite your lip to try and conceal it. But the tears sting at your eyes anyways, making the ceiling go blurry.

You sit up, digging your elbows into your knees, heaving a great sob. A small hand rests itself on your back, rubbing in circles as you allow yourself to finally fall apart.

“He fucking stood me up,” you choke out. “We always go out when he comes back from the camps. I got dressed up and everything, waited at the townhouse for a half hour just for Rhys to show up and tell me he wasn’t coming. Then I ran into him with Elain on the street on my walk home.”

They’re silent as they let you recount what happened last night, Mor’s face twisting as she watches one of her closest friends fall apart in front of her.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Cassian whispers, but you just shake your head.

“It’s fine—”

“No, it’s not fucking fine. He’s either blind or just outright stupid to not see what he’s doing to you.” Cassian’s face is set in a scowl as he thinks about his friend’s behavior after Elain came into the picture.

He knows that his brother has a history of fawning over unavailable women, but for him to entertain one who already has a mate, one that lives with them and wants to engage with her nonetheless, makes him question if Azriel is really that ignorant to the entire situation. It’s not exactly a secret that you harbor feelings for the shadowsinger, but he has been oblivious to the way that you look at him, and Cassian can only imagine how you are with him when no one else is watching.

Mor’s heart breaks while she is helpless watching your face crumble and tears drip off your chin. There’s been a lot that has brought you down, but nothing like this. You keep a strong face around your friends, always trying to be a happy and fun person to be around, letting yourself be the shoulder to lean on when they need it.

Although Mor was the first obstacle between you and Azriel, she was always a good friend to you since you first joined the Inner Circle decades ago. Her warm and confident nature brought you out of your shell when she introduced you to everyone on that fateful night at Rita’s, which in turn brought you to Azriel.

You let your feelings ruin it all, the voice whispers, if you had just kept your feelings in check then you wouldn’t be in this position.

Then, with a deep breath, the mask comes back.

You wipe your face of the tear tracks, sniffling to try and clear your sinuses before looking at Mor and Cassian with a watery smile.

“So, what were you guys saying about lunch?”

A look passes between your friends before looking back at you.

“Well, we thought today would be a good day to try that new place on the Sidra for lunch,” Cassian answers, a slight smile on his face.

“I would love to. Will you two help me pick something to wear?”

“What else would we be here for, angel,” Mor giggles, standing up and taking you with her.

I’m so lucky to have them as friends.

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #angst #azriel angst #mxigo.acotar #mxigo.azriel #mxigo.soulsick #mxigo.masterlist.soulsick #mxigo.masterlist #mxigo.masterlist.acotar

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grandlinedreams · 3 months

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Hi hello unplanned acotar drabble bc I'm exhausted 'n why not use the 'can't sleep' trope? I don't remember if coffee is a thing in acotar but it is now

warnings: uhh poor sleeping habits, tiny touch of angst, reader is Made fae/archeron sibling, fluff

You haven't been sleeping well.

Correction ㅡ you're not sure if you've ever slept well in your life, but you've been sleeping worse as of late.

As in not at all.

Not for lack of trying, quiet plea to Madja for a tonic or tips to help you sleep ㅡ all to no avail. And so you spend most nights wide awake, listening to the soft creak of the other inhabitants and staring up at the ceiling.

It isn't your favorite way to spend so much time given that there's only so much you can think of before you're sinking back into thoughts you've tried so hard to let go of. They cling to you like a second skin, seep and chill your bones like black, brackish water, like ㅡ

You quickly find other ways to occupy your time. Velaris' night sky is beautiful, patchwork blanket of deep blue with silver pinprick stars that you count, try to match constellations with ones you know, catalogued in worn paper from another lifetime. (That often spirals too.)

Perhaps the Cauldron feels bad for what has been done to you, or perhaps it's simply the house taking pity on you ㅡ but as of late when you drag yourself from your room and downstairs, there is a mug of warmth waiting for you.

Steam always curls from the top of it, dark liquid that eddies with just enough cream and sugar to make it pleasant. It chases away the sticky darkness of your thoughts, replaces it with a warmth that spirals from the inside out ㅡ a comfort, when so many things as of late have not been.

With that unspoken charm of warm ceramic at your fingers, you're more content to whittle the hours away in silence. You pretend that you've just woken up when someone else stirs ㅡ often times it's Nesta, who watches you for so long that you wonder if she knows. (She doesn't ask, and you don't tell. Maybe she doesn't have to, the other side of your coin.)

Tonight, however, is different.

Tonight you find yourself with an entirely different sort of company ㅡ in the form of sleek, wisps of shadow ㅡ alive, whirling gently against your cheek, your hair, your hands. And then they're gone, back to their master ㅡ who appears shortly after.

Azriel doesn't announce his presence, but he doesn't have to. You've gotten used to the fact that you can hear him now, can hear most everything ㅡ aware of more than you ever used to be.

All you do is allow the slide of your eyes over his face, his wings, his hands ㅡ and then away. "Good morning."

A flicker of amusement in the gleam of his eyes, the soft huff of air. "It's two in the morning."

You remain steadfast. "Still morning."

He doesn't push further as he approaches, and you can feel his eyes on you ㅡ the clothing you're still getting used to, a subtle opulence that still makes you feel untethered at times ㅡ and the mug nestled between your hands.

"Can't sleep?"

It's an innocent question, a gentle probe at where you are in terms of emotion ㅡ eggshell floor that tends to be how everyone walks around you, Nesta, and Elain as of late.

You shrug. "Something like that." You lapse into silence, and it's Azriel is turning to leave (presumably) that you speak. "I have...strange dreams. And if it isn't that, it's nightmares. So I figure thisㅡ" You gesture, "is better than either of those."

Azriel is silent long enough that you're beginning to feel stupid for saying anything ㅡ and then he says quietly, "May I show you something?"

The something ends up being the offer of taking you for a flight ㅡ only after Azriel has made sure that you're appropriately bundled before he lifts you into his arms. His scent that makes you think of pine and hoarfrost is almost overwhelming ㅡ but his wings are snapping out before you can change your mind, and then you're airborne.

This is so much different than what Feyre had called winnowing ㅡ wind whips at your face and hair, tangling it as you tuck yourself tighter against Azriel's chest. His grip is firm on you, not so much as to hurt or be inappropriate, but enough that you don't feel as though he's going to drop you.

The stars gleam above you, enticing you to look up at them ㅡ and with your face tucked so close to his neck, Azriel doesn't struggle to hear you when you speak.

"I managed to save some of the star charts in my father's office when we..." You trail off for a moment, uncertain of what all he knows from Feyre ㅡ and you point at the glittering cosmos above. "It looks the same."

"Is that a bad thing?"

You press your face against his shoulder, inhaling his pine scent. "No."

Azriel is quiet as he spares a glance at you. You're so very different than your sisters ㅡ not quite as wild as Feyre, nor as angry as Nesta, nor as quiet as Elain. He wishes he could say he doesn't remember much of watching each of you be tossed into the Cauldron ㅡ but he does, everything whispered to him by his shadows.

That you'd come out of it glowing ㅡ briefly, just enough to give the impression of a star, just like the ones above.

"Azriel?" Your call makes him look down, the flick of his eyes over the delicate arch of your ears, the reflection of starlight in your eyes that makes the beat of his wings falter for a brief second. "Will this get easier?"

He doesn't have to ask you what you mean. He could lie to you, placate you with empty words ㅡ but he can't bring himself to do that. So he tightens his grip just a little, tucks you a little firmer to him. "I hope so."

#ㅡmine.#acotar x reader #Az x reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader

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starsreminisce · 2 months

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When examining the context of Lucien's statement "I am a mated male" now, it's essential to consider everything that preceded it. Lucien's desire to reach Elain predates his deterring Ianthe. Upon his return from the Spring Court, he already had a plan to reach Elain, recognizing that Feyre was the most direct route to her.

Lucien's assertion that he is a mated male stems from the reality that he is indeed mated, and his mate has endured something traumatic. She is now with someone who held his mind and threatened to harm his mother.

Someone who Feyre kept insisting manipulated her.

ACOMAF:

Lucien was shaking his head, panting, and whirled to us. “Get her back,” he snarled at Tamlin over the ranting of the king. A mate—a mate already going wild to defend what was his.

Lucien spun toward me, and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place. I was not panicking at my sisters being taken. I said quietly, “We will get her back.” But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.

“How did you break free of his control,” Lucien said flatly from behind us. Tamlin gave him a warning growl. I’d forgotten he was there. My sister’s mate. The Mother, I decided, did have a sense of humor. “I wanted it—I don’t know how. I just wanted to break free of him, so I did.” We stared each other down, but Tamlin brushed a thumb over my shoulder. “Are—are you hurt?” I tried not to bristle. I knew what he meant. That he thought Rhysand would do anything like that to anyone— “I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “I don’t … I don’t remember those things.” Lucien’s metal eye narrowed, as if he could sense the lie.

“Forever,” I parroted, glancing behind—to where Lucien stood in the gravel drive. His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he’d seen through every lie. As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it. As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop—and he could do nothing. Not unless he never wanted to see his mate—Elain—again. I gave Lucien a sweet, sleepy smile. So our game began.

ACOWAR:

I wondered what Lucien truly made of it. And the fact that the collateral in her friendship with Hybern had wound up being his mate. Elain. We had not spoken of Elain save for once, the day after I’d returned. Despite what Jurian implied regarding how my sisters will be treated by Rhysand, I had told him, despite what the Night Court is like, they won’t hurt Elain or Nesta like that—not yet. Rhysand has more creative ways to harm them. Lucien still seemed to doubt it.

I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow. Then I met one eye of russet and one of whirring gold. Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” I knew who he meant. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he’d use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I’m aware of them.” “Tell me anyway. List all of them.” “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.” “You couldn’t see that he had me in thrall. You let him take me back.” Lie, lie, lie. But the hurt and guilt I expected weren’t there. Lucien slowly released his grip. “I need to find her.” “You don’t even know Elain. The mating bond is just a physical reaction overriding your good sense.” “Is that what it did to you and Rhys?”

Ianthe lifted her head, scanning my unsure, if not a bit aloof, face. “So you could be with them forever. And if Lucien had discovered that Elain was his mate beforehand, it would have been … devastating to realize he’d only have a few decades.” The sound of Elain’s name on her lips sent a snarl rumbling up my throat. But I leashed it, falling into that mask of pained quiet, the newest in my arsenal. Lucien answered, “If you expect our gratitude, you’ll be waiting a while, Ianthe.” Tamlin shot him a warning look—both at the words and the tone. Perhaps Lucien would kill Ianthe before I had the chance, just for the horror she’d put his mate through that day.

I asked Lucien to escort me, and he’d been more than happy to do so, given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days. And given that Ianthe had been trying to corner him all day to ask about what had happened at the ceremony.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien

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nikethestatue · 1 month

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A Match Baked In Heaven

Sorry for the long break y'all. Life and all. Here is an update.

Chapter XV

Things Ain’t Like They Used To Be

The beginning of the end started innocuously and unremarkably. There was nothing to suggest that things would be changing. And they shouldn’t have been changing either, because everything was…happiness.

Azriel had disappeared soon after Christmas dinner was over and the last of the trifle was eaten, and Elain couldn’t find him. However, since she couldn’t find Piglet either, she hoped that her boys were together.

She had a fun night, singing carols, teasing Nesta along with Cassian, and risking her wrath, because Cassian was hilarious and Nesta was all pissy since Elain and Cassian teamed up for the first round of games. Then, while drinking after-dinner cocktails, everyone played more games, and Feyre and their father won. Rhys and Elain came in second, but Rhys lamented that Azriel wasn’t around because he’d beat everyone.

“He is wildly competitive,” Rhys whispered to Elain. “Not surprising considering he is a professional athlete, but that man will win any game.”

It was then that Elain realised how much she missed Azriel next to her. After their silly row earlier in the day, things weren’t the same and Elain hated it! She hated that their first Christmas together wasn’t perfect. The fact that she even had him with her here, in Rosehall, with her family, having Christmas with all of them like he was part of the family, part of her, was exhilarating enough! She never thought that it would happen; that she’d be at her ancestral home, with the man she loved, with her sisters, her father, her dog, but here they were. Therefore, while the festivities were still going strong, Elain slipped away from the reception and went to find Azriel and Piglet. Just before she rounded the corner though, she heard Cassian’s voice calling her,

“Hey, petal. Wait up.”

Cassian looked a little buzzed, his jacket off, his white tuxedo shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the bow tie untied and hanging over his neck, his hair flowing just past his shoulders. No wonder Nesta, the icy, prickly Nesta, was all aflutter over him. The man was almost pornographically handsome, in the most primal of ways. This was the man who was going to bend you over, fuck you within an inch of your life, and you’d turn around and thank him. The raw, beasial beauty of him was truly breathtaking.

Elain stopped her thoughts spiralling out of control, because it was probably inappropriate to think of her sister’s new love interest in this manner. But Elain was…horny. Since last night, she was horny (well, she’s been horny and a little desperate for a while now) and the phantom feel of Azriel’s wicked hand inside of her still lingered and offered a pleasant memory by keeping her sore and wet.

Nevertheless, Elain thought that if Azriel wasn’t her soulmate, she’d absolutely give Cassian a lot of attention. Because this man was devastating.

He came closer, propping his arm against the wall. Elain looked up at him, all 6”6 of him and he snickered, “Well, we destroyed them at Pictionary, didn’t we?”

“We annihilated!” Elain agreed savagely, nodding.

Cassian laughed at her, but then his face changed to a more serious expression, and he asked,

“Az treating you good, petal?”

Elain frowned at the strange question and said,

“He is!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Why?”

Cassian avoided answering directly, instead, saying,

“He can get a little intense, you know,”

Elain laughed at that.

“You think?” she shook her head.

“Are you okay with that?”

“That he is incredibly intense, barks ‘you are mine!’ and has me saved as ‘Mrs. Night’ on his phone?” she raised her brow at Cassian.

He pressed his tongue into his cheek and after a long pause, nodded at last.

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

She shrugged,

“He is also generous, loving, unbelievably inappropriate but also strangely gallant. I have to take the good with the bad and the questionable,” she said decisively.

“He is new to all of this,” Cassian reminded her cautiously.

“What?”

Cassian paused again, until he finally uttered,

“Love.”

Elain swallowed loudly, unable to respond.

She and Azriel had never gone as far as the ‘L” word. They’ve exchanged words of tenderness, and Azriel never stopped coming up with new and extravagant endearments for her. But he never said that he was in love with her, and neither did she tell him the same.

“You know his history,” Cassian continued, “he never felt like this about a woman. Never been with a woman long enough to feel much of anything.”

“Cass, I think it’s premature to discuss all of this,” Elain muttered, her tone panicked.

Cassian ran his tongue over his lower lip and said, “Just be gentle with him, Elain. Be kind to his heart. He is not himself because of you.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded, worrying her lip with her teeth.

“Nothing really. Just that he is navigating a wholly new territory. He isn’t as confident as he appears to be.”

“Azriel…he is very special to me,” Elain murmured.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you shouldn’t tell him,” Cassian warned quickly.

Her brow furrowed, “what, exactly?”

“Special. Don’t use words like that with him. You either confess your love for him and tell him that you are his. Or nothing, He doesn’t do things halfway. It’s all or nothing with him.”

Elain sighed, thinking. What Cassian was saying made sense, though she wasn’t sure how to approach that conversation yet.

“Thanks Cassian. But we are just fine. Brilliant even.”

He grunted something unintelligible and then said, “well, good night then. Happy Christmas, Elain. I didn’t think that that’s where we’d be for Christmas, but I can’t say that I mind it.”

She smiled and nodded, “yeah, I don’t mind it as well. Happy Christmas.”

Elain turned and she was almost out of sight, when Cassian called after her again.

“Oi!”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, watching him rub his chin, looking pensive.

“You been to his flat?” he questioned.

Another odd inquiry.

She nodded, “yes. We went to his yesterday. Why?”

“You liked it?”

“The views were amazing!!” she said enthusiastically. “But Canary Wharf…you know,” she shrugged indifferently.

“Boring, eh?”

Elain grinned, “it is!”

“Did you see a cage anywhere?” he suddenly asked.

“A cage?” Elain looked utterly confused. “What cage?”

“So no cage?”

“Oh, for Piglet? Yes. Az got him three beds and a ton of toys, but also a huge cage! Can you imagine?” she giggled.

Cassian stilled at her words.

“Yeah,” he murmured thoughtfully. “He was talking about it.”

“Pigled isn’t into cages,” Elain huffed. “He’d bite him if he was put in a cage!’

“That’s what I told him too,” Cassian smiled at her. “Well, good night then.”

“Night Cass!”

Elain opened the door to the bedroom quietly and tiptoed inside. It was dim in the room, only one lamp illuminating the spacious, luxurious space. She heard Piglet and his little snores first. Then she found Azriel lying on the bed, dressed in joggers and a t-shirt, his arm thrown over his eyes. He was barefoot and looked comfortable in his sleep, his breathing deep and even. Piglet was sleeping on his side next to his dad, oblivious to everything, not even sensing Elain’s arrival. Or if he did, he didn’t react. Great guard dog he was! But she supposed he was trusting Azriel to protect her from serial killers lurking in the garden. He was apparently ‘off duty’.

She watched them for a moment, until suddenly Azriel opened his arms, but not his eyes. Wordlessly, Elain approached the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and burying her face in his chest. His arms banded around her and he pressed her closer to him. She didn’t care that she was wearing her dress and that her voluminous skirt took up half of the bed. She didn’t even care about wearing shoes.

He stroked her bare back lightly, his harsh, uneven skin and strong fingers sending shivers of pleasure down her body.

“I thought I lost you,” Elain whispered, her voice sounding desperate.

He sighed and drew his hand along her spine.

“No. Not just yet.”

“Yet?” she gasped and looked up at him.

His face was sombre, but then he smiled at her and caressed her head, and then her face.

“Are we fighting?” she asked, knowing how stupid she sounded, but she didn’t even care. She knew that she kind of freaked out at him in the morning and it was so silly–all because of ‘Mrs. Night’ on his phone.

“Do you want to fight?” he asked seriously, watching her closely.

She shook her head.

“No. No I don’t.”

“Alright then. We’ll leave the fighting until after Christmas.”

“But you left,” she whispered. “So you are angry with me?”

He smiled at her gently and lied, “nah, I just have a headache. Pink was also all partied out, so I took him out–sorry, there is a pile of his turds somewhere in the garden–and then we came back here.”

Elain rubbed her cheek against his neck, breathing in his crisp, sharp scent, as she clutched his biceps, feeling her fingers tremble. The stress of thinking that he’d left her, that he got into his car and drove away suddenly hit her so hard, she shivered and felt cold sweat cover her body at once.

“What's wrong?” he asked, feeling her tension and her unease. He tipped her chin up and looked down at her with a frown.

“Nothing,” she said. “All is good,” she stroked his arm. “All is good now.”

She sat up, still straddling him and then cupped his face in her palm.

“Everything is good, Az. Because you are with me.”

He gave her an assessing glance, like he didn’t believe her, and then asked, “is that enough?”

“Yes. For me it is.”

She reached into her bag, which was left by the bed, and took out a small box, wrapped in a blue ribbon.

“I wanted to give you your Christmas gift.”

She blushed at the words and ducked her head shyly, handing the box to him. Azriel sat up, cocking his brow and looked at it with interest, and maybe even surprise. When she attempted to slide off him, he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her in place and said, “open it”.

Elain pulled on the ribbon and then opened the box.

He looked inside and then declared with a grin, “yes, yes I will!”

“Wha…”

“It’s a ring! You are asking me to marry you?” he said definitively. “So I am saying ‘yes’,”

“My god!” she swatted at him. “That’s not what it is! You are a madman!”

“Maybe I am, or maybe I am not, but I am now an engaged madman,” he told her. “Put a ring on it, baby,” and he wiggled his finger at her.

Exasperated, Elain sighed dramatically and announced,

“It’s for the headaches you get…that everybody gives you. It’s supposed to stimulate brain activity and specific pressure points and relieve your headaches,”

He stared at her and then laughed out loud, startling Piglet, who looked over his shoulder with a sleepy, bewildered gaze wondering what was happening.

“Sorry little lad,” Azriel patted the pug’s side. “Go back to sleep.”

“This is amazing, beautiful!” he exclaimed then. “And invaluable. Between my teammates and Cass and Rhys, this is the perfect gift!”

Elain smiled happily and added, “it’s not the only thing it does. If you press here,” she showed him, “you’ll get background noise to sleep, or drown out any other noises. I imagine that travelling with your team could get loud at times.”

“Yes, indeed,” he agreed, looking at the ring and pressing invisible buttons.

“It measures all your vitals,” Elain added. “And tells you to sleep if you aren’t sleeping enough,”

“Where did you get this?”

“I had it custom made. Just for you.”

Azriel put the ring on his thumb and twisted his tattooed hand in front of his eyes, admiring the new bring. It was an elegant piece–black, with a silver insert.

“Do you like it?” she asked shyly, rubbing her finger over his thumb.

Azriel cupped her cheek in his hand and pulled her closer to him.

His breath fanned over her bare shoulder, when he placed a gentle kiss on it.

“You are magical, Elain Archeron. A little faery,” he whispered. “I am one lucky fucker.”

Elain snorted and scoffed, “your language is the worst!”

“Sorry, pretty girl, you’ll have to live with it for the rest of your life,” he shrugged innocently.

“Oh is that so? The rest of my life?”

He drew his thumb over his lower lip, his expression sobering and becoming more serious.

Elain thought that he’d go on some tangent about marriage and her being his, but instead, he said, “I wasn’t sure if I should give you your present…”

He rustled under his pillow and then pulled out a box. It was much too large for a ring, and Elain, who was waiting with bated breath, wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. But whatever it was, she was excited to see it.

“Stay where you are,” Azriel ordered firmly, insisting that she remain seated atop of his hips. “You may take the dress off, if you so desire,” he suggested casually.

“I’ll decide once I see what you got me,” she told him firmly and he smiled.

“Well, happy Christmas then,” he murmured and opened the box for her. Elain’s breath skittered over his hands when she beheld a stunning diamond and sapphire necklace displayed against the cream satin of the box. It was a Vacheron Constantin no less–the finest of the finest. Not a trifling thing either–a ‘garden’ necklace of clusters of large diamonds and even larger sapphires, shaped into a chain of flowers. A gift that a husband would give his wife for the holidays (if he were a millionaire footballer that is).

“Azriel,” she sucked in her breath, entranced by the exquisite beauty of the necklace.

He was about to unleash on her for saying ‘I couldn’t possibly’, but she beat him to it and suddenly–to his utter delight–pulled up her long curled hair and presented him with her long delicate neck. “Put it on me?��

Azriel’s head went quiet. There was something profound about this moment, with Elain allowing him to put this visible ‘collar’ around her neck–accepting him, permitting him to do that to her. For her. He moved closer: her breasts, still contained within her structured dress, pressed into his chest, and he loved the feel of them, while he wrapped his arms around her and fastened the lock of the necklace in the back of her neck.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, watching the diamonds gleam and sparkle in the low light.

“Is it too much?” she wondered, as her fingers slid over the stones.

“No. Just enough,” he decided, admiring her. “A little bouquet of diamonds and sapphires for my pretty flower girl.”

Elain's necklace

Fucking beat a crown that Rhys put on Feyre. Damn peacock.

“May I remove this unnecessarily big dress for you?” Azriel offered smoothly, and without waiting for an answer, he found the zipper in the back of her gown.

“Az, we can’t do it!” she hissed in alarm.

“Do what, exactly?” he teased, while he slowly slid the zipper down.

Scrambling and bumbling, she muttered, “you know! that…You know what!”

“That and what, huh,” he chuckled. “It’s not like I’ve been anticipating getting laid tonight, sweetness. I mean, I’ve pretty much lost all hope by now, but,”

“Excuse me!” she exclaimed. “We’ve been dating for 3 weeks!”

“I feel like it’s been much longer, since October.” He corrected her, while opening the dress up in the back and letting it fall away from her body.

“October? October?!?!” she cried. “No way! We only met in October.”

“Well, and I’ve been dating you since I’ve met you,” he reminded her calmly. “Not sure what you’ve been doing.”

“Well, I,”

“Yeah, so it’s pretty reasonable for me to expect to have sex with my girlfriend after three months,” he glared at her.

“I can’t!” she argued weakly. “Not with my dad in the same house…and Piglet right here,”

“Oh, bring dad into this, why don’t you! And Pinky is a dog, who cares?!”

“A dog? He isn’t a dog. He is my son!” she argued fiercely. “I gave birth to him, you know!”

“Uh-uh, did you now? I beg to differ,”

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t remember making him, and the only son you’d be birthing would be mine,” he stated definitively. “So there is that.”

“I don’t think that’s how it is,”

“I do. But we’ll have fun making ours,” Azriel promised and gently squeezed her nipple between his fingers.

While she was pontificating about being her pug’s birth mother, Azriel managed to bare her to him and now he whistled softly to himself.

A fine pair of full, pear-shaped breasts had tumbled from her gown and they were incredible. Azriel has had his share of peeks and glances, but even last night, when he was fingering her, she was still wearing a bra. Now, the titties were out, and before Elain could make up some excuse, he was dipping his face to them and before she could even gasp, he latched onto her nipple with his lips, pulling hard, and sucking half of her breast into his mouth. His hand wrapped around her neck–not choking her, but keeping her keen and at attention–while he circled his tongue around the nipple, as he held her on top of him firmly. Elain inhaled sharply, watching him, while he crouched in his uncomfortable position, and watched her.

Elain was warm and soft, and her sublime tit was like melted butter on his tongue–silky and soft and rich. She felt so good in his arms, shivering every time he gave her little swollen bud another suck, his thumb stroking her lovely neck, his fingers brushing against the cold of her new necklace. He also liked the way the ring looked on his thumb. Black and sexy.

He pulled away from her breast and then licked her other nipple, nipping on it with his teeth, before biting roughly. She yipped, but he only drew his thumb over her mouth, quieting her down.

“I am not gonna fuck you tonight,” he whispered, sucking on the other nipple as well, making it nice and puffy, “only under one condition,”

“What?” she breathed sharply, her eyes wide, her skin hot in his hands.

“You are sleeping nice and naked. Next to me. Don’t care about Pink here, don’t care about dad, or anyone else. You’re sleeping naked and I am jamming my dick into her bare arse.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Ellie. Although of course you may wear the necklace.”

“Ohhh, you are so magnanimous!” she scoffed, though her fingers tangled in his hair and she very clearly enjoyed what he was doing to her. He kissed each lovely globe with small, tender kisses, then he licked around the nipples, soft and slow, savouring every bit of her skin. Elain panted and rubbed against him, the thin material of his joggers getting pleasantly damp against her pussy.

“I am that,” he nodded in agreement and then fell back on the pillows. “Go clean up and I expect you next to me, nice and naked and wet, sharpish. Got it?”

Elain rolled her eyes, but climbed off of him and walked to the bathroom, dragging her dress around her hips, while he was chuckling an evil laugh.

While Elain was in the bathroom, Piglet woke up for a few minutes and then demanded that Azriel spoon him. Azriel moved away a bit, and Piglet moved closer, then Azriel moved again, and Piglet sidled up to him. Once Azriel got the message, he tugged the pug closer to him, but the moment he removed his hand, Piglet put his paw on his hand, indicating that he better be snuggled right this minute. So Azriel had no choice but to cuddle the dog next to his body, and Piglet put both of his paws over Azriel’s forearm, keeping him in place. Piglet was going to take full advantage of this situation–he wasn’t allowed to sleep in the same bed with his Elain and while he could nap in her bed–which he often did–sleeping overnight wasn’t permitted. Here, today, he knew he was going to sleep with her and Az, and he was going to require full-on snuggles while he was at it. As soon as he had Azriel in his possession, Piglet fell back asleep.

“Close your eyes!” Azriel heard.

He laughed.

“Absolutely not!”

“Fine, I am not coming out then.”

“You gonna sleep in the tub, Ellie-girl?”

“If I have to!”

He snorted and then said, “fine. My eyes are closed.”

“Truly?”

“Absolutely. Come on, come out.”

Elain tiptoed into the bedroom and gasped, because Azriel was snuggling with the sleeping Piglet, and had his eyes WIDE open.

“I hate you,” she moaned.

But Azriel’s big hazel eyes lit up at the sight of her and she gushed, “you are so fucking gorgeous, Ellie. I can’t believe my stupid luck.”

Elain blushed at his words and wrung her fingers nervously and she silently walked across the carpet. She had kept her word–she was completely nude except for her new gorgeous necklace.

“You’ll have to be the biggest spoon, baby,” Azriel told her. “I’ve been made to spoon the fur son. He was cross with me when I attempted to move,”

Elain chuckled, secretly enjoying how his eye devoured her. She never considered her body to be anything remotely perfect, but the way Azriel was looking at her made her think that maybe she’d been too hard on herself. Maybe seeing her through his eyes was all she ever needed, because he saw the beauty in her that she never allowed herself to acknowledge.

She got in bed next to him–his massive body warm and firm, exuding his innate strength, but also calmness, all the while brimming with power. It felt good. Like she was in the safest place in the world.

“Did you like Christmas?” she asked quietly, kissing his shoulder.

“It’s a good Christmas,” he stated simply. “You and me and the dog. Well, and family, I guess.”

She laughed at that. He was very nonchalant about the ‘family’ bit.

…Surprisingly, even though there was a naked Elain in bed with him, Azriel fell asleep quickly and without any usual struggles. Perhaps, her gift was already working? Or perhaps he was in the place where he always meant to be.

When Azriel opened his eyes, bleary sunlight was already streaming through the windows. From where he lay, he could see the muted pink sunrise, pale light tentatively touching the ground in the vast park of the estate.

He could get used to it, he thought. The life of a country gentleman: caring for his manor, a bunch of dogs and horses on the grounds, a glass of whiskey at night by the fireplace, his Elain tending to her gardens, being the lady of the house, running charities and organising their social calendar. Yes, he wouldn’t mind that at all. Wouldn’t mind railing her on the daily either.

Elain’s gorgeous naked body was outlined by the morning light, the lovely curve of her bottom so sumptuous, Azriel had to bite his lip to keep himself from groaning out loud. She stood by the window, her foot tapping softly behind her, her long hair cascading down her back. Azriel was pleased to see that her nipples were still nicely plump and swollen from all the attention that he’d paid them overnight.

Gently setting Piglet aside Azriel rose swiftly and sat up on the bed, rubbing his face sleepily. He inspected his leg–it looked normal now and therefore, he knew that his little holiday was coming to an end. After the new year, he was going back onto the field. His last checkup was going to be on December 28th. If he was cleared to return to playing, his first game was going to be the first week of January. And it’s not that he didn't want to return to the game–he’d missed it: his team and his boys and the thrill of the game–but he also knew that his time with Elain and Pinky would suffer once he got back on the road. And that made him sad.

He looked at Elain again, silently observing the sensual heaviness of her breast, the pretty curve of her belly, the softness of her shoulder. With sudden, acute clarity, he also saw her standing in the same spot, but this time, with her stomach round and heavy with his baby.

Fuuuuuck. He was feeling broody.

He rubbed his face again, trying to shake off the image. But somehow, it was seared into his brain now. Elain glorious nakedness didn’t help him clear his mind of dreams of impregnating her and watching her get round with his son.

At last, he stood up and walked soundlessly towards her, startling her when he brashly cupped her warm bare pussy in his hand.

“Az!” she gasped.

He kissed her neck softly and murmured, “that’s my name, baby. Good morning, my Ellie.”

She melted against him almost immediately, her sweet arse moulding into his cock just like he wanted it. Pink didn’t budge the whole night, and as much as Azriel tried, he couldn’t spoon Elain, because the dog was in the way. Even when Azriel released him a couple of times and tried to turn on his other side, Piglet growled and then crawled over him and planted himself between their bodies. There was no escaping him.

“Our first Christmas morning together,” Azriel whispered, and buried his face in her neck, gently stroking her soft pussy, while he cupped her breast in his palm and teased her nipple lazily.

“Oh…” she breathed blissfully, “this feels so good…”

“I am here to make you feel good, Ellie. That’s going to be my full time job. Fuck football!”

She laughed and patted his hand, “not yet. I want to have a brawny footballer as a boyfriend for a little while. Before you get all old and become a coach,”

“Old?!” he exclaimed, outraged. “I am going to be 30!”

“Yeah. Old.”

“No respect for your elders,” he shook his head.

“Oh, look, look,” Elain pointed outside, and then bounced on her toes with excitement.

Azriel looked out, seeing that the garden was covered in fresh snow, just in time for Christmas. Out in the cold, Nesta Archeron was running laps. She was thin, ramrod straight, her hair tied in a severe ponytail.

“She runs every morning,” Elain sighed, shaking her head. “She never misses a day. Can you imagine?”

Azriel didn’t want to remind her that he also ran every day, and exercised for a few hours too, so he simply said, “she is very dedicated.”

Elain huffed, muttering, “well, I’d rather have a cup of coffee and a croissant.”

Azriel did not doubt that one bit. But he only kissed her shoulder and her neck and caressed her silken breast in his palm. He liked his soft and plush Elain, where he could touch and squeeze her lush body to his heart’s delight, and feel her supple flesh and not a pile of bones.

“Ohmygod,” Elain gasped. Azriel looked to see what got her so excited and then smirked with amusement.

There was his brother, in a pair of joggers and a sleeveless hoodie, his long hair tied into a topknot, running behind Nesta.

Cassian pounded the ground steadily and when Nesta heard him, she turned around and was clearly surprised to see him. He greeted her indifferently, like this was what he did every day. And he did–Azriel knew that Cassian ran too. But he was quite sure that Cassian wasn’t so dedicated that he’d normally run on Christmas morning. No. This was a ruse. Cassian wanted to run with Nesta.

Elain watched the two with rapt attention and then turned swiftly in Azriel’s arms and asked, “do you think he fancies her?”

“Yeah he fancies her,” Azriel confirmed simply and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Can’t you see?”

“You know, she never dates!” Elain exclaimed in frustration. “Never ever. And…well, I like Cassian,”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I think he would be good for her. He is warm and funny and good.”

Azriel agreed. And Cassian would be the right person for Nesta too. He could handle her. He liked a challenge, but he was also emotionally intelligent enough to know what a woman like Nesta needed.

“Alright,” Azriel decided, hauling Elain up in his arms, “let’s go back to bed and make out.”

Piglet was overheated.

Which is why he was presently lying on the cool stone tiles of the palace and was being fanned by Feyre and his Elain. They sat next to him with magazines in their hands and were frantically trying to cool him off.

“You couldn’t have been more careful?” Feyre hissed at her husband accusingly. “And you?!” she snarled at Nesta.

“Okay, Feyre darling, in my defence,” Rhys said pacifically, “I am not well familiar with a pug’s internal cooling system in a snowball fight,”

Elain couldn’t help but snort a laugh.

Azriel was observing all of this with a disdainful look on his face, as he shook his head.

“This damn pug is more of a diva than Mariah Carey!” he crossed his arms on his broad chest, watching the two girls on their knees, fanning–literally–over the panting dog. “Just in the last 48 hours, he ran into a wall and knocked himself out, then he attempted to poison himself with some flowers, and now he is overheated from a snowball fight. Whatever will the next 48 hours bring…” he pondered.

Dad was being mean of course, but Piglet didn’t even care. Because whatever. He had so much fun during the snowball fight that he’d do it all over again. Hey, yolo and all!

So this is what happened:

When Piglet woke up in the morning, it was because dad and his Elain were doing something that looked a lot like wrestling on the bed. They pushed at him, and he woke up, only for the big man–Cass–to burst through the doors the next moment and scream ‘snowball fight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

Then all hell broke loose, because dad yelled at Cassian, who already left the room, for seeing Elain naked, and Piglet didn’t know what all the fuss was about, because he saw his Elain naked all the time and it was no big deal. He escorted her to the loo and to the bathroom pretty much all the time, just to make sure that she was okay and didn’t need his help, or that she didn’t just disappear somewhere.

Everyone had gathered downstairs soon after. There wasn’t even breakfast! Piglet only got some water and a banana, which he had to eat in a hurry, so he trotted to the gathering holding it in his mouth.

“Couples can’t be together!” Cassian declared loudly.

“Why not?” Feyre demanded instantly.

“No. That’s not how it works. You can’t be with Rhys. And I can’t be with Nes,” he continued.

“We aren’t a couple,” Nesta reminded him coolly.

“But I want to be with Azriel,” Elain whined, clutching Azriel’s hand.

“Yeah,” Azriel nodded, “I wouldn’t mind being with Ellie too,”

“Like I said,” Cassian rolled over all the objections, “no couples.”

“So what do you propose we do?” Rhys demanded, tapping his fingers on his bicep impatiently.

Piglet watched the humans negotiate for a good ten minutes, while he chewed his banana and rolled his eyes. They were slow and indecisive and kind of annoying too.

“What about Piglet?” Elain exclaimed at last.

Piglet looked at all of them, challenging them with a wordless yeah, what about Piglet, indeed?

“He doesn’t have thumbs,” Rhys reminded her. “He can’t make snowballs.”

At that, Piglet huffed.

Cassian rubbed his chin and said, “whoever gets him will have a distraction, for sure. He might come in handy actually,”

At least somebody was talking sense.

Piglet got onto his hind leg and suggested that maybe Cassian take him on his team. But, naturally, as luck would have it, Piglet ended up on the worst team ever–with Nesta and Rhysand. They picked the short straw which egregiously meant him.

The final breakdown was Cassian and Elain, Feyre and Azriel, and Nesta and Rhys and Piglet.

And so it began.

Rhys had the audacity to ask Nesta “does he understand commands?”

“Yeah, when he wants to,” Nesta scoffed. “Usually when there is food involved, he is all ears. If not, then they are for decoration only.”

Piglet was upset that he wasn’t on the team with Cassian, who was hidden behind a tree with Elain, designing an honest to god tactical warfare plan. But it didn’t matter because Piglet was gonna show Rhys that he could be an important addition to the team. And he didn’t do everything for food. Like for example right now. He didn’t even have breakfast, but here he was, rushing across the field, distracting everyone, while Rhys sprung on Azriel and pummelled him with snowballs.

Piglet crawled between bushes and then destroyed stockpiles of snowballs that Elain had made, incurring Cassian’s wrath as the big man bellowed ‘you wily little bastard!’

Elain wailed ‘I can’t believe you did that!’ but Piglet only rolled in the snow, completely obliterating her work, before running away.

As far as he was concerned, all was fair in love and war.

Azriel chased Nesta with snowballs, wiping her out, and while Rhys valiantly attempted to defend her, Feyre rushed across the field and kicked all of his snowballs, flattening them ruthlessly, and then ran back, followed by Rhys’s mournful scream ‘you are my wife!!!’

She shrugged and saluted him, while Cassian sprung on her and dumped heaps of snow on her head. She screamed hysterically, as the snow fell into her coat, and unsuccessfully fought back the attack.

Meanwhile, Azriel sprinted towards Elain, and basically tackled her, landing on top of her in a heap of snow. He managed to half-bury her in the pile, before she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. Azriel melted at once, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her back, which allowed Cassian to sneak up on him and toss a bunch of snowballs at Azriel’s head.

“Sorry, petal!” he bellowed, since some of the snowballs landed on Elain as well, but she gave him a thumbs up and laughed wildly.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Azriel fake-gasped, wiping his face.

“You are defeated!” she announced.

“Never! With Piglet’s help, Nesta and Rhys certainly had the upper hand. Piglet kept pretending to fall, or be struck by snowballs, he howled and rolled around, he also repeatedly rushed various people and successfully took them down, because they lost footing as they didn’t want to step on him.

As much as Cassian tried to insist that the couples stay apart and not couple, by the end of the fight, Rhys found his way to Feyre, Azriel to Elain, and even Cassian draped his arm over Nesta’s shoulders (and she didn’t shrug him off).

That’s when Piglet collapsed for real, panting within his red Arsenal jacket.

Feyre saw him in the snow and hurried to pick him up, crying loudly, ‘Piggy don’t die!! He is going to die!’

Elain was much calmer about this and told her distraught sister, ‘He won’t die. He is just hot. But we’ll need to fan him.’

“Oh and by the way, Feyre and I won,” Azriel shrugged innocently.

“I beg to differ!” Cassian argued at once.

“Yeah, according to who?” Nesta snarled at Azriel, her hands on her hips.

“Okay, let’s reassess what has taken place,” Azriel offered calmly and all of them headed back to the manor, arguing loudly about who’d actually won.

Piglet felt like he’d won.

Piglet was very pleased with his massive haul of Christmas presents.

He received not one, not two, not three, but FOUR sticks!! Four. Excellent sticks.

As expected, dad gave the best presents: in addition to one of the sticks, dad also got him a pack of used padded Amazon envelopes, two pairs of socks, a whole bunch of toys, a Chelsea ball and a small plush tree decorated with shiny balls, which were also soft. All for him to destroy.

The rest of the gifts consisted of bags of treats, chewys, more balls, and piles of outfits.

Christmas lunch was incredible and he ate ham and roast beef and then came to the conclusion that Christmas was his favourite.

Now, after closely supervising the loading of all the gifts into the car, including all four sticks, Piglet lay in his seat, having been hugged and kissed by everyone about a hundred times. He was heading home and he was hoping that everything would go just as well as it’s been going.

January 6th was a surprisingly sunny day. Warm for this time of year, the apricity of sunshine dispersing the gloominess of the winter chill. The feeling in the air was almost…innocent. Full of expectation and new tidings. A new year indeed.

That didn’t stop Piglet from being put in air jail, and he was being carried by Azriel. On their morning walk today, Piglet tripped Elain by wrapping the lead around her ankles, then, once in the park, he barked and scared a baby, and then ran with some big dogs, chasing them loudly, until they turned around and began chasing them, and he dodged them, but fell off a retaining wall. After that, Azriel picked him up and now carried the pug like a baby.

Now they were seated at The Ivy Canary Wharf and having brunch. Piglet agreed to be quiet and discreet and in return, Azriel fed him ham under the table and strawberries from the fruit salad.

“I’ve been thinking,” Elain said slowly, sipping her Rhubarb Bellini.

“About?” Azriel sliced into his eggs and looked at her.

“Him,” she nodded towards the dog under the table. “His leg. When we went to that vet here,”

“Yeah, I remember,” Azriel nodded.

When Piglet fake-poisoned himself on Elain’s birthday, the vet that they took him to worked in a fancy private practice. It cost Azriel 1,300 quid to get Pinky to take a laxative, but the vet told them about a new experimental treatment for dogs with missing legs. It was a robotic leg, which would sense his movements and respond accordingly, effectively working just as well as a real leg.

“So what about it?” Azriel pressed.

She didn’t answer right away, and the pause felt somehow important, pivotal. He wondered if Elain was going to ask him for input and they’d make a decision together.

Truly, it should’ve been a family decision.

He and Pinky were tight. They were besties.

“It would be good for his joints,” Azriel told her. “Right now, his hips and shoulders are stressed because of the extra pressure that he places on them. Since you’ve been pumping him full of longevity shots, he might be living for 20 years for all we know, and you don’t want him to struggle with his joints.”

Azriel spoke from experience. He’s been running for 20 years.

Elain pouted and muttered, “I am not pumping him full of longevity shots…”

He chuckled.

“It’s expensive,” he added quietly.

“I can pay,” she said quickly. “It would be worth it.”

He shrugged and offered an ambivalent nod.

At that moment, Elain’s phone pinged with an incoming message.

It wasn’t her regular phone, but her work one, and while they typically didn’t use their phones at the table, she smiled at him apologetically and he nodded.

Who had a matchmaking emergency on a Saturday morning?

Azriel didn’t really give a shit. His mood soured and he was playing with his eggs listlessly, internally annoyed. What did he need to do to fucking make her understand that they were a pair? A couple? What did he need to do to make her yield? It was exhausting and he was irritated and angry and dark thoughts swirled in his mind. What would it take for her to consider him her man? Her partner? Did he need to force sex on her? Steal her away? Lock her in the cage?

“...I’ll see what I can do, Gwyn,” Elain said into the phone.

Azriel had been so absorbed in his unhappy thoughts that he didn’t even notice Elain speaking to this Gwyn.

“No…I understand. I think it will be a bit of a challenge on such short notice, but I will definitely try,” Elain promised, grimacing.

Piglet looked up at Azriel from under the table, tilting his big round head back and forth, assessing Azriel’s mood and feeling that it had changed. Azriel stroked the floppy black ears and smiled at the dog. Pinky was the only one who understood him. Pinky was the one other being obsessed with Elain besides Azriel, but Elain was also devoted to the dog, and wasn’t devoted to Azriel quite as much.

She put the phone down, her brows knitted.

“What’s going on?” he queried, taking a sip of his coffee.

Elain waved her hand and replied, “oh nothing. Just a client, in a bit of a bind,”

“What kind of bind can you be in as a matchmaker’s client? That you need to ring on a Saturday morning?” Azriel was actually genuinely curious because it sounded so ridiculous.

Elain leaned back in her chair and explained, “she is a client and I’ve been having the hardest time matching her with anyone,”

“Why? She ugly? A psycho?”

“My god. Not everyone is an ugly psycho, you know!” she seethed.

“I feel like most people who use a matchmaker probably are,” he noted callously, still annoyed about the robotic leg situation.

“Are you an ugly psycho?” she snapped.

He shrugged and looked at his mangled hands, considering for a bit, before saying, “not ugly. But definitely a psycho.”

“Anyway,” Elain grunted.

“Tell me. I want to understand this matchmaking emergency! Indulge me,” he beckoned, smirking.

Elain scoffed at him and his attitude, but nevertheless, began explaining,

“She is a lovely person, really. Very smart,”

“Sorry baby, but this is not a selling point,” he huffed an amused laugh. “You come at a bloke with a ‘I’d like to match you with a very smart woman’ and he immediately starts wondering just how smart she is and would he measure up?”

“So what you are telling me is that you are intimidated by smart women?” she crossed her arms on her chest and glowered at him. “Only airheads for you?”

He drank his coffee lazily, enjoying her anger and then said, “Nah, baby. I ain’t intimidated by nothing. Bring on all the smarts. See, you ain’t an airhead and I am dating you. So I think that I am all good. What about this lass though? What does she do?”

“She is pursuing her PhD in Classics and Philosophy at Cambridge,”

“Jesus,” he breathed. “No wonder you can’t set her up. She sounds like a bundle of laughs.”

“You are so judgy!” she gasped.

“You have no idea,” he confirmed, smiling widely. “And yet it doesn’t stop me from being with you–the Queen of Pearls and Cardigans.”

Elain rolled her eyes and muttered, “I hardly ever wear cardigans! And my pearls are heirlooms, are worth a ton of money and will be passed on to my daughters,” she told him in a firm and decisive tone.

Azriel shrugged and said, “That's fine by me, as long as I get to make these daughters with you, you may give them all the pearls.”

“No comment.”

“So no one wants to hook up with the Cambridge scholar then?”

Elain sighed deeply and gulped on her drink, “she is very picky! And not even so much about the men…but how they’d fit into her life. She isn’t moving from the university and she is very determined to finish her degree–which I absolutely understand. But that makes everything very challenging, because there aren’t many men who want to give up their own lives and careers to be with a woman. Because she’d definitely end up in academia for the rest of her life with a degree like that. So, it would have to be someone who is so completely independent that he wouldn’t care. Or another Cambridge scholar.”

“You are running short on those?”

“I know you are joking,” she was shaking her head in defeat, “but it’s very difficult. She’d need a man like you: someone whose career isn’t stationary and who wouldn’t depend on her.”

“Running short of available footballers too?” he teased. “But what does she need from you right now?” he insisted, making a show of the bustling Ivy on a Saturday morning.

“She has an event that she needs to attend. She is a keynote speaker. It’s a formal gala,”

“Let me guess, she needs a man by her side? To show she isn’t a lonesome singleton?” he laughed.

“Basically. Yes,” Elain confirmed.

“So I guessed correctly.”

“And how the heck am I supposed to find that?”

She sighed dramatically and added, “I am almost ready to give up on her and tell her that I am unable to find her a match…It would be my first,”

“I’ll go,” Azriel said suddenly.

She started and looked at him wide eyed, “What do you mean?”

He shrugged and repeated, “I’ll go. I’ll go to the gala with your boring scholar. I’ll wear the tux and I’ll escort her around and shit…”

“But,” Elain began, sounding uncertain. Azriel was pretty blase about his proposal.

“What? What’s the big deal? Besides, don’t I owe you one last fake date or whatever?”

“They weren’t fake dates!” she protested.

“Nuala was okay,” he allowed. Then shuddered demonstratively and murmured, “Mor, not so much.”

Elain thought about his offer. She wasn’t crazy about it–he was her boyfriend, after all. Or was he still a client? Or both? Gah! This was so frustrating. Even thinking about Azriel escorting another woman, even one as romantically clueless as Gwyn, made Elain uncomfortable and genuinely jealous. It was crazy, of course. Azriel was totally devoted to her, and absolutely paid no attention to any other women. Even right now, in the restaurant, some very pretty women walked by and while other men gave them a once over, Azriel only had eyes for Elain and for Piglet, who was now sleeping on his shoe.

“Jealous, beautiful?” he snickered.

“No! I am not!” she argued defensively.

“Think about it. I am your failed case, so is she. Your two failures, fake-dating for one evening. Face it, it’s kind of poetic.”

“You're not my failure,” Elain glared at him, but her tone was soft and loving.

“No?”

“You are…you are actually my,” she swallowed hard.

He was watching her closely, waiting.

“My win,” she concluded. “My reward.”

Gwyneth Berdara.

27 years old. PhD candidate in Classics and Philosophy at Cambridge University. Part-time lecturer at Cambridge, otherwise previously unemployed. Moved to London from Inverness, Scotland to attend university.

Attended a Catholic preparatory school. Initially intended to become a nun.

No previous relationships.

Hobbies: yoga, meditation, pilates, travelling, reading

Azriel read the profile while sitting in Elain’s office. He exhaled a long breath, internally cringing. A nun? A fucking nun?

Supposedly Elain wasn’t a virgin–he was yet to check on that–but this one…yeah, this one definitely was. Not that he cared, but it made him wonder how he was getting set up, even for one evening, with such odd specimens.

Frankly, this girl needed someone like Elain. Because otherwise, how was she ever going to find a boyfriend? What would be the opening line? ‘Hello, my name is Gwyn and I wanted to be married to Jesus!”

Anyways, he wasn’t here to judge. He was just getting instructions.

Elain was plenty jumpy as it is, so he wasn’t going to aggravate the situation.

As it turned out, Gwyn was a keynote speaker, she was also receiving some scholarly award (Azriel didn’t care, so he didn’t ask for any details). The gala was being held at the Museum of Natural History, the dinner was cooked by some of Britain's best chefs and it promised to be quite the event. There would be dancing, a silent auction and all the proceeds were going to go to some animal sanctuary. Azriel hoped that it was going to go to some pug sanctuary.

Elain had informed him that there weren’t many pug sanctuaries out there, which, Azriel, felt was an omission.

Azriel kept most of his comments to a minimum. He knew that it was ridiculous, but somehow, this whole proposal now sounded a bit like cheating. And he regretted having come up with the idea. It was stupid, and he shouldn't have done it, but now, it was too late to back out.

“Okay, you will pick her up at 4:30 pm on Saturday. She needs to be onsite earlier than the rest of the attendees,” Elain was explaining, “because she has to prepare. Cocktails are at 6 pm, and then dinner is at 7 pm.”

He nodded.

“You know you are my girl, right?” he asked suddenly, and when Elain glanced from her tablet at him, his expression was almost…desperate. Pleading.

She smiled softly at him and nodded,

“I know.”

“I probably shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered.

“It’s okay. I am not jealous,” she assured him. “I trust you.”

But maybe Elain shouldn’t have? Trusted him, that is.

The next time she spoke with Gwyn Berdara was on Sunday morning following the gala.

‘How did it go?” she inquired, once Gwyn picked up the phone.

“Elain, it was wonderful!” Gwyn chirped excitedly. “I had a brilliant time! Thank you for setting me up with Azriel. He was–is–incredible!”

Umm

Setting her up?

Did she not understand that this was a one-evening only sort of a deal? Elain thought that she’d been clear about this arrangement. One gala. One evening. That’s all.

“I mean, I am not a footie fan,” Gwyn continued saying, “but even I’ve heard of Azriel Night! And honestly when you told me that it would be him, I was unsure. But he was…’ she seemed to be lost for words. “Well, he is lovely, isn’t he? Great manners. Excellent dancer!”

Yes, Elain didn’t argue, he was all of those things, but didn’t Gwyn understand that it was an act? Azriel was rough around the edges, with a potty mouth, a dry, taunting, sarcastic sense of humour, full of abrasive comments and inappropriate innuendo. That’s how Azriel was. He wasn’t some dark gallant knight. Yes, his manners were fine, and he could hold his own in any company, and he knew how to dress smartly and hold a conversation, but Elain knew the ‘real’ Azriel. And she loved the real Azriel.

“Gwyn, I…” she began saying, but Gwyn interrupted her.

“Thank you, Elain. I didn’t think it was going to happen, and that you’d be able to find someone for me, but you truly are a miracle worker!”

“Gwyn, are you sure that Mr. Night is…interested?” Elain didn’t know how to ask her politely. She didn’t add ‘in you’.

“Well, yes! I know we initially thought that he’d just be there for the gala, but I want to see where it will go. I don’t know yet, it’s so new, but,”

“I don’t think he is available!” Elain blurted out, feeling confused and anxious.

“Oh, I know. Not now,” Gwyn laughed. “He is playing today! I am going to watch the game–for the first time,”

She didn’t even like football!

Piglet trotted into the room, wearing his Arsenal shirt. He was ready for the game too.

“Well, thanks again,” Gwyn said, “I’ll keep you posted on how things go.”

As soon as she hung up, Elain frantically texted ‘ring me!’ and then she added more ‘!!!!!!!’

She knew that Azriel was prepping for the game right now and wouldn’t be available right away, but he’d ring right before, so she could wish him a good game. And she always sent him a photo of Piglet in his kit.

Only this time, Azriel did not call back.

#elriel #elriel fanfic #elriel fanfiction #ACOTAR fanfiction #a match baked in heaven #fanfic update #my writing #chapter 15 #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #acotar #elain #azriel #Modern AU #my fanfiction

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