#Elaine is still a menace

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Can we see a fic where E and Elaine just find out about the final baby, they are trying to figure out how to tell the kids and the kids are suspicious AF and confront E thinking there is trouble with he and Elaine? Very sitcom cliche but I know you could put your own spin on it you little angel baby 💕

Oooh this is a very cute concept and I’m dying to write them as a very established family -so yes, the answer is yes. Totally. Added to the prompt pile, delighted that you want it!

Also…getting called Angel baby has me melting, you be careful about those nicknames around me, they turn me to pudding 💋🫵🏻

[florencemtrash]

Take it Off - Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been friends for centuries... but what happens when he wakes up one day to find that things have changed? And how will he react when you start wearing Cassian's clothes?

Warnings: Angst. Jealous Azriel. Suggestiveness and then some (I don't know what warning to put, but it's spicier than my usual stuff is all I'll say). Cassian is an absolute menace... good for him

Author's note: Did I write this to procrastinate editing SSIB Ch 22 after watching Bridgerton S3?... yes

Is this a fucking game to you?

Cassian grinned over the lip of his cup, raising his brow in a poorly disguised expression of confusion. He’d been playing the innocent fool all throughout breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Azriel was throwing his direction every time he made you laugh.

Internally, he and Nesta were both cackling. He threw his arm over the back of his meta’s chair, plucking the cream puff she held out for him, and tossing it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin. 

I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Azriel. Although it hurts me deeply to see you so upset.

Upset was an understatement. Azriel was holding onto his glass of orange juice so tightly cracks were beginning to form beneath his fingertips. 

You elbowed Azriel in the ribs, brows furrowed as you pointed your slice of toast towards his hand. “Are you ok?” You whispered low and just for his ears. 

The molten anger in his eyes melted away, hazel eyes softening as he took in your concerned expression. You were the first and only one of his family members to watch him so intensely. You could unravel the meaning in every twitch of his jaw, every rhythmic tap of his fingers against his thigh, every flicker of his shadows. You knew when he was upset, when he was happy, and when he wanted to laugh but had trouble expressing it. The only thing you weren’t aware of when it came to Azriel was how unbelievably in love with you he was. 

But that was his own fault. 

You’d watched him fawn over Mor for centuries, watched as he practically crawled on hand and knees for any kernel of affection she was willing to throw his way. Then, when you thought he’d finally gotten over his feelings for her, he’d chased after Elain’s heels like a dog in heat. You didn’t even want to begin thinking about Gwyn and the way she’d trampled over his hopes with the simple phrase, “I love you as a friend, Azriel. Nothing more.” 

No. It was entirely his fault that you’d learned to bury your own feelings for him so deep they’d become background noise — as inconsequential and ever present as the sound of your own breathing. 

Still… you couldn’t help but notice the secrets swimming in his eyes, the hurt and longing there that you could only guess the origin of. Who’d hurt him this time? You wondered. 

“I’m fine.” Azriel whispered, his hands ghosting over your thighs before deciding against touching you there. 

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. You held your toast in between your teeth, tasting the raspberry jam explode on your tongue as you reached over and carefully peeled Azriel’s fingers off his injured glass. 

His heart stuttered at the sight of your lips as they closed around your thumb, licking away crumbs and jam from your fingertips. But then his gaze dropped to your chest and his stomach soured. 

As Madja’s apprentice, you’d acquired a special interest in botany — an interest that had all but shoved you into Feyre’s studio so you could learn the skills necessary to depict all manner of flora and fauna in your field journal. When you’d complained about finding paint and charcoal stains over your clothes, Cassian had jumped on the opportunity to give you his old shirts to use as painting smocks. He had to congratulate himself for the stroke of genius. After all, he and Nesta had been discussing plans on how to get Azriel to admit his feelings for months now. 

Azriel did not respond well to outright suggestions or bullying. If he told Azriel to pull his head out of his ass and ask you on a proper date, the Shadowsinger would only hunker down on his preconceptions that he was unloveable, and that you were far too good for him. If he revealed to Azriel that you’d secretly loved him for decades that would only make him feel even more embarrassment and shame. 

No.

  Jealousy worked far better when it came to Azriel.

You looked comfortable and happy in Cassian’s clothes — a fact that escaped no one’s notice. You had the sleeves rolled up past your elbows, the rows of buttons at your back haphazardly done without wings to accommodate. You’d worn that particular shirt a half dozen times now and replaced any scent of Cassian with your own. 

Still, you were wearing another male’s shirt… and it was starting to drive Azriel insane.

“I was going to get rid of these and thought you might like them for… painting.” Azriel shifted on his feet, holding out the neatly stacked pile of clothes for you. 

You were laying on your stomach in bed, colored pencils and textbooks splayed out around you, but quickly righted yourself and sifted through the piles he handed you.

You held one up for a better look. 

“Azriel, you were just wearing this last week.” It still smelled like him — the scent of the Illyrian mountains at night woven through the soft, cotton material. “I can’t take this. Or this. Or this!” 

“I have more just like them.” 

You huffed, fists balanced on your hips. 

Azriel was a simple male with ample space in his wardrobe. When he wasn’t in his Illyrian leathers he wore the same three outfits on rotation, all of them nearly identical. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be giving away clothes, it was Azriel. 

“I really appreciate it, Az, but I’m ok. I don’t need these. Cassian already gave me enough hand-me-downs to last two decades at least.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped out. “Well I’m glad for that.” He was practically seething. You noticed, as you always did, but you couldn’t imagine that you were the cause of his frustrations. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Az? You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.” 

“It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that.” 

There were various things on his mind, chief among them you. So he took hold of the olive branch you’d extended him and laid down beside you, talking about everything and nothing at all. But one thing he avoided talking about at all costs was how the gentle scraping of your nails through his hair as he rested his head in your lap made him want to lock the door and never come out. 

He wanted to bury his face beneath your sundress and then tear it to pieces. He wanted to dive under the covers and leave an assortment of marks on your skin. To hold you so close that you began to smell like one another. 

You lay down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder so he caught whiffs of your elderberry and lemon shampoo. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s what friends are for.” 

Right… friends. He was starting to hate that word. 

“Yes… I know.” 

How long do you think he’ll last?

Nesta felt Cassian’s soft laugh blow over the back of her neck as they crouched just behind the door of Feyre's painting studio.

Azriel had been undeniably irritable the last two weeks, his patience fraying like a linen skirt with the hem torn off. Cassian was still sporting a bruise on his cheek from this morning’s sparring session after one of his teasing remarks had hit a little too close to home. 

Not much longer. Look at him, Nes. He’s practically vibrating.

Nesta slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter. 

Azriel was restless, his wings kept opening and closing with agitation and the curve of his ears had long since turned a bright shade of pink. He’d had his shadows knock over a cup of ink earlier, sending its contents splattering over your shirt and staining the fabric beyond repair. But you’d only shrugged and said, “It’s my painting shirt. It’s meant to get dirty,” before going back to your canvas with a soft smile. The moment you’d turned your back to him, he’d silently cursed the ceiling. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He kicked himself, too focused on your continuing conversation to think that his meddling brother and sister-in-law might be watching. 

He hadn’t expected his emotions to take over so quickly, least of all with you. You’d been his best friend for over two hundred years. You were a staple in his life, more familiar to him than the childhood blanket he still had tucked away in his drawer. There was no reason why he should suddenly wake up one day and realize with a shock of surprise that he loved you and couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have you in it. 

It had been such a silly moment as well. You’d been getting ready for Starfall, your hair done up and a flush of color spread over your cheeks and lips. He’d come to check in on you and lost his breath when he saw you sitting at the vanity, holding up earrings to your neck to see if they matched the satin of your deep blue gown. And then you’d politely asked him to lace up your dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, forcing his hands to stop shaking as they brushed against your spine. Gods he’d wanted to throw himself off a balcony that night, if only because you’d be the one tasked with healing him. 

He wanted to throw himself off the balcony now. Let the ground swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of you… again. 

I give it another week. Nesta declared.

Cassian smirked. I know my brother. He won’t last another three days.

In the end they were both wrong. 

It only took two days for Azriel to finally snap.

“Take it off.” 

You swiveled around in your chair, tongue pressing against your cheek as you wondered what gave Azriel the audacity to march into your private lesson with Feyre and make such an out-of-character demand. 

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows. 

Azriel stood as still as an obsidian statue in the doorway. His wings loomed over his shoulders, talons reaching towards the ceiling tense and twitching. 

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He clutched a neatly folded shirt in his hands, knuckles pale and bloodless from the tight grip. You’d been wearing Cassian’s clothes almost every day this past week and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand sitting beside you at the dinner table or in the library, the laughter in his throat dying when he caught Cassian’s scent drifting off your skin. 

It was maddening the way you didn’t think anything of it. 

Yes, Cassian was practically a brother to you, and yes, he was a mated male but… fuck it bothered Azriel so much to think of anyone else laying claim to you. To think that one day you might actually walk around wearing another male’s clothes because you loved them. To think that that male wouldn’t be him. 

He’d tried to bring up the topic with you in his own round-about way, but you’d shrugged off all his suggestions of wearing something — anything — else. 

“If you want painting clothes, why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? I’m sure Feyre has recommendations. Or we could just walk around the Rainbow until something catches your eye.” 

“I’m not a full time artist, and it seems silly to spend money on clothes you intend to ruin.” 

“Why don’t you ask Feyre or Mor for hand-me-downs then? They’ll fit you better and the sleeves won’t drag so much.” 

“I like it when my clothes are loose.” 

Feyre glanced between the two of you, namely the flare of Azriel’s nostrils and the way he ground his teeth so intently you worried he’d crack a tooth. 

“I’m… going to leave now.”

“Wait—Feyre!” 

The High Lady kissed your cheek, a knowing look in her eyes, before scurrying out the door. 

Don’t scowl so much, Az, you’re making her nervous. She chirped to the Shadowsinger before slipping down the hallway and disappearing. 

She made it all of ten feet down the hall before crowing, “It’s happening!” to the others. 

It’s happening?! Mor leapt out from her bedroom, a robe hastily tied around her waist and soap suds clinging to her hair. “Fey—” she hissed.

Feyre pressed a finger up to her lips, cutting her off. They’re in the art studio now. 

I fucking KNEW IT! Mor squealed in delight, stomping her feet soundlessly into the floorboards as she allowed Feyre to grab her wrist and drag her forward. 

I won the bet, Nes.

You didn’t win, we both lost!

Semantics. 

Why you bas—

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta streamed into the foyer. There was an air vent here that led directly to the art studio two floors above them and painted over so expertly it may as well have been part of the molding. The sounds traveling through it were muffled by echos and distance, but nothing that fae hearing and magic couldn’t overcome. 

“That’s it!” The chair you’d been sitting in skittered back with a squeak. “What is your problem, Azriel? You’ve been agitated for weeks now. You won’t tell me, or any of the others, what’s wrong and every time Cassian so much as glances in your direction you look like you want to tear his throat out!” 

Azriel said nothing as you stomped forward and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Whiskey eyes flickered down to your hand — the hand you currently had closed around his wrist — and he shuddered. 

You didn’t even want to begin to unpack the hidden meaning of that response as you brought him to the center of the room and let go. 

He dropped the shirt on the nearby desk, hands lowering to the hem of your painting smock with a grimace. 

“I need you to take this off.” He repeated with a frown.

“What kind of person marches into a room and demands that their friend take off their shirt?” 

He flinched at that word — friend.

“Az!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and his anger. “What is going on with you?!” 

“It’s nothing.” He growled out, but he tugged at the hem like its very existence was a personal offense.

“Clearly it’s not nothing.”

“Can you just take off your shirt and put this one on?”

You shoved him away. It wasn’t even like he was asking you to get naked, you both knew you were wearing something beneath this, but it was the way he was asking that grated on your nerves — like what he was requesting was perfectly normal and you were the ridiculous one for not listening.

“No.” You folded your arms over your chest with a huff. You were just being stubborn now, but you didn’t care. 

His eyes turned tortured and he clasped his hands together in front of you. “Please?” He begged.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting this way!” 

“I don’t want to have this discussion while you’re standing there smelling like another male!”

That was… not what you were expecting.

You gaped at him, unsure whether to howl with laughter, or slap him across the face. 

“That’s what this is about? You’re upset because I’m wearing Cassian’s clothes?” You gagged at the mere thought of what Azriel was insinuating. 

“Well that was a little hurtful.” Cassian mumbled. 

Mor slapped the back of his head. “Shhhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Azriel shifted on his feet, color beginning to spread high on his cheekbones. “It’s not about Cassian… not really…”

You tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for him to continue. Azriel felt naked. Stripped back like one of your insect specimens lit up beneath a microscope. Your eyes raked over his every movement. Even his shadows, usually so attention-seeking, cowered behind their master’s back whispering to one another about how Azriel might dig himself out of his own grave. 

“Well?” You snapped. 

Azriel shrank back, “I… I like you, Y/n.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I know, that’s why we’re friends. I like you too.”

“No. Not… not like that.” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh I’m fucking this up so badly it’s not even funny anymore.” 

“I don’t even know what it is you’re fucking up. I—”

“I love you, ok?” He said in a burst of energy.  “I love you and not in the way that friends are meant to love one another and Cassian’s an idiot and I’m a jealous bastard and I… I…” 

You stared back dumbly. “You can’t mean that.” 

Azriel’s face fell. “And why not?”

“Because I have been here for decades, centuries,” you jabbed his chest with a finger, “And you never once looked at me that way. Never once considered me as anything more than a friend. You’re upset because I’ve been wearing Cassian’s clothes the last few weeks? Well guess what, Az, I’ve watched you walk in and out of those doors for years with your poorly concealed hickies and that lovesick look on your face, and I never made it your problem or anyone else’s.” 

“Well I want you to!” He shouted. It was the first and only time you could remember him raising his voice. “I want you to make it my problem, Y/n. I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to shout at me for all the stupid decisions I’ve made because I’m yours. I’m yours to shout at. I’m yours to get angry with. I’m yours to love if you’ll still have me and…” Azriel gasped for breath, chest heaving as he came face to face with the fact that he’d just said those words out loud. Those words that he’d kept close to his chest with the rest of his secrets. Those words that proved just how completely at your mercy he was. 

Please say you’ll still have me. His eyes begged. 

When you didn’t move or say anything, he felt a piece of his heart wither away. He lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in a speckle of red paint that had smeared under his boot, “Forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t… I shouldn’t have—” 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” You muttered breathlessly. 

Then you flung yourself into his arms and crashed your lips into his. 

Kissing Azriel was better than you could have ever imagined. The fantasies you’d constructed late in the night when you were lonely blew apart like paper houses, crumbling in the face of reality. His mouth fumbled for purchase against your lips before slotting into place with a strangled moan. He lifted you in the air and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening them until you could feel him harden between your legs. 

His tongue flitted over your lips tasting like oranges and magic. 

But his hands. 

His hands. 

You couldn’t get enough of them as they slid up and down your back, squeezing and pressing into your skin until he’d memorized the curve of your spine. You wove your fingers in his hair, tilting his head so you could stare into his hazel eyes before diving in for another taste. 

He walked you back to the desk, shadows flinging the tins of charcoal and pastel pencils off the furniture so you could perch there instead. Then he surged forward, pressing his hips into the space between your legs so he could feel the heat that gathered there. It sent shivers down his spine.

This… this was everything he’d ever wanted. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Not some unapproachable female he admired from afar but hardly knew, but someone who’d seen every inch of his soul and never flinched. Someone who’d nestled into the hidden corners of his heart and grown there like a willow tree. 

You moved your hands over the wide expanse of his back, digging your nails in to feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder, as he latched onto the side of your neck and slid his tongue over the sensitive skin there. 

He smelled like mountain rain. Like fresh wind and petrichor and sea salt. 

You smelled like lemons and safety. Like maple leaves and lavender and… Cassian.

Because you were still wearing his gods-damned shirt. 

Azriel felt his blood boil, and an instinctual rage took over as he growled low in his throat, bunched the fabric of Cassian’s shirt in his hands, and tore it in two.

You pulled away from him at the sound of ripping fabric, but kept your grip on his solid shoulders as air blew across your skin.

Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips pink and raw as he leaned his forehead against yours in a daze. You continued to breathe each other’s air like you were drowning. He seemed just as in disbelief as you, if not more. 

“Azriel…” You whispered, chest heaving. 

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes full of heat. “... yes, Y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

“I think you ripped through my dress… and my bra as well…” 

“Oh…” He fingered the ruined fabric that fell loose around your shoulders and realized that your back was indeed on full display. The straps of your bra slipped down and the mangled buttons of your sundress clung to their loops by weak threads. “Oh…oh gods.” 

One hand flew up to your chest to keep the fabric in place while the other slapped over your mouth, suffocating the laughter that threatened to burst forth. 

Azriel’s ears and cheeks turned brighter than the sun as he slowly lowered you down to your feet, fumbling over apologies like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down your throat mere seconds ago. 

“I’m so sorry—” 

“Azriel, it’s ok.” 

“No, I was being an ass and now I’ve ruined your dress and—” 

“You can buy me more.”

Azriel’s shoulder dropped. “I can?” “You can.” 

He shook his head very seriously. “Yes, yes you’re right, I—” Azriel had always been the beautiful one — the one that drew eyes when he walked into a room. The one that had females and males falling out of their seats for a proper look at his elegant features. But right now he looked so helpless, so flustered and unsure of himself that you finally lost it. 

Champagne bubble laughs slipped out of your mouth, light and airy, and sent a shock of warmth through Azriel’s chest. It was infectious the way the skin stretched over your cheeks. The light in your eyes couldn’t be contained no matter how hard you tried. 

He couldn’t help himself. 

He started laughing too. 

What began as one of his reserved chuckles grew into uncontrollable peals of laughter that echoed throughout the studio and had you clutching onto the desk for support. 

Azriel doubled over, one hand holding the stitch in his side together as you howled. 

“Oh gods. I can’t—” You hiccuped. “I-I-I can’t breathe.” 

Soon you were both kneeling on the ground, clutching each other’s arms for some semblance of stability. You gasped for breath, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes. 

Azriel captured one of your hands, weaving his fingers through yours before bringing your wrist to his lips for a soft, reverent kiss. You thought you’d experienced enough emotions for today ranging from frustration to anger to a joy you couldn’t begin to put into words. But you were certain your heart could handle one more shift in the atmosphere. 

Wordlessly you tugged off Cassian’s shirt, dropping it to the side where shadows caught hold of the cursed fabric and quickly tossed it into the fireplace. The flames crackled with triumph, eating away at the shirt with a vengeance. 

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” 

“We can agree to disagree.” Azriel murmured, his eyes growing dark and heavy. His gaze drifted down to the soft skin now exposed from your tattered dress, the thin straps clinging to your arms, the gentle swell of your breasts as you breathed heavily. 

His fingers danced over the straps in silent permission, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But you were open and wanting and desperate for his touch. You crawled into his lap and a faint nod was all he needed before the pale blue fabric of your dress fell down and bunched about your waist. The bra followed, and then you were sitting there naked from the waist up, feeling the heat grow between your bodies as Azriel looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Am I dreaming, Y/n?” He whispered, rubbing circles into your hip bones. 

You smiled softly, “Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Yes. Many times.” He kissed your chest, slowly dragging his hands down your ribs as you shivered and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt buckle. “But we never got this far.” 

“Hmmmm, I think we could go a little further.” 

“NOT IN MY STUDIO!” Feyre’s voice echoed oddly through the room, sounding muffled and far away. 

Azriel’s wings flared out, hiding you from view as you yelped and pressed your chest against his. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment about being found in such a compromising position. But the door was closed! And so were the windows!

His shadows finally found the culprit in the air vent.

“Godsdamnit—HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Azriel shouted. 

A moment passed before Feyre answered, “... No,” in a much softer tone. 

“We missed part of the beginning,” Cassian chimed in. 

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as you were stunned into silence. He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded oddly similar to, “I swear I’m going to kill him one day.”

Azriel helped you to your feet and finally, you put on his shirt. 

“Are you happy now?” You teased, arms dropping to your sides. 

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. You looked… very good in his clothes with the sleeves rolled up and a sliver of your dress (now skirt) peeking out from beneath. 

He looked towards the vent, then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close so he could whisper, “I would be happier if I saw my shirt and that dress of yours on the floor of my bedroom.” 

His hand slid up your skirt, squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that had you stiffening. 

All at once he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he’d taken things too far. Maybe the lust-filled haze had cleared and you didn’t want him anymore. 

You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his wrist, gently guiding his fingers to your core. You let him know just how much you wanted this. 

A roar of blood sounded in the Shadowsinger’s ears. 

“I think that sounds like a very good plan.” You murmured in agreement and his eyes turned black as night.

He stole another long kiss before scooping you into his arms. 

“Az, where are we going?” You giggled into the curve of his throat as he flew down the hallway and stairs. “We just passed your bedroom.” 

“We’re not going to my bedroom.”

“Well we missed my bedroom too.” 

He didn’t respond.

Azriel skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, already well aware that his family had gathered at the bottom and were waiting to bombard him with questions. 

Azriel smirked at you, leaned down, and kissed your cheek. “When I take you to bed properly, it won’t be with our nosey family members in the house.” He ran his tongue across the line of your jaw all the way to your earlobe and whispered, “I want any noises you make to be for me, and me alone.” 

“You are certainly a man of poetry, Az.”

He smiled. “Only for you.” 

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the two love—” Shadows flew into his mouth, muffling his words. “HEH! Azz! Whazthf—”

“I’ll see you in a week.” He said to no one in particular, his shadows opening the door of the River House. 

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, her eyes zeroing in on the bright red mark blossoming on your neck. What the fuck? She mouthed at you, giving you two thumbs up as Azriel crossed the doorway with you in his arms.

“None of your business. I’ll see you in a week.” Then he looked down at you, eyes growing soft. “We’ll see you in a week,” he corrected himself. 

Your stomach bottomed out, heat flowing through your body as you heard him make such a declaration in front of... well everyone. You couldn't wait to see where he would take you and where he would take you.

"Ready?" Azriel asked, a sultry smile growing on his face.

"Ready."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the hollow of his throat as he took off into the air. 

[readychilledwine]

hello helloooo! I’m back with another fic idea if it interests you ✨so little Nyx is old enough to go to school maybe like kindergarten-ish age? And one day the IC is eating dinner and Nyx is like “I have a mate!” And obviously he doesn’t but still Rhys and Feyre are like WTF and then read his little bby mind and find out he’s just infatuated with his teacher. (Nyx gave her a cookie that he baked with the help of Elain which she ate and now he thinks they’re mates bc he’s too young to understand that that’s not how it works) and then during a school carnival or gathering or cute kindergarten level graduation the IC attends with Nyx and ofc Azriel is there. He doesn’t even know who Nyx’s teacher is but then he sees Nyx dragging a young female over to him where he introduces her to him, proudly saying “this is my mate!” And she just laughs but then the bond snaps for her and Azriel. And then fluff ensues from there with everyone trying to explain to Nyx that she’s not his mate and that she’s Azriel’s to which he takes forever to understand. He keeps trying to give her treats and flowers so that they’ll somehow be mates. Azriel becomes public enemy #1 in Nyx’s eyes because he stole her from him. And then fast forward to when Nyx is older, maybe finally with a mate of his own and they tell him the story at his wedding and he’s so embarrassed about it. could def see this as an OC fic but x reader works just as well!

Infatuation

I love writing little baby Nyx 🥺🥺🥺

Warnings - Nyx being a bit of a menace to society *well Az*

Nyx was beaming. Bouncing as he ate his dinner, little wings flapping every so often.

It wasn't unusual. Being surrounded by this much love, this much joy, this much devotion had made the little heir the happiest of babies, then a happy toddler, and now a happy 5 year old.

He picked up his little cup, sucking on the straw and took a big drink as Rhysand and Feyre shared a look. He set it back down with a satisfied lip smack and went back to his mashed potatoes.

"Alright, I'll bite," Cassian put his knife down. "What happened at school today?"

"I met my mate," Rhysand's face dropped at his son's little confession. "And she's perfect, and nice, and prettier than mommy."

Feyre hid her laugher behind a mask of concern before gently digging into Nyx's head.

There, as Nyx thought about his mate, was Miss Arianna, legs crossed as she read to them on the floor. Her black hair was tied up in two buns with pieces framing her face. She had a big smile on her lips as she read in different voices from the children's book.

Feyre and Rhys, despite their status, sat on a waiting list to have Nyx in her lessons. She was highly sought after, her students were all advanced for their little ages, and she allowed time in their schedules for naps. Something many teachers felt was unnecessary.

Rhys had loved you the moment he made the choice to ignore his morals and enter your mind during their interview.

You didn't care who they were.

You didn't care about their status.

You cared about the faelings.

You took children from every walk of life in Velaris. The poor, the rich, high fae, low fae. It didn't matter to you.

Rhys and Feyre both shared a look and chuckled. "And who is your mate, Nyx?"

He sighed with a dreamy look in his eyes, mind now flashing to you comforting him after he got hurt at recess, "Miss Arianna. I gave her a cookie, and we shared it, so I'm a taken male now."

Nesta had her hand over her mouth, eyes sparkling. "Well," Cassian started before a slap came to his thigh, warning him to let Rhys and Feyre take care of this gently. "You did better than Auntie Ness. She offered me a stale biscuit."

"Your mom made me a can of soup. Worse can of soup I've ever had. Lucien, what did Elain give you?"

Lucien smirked and leaned back, hand on Elain's pregnant stomach. "A five course meal with dessert."

They were all hoping Nyx would understand the implications of what they were saying, but the far-off look and content sigh told them he didn't.

A few weeks later, the inner circle and all of their partners and mates were at the school's end of the year celebration.

The grass had been packed with games, little events for the children, vendors charging nothing for sweets and foods at the kindness and generosity of the High Lord and Lady.

Nyx had long abandoned his family. Opting to run and play with his friends. Cassian and Nesta stood with their daughter, looking over the schools information sheets and the application to join Miss Arianna's class for next year.

"Mommy!" Feyre turned at the voice, beginning to laugh as Nyx dragged his teacher behind him. "Mommy! You were supposed to be behind me!" The heir tapped his foot, Miss Arianna looking away as she hid her smile at his little antics. "I had to bring her all the way over here!"

Arianna and Feyre held eye contact both of their eyes sparkling and knowing where this was going. "Mommy, this is my wife and mate, Miss Arianna," he pulled her to Mor and Emerie first. "This is my Auntie Mor and her wife Emerie." He didn't wait before ripping her to Amren and Varian. "Aunite Amren and Varian. You'll like Auntie Amren. She's real smart." She was pulled to Rhys next. The two adults shook their heads, smiling. "This is daddy. You can call him.... uh. Daddy?" He pulled her to Cassian and Nesta. "Auntie Ness and Uncle Cass," he looked around brow knit in confusion. "Where's Uncle Az and Clarissa?"

Rhys patted his head. "Ris wanted cotton candy, so Az took her to get cotton candy. Why don't you go play too? Then we can talk to your wife."

They watched as Nyx ran off. Clearly not looking to play but trying to find his missing uncle. "I tried telling him, but he's so attached to the idea of us spending the rest of our lives together that he doesn't fully understand."

They all laughed. "We tried too. He told us that we didn't understand."

"Strange. He said to me that the bond didn't snap right away for you either, High Lady, so he'd find the Suriel to tell me, and I'd feel it after that."

A soft pout came to Feyre's lips. "He doesn't understand why you won't be their teacher next year."

Arianna's face fell, the fine features morphing into sadness and longing. "I introduced them to Alexios and even had him sit and answer questions during round up day. I can talk to him. I'm so sorry. I wish I could keep them until higher level learning. We just-"

Feyre hugged her, stopping the unneeded apology. "We know. Cassian and Nesta were hoping to get Clarissa in your class."

"And we were hoping to hire you for private tutoring," Rhys, like his son, was not ready to let Her go. He had spent countless nights looking for ways to keep Nyx in her classes. "We would pay you well."

"That wouldn't be necessary," she turned to Cassian and Nesta, a big smile on her face. "Would you like to see my room? I'll have a different theme next year, but it will give you an idea of my environment."

"Lead the way," Cassian held Nesta close. Watching the two females interact, inserting questions as they walked into her classroom.

The Inner Circle all went to find food and place to eat, enjoying the small screams of joy and laughter around them. "She's really pretty," Emerie started slowly. "Maybe we should hook her up with Azriel. He hasn't dated since Gwyn."

Varian visibly flinched at the mentioned of Gwyn. "Does he still hate Tarquin?"

"Yes," they all answered together.

Azriel joined them seconds later. He was carrying Risa and holding Nyx's hand. "She crashed. Where's Cass? I'm going to take her home?"

Rhys motioned towards the schoolhouse, pulling Nyx to him and telling him to sit and eat. "Arianna offered them a tour of the classroom. A quiet place out of the sun might perk our niece back up, too."

Azriel nodded, carrying the small illyrian into the school house and following his shadows. He could hear melodic laughter and Cassian's loud voice, pausing at the doorway as his niece stirred and snuggled back into him, whispering for daddy. "He's right here, princess."

Nesta motioned for Azriel to join her. His jaw dropped at the sight of the classroom. It was a domed open glass ceiling, but the second it he entered, it began filtering light. "It knows she's sleeping," that voice had his shadows dancing. "I enchanted my room for my students so they're always in a comfortable environment. Never too bright, hot, or cold."

The room was filled with toys and exotic stuffed animals for snuggling. It was decorated like a rain forest from the continent, and an occasional call of something wild could be heard. "I suppose you enchanted all of this too?"

Azriel didn't look her direction, a look of shock and amazement going Nesta's way. Lady Death nodded eagerly, her eyes almost watering. She'd be heartbroken if Clarissa wasn't here next year, Azriel realized.

"Is this the little potential enrollee?" She walked over to Azriel, and nothing else was heard in the room. They didn't hear Cassian or Nesta respond, they no longer heard the soft sounds of animals and birds calling in the distance.

It was like everything in Azriel's life fell onto a new axis.

Arianna was his mate. The female he'd spent forever looking for.

And his nephew was obsessed with her.

Arianna spoke first, "We can't tell Nyx."

Azriel nodded. "I'll get banished to Mother knows where if we do."

Cassian looked between them before smiling, "Did you just secure my daughter's spot in her class? What kind of Aunt wouldn't teach her niece?"

Nesta smacked him hard, smiling from ear to ear. "Have dinner with us tonight? We share one of Rhys' and Feyre's houses with Azriel. He could fly you up for dinner, and we could all get to know each other."

"Only if you want that," Azriel nodded the second the sentence left her lips. "As, am I allowed to be blunt now?" They all nodded. "I was going to take her regardless," she turned to Nesta. "Morrigan scares me. It's why I took Nyx, too."

Arianna held Azriel's hand tight as they walked to the Riverhouse.

They had spent the summer getting to know each other. Going to coffee, to dinner, on long walks along the Sindra. It had taken all of a month for the two of them to decide this was serious, and they both wanted to move forward with the bond.

But that meant telling Nyx, who was still very much infatuated with her.

Azriel sighed as he grabbed the handle, "Ready?"

She nodded, hand stick folded delicately on his bicep. "Only if you are."

Azriel pushed the door to the lavish home open, smiling at Rhys and Feyre, who were waiting for them. They, Cassian, Nesta, and Azriel, had all decided the best way to do this was over a full family dinner.

"Uncle Az!" The shadoesinger stiffened. He had thought they would at least get to the table before the little heir appeared, but the Mother must have had other plans.

He came bounding into the room before stopping at the doorway with a loud gasp.

Azriel had never felt more like chopped liver as Nyx ran to his mate, hugging her legs. "Uncle Az brought my wife to dinner, Daddy!"

Rhysand scratched the stubble he had allowed to grow out due to his days being spent caring for Nyx as Feyre sat the throne. "We should all go sit on the couch, buddy. We need to talk about something."

Arianna allowed Nyx to pull her with him, looking back at Azriel with tears in her eyes.

He had discovered during their time together she had a Cauldron gift, one that had never been trained and just thought of as a personality trait. Arianna was an empath. She felt the emotions of others so deeply and could manipulate them if she tried.

It explained why she was so attached to children and them to her.

It also made her very useful in stressful situations. "Just breathe," Azriel mouthed as they all followed.

"Oh shit," Nesta whispered quietly. "We're doing this now?"

Rhys nodded. His eyes were already lining with silver as he sat across from Nyx with Azriel on one side and Feyre on the other.

The room was very quiet until Azriel spoke. "Nyx, Miss Arianna and I really need to tell you something, and we need you to try to stay calm." The shadowsinger sent a silent prayer to whatever Gods would listen and watched as one of his shadows held Arianna's free hand.

"Miss Arianna is my mate. I asked her to marry me."

The heir's face morphed into a little look of betrayal, his eyes starting to water as Rhysand and him held eye contact. "She's my mate, though."

Nyx looked at Feyre, hoping for support before looking back to a defeated Rhys. "I'm sorry, buddy, but She's Uncle Azriel's mate. Do you remember me telling you about the thread that connects me to Mommy?"

The heir cuddled closer into Arianna, glaring hard towards Azriel. "Why are you so mean?"

Feyre gasped at the question, immediately grabbing Azriel's hand. "Nyx!"

"He's trying to steal my wife!"

Arianna was in tears. The heirs emotions were overwhelming. She took over the conversation, blocking everyone from Nyx by taking both hands and sitting on the coffee table. "Nyx, honey, I'm so sorry, but Az and I are mates," they all felt the small tinge of magic shift. "I know this is hard for you. Your feelings are so valid, and it's difficult when you feel something this deeply to let go of that notion. It's hard processing such big emotions."

She wiped one of his tears. "Your mate is out there, hun. And she's wonderful, kind, smart, and closer in age than I am to you. You two will have so much more in common, and you will find joy and happiness in her that you never will in me."

"But she won't be you," Nyx sobbed heavily. "We're supposed to spend forever together."

She smiled softly. "And we will. You will always have me in your life. We will always be friends."

He glared towards Azriel, and Arianna turned his little head towards her. "You are hurting his feelings. Uncle Az loves you. We've spent a lot of time talking about how to handle this because he knew it would upset you, and it hurts his heart to see you so sad. You don't want to hurt Az. I can see if in your little face."

Nyx still glared at Az. "What if you two break up?"

"You'll be the first to know, bud," Azriel said softly.

"Good."

"Good," Azriel repeated.

"Fine."

"Fine," the heir smiled as his Uncle teased him.

It was then that Nyx decided to dive on Azriel, the Illyrian coming out of them as he started a tickle fight. "She was mine first!"

Azriel was laughing, holding the smiling boy close to him and allowing him to win. "And now she can be our. We can make her go places with us, bug her while we fight with our training swords, do pranks."

The heir stopped, that dimpled smile coming back out. "Prankies?"

Arianna's face fell as everyone started laughing. "Wait. What?"

Azriel smiled at her, sending her his love as Nyx whispered in his ear.

"We good?" She mouthed to him. He nodded, holding Nyx close. She stood to go comfort Rhys and Feyre, only for a shadow to trip her. "AZRIEL!"

The heir and shadowsinger ran off laughing as the other couples watched Arianna with shared grins, "Don't worry, sweetness," Cassian helped her up. "They're just getting started."

.General tag list:@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager

[secretlovelygarden]

Underrated Elriel moments

"It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. the male who heard things others could not... Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed."

"I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? the herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went."

"Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants. I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed."

"Beyond the windows, darkness had indeed fallen. The longest night of the year. I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amethyst-colored gown. I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it. The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s - the fabric immaculately tailored and built to fit his wings. He still wore his siphons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers, but there was little sign of the warrior otherwise. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy solstice."

"Feyre said, “We won’t allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.” “Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said. “Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with soft menace."

"She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. like you two,” she said, nodding to Cassian and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel. Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from. Cassian tucked away his puzzlement. Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long."

[scorpioriesling]

Dream Come True

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

Pairing(s): Lucien x reader

Warnings: light swearing

Summary: When Elain rejects the mating bond, the High Lord of Autumn spares no sympathy for his youngest son (well… you know. Anyways.) Hosting a ball with all the most eligible maidens in the court, you are of course eligible and happy to attend, wishing from afar for so many years — but, you decide to take a different approach to hopefully win his heart.

SR’s Note: *sigh* this is my current favorite art for my favorite fox boy… did I stare at it for way too long? Maybe. Anyways, here’s the fic. Enjoy! xoxo

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

Honestly, you couldn't understand what the fuck was wrong with the Archeron girl.

First of all, she was blessed enough to look the way she did -- not that you wanted to look just like her, you would thank the Mother every day and night for blessing you with such lovely parents of your own who'd only pass on their best genes to you. But, she didn't have to try so damn hard to catch the eye of every male in Prythian, just with the swoosh of her skirt or the toss of her hair over her shoulder.

It sure caught the eye of the youngest Vanserra.

Her mate.

Don't even begin with her newfound Cauldron-blessed gift, either. It seemed like everywhere she went, all that was talked about was, "Ooh! Elain, the seer" or "have you been seeing anything new?" blah blah blah, I mean really -- how much longer will we hyperfixate on this? On her? Long gone was talk of her younger sister, the one who literally saved the land from Hybern's hand. You wondered if she ever grew as tired of her sister's attention as you did, not that you knew the Cursebreaker personally.

However, none of it mattered the 28th night of September. You'd been working that evening in the Autumn Palace, completing the tasks assigned as the Lady of Autumn's first assistant when you heard probably the best rumors to ever grace your ears. Beron had been passing you in the hall with his oldest son Eris, and you spared both of them a nod as they passed. Eris returned the small smile, having known you for years, but you didn't expect much from his father, knowing how cruel he was even with his own wife. You also didn't expect to hear the conversation they were having, but you slowed your pace as they continued in the opposite direction down the corridor from you.

"The girl said she wanted the bond broken," Beron muttered in a menacing tone. Eris sighed, and your breath hitched.

"What do you think Lucien-" Eris started.

"I'm not asking Lucien what he thinks. We won't deal with some ignorant wench who doesn't know what she wants. I'm not surprised she doesn't want to deal with him, but I won't deal with the scandal of him going unmated..." Beron's cruel tone fades as the pair rounds the corner of the corridor, and you brace yourself on one of the credenzas along the wall for a moment. Elain wants to break the bond? There's no way. You look up, eyes catching on your reflection in the dimly lit mirror hung on the wall. Was she really so unhappy that she would ask to break something so sacred, with someone as special as Lucien?

You took a steadying breath, forcing your feet to keep carrying you and your completed task sheet to the Lady of Autumn's office. You could barely focus; what was Lucien going to do? How was he feeling? You remembered all of the times you'd stolen glances at him, all the memories of hearing his warm but rare laugher through these very halls with his brothers over the years. He wasn't around as much anymore, but that didn't stop the desire that still warmed your heart at the thought of him.

"Thank you for your assistance, Y/N," the Lady of Autumn's voice was a warm caress as you laid down the task sheet upon her desk. "You're free to go for the evening."

With a nod you made for the door, but instead of heading for the front of the palace, you made way for the back stairwell, one that led to the private bedrooms. You knew your way around this place as you'd worked here for years, becoming rather close with the family and the boys that lived here. You counted the doors: one, two, three on the right side, and gave the third door a soft knock. Within moments, it was unlatched and a familiar pair of mahogany eyes met yours.

"Oh... hello, Y/N," Eris steps back, allowing you into his room before his father caught on somehow that you were still here. You silently slipped inside, as you'd done so many times before and taken a seat on the edge of his mattress. He perched near the top by his pillows, and offerred a quizzical look. "What brings you-"

"I need to know. I need to know about Lucien." You cut in. Eris' face immediately softened in realization. You'd been in this position many a time, coming to Eris with your concerns about his brother and him confiding his own feelings in you. This is what drew the two of you so close and provided a friendship so precious you knew you had to keep secret, as Beron was unpredictable and could use it as a weapon in a time of his own need.

"Elain... she asked Helion today to break their bond. He told my father right after she'd requested it." His hand found yours, and you loosed a breath. Your heart constricted, only imagining what Lucien must be going through right now.

"And... and Lucien? Was he-" Eris only shakes his head. Your sadness turns to anger, and you yank your hand back. You rise from the bed, beginning to pace back and forth in his room as traitorous thoughts cloud your mind.

"So, he wasn't even there? He doesn't even know?" You say, voice rising in octave. Eris leans forward, pressing a forefinger to his lips and shushing you.

"Shhhh, he likely knows by now," he says soothingly. But it doesn't matter. You feel as though your rage is bubbling over like the milky substance of the Caldron.

"Yeah. You're right, he probably knows -- I'm sure it probably hurts pretty fuckin' bad when a cord inside of you just... just..." You're throwing your hands in the air, fists clenched and shaking. "...breaks right in half out of nowhere-" Eris is instantly on his feet, taking both of your wrists in his, eyes searching yours in all seriousness.

"Y/N." He says solemnly. "You have to calm down. Someone is going to hear you, okay?" He says calmly. Your breath is heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as his hands still grip your wrists mid-air. He lets go, moving one hand to brush the stray hairs sticking to your face behind your ear, clinging to your forehead with the sweat you've worked up. "Just, take a deep breath, okay? I'm not too keen on it either, but this isn't my situation to have an opinion on, alright? We have to try and remember that."

You take his words into consideration, wiping your perspirating hands on your smock and breathing deeply. He takes a step back from you, allowing you your space and returning to sit on the bed. You follow, rubbing your hands over your face in defeat.

"My father doesn't want this to be a big thing," he continues, and you move your hands to look at him. He peers at the patch of bedsheets between the two of you, appearing to zone out as he continues. "He thinks if he finds someone else for Lucien quickly, the whole bond "thing" won't cause too much talk and Lu will be able to get over it faster or something." You roll your eyes, scoffing.

"That's the most rediculous thing I've ever heard." You say.

"I know." He replies. You shake your head, biting your bottom lip.

"What's he planning to do? Line someone up for Lucien to wed instead?" You ask. You really don't want to know the answer -- hearing he had a mate was already heart-wrenching enough, now hearing he would be betrothed to another would be even worse.

"He's planning to have a courting ceremony in two days, in the palace," he says. You perk up.

"Oh?"

"Mhm," he continues, eyes sliding to yours with a mischevious grin. "Now, don't get your hopes up, but he's only inviting the most eligible maidens and High Fae to attend, but anyone in attendance would technically have the right to Lucien's hand, if he accepts it. I've known a sly fox like you long enough that-"

"You know I'll find a way in." You finish. He chuckles.

"You also have to get him to say yes." You heart sinks a little. With Eris, its always been so easy -- the conversations, the getting along, the understanding. But, you started working here not too long before Lucien was on his way out the door. You could only pray you would be able to talk to him the same as his brother.

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. I'm sure when Lu sees how charming you can be, he'd be stupid not to take your hand." Eris flashes an award-winning smile, and you can't help but feel hopeful by his tone.

You only hope you can pull this off without a hitch.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

The deep violet dress you wore clung to every curve, the soft fabric scrunching in all the right places as it brushed the against your legs and drug along the leaf-littered ground behind you. You'd allowed your hair out of your usual braid for tonight, the long wavy tendrils sweeping down your exposed back, locks illuminated by the moonlight. You had to admit, you did appreciate the way you looked when you put in some effort -- you'd do it everyday, only for him.

"Y/N," Eris' soft whisper-shout echoes from the illuminated doorway as you round the corner of the palace, just where you'd arranged to meet. Turns out, sneaking into the ball was a lot easier than you'd thought; Beron was too busy in the throne room to pay any mind to where his oldest son was, which of course, was helping you enter through one of the unguarded back entrances.

"Wow," he breathes, pulling the heavy door closed and ushering you inside. "You're a vision." You blush, swatting his arm.

"Well, while I appreciate the compliment," you state. "Let's hope your brother reciprocates the sentiment."

Eris chuckles. "He would be a damned fool not to." You followed closely behind him as he led you down corridor after corridor, some unfamiliar at first as he peered around the corners before leading you down the halls. The sound of people talking rang out, and you heard the approaching throne room, recognising more of your surroundings. You placed a hand on Eris' arm, the fabric of his ornate jacket rough under your touch.

"You go in first," you say.

"Are you sure?" He asks, a tender look in your friend's eye.

You give him a knowing look. "Yes, your father would be suspicious if we walk in together." He nods, opening the doors a slit and slipping inside. You take a deep breath, wringing your hands and grounding yourself once more. You were finally going to have a chance, a chance to see him again tonight - and try your very best to not mess this all up.

Opening the door, you inch inside, hoping to not catch the eye of Beron or the Lady of Autumn -- youwere, after all, not "technically" invited to this thing after all. Luckily, you'd waited long enough that their attention had drifted back to the dancefloor and Eris had made it to their side by now, and only he was looking to you as you slid along the wall noiselessly blending in with the crowd.

Your gaze searched the scene, looking for a certain redhead. Of course, Eris stood out among the crowd of beautiful maidens, all adorning lovely full gowns and makeup much more extravagant than your own. Guess you didn't get the memo. Nonetheless, you see a few of Lucien's brothers making their rounds as well, girls shamelessly flirting with them too. However, the Vanserra you were seeking was nowhere to be found.

That is, until a few moments later when Beron rose and cleared his throat.

"Good evening to everyone," he began and the room quieted. You slunk deeper into the shadows, trying to remain hidden as he peered out into the crowd.

"Thank you all for attending this rather, special, evening," he chuckles. Eris rolls his eyes at his father's indecency. You can't help but do the same as a few girls near you giggle in excitement.

"I would like to present my son of the evening, the most eligible and willing bachelor, Lucien Vanserra," he says. Lucien stalks out from the entrance beyond the thrones, and many of the ladies in the room gasp and giggle. You can't help but widen your eyes at his presence. You had to admit, his beauty was incomparable.

"Allow the ball to commence!" Beron ends his stupid announcement with that, and Lucien's stoic expression has your gaze dropping, remembering how hard this must be from him. Women all around are fluttering about, some gossiping, some flanking his side immediately -- Gods, that must be so suffocating. Your gaze meets Eris', and he tosses you a wink, motioning with his hands in a way that indictates give him some time. You then watch him glance at the incessant ladies pouncing on Lucien, and see him grimace and shake his head. You giggle, and head for the table of treats along the wall. If you have to wait your time, that's fine -- you'd been playing the long game for this long anyways, what was a few more hours?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

Yes, you'd been crushing from afar for so long -- but now that you shared air, it was a lot harder to stay on a long leash.

Watching him share dance after dance with beautiful fae after beautiful fae was... well, hurtful. You knew what you wanted, well... what you damn near needed, but you also knew that you needed to wait for the right moment.

What did you have that these ladies didn't?

All night, you looked around, comparing -- they were gorgeous, all High Fae, all much more glamorous than you. But, did they know him? No. Did they have much of a personality, or were they just here in hopes of being married off to the High Lord's newly-available son?

You needed to take the different approach.

And, hiding out by the food tables would not get you noticed.

You knew by the look on Lucien's face that he was getting tired of dancing the same dance, over and over and over. Having the same conversations, over. And over. And over. Sooner or later, he'd need an escape, and you knew this place like the back of your hand.

So where would he go?

You slipped outside, to the vast expanse of the private balcony off the throne room and rested your arms on the marble railing. Eris didn't miss your exit, suggesting to his brother a breath of fresh air, which he was happy to oblige in. You would have to remember to thank him later.

"Uhh, miss? This is a private balcony-"

You turn, hair brushing over your shoulder with the movement. Your eyes meet his, and heat floods your cheeks at the realization that the moment has finally come. The moonlight illuminates every russet freckle on his skin, the color matching his iris as his eyes widen in his own realization.

"Y/N?" He whispers, taking a tentative step toward you. You crack a half smile. You shrug your shoulders.

"In the flesh."

He walks quickly over to you, gasping and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you in so tight, and your arms wrap around his neck. He laughs against your neck, the sound as light and magnificent as the stars above. You inhale deep, his scent of amber and sunshine warming you to the core.

"I can't believe this, I... I haven't seen you in forever, I mean... how... wait, how are you here?" He chuckles again, releasing you. You wish he would hold you forever, but you pull back to look at him. He's still smiling down at you, a mere foot from you now, his hands still resting on the small of your waist.

"Well... you know I would never be invited to this sort of thing but... I've never exactly played by the rules." You wink at him, and he rolls his eyes, laughing heartly once more. He inhales fully and lets it go, gazing once more at you.

"Ohhhh, Y/N, it sure is good to see you again. And no, you never have played by any kind of rules," he shakes his head, and you register your hands still softly bracing his biceps. You grin up at him, and he seems to realize the intimacy at the same time you do. He releases you in that moment, moving to the balcony and loosing a breath, looking out at the Autumn Court beyond. You move to stand next to him, feeling his body heat even from a few feet away.

"Can you believe my dad would do such a rediculous thing like this?" He asks after a few beats of silence. You chew your lip, sneaking a glance at him. His jaw is tight as he continues to look straight ahead.

"Honestly... yeah. He is... he is somethin'." You say. Lucien turns, facing you once more.

"Has he gotten worse since I left?" He asks. You think for a moment, and his eyes search yours.

"I mean... I don't know. I talk more with your mom. He's still, well, cruel, not with me in particular, but with just everyone, I guess." He swears under his breath.

"I should have never left." He says. You place a hand over his and he glances down at it, then back out at the court, swallowing thickly. "None of this would have ever happened. I would have never met Elain. It never would have gotten worse here. I would have never-"

"Hey hey hey, don't say that," you say. He gazes at you again. You smile kindly at him. "We're all okay here -- the only thing that got worse was how much we all missed you." You trace a vein atop his hand and he breathes in deep, eyes fluttering down, then back up to yours, growing darker. "Well... how much I missed you, anyways."

He smiles softly. "Is that so?" He says quietly, and you nod.

"And... Elain is... so... so blind for not seeing the amazing man she's missing out on..." you lift your gaze to meet his eyes, and he slides his empty hand to your hip, pulling you close. He pulls you so close that you're sharing a breath as he practically whispers the next words into your mouth.

"Honestly... I might be glad she broke the bond. She is nothing compared to what I've been missing out on."

His lips press to yours, and you can only feel a rush of golden fireworks inside as his fingers brush through your hair, moving to cup your jaw and stroke your cheek. His lips move, kissing you sesually as your hands hold onto his shoulders, finally reveling in the moment you'd only dreamed would come true.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

[coeurdelain]

Thinking about Feyre asking to Rhys in ACOWAR if he think that Lucien and Elain will match together and Rhys replied that Lucien was loyal.

And Feyre said so is Azriel.

And then, in ACOSF, Mor said that Lucien can’t be trusted anymore even with Elain here because he’s friend with Vassa and Jurian.

And that its reports can be unbiased because of Vassa.

So the quality who could make Lucien a good mate for Elain is no longer valid anymore.

Lucien’s loyalty is directed to another woman now even if he’s mated to Elain.

On the other side, there is Azriel who is always here for Elain.

How many times he’s ready to risk it all for Elain ? A lot. (Btw, It will always make me laugh people who say there is no elriel proofs in ACOSF, this book literally show Azriel being a menace every time Elain could be in danger).

He helped her, he stayed with her, he rescued her, he protected her, he defended her.

He would even accept a blood duel for her.

Azriel is loyal to Elain.

He’s not even thinking about Mor anymore like we can see in the BC when Rhys asked « what about Mor ? ». and Azriel had no reaction

While Lucien is still close to Vassa. And he’s loyal to her.

When Azriel is ready to risk it all for Elain, Lucien is ready to risk it all for Vassa.

So, Rhys is right, be loyal to her mate is a great quality to be a good mate.

Unfortunately, Lucien no longer fits in this category regarding Elain.

He has Vassa now. She’s his priority.

But for Azriel, Elain comes first.

And it’s another reason why Elriel is superior.

It’s a romance serie and the man place another woman above « his mate » ?

No thank you. In romance, I like when the man character is ready to risk it all and loyal only to his love interest.

[kristisbookland]

ACOSF

Ch 19

"Because of the shit with Elain?"

Azriel stilled. "What happened to Elain?"

Cassian waved a hand. "A fight with Nesta. Don't bring it up," he warned when Azriel's eyes darkened.

...

Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. "You all right?" His brother nodded. "Fine." But shadows still swarmed him.

Ch21

Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preapering to strike.

Ch22

"She's volatile right now. The last time she did a scrying, it ended badly. The Cauldron looked at her. And then took Elain."

...

Azriel stiffened. "I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all."

...

Cassian looked over at Az. "You think you'll ever be ready for one?" Ever be ready to confess to Mor what's in you heart?"

"I don't know," Azriel said.

"Do you want a child?"

"It doesn't matter what I want." Distant words-ones that prevented Cassian from prying further. He was still happy to be Mor's buffer with Azriel, but there'd been a change lately. In both of them. Mor no longer sat beside Cassian, draped herself over him, and Azriel...those longing glances toward her had become few and far between. As if he'd given up.

Ch29

Amren said, " We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. Better to have both of them working on it."

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, "There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to."

....

Amren drained her wine and said to Cassian, "Nesta has a week. One more week to find the Trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes." She threw a nod toward Azriel. "Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don't underestimate her."

Ch 31

Nesta said, "The Trove. And what happened the last time I scried."

Feyre said, "We won't allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times."

"Eyes can be blinded," Nesta said.

"Not the ones under my command," Azriel said with soft menace. Nesta met his stare, knowing, he was the only one aside from Feyre who could truly understand her hesitation. He'd gone with Feyre into the heart of Hybern's camp to save Elain - he know the risk. "We won't make the same mistake twice."

Ch 44

"She made ballroms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two," she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel.

Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from.

Ch 58

Nesta shook her head slowly, not understanding. Elain just linked her arm throught Nesta's and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he'd heard Elain's sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

"I was just checking on dessert," Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met shadowsinger's stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and thought it was utterly neutral, something charged went throught it. Between them. Elain's breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into room.

...

Azriel lingered near the door, quiet enough that when Feyre and Mor began talking about some of her paintings, Nesta went over to him.

"Why don't you sit?" She leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger.

"My shadows don't like the flames so much." A pretty lie. She'd seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and know the answer.

"Why did you come if it torments you so much?"

"Because Rhys wants me here. It'd hurt him if I didn't come."

"Well I think holidays are stupid."

"I don't."

She arched a brow. He explained, "They pull people together. And bring them joy. They are a time to pause and reflect and gather, and those are never bad things." Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn't stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn't go near the fire.

His secret to tell, never hers.

Ch 59

(After Soltice/Bonus Ch.)

Three days passed with no word from Cassian. He'd been replaced on training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn't even give her a smile.

[foundress0fnothing]

what lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why

Summary: Elain and Lucien make a bargain. When it's time to call it in, however, neither of them remembers what it is—or that they made one in the first place.

Part 1/2. 4.5k words. Read here on ao3 or below the cut!

For Elucien Week 2024. Thanks to the organizers @elucienweekofficial for putting together such a wonderful event!

Title from Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem of the same name. So many thanks and hugs to @areyoudreaminof for betaing this and assuring me that the vibes were good!

By all accounts, it had been a perfect ceremony. Nesta looked beautiful in an elegant gown of ivory lace and silk and Cassian had gotten misty-eyed when he saw her. The two of them professed their love and fidelity in a heart-wrenchingly tender exchange of vows. They had commandeered the River House for the day, turning the front lawn into a lush expanse of trees and fae lights and flowers. There had been heartfelt speeches and strong drinks and delicious food, and now everyone was on the dance floor, celebrating all that they loved after coming so close to losing everything. Nesta and Cassian held each other as they danced slowly, lost to anyone other than their mate; Feyre and Rhys had left Nyx in the care of Nuala and Cerridwen, so they too were smiling happily (if tiredly) as they swayed to the music; even Nesta’s new friends Emerie and Gwyn had managed to make it to the ceremony despite all they had endured, apparently escorted by Mor and Azriel, both of whom hung closely to the females as they moved through the party, talking and laughing together easily. 

And there was Elain. Sweet, simple, quiet Elain, who, hovering at the edge of the dance floor by herself and looking at all the happy couples, wanted nothing more right then than a drink and to be miserable all by her sweet, simple, quiet self. 

No one had noticed her fade into the background of the party as she moved across the lawn, straightening the flower arrangements she had put together early that morning until she reached the doorway that would lead her back into the River House. She stepped through without looking back to see if anyone was watching. No one would be, but still—she didn’t want anyone to think her behavior strange if they did happen to glance her way. After all, there was nothing strange about her ducking into the house for a moment. Even if anyone saw her, they would forget her in a moment. As usual.

Once inside, she walked down the hall toward Rhys’ office. The door was closed over, but a quick push with her hip opened it easily. Rhys rarely locked it nowadays; the worst had happened and he still had his happy ending—why should he worry about an unlocked door?

But since he was the reason she didn’t have her own happy ending—not with Graysen, not with Azriel, not with anyone else—the least he could do was supply her with some disgustingly expensive alcohol of his to get through an evening of mated couples menacing her with their sheer presence.

He kept his best liquor in the shelf behind his orrery, and she let her fingers ghost over intricately wrought planets as she gently pushed the model aside to survey the bottles in his collection. They came from all across Prythian—ice wine from Winter, blackberry brandy from Summer, coffee liqueur from Dawn, fire whiskey from Autumn, honey mead from Day. He even had a few scant bottles of elderflower and lilac wine from Spring and a sloe gin from Illyria that she knew from past experience was better as an antiseptic than something to ingest.

Her eyes caught on a bottle in the corner. Its label was richly colored with maroons and browns and golds, and featured an illustration of a rushing waterfall in the middle of an autumnal forest. The bottle was mostly full, and the amber liquid inside seemed to burn with a fire that seemed to match the inferno Elain felt raging in her chest.

Making her decision, she grabbed the bottle by the neck and stalked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

She wended her way through the house to a small staging room that was just off of the kitchen. It was very rarely used—what use was a staging room in a house where the food just appeared with a snap of the high lord’s fingers? But it was lovely—the walls were painted a soft, muted green, and there was a comfortable loveseat tucked into the back corner behind the counters and tables. Elain had quietly, unofficially, claimed it as her hiding place, shifting plants and a small vanity a few favorite books into it until it resembled an oasis that she could retreat to when Feyre’s nosiness and Rhys’ highandedness and Nyx’s infant chaos grew to be too much for her to handle. 

And today, more than ever, Elain wanted some sort of escape. 

She flopped ungracefully down on one of the loveseats, not caring if the silk of her dress got wrinkled. So what if it did? It’s not like Elain was going back out there to try and find some male for the night. With her luck, they would all be mated anyway. Sighing, she pulled out the stopper on the whiskey and lifted the bottle directly up to her lips, taking a long sip and relishing the way it burned as it went down her throat—fire and smoke and peat and honey all at once. 

She waited until the sensation went away, and then she took another sip. And then another one. And then—

“You’re missing the party.” A voice from the doorway stopped her from taking another drink.

Elain didn’t have to turn to look at who it was. She knew his voice, and his scent, and his heartbeat, alluring and intoxicating and branded into the very marrow of her bones.

And she was too tired to care to guard herself against his pull. 

“Well done.” Elain finally turned to look at her mate, her eyes taking a moment to focus after she stopped moving. Lucien was lovely, she acknowledged petulantly. He was tall and surprisingly broad, facts highlighted by the close cut of the forest green suit he wore in honor of the festivities. His hair had been pulled away from his face in an array of intricate braids, and she noticed a few earrings winking at the tips of his pointed ears. Even the scar that cut across his eye, brutal as it was, only added to his allure and gave him a rakish look whenever he smiled. All together it was unfairly disarming, and Elain channeled some of her frustration into her tone as she continued sarcastically. “You caught me.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Another brilliant observation.” For a male with one eye. Not that she would ever say that to his face. That would be rude.

He raised an eyebrow. …Had she said it aloud. She grimaced slightly. Maybe she was much drunker than she realized.

“Do you want me to—should I leave?”

“Everyone always does.” She raised the bottle in his direction before bringing it back to her mouth and taking a long pull, deciding that the sharp sting in her eyes was from the burn of the whiskey and nothing else.

He hesitated in the doorway, clearly uncertain. Not that Elain could imagine why—it’s not like he had made any effort to stay in the same room as her before, always flitting off to see Feyre or Rhys or the humans he knew outside of Prythian. “Is it better if I stay?”

“Do what you want, Lucien.” Elain said it dismissively, but she saw him shudder as the sound of his name washed over him. 

“And what do you want, Elain?” He whispered the question, but she still felt it resonate inside her, the sound of her name and the offer of a choice foreign and familiar and far too exhilarating all at once. Half-consciously, she rubbed at her chest where the resonance felt strongest.

She didn’t want to let go of that feeling. Not yet, at least.

“Have a drink.” She held the half-full bottle out to him as she shifted on the loveseat, making just enough room for his larger frame to perch on the chair without having to touch her.

He sat down and studied the bottle, huffing slightly in pleased surprise. “I haven’t had this in years.”

Elain didn’t say anything at all as he continued turning the bottle of whiskey over in his hand, lost in the past for a moment. It wasn’t her place—and she didn’t trust drunk Elain to approach any revelations that prying might reveal with anything even approximating tact.

He roused himself after a few moments. “Cheers.” He took a long sip, leaning against his side of the chair and closing his eyes as the whiskey hit his tongue to savor the flavors. She wondered if it tasted the same to him—a smoky, peaty, cleansing burn—or if it was more to him somehow. 

Elain thought about asking, but he interrupted her musings with a wry, “Tastes like home,” and she snorted. That was her question answered, then.

She waved for him to pass the liquor back to her, and they sat in silence for a while, taking turns with the whiskey until only a few fingers remained.      

It was easy being there with him—a fact that Elain relished and resented in equal measure. It was nice and objectively the best day she had had in far longer than she’d prefer to acknowledge. But it wasn’t fair—she had made her choices about love. Twice! And both times she had ended up with nothing but hardship and betrayal and shame. 

And this, sitting and sipping whiskey silently with Lucien, was easy. Because he was her ‘mate.’ Well, fuck that, Elain thought petulantly. She was sick of mates. And how annoying it was that he of all people was the only one to offer her any kind of choice? Honestly.

“It’s just that,” Elain started, feeling the need to voice some explanation as to why she had been hiding and drinking, “I wanted a choice. And this is what I get.” She held the bottle of whiskey in her hand and gestured vaguely in the direction of the party before taking another sip and slumping against the arm of the loveseat.

Lucien motioned for the bottle, and she passed it back. Her head swum as she leaned forward, and she giggled at the way the room seemed to shimmer golden at its edges. 

He raised an eyebrow and said, before taking a drink, “We’re alike in that, my lady.” He swayed slightly, and Elain was glad to see that he was catching up to her. “What choices have I ever had?”

“That’s very bleak,” Elain chided him.

“Sorry, did you expect that this,” he said, gesturing to his face, “came from a happy story?”

“I don’t know the story.”

“Surely you’ve heard—”

“Not from you.”

He paused for a moment, thinking. “Another time.”

She nodded easily, happy enough to let the story remain unspoken. She did know it—or knew as much as Feyre knew, anyway—and besides, she didn’t want to push if it would disturb the peace that had settled between them.

But she was still thinking about bonds and love and choices, and so she asked, quietly, “Would you choose this?”

Lucien tilted his head, blinking to focus his eyes as he tried to make sense of her question. “Choose what? You? The mating bond?”

Elain hummed in agreement.

“It’s a mating bond.” He looked at her like she was stupid, and she scowled slightly, irritated at his answer.

“But you…there have been—there are—others? Right?”

“I’m 300 years old. Of course—”

“And that’s another thing!” She exclaimed, unsteadily pushing herself to sit upright. “I’m only 24! What time have I had?” 

Lucien snorted and took another drink from the now almost-empty bottle, muttering, “Enough time to fuck it up twice, apparently.”

“Oh, fuck you.” She shoved his shoulder and yanked the whiskey out of his hands. She was done sharing if he was going to be like that.

But she wasn’t mad, not really. The whiskey had made her brain a little too floaty to harbor any real irritation. And it’s not like he was wrong exactly. Although she was mortified that he apparently knew about Azriel.

He smirked at her as she settled back against her side of the loveseat, aware that she was more amused than angry.

Elain wrinkled her nose at his smug expression and titled the bottle of whiskey up to finish off the last few swallows. It still burned going down, although the sensation had dulled since her first few sips. She lazily extended her arm to set it on the ground with a gentle clink, and when she looked up, she saw Lucien watching her curiously. 

“Would you be ready?” He asked.

“For what?”

“To accept the bond. If you’re tired of being alone.” He said it casually while looking up at the ceiling, as if he had no real stake in the answer. 

She wondered if he was trying to avoid scaring her off. She didn’t want to leave—she was too comfortably boneless and warm and hazy to really want to get up. And where would she go anyway? It’s not like she had anywhere else to be except the party. Besides, she couldn’t fault him for asking the question—she had brought up the topic of them being mates in the first place after all. But she didn’t know how to answer him. Was she ready? Tonight had been…good…but still. “I—would you?”

“I don’t want it gone. So–I could be.” Lucien glanced at her and shrugged.

Elain rolled her eyes. “But are you? Actually?” He opened his mouth to answer, and she sat up, raising her finger in his face and cutting him off before he could start. “And don’t lie, I’ll know.”

“I have—” He paused and looked away from her again. “There are the humans.”

“Oh?” Elain studied his face carefully. He still hadn’t looked back at her, but she could see something fond and hopeful in the corner of his eyes and the set of his mouth. His next words weren’t a surprise then.

“They make me happy.”

She wanted to be glad for him, truly. He had found love—he had chosen love. But his statement made something jealous and possessive spark in her chest. He was hers, that jealousy inside her seethed. And she hated that he made her feel this way because of the stupid mating bond. But she was drunk and bold and pissed, so she bit out, with a tone that would have made even Nesta cringe at its coldness, “Then why aren’t they here to celebrate with you?”

Lucien turned his gaze back to her and frowned. “You know why. It would be…impolite.”

“Because of me,” Elain finished, slumping backwards into the loveseat again until she was almost horizontal. She could feel the brush of his legs against hers from where she had splayed them out to encroach onto his side of the chair. The feral possessiveness ebbed slightly at his acknowledgement of their bond and the physical contact, but she was still angry. And she hated how good it felt to touch him. And, gods, she wanted another drink. The edges of her vision were still fuzzy, but she needed something that tasted like fire going down and could burn away the angry ache in her chest when she thought of Lucien and the humans.

He visibly swallowed, and Elain couldn’t tell if it was from their touching or some guilt about the humans in the face of her anger. Her stupid, mate-and-whiskey-clouded brain refused to move past them, and so she probed. “So you’re here alone.” 

She must have sounded too pleased at that fact, because Lucien raised a judgmental eyebrow and smiled meanly. “As alone as you are, my lady.”

Elain scowled at him. “Well, I’m tired of being aloneeeee.” She let herself draw out the last word into a whine, savoring the petulant tone that she knew her sisters would have smacked her for if they had been there in the room with them. It had always annoyed them when she used it to get her way growing up.

And it clearly had the same effect on Lucien, whose judgemental eyebrow shifted into a full sneer. “You’re telling me that you’re tired of being alone? I’m your mate. You could say the word and not be alone today.”

She sniffed at his tone. “That makes you sound pathetic.”

He shoved her legs away from his and said, as she tried to avoid slipping off the loveseat, “I thought you were supposed to be the nice one. You get mean when you’re drunk.”

She smiled fakely as she kicked her legs back out, making sure to connect with his shin before letting her calves settle against his. “Just with you.” And, she thought to herself as he scowled and rubbed at what would certainly be a bruise on his leg, that’s what you get for falling in love with someone else but coming to drink with me. 

A ribbon of satisfaction burned through her at the spiteful thought, while at the same time, some rational part of her brain cringed. She hated how nonsensical it all was—wanting a choice and wanting him all at once. 

And then she had a brilliant idea. She had read about it in one of the novels that Nesta had left lying around the townhouse—a couple that agreed to come back together after taking time apart. The book had been silly but the plan? It would be perfect for them.

“Okay, what if,” she said, hauling herself to a more normal sitting position, although she mourned the loss of contact between them. “What if we made a bargain?”

Lucien was still rubbing his leg, but he asked, “A bargain? Why?”

“For each other.” He looked at her skeptically, and she huffed. “And they call you the cunning one.”

“How would a bargain—we’re already mates, Elain. We can just accept the bond.”

She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips again, but ignored it to explain, “But we would choose it.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Well, you’re not listening.” She leaned over to him and put her hands on either side of his face to draw him in close to her until their noses were almost touching so she would know he was paying attention.

But seeing his face like this captivated her, stilling the words in her mouth for a moment. His right eye, although it was a little bleary from the whiskey, burned with a fire in its russet depths, and the golden one seemed to glow lightly in tandem. From this close, she could count the barely-there freckles that were dusted across the bridge of his nose, so light that they almost blended into the deep brown of his skin. And his scar—she could feel the grooved edges of it under her fingertips as she held his face, and she longed to raise her hand and cradle the damaged skin—

“Okay?” Lucien interrupted her enraptured perusal of his face, confusion lacing his question.

She blinked back to awareness, quickly shoving aside all thoughts of tenderly holding his face or seeing how hot his eyes could burn if she just—no. “So here’s the plan. Because—I want time, Lucien. Time to choose. Time to get to know other males. And you have whatever it is you have with your—with Vassa.”

“And Jurian.” 

Elain frowned at him. “Stay focused.”

He snorted but stayed quiet, so she continued. “And this—” she waved her hand between the two of them. “Gets forgotten. But not rejected.” She paused for a moment, and then said, quietly. “It’s just—I don’t want to be alone. At the end of it all. If—if…” She trailed off.

Lucien scoffed. “If you don’t find anyone better? Okay, princess.” He started to pull away. “I don’t want to be your last chance gamble because you’re drunk and lonely tonight, Elain.”

“No—no.” She kept her hands pressed to either side of his face, squeezing slightly until he stopped trying to move and just scowled at her. She knew he could shake her off if he really wanted to, if he decided to go back to the party or winnow home to his humans and laugh with them about his silly mate who came on to him because she was lonely and couldn’t find love on her own like them. But she didn’t want him to think that it was him she disliked. Then he could leave if he wanted to, and she would steal another bottle of Rhys’ to forget the whole humiliating affair.

He stayed, so she said, “It’s not that. It’s not you. Obviously. Don’t be an idiot. I just—I don’t like the obligation of you.”

He rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Do you like the obligation of me?”

“Not at this moment.”

Elain scowled and removed her hands from his face to gesture at the doorway. She had said what she needed to. “You can leave.”

But Lucien just looked at her for a few moments and sighed. “No, I really can’t. Not if this might be something—” He stopped himself from saying anything else, and impulsively, Elain grabbed his hand.  

“I just want a chance to choose. I just want time. Not to give it up completely. And I want—you to have time too. To choose.” That was a lie—Elain would much prefer it if he just waited for her to figure it out, but she couldn’t ask that of him. Not fairly. 

He nodded, so she continued. “So we make a bargain. For time. And then, if we reach the end of the time and we haven’t committed—officially—to someone else, we do it. The whole thing. Accepting the bond, the frenzy, the big ceremony and the family and all of it. Because maybe the Mother or the Cauldron or fate or whatever was right all along.”

“How long?” Lucien asked.

“How long what?”

“How long until we call in the bargain?”

Elain titled her head, considering.“Ten years.”

“And if there’s no one else—”

“Yes. We do it. Mates.”

Lucien hesitated for a moment, and Elain let go of his hand to grab his face again. “Say yes, Lucien.” Saying his name felt like magic and music and possibility, and as she watched the sound of it affect him again just like it had when he first came in the room, she knew he would agree.

Was it fair, using his name like this to get what she wanted? Maybe not. But it felt right—a way to bind them together without taking away their choices. Elain only hoped that it didn’t end with a repeat of her situation now—left alone while he found all that he was looking for. 

She hiccuped slightly.

Lucien smiled at that and then nodded. “Then, yes, Elain. It’s a bargain.” He leaned in and brought his hand up between hers to cup her chin, a smirk dancing across his face. “And sealed with a kiss.”

He tilted her lips up to meet his, and Elain burned.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting—something gentle, perhaps? Courtly and courteous, even.  But Lucien kissed with a fire that reminded her that he was a son of Autumn, his lips blisteringly hot and insatiable, searing through her until she felt herself melt into him.

There was a brief spark of pain in her head, just behind her ear, but she ignored it, lost as she was in his embrace. It was bliss and agony and ruination and heaven, and Elain privately wondered if she would ever feel something quite like it again.

After a few more moments, he pulled away, breathing heavily, and Elain too found herself gasping as she unconsciously lifted one hand to her lips as if it could soothe the bruising ache his kiss left behind.

They stared at each other, blinking. And then Elain smiled. “Wait here.”

She ran back to Rhys’ office, ignoring Lucien’s confused shout as she left the room. This—the bargain and the day and that kiss—required a drink. She grabbed one of the bottles at random, not really caring what it was, and then returned to the staging room. Lucien had spread out across the loveseat, with one arm thrown over his eyes.

She nudged him and he moved his arm. “Why did you—” But then he saw the bottle she grabbed—the mead, apparently—and smiled, understanding flashing in his eyes.

“Move over.” He shifted slightly, but not enough that she could sit upright on her own side of the bench, so she was forced to sit between his legs, leaning back into his chest.

“Happy, Lucien?”

He hummed in response. 

She rolled her eyes, not that he could see, and pulled the cork out of the bottle, savoring the honey-rich scent that immediately drenched the air around them. “A toast?”

Elain took a sip before passing the bottle backwards to Lucien, who laughed, “To stupid bargains with beautiful women.”

“To beautiful bargains with stupid men.”

She didn’t turn around to look at him, but she knew he was smiling. “Whatever you say, Elain.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Elain found herself sprawled out on the loveseat in her staging room with her feet dangling off the side. Her head was pounding and her tongue felt cottony and thick in her mouth as she blinked blearily awake and tried to remember what had happened last night.

She remembered leaving the party and stealing Rhys’ whiskey, and then Lucien!—she glanced around in a quiet panic. Was he here? What had she said to him? 

But she was alone—Lucien had apparently left at some point in the evening, although she couldn’t quite place when, and so she didn’t have to face him and whatever alcohol-fueled nonsense they had said to each other.

They had shared the whiskey—that she remembers. And they talked about…something. And she could feel the ghost of some fire on her lips—the whiskey, most likely. But everything else was lost in a blur of liquor and warmth and … pain? Had she gotten hurt somehow?

There was a small, pulsing burning behind her ear, and Elain tentatively raised her hand to it. It was slightly warm, but it didn’t feel like an injury.

She hauled herself up off the loveseat to walk across the room to the vanity, hoping she could see whatever it was in the mirror. She angled her neck and swept her tangled hair to the side and—there!—she could just make out the silhouette of a flower tattoo behind her ear. 

Leaning in closer, she tried to make out the details. It looked like … a larkspur, maybe? But why—

And then Elain gasped and closed her eyes. A bargain. Drunk Elain had made a bargain with someone—Lucien? Gods, she hoped not—and because it was the fucking Night Court, she bore the evidence of it on her skin. It was a small tattoo, and  she thanked the mother that it wasn’t some giant monstrosity like Feyre’s arm bargain tattoos—at least she could hide this. Whatever this was.

[emmitaaa4]

“A woman is not written in braille, you don’t have to touch her to know her.”

I'm tearing up. The comment below is how Azriel would speak of Elain when xyz happens and he lets his heart pour out (and I have the evidence of course).

She doesn’t like change and loves to love the world around her.

“Beautiful.” / “After all of this, the world needs more gardens.”

“In celebrating the traditions, even through the presents, we honor those who fought for its very existence, for the peace this city now has.”

She loves so hard she hurts herself at times and doesn't let me pick up the pieces, even though I always do it anyway.

So Elain silently cried, the tears so unending that I wondered if it was some sign of her heart bleeding out. Some sliver of hope that had shattered today--that love would trump even a mating bond.

(...)

Azriel carried Elain down, my sister silent and unresponsive in his arms. (...) Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm (...) and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.

"What if" - I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden. “That is what she needs?

“I didn’t hear you.” Azriel stepped forward. “But you heard something else."

“Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body.”

“I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose.

“A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” / It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. / Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding had freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in.

“What about Elain?” / “I’m getting her back” “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” 

Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. (...) Rhys lunged for Azriel, taking Elain from him and gently setting my sister down. Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.”

 

He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” (...) I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.

Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

 “Wait,” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice. (...) Azriel didn’t let go. “Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”

“I’d feel bad for the mice,” Azriel muttered. (...) earning a grateful smile from Elain. (...) the light that returned to Elain’s eyes.

“Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” (...) A fight with Nesta. don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him. Cassian knew it was a lie, but didn’t push it. Az would speak when he was ready”

Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.

“We won’t allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.” “Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said. “Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with a soft menace. Nesta met his stare, knowing he was the only one aside from Feyre who could truly understand her hesitation.

She’s stubborn like a mule but as delicate as a flower, always sad but never beaten.

“It’s already ended badly. Now it’s just a matter of how we meet the consequences.”

“Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she asked, a smile lighting up her face. I’d seen those same smiles before, on my own damn face. / Elain, it seemed, was as sleepless as me.

“Shall I tend to my little garden forever? You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to live a small, quiet life, while refusing to let me do anything greater.”

I love the way she understand what I'm trying to say without needing to hear me say it, when I can't seem to formulate anything at all.

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.

Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly.

He left the rest unspoken. (…) Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

"Yes," Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

She's probably the best thing that's happened to me.

“It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. since you rub your temples so often.” (...) Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Elain smiled again, ducking her head. Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.”

It was three by the time the others went to bed. Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room.

Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that (...) she understood why he stood near the doorway, why he wouldn’t go near the fire. His secret to tell, never hers.

There she was. The faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

A headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the HoW. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he'd slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse. (...) Elain's mouth twitched into a smile (...) He offered a smile back.

His head went quiet.

There is lust. There is tension. But there is also so much more.

[aimeedaisies]

HRH Princess Anne talks about her new Rustler 44 yacht and love of sailing in Scotland

Article from Yachting World, published 4th December 2014

Elaine Bunting asks Royal Princess Anne and her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence which are their favourite Scottish cruising grounds when they sail their Rustler 44 Ballochbuie.

Scotland is no easy cruising ground. The weather can change quickly. Reaching the more distant islands requires a certain toughness as well as skill, especially if sailing double-handed, as The Princess Royal Princess Anne and her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence usually do aboard their new Rustler 44 Ballochbuie. This is ‘black run’ cruising.

Their favourite places are the more remote islands and anchorages. “To be honest, if we get north of Ardnamurchan it suddenly feels different, and if you go north of Skye other boats almost disappear, and although there are some based up at Ullapool and Stornoway, they are rare,” says Princess Anne.

Asked about some of the places they like to visit, they first mention the island of Coll. “We’ve got some friends who live there,” says Sir Tim, adding: “though is not the most hospitable and the anchorages there are a little bit variable.”

“But it is pretty impressive at certain times of the year,” adds Princess Anne, “particularly up at the northern end, the Cairns of Coll. The northern end is rocky and the southern end is a bit more agricultural and there are lots of geese in the winter. Actually, winter is probably more entertaining – you get snipe and woodcock as well.”

At the mention of anchorages, Sir Tim gets up and goes below to Ballochbuie’s navigation table to retrieve a document that runs to several pages of A4 paper. This is a list of all the places he and Princess Anne have been to during their years of sailing the two Rustlers.

It is a very impressive and comprehensive list stretching from Rathlin Island off the north coast of Northern Ireland as far north as Cape Wrath at the north-western tip of Scotland. The scores of anchorages are carefully listed and account for some challenging pilotage and difficult nooks and crannies. But they seem to enjoy exploring new – and preferably out of the way – spots.

“We haven’t kept a record of how many miles we’ve sailed, but we have kept a record of the anchorages,” says Sir Tim, to which the Princess adds: “Every trip we added one anchorage we hadn’t been to before, at least, and usually two or three. Even if you are going over the same ground there are still places to be found, though fish farms are a bit of a menace. There are places we used to anchor in Bloodhound that you can’t get to now.”

The wildlife and sea life are something they both mention. “We see quite a lot of basking sharks, particularly between Coll and Tiree,” says Princess Anne. “Once I lost count at about 25. That was extraordinary.”

Princess Anne recalls: “We had a rough three days on the way from the Sound of Harris down to Lochboisdale [on South Uist] and saw a big pod of dolphins, which was just extraordinary. They were coming at you from the top of the waves. They didn’t quite jump over the top of the boat, but they looked like they were going to.”

Royal favourites

Lewis: the lochs on the east side are great. There are quite a few places to anchor in Loch Roag.

Shiant Islands: we’ve been there a couple of times in Blue Doublet and a couple of times on [the cruise ship] Hebridean Princess with The Queen.

Loch Ewe: we had an interesting time in fog as thick as I’ve ever known it. There is a wonderful garden to see here as well.

Hermitray: there are some nice anchorages in the Sound of Harris, but lots of fish farms around.

Rona: a favourite spot. One of the most sheltered anchorages on the west coast. A very nice man, Bill Cowie, is the warden.

Skye: we’ve been all round Skye. There are lots more places to visit. We’ve only been to 12 anchorages there!

Eriskay: there’s a fantastic little anchorage here. We went there for the first time in Ballochbuie.

Barra: a marvellous place and a wonderful escape from the world.

Vatersay: good shelter in the lee of a sandbar. We anchored near Vatersay in company with Britannia one year.

Canna, Rum, Eigg and Muck: we enjoy visiting all these islands.

Loch Nevis and Loch Awe: both are lovely places.

Loch Moidart: beautiful, but we’ve only been there once. It has quite a scary entrance, not easy in a long-keel boat and you’re always battling the wind to get out.

Mull: Loch Mingary, Bunessan, the Bull Hole and Ardlanish. A beautiful little spot with shelter on the south side of the Ross of Mull. Carsaig is a little notch you wouldn’t think you could get into or get any shelter at all, but there’s a little reef offshore you can tuck behind.

Lismore: the island in Loch Linnhe. Walking there you get the most beautiful views and you can see as far as Ben Nevis.

Loch Feochan: there is a little place right at the entrance that is great.

Garvellach Islands: lovely, but weather- dependent so it has to be very calm.

Loch Craignish: Goat Island is one of the safest anchorages on the west coast of Scotland, as long as you are able to wash off your anchor; it has the stickiest mud.

Jura: we have visited anchorages all round the coast.

Rathlin Island: fascinating, a bit shallow and we bounced off the bottom there.

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

marks of love like blooming orchids on your skin

elriel month prompt eight: veil

Light NSFW.

Elain was sliding her arms into the sleeves of her black dress, having just finished the final touches to her makeup, when she noticed the shadows in the corner of the room thickening and stretching, warping the light around it. 

Tendrils of soft shadow curled about like water rolling in a gentle boil before he materialized, and Azriel stepped out of the realm of his shadows.

His face was passive, as if he belonged there, as if striding into her rooms was the most natural thing in the world. Elain mirrored his expression, not succumbing to her surprise at his appearance in here, now.

He didn’t usually appear directly in her rooms at the river house unless it was one of their predetermined private meetings, and they had not discussed a meeting of any sort for now. Of all times, now was definitely not the time. 

Elain quietly wondered why he would come to her just before their Solstice visit to the Hewn City. They had all decided to meet in the foyer of the river manor when they were ready.

Curious. 

She tuned back to her vanity, the corners of lips rebelling against her wishes and lifting into a small smile. Her eyes narrowed in thought, remembering his apprehension upon hearing about the proposed plan when Feyre had come to them. He must be concerned then. Mother hen.

Flicking her eyes to him through the mirror at her dressing table she stated of the obvious. 

“Everyone will be ready in a minute.” 

She needed the reminder just as much as he did. Because if they started anything, gave in to their base urges and got carried away, they would surely be found, and it was almost time to go. It was imperative they not be late. Not tonight. Tonight’s mission was too important.

His eyes flashed, taking a step closer to her, his gaze not wavering from hers in the reflection.

“I just came from the House and Cassian and Nesta were still…busy. Rhys, no doubt, will still be primping.”

She huffed in amusement, eyeing him skeptically.

“And Mor?” she challenged. She was only a few doors down the hall, after all.

Azriel’s lip curled into a smirk. “Mor is even worse than Rhys.”

Elain chuckled, angling herself to maintain eye contact with him through the mirror as he moved closer to her. He loomed over her, his powerful wings peeking over the tops of his shoulders.

Already dressed in his full Illyrian armour, he was a menacing force, ready to deal the loathsome inhabitants of the Hewn City their reckoning— should it be found necessary. 

Truth Teller was tucked at his hip and a long blade sheathed down his spine. Every step he took was deliberate as he stalked towards her, his eyes never wavering from hers as he edged ever closer. The heat he radiated warmed her bare back as if she were standing before a roaring fire, its warmth hungrily lapping at her exposed skin.

The scales of his armour gleamed in the low light, his cobalt siphons polished to perfection, the dazzling blue striking against the midnight black. Even his talons at the tips of his wings appeared sharper, more menacing, as they glinted in the dim faelights. She drank him in greedily, her eyes gobbling up the sight of him.

Azriel’s head tilted to the side, his hair sliding across his forehead with the movement as he observed her inspection of him. 

The unextraordinary black dress they had chosen for her to wear tonight hung loosely off her form, the gown still unbuttoned up her spine, causing the tulle to hang low across her back. Azriel drew a hand up to her neck, his fingers grazing her skin and tucked his fingers beneath the black material. Heavy lidded eyes drank in her smooth skin greedily as he pushed the sleeve back down her arm, exposing her shoulder. She shuddered beneath his featherlight touch.

Elain had been styling her hair when Azriel appeared, sweeping half of it up with two combs of pearl, the remainder of her hair cascading around her shoulders. Azriel scooped up the rest of her loose curls with deft fingers, twisting the golden tresses around his mottled fist and held it up, away from her neck.

Hazel eyes roved over the expanse of her bare back and neck as the fingers of his other hand swept across the smooth stretch of her shoulder blade, down her arm, tracing the few scattered beauty spots across her skin and down the knobs of her spine.

He tucked his face into her neck, inhaling her sweet scent and Elain shuddered again, the caress of his warm breath igniting her senses. His lips fluttered across her skin, leaving a light, tender kiss on each dip along her vertebrae. 

Lavishing the creamy skin of her neck thoroughly, he traced his lips along the elegant trail of her spine, reverently worshiping every tiny piece she allowed him to take.

He went down, inch by inch. Lower. Until he was on his knees, kneeling on those brilliant blue siphons behind her. His thumbs pressed into the dimples in her lower back, just above her backside, as his fingers curled around her waist, her dress gaping on either side, open and inviting him to touch.

“Az... we’ll need to go soon,” she bleated submissively, her voice breathy and weaker than intended. Her words not at all sounding convincing, even to her own ears.

“Mmhmm,” he simply hummed against the skin at the dip in her back, ignoring her flimsy objections. 

Elain bit her lip, her fingers clutching the table of her vanity to stabilise herself as Azriel’s lips continued mapping every dip and freckle of her back. His exploratory hands kneaded and squeezed their way over to her hips, hugging at her curves greedily before he abruptly spun her around.

She wasn’t sure if it was the hurried movement or Azriel’s hands and lips trailing across her body, but her head was swimming in the most delicious of ways, heightening all the small touches and grazes Azriel was raking across her burning skin.

He gazed up at her, the look on his face reverent, awed, as if he was on his knees praying to a sacred goddess for salvation, rather than kneeling before her with no doubt much more debauched thoughts than what may cross one’s minds during prayer.

Unfurling his legs from his position at her feet, he stood before her once more, his imposing figure obstructing her view. He filled her vision. There was nothing but Azriel before her, he flooded her mind. His warriors’ frame crowding her sight, sheltering her from reality. 

Wordlessly, he reached for the neckline of her dress, slowly prying it off her. He dragged it down her shoulders, her arms, her chest, her stomach. Unhurriedly pulling it away until it was merely a cloud of black lace and tulle pooled at her feet.

Leaning away from her just slightly, he took her all in as his eyes raked down her bare body. Every inch of her unmarked, alabaster skin gleamed at him in the faelight.

“You are exquisite,” he rasped. He grazed his knuckles along the line of her waist, his touch only intending to tease, causing tingles to erupt across her skin.

His pupils had all but swallowed his irises as they volleyed hungrily along her naked form. The fingers of his other hand twitched at his sides, aching to touch her too. 

Elain had painted her lips in a deep berry red colour, and it was now the only thing she wore as she stood before him. The plump pillows of those deep red lips parted as her breathing grew shallow from the intensity of those keen eyes, rendering her to feel more exposed, more seen, than her current nakedness. 

Sidling up to her, he ever so gently tilted her face up toward his with a finger and thumb at her chin, her eyes dragging up his broad chest, his strong throat, and ultimately landing on his mouth. Elain drew a hand up, resting it on the scales of his armour, right above his heart, the heat from his skin radiating through the cool leathers and warming her palm. He kept his heavy-lidded gaze locked on hers as he tipped towards her, pressing the faintest of kisses to her bottom lip, her lip-colour staining his own just slightly before he descended on her neck.

He groaned; a deep, wanton thing born from his belly. A hungry beast roaring to take, taste, devour. A flush erupted across her skin at the sound of his need, her blood vibrating in answer to his call just beneath the surface of her skin.

“Look how you blush for me, Elain.”

His lips ghosted her throat as he spoke, tickling her thundering pulse as he whispered the words into her burning skin. 

“Like a flawless, cream canvas. Ready for me to mark however I choose.”

His breath skittered across her burning skin, Elain deciding she would be willing to be reduced to ash if it only meant he could consume her entirely. She would allow Azriel to take and take and take if it meant they could stay like this.

Sinful. It was so sinful.

Elain was ready to beg for mercy, beg for more, for him. All of him. He needn’t do anything but whisper those illicit thoughts of his. His wicked words truly were her weakness. Her need clawed at her insides, consumed her mind, willed her to give in. Risk it all, for him.

Scarred fingers grazed up her arm and retreated down her back, his touch teasing and leaving goosebumps pebbling in its wake.

Elain’s breath hitched; her eyes fluttering closed as her internal thoughts warred against one another. Duty and pleasure. Nightmares and dreams. Honour and disgrace. It was wrong, ill-timed, but… she could never stop. Didn’t want to. Not with Azriel. She’d damn herself for the eternal afterlife if it meant she could keep him now.

“Yes,” she breathed.

And that was all the permission Azriel needed before his sinful lips latched onto the delicate skin behind her ear, just hidden beneath the sheet of her thick golden hair.

He sucked at her flesh, his tongue greedily licking and tasting her. Her head lolled heavily to the side, giving Azriel more access, the anxieties of the looming mission they were about to head into melting away with his wicked mouth.

He pulled away and his eyes blazed at his hedonistic creation, the purple mark he had left on her alabaster skin already darkening. He seemed to relish in the imprints he left blooming just beneath her skin.

“So pretty,” he purred.

He dropped to his knees before her once more, his hands following the same path along her body. Those scarred hands caressed the soft curves of her belly, his fingers lazily tracing the contours of her stomach, her slim waist.

Eyeing her like a hungry wolf might observe its prey, he sunk his face into her abdomen, his tongue darting out to lick a wet trail from her navel all the way down to the top of her sensitive slit. He paused just before he reached where she longed to have him, lips lingering at the top of her delicate folds. 

His fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her thighs as he kissed and licked his way back up, finding tonight’s desired target just below her protruding hipbone. His mouth latched onto the place adjacent to the where her hip met her thigh, his tongue lapping and sucking the pale, sensitive skin there.

A breathy moan escaped her lips as Azriel sucked at the tender spot, his teeth grazing her skin and causing her arousal to shoot through her veins like comets hurtling through space. He pressed his lips and teeth more firmly against her hip, the pleasure he was wringing from her deliberately bleeding into pain and he pulled at her skin with renewed fervour. 

Elain bit her lip harshly as he continued laving at her, her hair tumbling down her bare back as her head rolled back in ecstasy. He knew how to balance her on that edge, expertly swinging the pendulum between the ache of want and the sweet relief of gratification in ways she never knew she would come to desire.

Dragging his mouth away with one last flick of his tongue Azriel blinked open his eyes and gazed hungrily upon his handiwork.

A scared thumb traced the moist patch of bruised skin with a reverence she didn’t know he possessed. His eyes addled with lust, he groaned at the sight, the sound shooting straight to her throbbing core.

“So pretty. Just like your flowers,” he murmured, his fingers trailing across her raw skin.

Elain sunk her fingers into his thick hair, not caring if she mussed it, and peered down at her stomach. A lilac bruise was forming where his mouth had been, three small marks in a little cluster, slowly blooming across her hip in various shades of pink and blues.

Elain bit her lip at the sight, stifling a moan. It wasn’t enough that Azriel was on his knees before her, dressed in his Night Court black armour, hair dishevelled, and lips swollen. But the marks he had left on that very intimate part of her body, the smile that crept across his face at the love bites he had left there... It was almost enough for her to throw caution to the wind and beg him to take her now, Court of Nightmares and Eris be damned! Let him fuck her into oblivion instead. Let him leave an entire valley of bruised flowers across her flesh.

Her knees wobbled as she clenched the muscles of that needy place between her thighs.

Elain inhaled a shuddering breath, tracing the marks with a finger as Azriel’s eyes hungrily followed their path. 

“If anyone sees these—” Elain began.

“Who would possibly see them?” Azriel’s eyes glimmered as he responded.

Elain felt the pads of his fingers digging into the skin of her thighs with a hint of possessiveness, jealousy flashing across his features.

“Well, if the plan with Eris really backfires tonight…” Elain teased, before smirking down at the Shadowsinger still crouched at her feet. 

A growl loosed from his throat as he buried his face in the soft skin of her stomach again, his hands each gripping the swell of her hips to keep her in place as he smothered himself in her curves. He licked a stripe from the top of her slit right to her navel. Elain’s fingers tightened their hold in his hair as she shuddered with pleasure above him.

“Wicked woman,” he uttered darkly into her sensitive skin before nipping a spot at her belly lightly between his teeth.

“Possessive male,” she shot back.

Her lip lifted at the side as she fought to stifle a smile, staring imperiously down at him. His lips left her skin, and she immediately regretted the loss of contact.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I simply didn’t want you to miss the flowers when we are down in the Hewn City tonight.”

She snorted delicately, seeing through his sarcasm. “Of course. It had nothing to do with you knowing your love bites would be blooming across my skin, just hidden beneath my clothes the entire time.”

A roughish grin spread across his face, a dimple appearing in his tanned cheek. “Not at all.”

“Scoundrel.”

Azriel chuckled, his eyes gleaming in the low light of her room.

“Something to remember me by, then. When Eris falls at your feet, begging for your hand in marriage and whisks you off to the Autumn Palace.”

Elain didn’t let her disdain at that idea show, playing into Azriel’s game instead. “Hmm… as much as I love to see powerful males on their knees before me, he would never look as good as you do down there.”

Something akin to a purr rumbled from his chest at the veneration. “And don’t you forget it.”

Pressing one last, lingering kiss to her navel, Azriel unfurled himself from his position before her, capturing her red lips with his on his way up before helping her back into the drab black dress she was to wear into the Court of Nightmares.

If their efforts were to be successful, Eris would overlook the middle Archeron sister completely. Even though it was impossible for Elain to appear as anything but utterly beautiful, Azriel silently prayed to any deity that would hear him that the glamours Rhys would weave around her would do their job tonight. He loathed the idea of any of them being used to bait Eris in this way, but both Elain and Nesta were adamant to go through with the High Lord’s plan.

Azriel finished helping her with the row of buttons that trailed all the way up her back and pressed a single kiss to the budding bruise he had gifted her behind her ear. 

“Don’t let anyone uncover your secrets tonight, Lady,” he murmured hotly into her neck.

Shaking her hair so it flowed freely down her back, she locked eyes with him in the mirror before her, allowing a pretty blush to creep up her cheeks. The picture of virtuous innocence. 

“Never.”

*******

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[featherymalignancy]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 for IVV and I will love you forever 🥰😜❤️

Tell Nes I’m sorry,” Elain said. “For ruining her big night.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Cash assured her. “And I know she can be overbearing at times, but try to be patient with her. She just wants you to be happy, is all.”

“I just wish she understood how intimidating she can be. She makes Gray nervous, and he gets weird when he’s nervous.”

Cash couldn’t help himself this time.

“If he really plans to go to law school, it might not be bad practice for him. I get the impression from your sister that litigation isn’t for the faint of heart.”

Elain rolled her eyes, but at least some of the tension had melted from her expression as she said, “that’s dangerously close to a lecture, and we both know it.”

“Fair enough, Cash said, grinning as he rose to his feet. “All I’m saying is that if Graysen thinks Nesta is a lot, he ought to try Eris Vanserra on for size.”

Elain’s cheeks flamed scarlet at Eris’s mention, and Cash felt his irritation reigniting.

“What are the odds that he’s going to be there tonight?” Elain asked, nose wrinkling. “He’s always impossible to shake when I don’t have some sort of buffer.”

“Unfortunately I’d say the odds are pretty high, but say the word and I will be your buffer.”

Elain worried at her plush lower lip, and Cash mentally kicked himself for adding to her troubles. He should have known better than to mention Vanserra in this house.

“Unfortunately he knows your Nesta’s boyfriend, which, in his mind, means you don’t pose a competitive threat,” Elain said, sounding resigned.

“How about this then,” Cash said, unable to fully keep the menace out of his voice. “You say the word and I knock his head off his fucking shoulders.”

Elain laughed, eyes a little brighter now.

“Thank you for the offer, but don’t worry about me. I know Nesta doesn’t think so, but I am a grown woman; I can fight my own battles.”

Cash didn’t doubt it, but he found himself tempted to mention that if she didn’t want him to play buffer, he knew someone coming tonight who’d likely be more than willing. In the end he decided to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to undermine Elain’s agency by suggesting she needed someone to play knight in shining armor. Still...

ITKYK 😈💖….

[acourtofthought]

hi I am a new ACOTAR reader 👋🏼 and I was so shocked to enter this fandom and see all the ship wars going on. I guess I’m more of a casual reader? But I thought SJM was going for elucien which listen - adorable - but then she spend the books after they were declared mates just dissing that entire plot line? Like ok I get it they don’t HAVE to be head over heels like feysand and nessian yet, but since ACOWAR there’s barely any elucien interactions and they’re all described as uncomfortable and idk why she would have them be mates and then turn around and just wreck that setup? Lucien barely is in the books anymore?

And then Sarah started writing these “looks” and shy smiles between elain and azriel and I was like ok I get it too I guess, if Lucien is like not even present in the books anymore? I feel like she straight up changed her mind or something because why did she do all that setup and now is introducing a new love interest? Being mates MEANS something right? Idk it seems like she’s abandoning elucien to me which is sad bc they could’ve been so good together 😭 like bat boy is great don’t get me wrong but we don’t know shit about him other than he is vaguely menacing and has shadows

He’s not shown interest in anyone except Mor or Elain so idk what his plotline will be (if he gets a book even). And yes, I did read this controversial bonus chapter and I genuinely saw it as a nail in this elucien coffin instead of gwynriel as people are saying. Like why would Elain kiss HIM when she has a mate? Lucien is RIGHT THERE ?? It just seems so convoluted for no reason. Like is this a love triangle setup? Idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ it would be easy if Gwyn and azriel were mates so elucien could nicely work out but I barely remember anything about Gwyn and Az interactions let alone anything to suggest romantic themes. So I don’t get that ship at ALL. Like azriel could be shipped with anyone at this point if Gwyn is being considered an option.

Idk I assume there’s hella analysis on this but I just don’t know why SJM would make elucien mates and then throw this random emo bat boy plotline in the mix. I’ve kind of abandoned that hope after ACOSF unless there’s something I’m missing that brings Lucien back in the game? (Genuinely where even is heeee like sir get your girl - respectfully)

Welcome to the fandom! And I'm sorry ahead of time, it's simultaneously fun, exhausting, and infuriating, haha.

I do understand why it feels like she set Elucien up with a bang and just let it fizzle but if you consider why she might have done that, I think it makes sense.

Are you in love? Have you been in love?

Imagine if you are a month away from your wedding. It's your first love, your first experience with intimacy, and the person you have imagined the rest of your life with. Maybe children, a home.

And overnight that dream is ripped away from you.

Not only is it ripped away from you but you're suddenly feeling a connection (because I fully believe Elain knew Lucien was something to her before he ever whispered that they were mates) to a random stranger who you have never seen before.

Your heart was promised to another but now you're chanting "traitor, traitor, traitor" over and over in your head because you're looking at this stranger and feeling big things for him.

But you're whisked away and the connection is broken and you're taken to a strange land where you're forced to think of everything that you've now left behind in the human lands. Where your fiance is probably wondering what happened to you, where you're no longer able to spend time in your gardens, see the people in the household you've grown to care for, knowing your father will be wondering what happened to you when he returns.

But through that depression you feel the tiniest bit of hope that you can go back. That your fiance will love you despite this new thing you've become and were taught to fear. That maybe, the life you loved can still be yours again.

But the stranger comes back into your life with it a torrent of emotions that you're struggling to understand and to control and it's all too much, it's too overwhelming so you shut down. You're not ready to face what it means when you're desperately trying to hold on to what was lost because if you can get that back, maybe things will make sense again.

But your fiance cruelly rejects you. The one who swore he'd love you until you were old and gray and he tossed you aside as if none of it mattered. As if you didn't matter. And he mentions the stranger to you as if it's a dirty word and maybe some of this is his fault. It's not, you know it's not but it's easier to blame someone.

But then you all nearly lose someone you care for during the war and suddenly, maybe that misplaced anger is easier to let go of.

But the war ends and you slowly settle into a new life, trying to forget about what you lost. Your fiance. Your home. Your friends. And even your father. So you put up a wall and you refuse to engage with your "mate" because some of that anger is back. You didn't ask for any of this. You don't want to be dealing with emotions you can't control when he's around when you're already dealing with so much. He makes it impossible to think straight. He makes everything confusing. But when you ignore him, it's easier to pretend. Everything is easier because you don't feel and when you feel right now, it hurts and it's too much and it's overwhelming.

But you can pretend around your sisters because they don't push you to deal with those emotions. You can pretend around Az because he keeps it light and you have no pull to him. He's handsome of course. But the conversations are surface level and you don't have to think about the things that plague you when it's late at night and you're alone. But you are lonely and comfort from another would be nice, wouldn't it? So you engage in a flirtation with Az. You avoid your mate when he's around because feeling too much is not something you can handle in the same year of your fiance's rejection and your fathers death and your lost humanity. You want to escape and you can do this in this school girls crush with him.

You alternate between dying inside while trying to make the best of your new situation and moments where you can fool yourself into thinking that infatuation is just the thing to help you get by but deep down you know you're avoiding everything. You hate yourself for ignoring your mate, knowing how patient he is, how kind but knowing that you're afraid. Afraid to love someone else. Afraid to lose someone else. So you'll keep taking the path of safety. Living in the NC, making Feyre's found family your new family. Liking the available brothers. It's all perfect and easy and safe.

Until the rejection on Solstice and your illusion comes crashing down. It doesn't matter what you do, you can't hide from reality for long and the time is coming for you to face everything you've been avoiding.

So yes.......Elain and Lucien on the surface appear to be lukewarm as of late.

But I think that when we finally get an Elain POV, we're going to see how intense and deep those still waters go. I think that's why SJM has hidden her POV because I think Elain's true feelings are going to bowl us over.

And I wouldn't say Lucien is not in the books anymore. He was heavily featured all the way up into the novella. SF of course was Nessian's story and since the POV shifted from Feyre to Nesta, it's understandable why Lucien was somewhat absent as he reports to Rhys (not Nesta) and lives in the Human Lands. SJM actually went out of her way to include Lucien on a few occasions in a story where his presence would have been odd when you consider his relationship to Nesta (non existent). I think people also fail to remember that everytime Eris and Helion were on page, that's information that can be applied to Lucien's future story too.

[duskandcobalt]

wip wednesday 💕

i'd like to take a brief interlude from my depressive spiral to present a small excerpt from the slutty elriel fic i'm working on, still hoping to get this out this week but taylor swift put a pin in my plans and i've been wallowing in bed for like 96 straight hours.

no warnings here bc im saving the actual slutty content for the full published piece.

hope everyone's having a good week 💖

Elain blindly wandered down the dark hallways.The echo of her heels on the stone floor was menacing, causing the already frantic beat of her heart to rise to an almost worrisome crescendo. It didn’t help that she could barely see and was relying solely on the occasional flickering fae light and the cool, insistent shadow pressed to the small of her back to guide her towards her mystery destination.

It felt like she’d been walking for hours, turning this way and that in the labyrinth that made up the various chambers of this unfamiliar place but finally, the pressure of the shadow on her back eased as she approached an arched door right at the end of the seemingly never ending hallway. She paused in front of it, unsure what to do until the shadow slid up her arm and along her neck, wrapping itself around her ear. 

Go.

Elain swallowed, her gloved hand reaching out for the doorknob. 

Subconsciously, she knew where that shadow had been guiding her. Knew that the neat, dark interior of this room was the perfect match for what she’d always imagined in those salacious dreams of hers.

She’d been ready to see him. Aching to see him. But to open the door and get her first glimpse of him… she hadn’t quite been ready for that. 

Azriel was reclined in a leather chair behind his desk. The jacket he'd been wearing earlier had been discarded and left to drape on cabinet at the far end of the room. The first few buttons of his crisp white shirt was undone, providing a glimpse of the tantalising tattoos hidden underneath. He had one long leg folded over the over, one ankle resting on his knee. And on that knee, cradled by his large, scarred hand, sat a short glass of amber liquid that perfectly matched his honeyed eyes.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

[starsreminisce]

E/riels give me this vibe like “don’t be mean to her she’s too beautiful!” (Almost implying: she can’t handle it) Tf? Is her worth only based on her looks?

I know in psychology they’ve studied that ppl tend to subconsciously be nicer to attractive ppl, but does that mean we should keep doing it?

I feel like most E/riels do want Elain to surprise people, including the Inner Circle, with what she can and can't do. The problem is that they assume Azriel will be that person for her when clearly they aren't communicating more than necessary, and Azriel made his case about Nesta searching for the trove, suggesting Elain shouldn't be exposed to it.

Some logic that I can't follow suggests that he is protecting her, even when it's something she wants to do, and he doesn't offer anything to explain his reasoning when Cassian asked why Nesta should. We were given his POV, and it still wasn't addressed.

Rhys is a bit of a weird ally because he sees what Elain is capable of, but he defers most of the decision-making to his council - Azriel disapproved, and Amren made the call to give Nesta the week before they go to Elain. Even Nesta had more say in what Elain shouldn't do, and Amren flat out said they were not above using Elain to manipulate Nesta.

Is that really the environment that's best for Elain to stay in? Where she is no more than a carrot on a stick to Nesta and a leash to Lucien as her only role?

Feyre said, “We won’t allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.” “Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said. “Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with soft menace. Nesta met his stare, knowing he was the only one aside from Feyre who could truly understand her hesitation. He’d gone with Feyre into the heart of Hybern’s camp to save Elain—he knew the risk. “We won’t make the same mistake twice.”

This is why I believe Azriel won't allow her to do anything that can put her in danger by keeping her away from danger, which is the antithesis of SJM's push for a strong FMC.

I suppose that's also why now they want Elain to wield Gwydion instead of Truth-Teller and have her be a secret ninja warrior spy because they know that's who is the best match for Azriel, completely ignoring that Azriel has helped Gwyn handle daggers and she picked up enough to know how to spy to tell Nesta and Emerie what she did, versus Elain stepping out of the shadows.

They are also ignoring that Lucien has the best skill set match to complement Elain's strengths, and he is putting his own right to claim his mate in order for her to make a decision.

SJM never put Elain and Lucien in a situation where they had to kiss. She even goes so far as to make sure one of them leaves the room or both of them are ignoring each other, and yet she couldn't bring Elain and Azriel to kiss, even after his hand was in her hair and she gave him offer and permission… Elriels can keep claiming and claiming that they were stopped by Rhys, as though it wasn't SJM who wrote the damn scene.

[captmickey]

As I look at Tales of Monkey Island for the umpteenth time at work, I really really reaaaaaaaaaaally can't stop thinking how Guybrush has two tones (his snark tone and his sincere tone) and how Morgan was (so far) the only one to invoke a third, rarely used, tone: pure anger

Like... okay, let me put it like this: when he's around strangers or someone he doesn't know/trust, he has that sort of jolly but snarky tone. He says things with a smile, sometimes schmoozing up, and a bit of a backhanded remark. It's noticeable with Bugeye, DeCava, DeSinge, and initially Morgan.

(Of course, unless the person in question really deserves his snark, then he's just an overall menace and will not hold back.)

Versus when he's sincere. He still smiles, but it's kinder, he speaks a lot softer, he jokes, but there's a lot more questions about someone's well-being before he presses on about the current quest he's on. It's absolutely noticeable when he talks to Elaine and later on with Winslow and Morgan.

Now, Guybrush had been mutinied multiple times in series, he's almost used to it (e.g. his initial meeting with Winslow wanting to join his crew). He's used to doing things alone, and it was mentioned that Tales is the game to teach Guybrush that its okay to open up and know that he has people that care and want to help.... getting a network and all that.

And he does, by opening up to Winslow and eventually Morgan, you can see him getting used to having friends that genuinely care and help and it makes Morgan's betrayal hurt all the more because in his mind, his reward to opening up was getting knocked out, stop his time-sensitive quest and get dragged back to Flotsam for cash.

By someone he thought was his friend.

It freaking hurts. And all this to say that Guybrush has never used a tone that was so openly malicious because it came from hurt and anger instead of annoyance. And we can see it in his expression! And I am feral about it, like:

Initially focused on one thing...

...to snark....

...to anger.

And he just straight up doesn't relent on berating Morgan. Normally Guybrush makes a snide remark/insult and calls it day. Morgan is the only character that he lashes out verbally, not even giving her a chance to counter.

And I am living for this.