#azriel actoar

[isa-sketches]

My art stamina is a bit drained lately so I might not finish it. So I thought I'd share the lineart. Azriel in the books (I think) And Azriel how I saw him. I struggled to separate Az from Rhysand so I gave him really long black hair. I thought it fit him nicely heeh. And in a fey world, there honestly should be more men with long hair!

[daevastanner]

Lol I misread it as 237 ... So kindly do ignore my previous request and make it 66 for the prompt request instead please 🙂

Oh you're gonna get my favorite headcanon shoved down your throat with this teaser:

The manservant from earlier in gold and orange livery sauntered to stand beside Azriel, then announced grandly: “Spymaster Azriel Berdara of the Night Court and his wife, Valkyrie Gwyneth Berdara.” 

[bastardsonofday]

Gwyn: Oo, very beast, sir.

Azriel: Thanks. You have one hour to come up with a new word.

Gwyn: Yes, sir.

[Later]

Gwyn: Sir, on finding a word to replace 'beast,' how do you feel about 'fandango'?

Azriel:

Gwyn:

Azriel:

Azriel: I love it.

Gwyn: Yes!

[mxtantrights]

Bounded by blood and shadow (23)

azriel x magic!fem!reader

You take him in from the distance. You just finished helping Semaj’s mom with the dishes. Of course Azriel and Semaj escaped dish duty because they had better things to do. Flying. Azriel takes Semaj for a flight around the village most days. Today is no different. Well, today is no different for them. It’s different for you because of the very important need to try something.

It’s been days of lingering touches and longing stares. But the two of you have not kissed. You’ve talked about your feelings at length with each other. About how uncertain almost everything in the world is , but you two are each other’s constants. 

But you haven’t kissed. Yet.

“You poor thing.”

You turn around from your place in the backyard. There in the archway of their family home is Semaj’s mother. She used to work in the palace, when you were little. She left as you grew into an adult and Cyril had to promise you that she wouldn’t be far from you. And he did his best, the house is one of the few at the very beginning of the village. But you grew fond of her in the short amount of time. 

“What are you talking about?” You ask.

“You look like you’re just about ready to throw yourself off a cliff if he isn’t near you for longer than ten minutes.” She answers.

You chuckle, “Well, I don’t know—I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect him.” “Love is hardly something you can expect.” 

“You told him about Madrugada.” You say.

She smiles, “And by the way you two act I’m guess you felt it.” 

You nod your head.

“Take your time. Being in love is a great experience between those who share it.” She says carefully.

“If Cyril were alive he would ask if I was thinking of baby names already.” You joke.

She laughs at that, “Cyril was a love sick fool at best. He would have wanted to see you like this.”

“I’m happy.” “I can see it. We all can.”

-

Azriel shrugs off his leathers and throws them onto the corner chair of the room. You watch as he toes off his shoes and walks to the bathroom. Trying very hard to be respectful you just continue to read over the scroll in your hands. You’re trying to find out which—yeah you stopped thinking about it as soon as he walked into the room. Can’t even remember what it is you’re supposed to be doing right now.

He comes out of the bathroom, his hair bit wet and a towel around his neck. There is no way he just took a shower so quickly. 

“I need your help with something.” He says.

You perk up a bit, “As the empress or your wife?” 

He looks at you with a dashing smile. He saunters over to where you are on the bed. He takes the scroll out of your hand and takes your hand into his. With that he’s pulling you off the bed and walking you over to the bathroom. Your mind starts to race with all the possibilities. And nerves. You haven’t even kissed yet.

“I’m a bit dirty and could use your help.” He speaks.

You pass him an incredulous look.

“You want me to…wash you?”

He chuckles, “Turn around.”

You do as your told. Which is weird now that you think about it. If Cyril could see you now. If Cyril knew all he had to do was get Azriel to ask you to do something, you would have met the shadow singer years ago. Huh. The two of them would probably get along too. 

At the sound of him clearing his throat you turn back around. He’s in the tub. His back and his wings are facing you. He’s in the tub. He’s not wearing clothes, because his undershirt and pants are in a puddle on the floor. He’s not wearing clothes. He’s sitting in the tub, he wants you to wash him.

“There are certain places I can’t reach.” He explains.

His wings twitch at the answer.

“Oh, I can help with that. Just tell me what to do.” You answer. Then you’re moving. You sit on the floor, your dress gathering into a mess. And you reach for the sponge. Before you can reach, Azriel takes it and dunks it into the water. He then lathers it in soap and passes it back to you. You take it without another word.

Just as you’re about to start, you stop. How do you wash wings? It’s not like you’ve done it before. And you haven’t see him do it himself. You gather it’s probably hard to do it alone.

“You’ll have to be gentle. My wings are sensitive. Start towards the middle.” He says.

You nods your head, “This isn’t going to hurt you, right?” 

Azriel shakes his head.

You slowly place the sponge on the middle part of his left wing. Softly you rub on the soap. 

“Okay you can go a little higher.” He says, his voice a few notches softer than before.

You follow his instruction and start to suds up the upper part of his wings. You notice that he told you higher and not the top. You think to yourself maybe he doesn’t need to wash those parts. You reach over and repeat the same step on the right wing.

“Do I—the top part. Can I do that?” You ask.

Azriel looks over his shoulder at you, “Yes, but those parts are the most sensitive.” 

“Like I should use my hands?” You ask him.

Azriel gets this look on his face. You’ve seen it before. Nervous. He’s nervous. Why would he be nervous when he’s the one that asked you to wash his wings? Maybe there’s something else you don’t know here.

“You’re the first.” He says.

It catches you off guard. His words aren’t an answer to your previous question. So at first you don’t quite understand them. Until you sit with it for another moment. You’re the first. You’re the first person to wash his wings. You can’t believe how nonchalant he was in asking you to do this before.

“I just wanted you to know. I didn’t want it to be weird. It’s something intimate.” He explains bit more.

“As intimate as drinking someone’s blood?” You question him rhetorically.  

He faces forward again. “I trust you.”

You take in a deep breath. You decide in the moment that you’ll use your hands to wash the top of his wings. Silently you lather your hands in the suds. And you place the sponge on the rim of the tub. As soon as your finger makes contact with him, you see him physically shiver. You want to stop. You want to ask him if you’ve hurt him. You should ask him if he’s okay.

“Did I do something wrong?” You blurt out.

“No, it’s just sensitive. Like an itch. Kind of.” He not so clearly sums it up.

“Show me.” You say.

“What?” He asks.

Azriel turns around in the tub. And you make sure to keep your eyes up. Not that you would see anything. The tub is murky with soap. But for his sake you keep your eyes on his face. 

“Show me how it feels.” You say again.

Azriel looks at you for a moment. Then he holds out his wet hand. You place your hand in his. But he pulls your arm out fully. Then he takes his other hand and runs his finger from the middle of your arm down to your palm. It elicits a bit of a shiver from you. But you don’t find it harmful or uncomfortable. In fact you wish he would do it again.

“Like that.” He whispers.

You lean forward, personal space cut into shreds. “That does feel very intimate.”

He hums in approval. He leans in closer to you now. His forehead just a few spaces shy of brushing yours. 

“Should I, should we, be doing this when we haven’t even kissed yet?” You ask him in a hushed tone.

“Do you want to kiss me, blood bender?”

“I’ve been trying not to show it.”

“You did a very good job.”

“Really?”

He nods, “If only I didn’t have heighten sense of smell.”

Your eyes go wide at that. You watch as a smile grows wide on his lips. He’s loving this. He’s eating this up. How far the two of you have come from where you started. Granted it’s not like you hated the male. But you feel so guilty for that. And the way that he still has a hold on your arm too.

You shut your eyes, “That’s a lot to take in.”

“I like it. Would you like to kiss me now?” 

You shake your head, “You’re being a menace.”

“Let make it up to you.” He says.

You feel him let go of your arm first. Then you feel his damp hand come up to cup the side of your face. You don’t flinch or shy away from his touch. Instead you lean into it a bit. All of a sudden you feel something else.

His breath. It’s fanning across your face. He’s that close. You can’t help the small smile that breaks out on your face.

“I’m trying to kiss you woman, stop smiling.” He jokes.

“I can’t.”

“I’ll have to kiss you senseless then.” 

You let out a squeal. The noise echoes in the bathroom. But you don’t move away. 

His lips brush against yours for the slightest of moments. And then again. And again. Until you can’t take his teasing and you’re crashing onto him. He accepts it like he was waiting for you to do it. His mouth opens just a bit and so does yours. His hand that is on the side of your face moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer.

It’s like nothing you could ever expect and everything you’ve come to want. It’s warm and gentle. It’s passionate and still appropriate. Or as appropriate as it can get with him being naked and you being on the floor. It’s the feeling of Madrugada. It’s everything.

[ladyveravincent]

Dancing? Dancing.

Even if one's partner is barely tolerable. Meet me at Rita's if you dare...

Excerpt from Chapter 23

“Running away again are we?”

“Oh!”

The smug reflection of Cerridwen glanced at Elain as she brushed the curls of her hair into an intricate updo, suitable for an evening of reels and jigs across the dance floor at Rita’s. 

“She’s not running away, she’s running straight into his arms,” teased Nuala as she appeared next to her sister. 

“I used to think it was my family who were busybodies. Seems it's a Fae trait,” scowled Elain, slamming the top of her jewelry box while the twins giggled. 

“Oh, we’re just having some fun,” snorted Nuala. 

“If you really must know,” she began, head tilted to consider earring options, “he is my good friend. And unlike my family, or you two, he does not pry.”

“Oh, I’ve heard he can pry alright,” Cerridwen murmured with a thrust of her hips before the twins burst into laughter. 

“Well, when you decide to come clean, Cerridwen and I will be waiting for the details,” Nuala laughed before the twins bid their goodbyes and winnowed away. 

“Busybodies… good for nothing…” she mumbled under her breath as she grabbed her shawl and smoothed her skirts.  

In her mortal years, the village’s Samhain celebrations were often a mild, uneventful affair, usually more of a gathering to give thanks for the harvest instead of a festival to honor the more tenebrous and occult energies of the Earth. The courage, whether inherent or liquid, of villagers who snuck off into the woods to conjure spirits for amusement delighted and fascinated a placid, polite Elain. But cowardice always seemed to win when she watched young girls clad in nightdresses run barefoot into the forest to dance naked beneath the yellow moon.

Oh, how close the moon was to bear witness to her bare breasts tonight. 

Samhain was Azriel’s birthday, and its carnality hung in the air as a promise to those who partook would be rewarded with such pleasures, mainly the joys of imbibing in the flesh. Of course, the Prince of Hewn City would be born on such a night. Perhaps, if she were lucky, she’d get to see him at work.

Each night, the Seer and Spymaster found themselves in dance halls across Velaris, more often in each other arms than other willing and amiable Fae partners. A few weeks ago, Az took her into the skies of Velaris, and since then, the two could barely dance without liquid courage and a dip into dangerous territory. 

She had two birthday gifts for Azriel: a salve for his wings, and what lay underneath her cobalt skirts. 

The suspense of poorly concealed affections tortured her mercilessly, and she decided to offer herself to him because the want had bloomed into something too strong to ignore. There was always some sort of pull to Azriel, but now, she needed to know if he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

As her cobalt-slippered feet rehearsed jigs and reels on the cobblestone streets of Velaris, a voice from the shadows caused her heart to leap in terror and titillation. 

“Found you,” Azriel whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist and neck. 

The marriage of a heady cedar and honey scent caused a small moan to escape from her lips, her arousal slightly intensifying when to her delight, she discovered he was already drunk. 

Very drunk.

“One of these days, you won’t be able to find me,” she teased as he lifted and spun her around. When he sat her down, she finally turned to face him. 

She doubted she could ever forget his face. Tonight, he was just as handsome as ever, and perhaps a bit more devilish given Cassian and Rhys celebrated all last night, and apparently, this morning, too. 

“You underestimate how easy you are to find,” he taunted as he tucked a curl over her ear.

“For you,” she whispered and reached into her pocket to present his gift in her open palm. His eyes fluttered from her lips to the salve and gifted her a smile while he examined the tin. 

“Happy birthday, Azriel.” 

A blush crept over his cheeks while her lips faithfully formed his name, as they did so often alone under her bedsheets, and had only once before in his presence. Perhaps, if she were lucky, her throat would scream it tonight.

“For that wingspan I hear everyone talk about,” she teased.

“Careful Lain. That’s not something to joke about with an Illyrian,” his eyes darkened as a low laugh colored his warning.

“So you confess?”

“What?” he teased as he played with the ribbon that fluttered over her shoulder. 

“That it's only a joke, not fact? Tsk, tsk.”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Her heart raced, and suddenly she didn’t care for dancing. 

“Show me then.” 

In one movement she was slung over his shoulder while the two shot up into the sky. 

“Big enough for you, Lady Lain?” he cried over the wind and her screams of delight.

“I guess it’ll do- AHHHH!” He shrugged as she fell from the skies, dropped for her cheekiness.

“Sorry, my wingspan wasn’t big enough for you to ride,” he sighed as he flew next to her while she fell. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! You have the biggest wingspan!”

“Who has the biggest wingspan?” he questioned.

“You! You!” she screamed reaching for him, but he only gave her an evil grin.

“Azriel has the biggest wingspan!” As her hand skimmed the water of the Sidra, strong arms broke her fall, and they glided upward into the skies.

“You look very pretty by the way.” Her scowl softened for only a moment before she turned her head away.

“You’re not getting my first dance.”

“Many apologies, Lady Archeron. May I have the second?”

“Hmph.”

“What if I promise you all my dances, and I buy a bottle of whiskey?”

“Maybe.”

“What if I told you this is my favorite color on you?” he whispered into her ear.

“Two bottles of whiskey.”

“Deal.” 

The crispness of the late autumn air was replaced by the smell of liquor and sweat as Elain trailed behind a towering Azriel, guided by their interlocked fingers through the crowd. 

“First dance, Miss Archeron?” he asked over his shoulder as the fiddle started to play, and in response, her touch lingered on the silken skin of his wing, innocently tracing its veins as she passed.

“Only if you promise not to drop me,” she murmured. After a blissful shudder, scarred hands grabbed her waist, and her eyes were greeted by lush lips before her lashes raised to meet the Shadowsinger’s ravenous face.

“When? Dancing? Or something else?” he asked as the two started to spin fast around the room to the lively music. 

“How much have you had to drink, Shadowsinger?” she teased as he lifted her into the air.

“Not nearly enough to get what I really want for my birthday.” Lids heavy and scent heady, the whiskey and cedar merged to cause the pulsing need in her belly.

“Is my present not enough?” 

“Oh, Lain, I didn’t say that.” Not a drop of alcohol on her tongue but one taste, and she could be drunk. 

“Maybe you just need someone to put it on you,” she drawled as she spun into him, and let her ass lewdly roll against his hips.

“Switch partners!” cried the fiddle player. 

She extended a polite hand to a handsome Fae male, and shot a coy look over her shoulder, only to find she had won. Brown eyes faithfully watched the wide pupils and parted lips of her previous partner while he slowly stalked the skirts of the room to follow each spin and step she took with a new male.

“What’s your name?” cried the Fae as he spun her out. 

“I’m E-” 

A scarred hand grabbed her outstretched arm to pull her into his embrace, the two now still in a vast sea of dancers, and the tip of their noses touched as he leaned forward to let his lips brush the shell of her ear.

“Careful, lovely fawn. There are fanged beasts who would love nothing more than to devour you," he whispered. The gentle pull of his fingers coiled around her curls and pulled to expose her neck. Absolutely wild and ready to devour. 

Her eyes fluttered shut. Offer and permission. 

“Az!” The two snapped their heads to see a flash of red and blonde hair push through the crowd. 

“Mor!” The warmth of his body vanished as he strode to greet the blonde.

Suddenly, the heat of the dance hall merged with a jealous fury she pushed down before joining a vibrant Azriel and bubbly Mor.

“Oh, Elain! How sweet you look tonight!” Her cheeks turned as red as Mor’s revealing dress, and suddenly the decision to wear a long-sleeved silk gown and weave bluebells into her hair seemed like the silliest idea in the world. 

“Happy birthday, Az,” Mor beamed.

“Thanks, Morrigan,” he replied with an arrogant grin. She was two things: a fool and an idiot. From one glance at the cockiness that radiated off his wide wings, Elain and her stomach sunk into the floor.

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” Elain offered, desperate to shake the shame from her earlier actions, and turned from the pair. 

“Wait! Here.” Mor grabbed her shoulder to place several gold coins in her palm. 

“Thanks, Mor, just wine?”

“You know me so well! Thanks, El.”

“Just wine, Mor? If I seem to remember correctly, there was a time you liked something a little harder,” he smirked.

Azriel was a vicious, licentious, rakish flirt who was going to feel wrath like no other if he dared to-

“Whoops!”

The push of another dancing couple sent a flustered Elain tumbling onto the floor.

“Careful, Lady Lain,” Az laughed and dove to help her, but another hand reached for the fawn.

“Come here often?” Oh great, giant fiddlesticks. 

“Hello, Lucien,” she gulped. The candlelight glittered off of her mate’s golden eye, his handsome smile wide as she apprehensively raised her hand to accept his help, but, the fox’s grin faded as a strong arm tightened around her too-tightly corsetted waist to lift her off the floor. 

“Lucien!” Mor’s tense smile did nothing while Lucien growled at the Shadowsinger. The three stood between waltzing couples, Azriel’s arm tight around a nervous Elain and stare lethal at an infuriated Lucien.

“May I join you?” Lucien blurted out.

“It’s Azriel’s birthday,” she replied dumbly. 

“It’s my birthday,” Azriel echoed with a murderous expression.

“Happy birthday,” Lucien spat at the Spymaster. 

Foxes hunted fawns, but fanged beasts devoured any threats, perceived or confirmed.

On lapping lake waves in warmer months, feelings about the bond were finally unearthed when an outstretched wing drew a wince after a brush against sore ribs.

“Oh Gods, I’m sorry,” Az said quickly. 

“No, no. It isn’t your fault,” she murmured between a few deep breaths. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly. Her only response was a sad nod. 

“Do you know who your mate is?” Dusk lulled over the lake’s horizon as ribbons of pink hues fluttered into deep purple hazes. 

“I don’t have one,” he replied after a long while.

“You’re lucky. It’s a curse,” she admitted.

She waited for him to tout Lucien’s good character, but rather, that brave confession saved her from countless unfortunate circumstances. Whispered messages would announce unprompted visits moments before a knock rapped on the door, or the tendril of a shadow would save her from tea services set with an extra saucer beside her seat. As the summer faded into fall, the Autumn Court male spent more time with the Band of Exiles than in Velaris, and her ribs softened into a welcomed silence. 

But now they screamed.

This is beyond fiddlesticks, she thought.

“Elain was just getting us some drinks. She could use a hand?” Mor wondered aloud with a wink at Elain. 

“Oh yes, do you like ale?” asked the fox.

“I like whiskey-”

“She likes whiskey,” Azriel interrupted. Somehow his chest was broader, height taller, and bravado even more spine-chilling in its understated delivery compared to a fiery Lucien’s blazing eyes. 

“You two go ahead, we’ll wait here,” gritted Mor and pushed him away from the mates. 

“Shall we go?” 

Ribs weren’t supposed to ache, were they?

~

“What in the hells was that?” Mor chastised a brooding Azriel in the corner of the dance hall. 

“Elain doesn’t like him.”

“Elain is his mate.”

Two years ago, the thought of those rich brown eyes and blonde tresses within arm’s reach at a dance hall would have been his only birthday wish. Now to welcome another year of immortality, he yearned for a pair of gentle brown eyes and honey-kissed hair. Mor was his friend, and the flame he kept alive for almost five centuries was easy to kindle when conversations skirted around awkward silences with Cassian tempering the two. He idolized her, but he never knew her, truly. Now, he realized how little his infatuation was rooted in what sort of love he ached to hold. 

“I said, she doesn’t like him.”

“Well, Elain’s got some growing to do and-” 

“She’s not a child, Mor. We all need to ask Elain what she wants.” 

Mor’s red lips parted in surprise and annoyance at the rude quip, but a ferocious hazel stare led her to find Lucien and Elain at the bar. After a tense laugh, Elain’s gaze drifted over to Azriel, who did not hesitate to step forward. 

The truth was revealed.

“Azriel. You cannot be serious.” Her red skirts swished to stop the leather-clad Spymaster.

He gave no reply.

“Cauldron, Az. She’s a mated female.”

“And?” he sneered.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Perhaps I am,” he admitted as he pushed past her.

“Azriel-” After 541 years, Mor’s hand held his, and nothing more than the heat of her warm skin sat on his scars. It did not soothe, it did not sear, it was not the touch of something very precious. It was not Elain.

“He’s a good male, Az. You and I both know that. She’s so, so young. It’s been only two years into her immortality. She might not want him in this century, or even the next, but with a bond as strong as that, it's only a matter of time.”

“And what about what she wants?”

“What about you, Az? Huh? What are you going to do if your mate shows up ten, twenty, or even two hundred years from now? Would that be fair to her?” Az looked at her hand wrapped around his wrist, the red nail polish so bright against his golden skin.

“Don’t you want to be with someone who is your equal? You deserve that-” Azriel stilled.

“You think Elain is beneath me?” came his terrifying reply. 

“You need someone who will challenge you. Hells, she barely could handle being on the battlefield, she’s… she’s too soft Az.” He leaned into Mor so close her eyes widened in fear. 

“I used to think there was no one else for me, but you. The battles we fought side by side, the trials we endured throughout the centuries, I was in love with you. And then, I met Elain. And in two years, I’ve felt more than I’ve ever felt in five hundred.” He dropped her hand. 

“But, you aren’t Elain’s mate. Lucien is.”

Upon a look at the fox and the fawn, it dawned on him. 

Azriel always loved the light, whether it was the sun’s prideful rays or the soft wicks of candles. Light cast on flesh conjured shadows, or banished blindness. It was a gift. Lucien’s aura blazed with that flame Autumn Court males warmed rooms with, their natural ease and quick wit entertaining and charming all those who basked in its glory. The two stood at the bar, the glow of their bodies bright against the crowds of Fae. Despite all the restless nights and curses at the stars, he understood. The Cauldron gave Elain to Lucien because she was the light, and Lucien could ignite. Like called to like.

They were mates, and who was he to steal her from that happiness?

Elain held his gaze, desperation in her eyes as she begged him to save her from Lucien, but he decided to save her from himself. Mor was right, they were not equals. She deserved better. 

“Good night, Mor.”

“Happy birthday, Az.”

When the music of the dance hall faded into the eerie air of Samhain, Azriel took to the skies.

Another year into immortality, another year losing to fate. 

A03

~ A Court of Bones in Bloom

[nightcourtseer]

Chapter 4

Read on A03

Elain hadn’t been expecting to see Azriel sat at the bar.

She hadn’t even known he had been planning to stay there - she’d expected him to be staying with one of the others in town. But then again, she hadn’t asked.

He was the only one sitting at the bar, the bartender posted up at the other end, glancing over every so often while drying glasses to gauge the status of the half empty tumbler of whiskey sat in front of his only patron. It barely looked tended, as the ice had long since softened the potent amber to something hazier.

Elain easily could have turned around and went right back upstairs without him ever knowing. His back was to her on the stool, and the sound of tinkling glass being dried and put away could have masked the noise of her footsteps.

But something, maybe nostalgia or curiosity or just the need to not be alone that night, pulled her further into the room. Her sneakers squeaking on the freshly cleaned floor as she made her way to the bar, which was only lit by a few candles placed on the counter and scattered throughout the room ob various bistro tables.

At the first sound of her footsteps, Azriel turned his head and locked tired eyes on hers.

She had never been able to hide from him. Not at a party, not at a full table when she felt incredibly alone amongst their friends, and not now.

“Hey,” Azriel called softly as she approached. Elain approached cautiously, like a skittish deer. She waiting to be rebuffed, ignored, thrown a cold shoulder.

That was how things had ended between them. Not in a fiery blaze but rather a slow freeze on a barren landscape. Elain still felt that ice in her heart that he had left like hoarfrost in her chest. Forever wondering what she had done to be left out in the cold.

But Azriel seemed just as desperate for company as she, and Elain took a tentative seat on the tall stool next to him. For the second time that day she felt incredibly underdressed next to him - she had thrown on a soft pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt on her way down, not having been too worried about seeing anyone she knew. Azriel remained in his dark suit from the wake, jacket thrown over the back of his chair and tie undone and thrown around his neck.

“I didn’t know you were staying here.”

Elain cringed at the accusatory tone of her voice, but if Azriel was phased by it he didn’t show it. He merely lifted his hand without looking away from her, to subtly call the bartender back over.

“Do you want anything?”

“Just a water,” Elain replied. She wanted to tell him that she hadn’t touch a drink since her father had died of liver failure. She wanted to tell him that her father’s was the last funeral she had attended. She wanted to tell him that she felt like falling apart when it felt like she had just glued all her pieces back together.

Azriel requested the water and Elain stayed silent, her eyes scanning his face.

He looked as tired as she felt. She wondered where he had flown in from.

The bartender placed a full glass of water in front of her, and Elain immediately lifted it to her lips, draining half the cup in desperation to quench her parched throat.

“I’m sorry about you and Lucien.”

Elain almost dropped her glass. Of all that she had expected him to say, it wasn’t that. But as long as she had known him, since the day she had met him her freshman year, he had never been known for much small talk. At least not with her.

“It was my decision,” she muttered, placing her cup gently in front of her, willing her hand not to shake.

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you.”

Hazel eyes bore into hers when she looked up, and Elain felt her own widen. There it was, that sense that he saw what others couldn’t, or didn’t bother to look for.

She had missed that feeling, of being seen. Of someone waiting patiently for her to open up. No matter how long it took.

“It was hard,” she breathed, her eyes locked on his as he turned more fully in his seat to face her. His drink long forgotten in front of him as he moved his scarred hands over each other.

She knew they bothered him at times, that the scar tissue would sting and ache. She knew so much about him.

When she spoke, she felt like she was 20 years old again, standing with him in a crowded bar while the rest of the world faded away around them.

“Leaving Lucien, that was hard. Starting over, finding a place on my own, getting a new job in a new town, that was hard.”

Elain stared down into her half-empty glass, swirling it around a bit, watching the condensation slip down onto the napkin beneath.

“But I think the hardest part has been coming to terms with breaking from everyone’s expectations of sweet, little Elain.”

Azriel remained silent, eyes fixed on her as she spoke.

She took a shaky breath, and kept talking.

“When I first moved in to my rental, there was ivy almost completely covering the back of the house. The landlord said he was going to hire someone to come in and take it down, so it wouldn’t do any more structural damage.”

The house had truly been almost drowning underneath the wall of ivy, little brick to be seen underneath the expanse of green leaves.

“I don’t know what possessed me to say this, but I told him I could handle it. Those were the days where I barely got myself out of bed to go to work, but for some reason I told him I could take care of all that ivy.”

Elain swallowed, her memory returning to that foggy space inside of her mind, a time that she would rather forget altogether.

“I remember that he looked me up and down, and then said, ‘Honey, it’s a tough job. It’ll take you days.’”

“But that only made me want to do it more. And so I insisted, and he said he would give me half off my rent that next month if I did it. That was all the motivation I needed - money was super tight those first few months.”

Azriel said nothing, only titled his head slightly as if to hear her better.

“I went out there every day after work that week and went at it. It was ugly, you should have seen me. I don’t think either of my sisters would believe to this day that sweet Elain would voluntarily get her hands dirty like that.”

She huffed a laugh, and took another small sip of water to wet her lips. She couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken so much, all at once.

“I was out there sweating my ass off and cursing and putting my whole body into tearing sections of this thing off. I didn’t even listen to music, I just threw my whole self into tackling this ivy. And it seemed like every night when I went inside, when it was so pitch black out I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, it was like I had barely made any progress.”

“By the weekend, I wondered if I should call the landlord and tell him just to hire someone. But after I worked all that Saturday, I pulled off a big section and stood back, looked at the wall, and I was… done.”

Azriel gave a small hint of a smile, as Elain let out a long breath. She could still feel the weight of those vines in her bare hands, an empty brick wall staring back at her. It was covered in dirt, scratched in places, and a few of the bricks were falling out. But it was free.

“How did that feel?” He prompted curiously, and Elain met his gaze for the first time since she started her story.

“It was terrifying,” Elain admitted, her dark eyes glassy, candlelight from the bar throwing shadows across her pale skin. “Because if I could do that, what else could I do? What have I been doing with my life? It’s so much easier, to let other people tell you what you can and can’t do. What you should and shouldn’t do.”

“It limits the possibilities, it makes your decisions for you. And life is so much easier, when someone shows you the path to walk on instead of fighting through a forest of ivy to find your way.”

“And then I would look at you and Mor, traveling the world and doing important things… and I felt like I was wasting away - I was wasting my time feeling sorry for myself and guilty for a decision I had made, for myself. I still hate myself for that sometimes.”

It was the most honest she had ever been - more honest than she had ever been with Lucien. It was the dark, shadowed part of her mind still covered in those thick vines - the morbid, disgusting thoughts and feelings that she sometimes thought about herself.

But somehow - like telling a parent about the nightmare - sharing all of that with Azriel did make her feel a little bit better. Even as her cheeks flushed slightly at the nakedness of her honesty, her chest did feel a little bit lighter.

Besides those few words, Azriel had not interrupted her. Had not tried to fix anything, or rush to reassure her.

Now he looked at her appraisingly, eyes catching on the flush of her cheeks and the sheen of her eyes reflected by the flickering lights.

“You don’t have to water down your pain for anyone else’s comfort, Elain.” Azriel spoke finally, his voice as impassioned as she had ever heard it, even as low as it was.

Elain turned away, suddenly indignant at the ease he spoke those words.

“That’s easy for you to say,” she managed, downing the rest of her drink, letting the ice soothe her flaming throat.

“I’ve been working on that too, Elain.”

She turned to look back at him, trying to reconcile the 30 year old man in front of her against her memories of him, a new adult who slid through the world like a wraith, just as haunted and just as silent. She had never seen him erupt, never break down. Only that once, when he hadn’t even known she was there.

He pushed his hair back from his forehead, and when his sleeve pulled against his wrist Elain caught a glimpse of some tattoos that must be new. Black and swirling against his skin.

“I cried the whole flight here,” he admitted wryly, his hands returning to nervously twist around each other. “It was so bad the woman next to me asked to switch seats.”

“You?” Elain whispered. She didn’t think she had ever seen him cry, at least not in front of her.

She wanted to reach out a hand to rest against his knee which was now jumping restlessly.

“Maybe we’ve both changed, Elain.”

The tone of his voice was unreadable.

“Hey guys,” Elain started, not having heard the bartender approach. “I’m sorry but I’m closing down for the night.”

“Thank you,” Azriel replied, sliding a folded bill across the bar and standing. When he stood, he towered over her as she joined him in walking to the elevator.

They rode the elevator in silence, until they arrived on the 12th floor. Azriel’s floor.

The doors opened, and Elain fumbled for something to say. Even as her restless energy to say, exhaustion seemed to have overtaken her usually thoughtful mind.

But she didn’t have to worry, because he spoke first.

“Do you…” he hesitated, turning and looking down to meet her eyes. “Do you want to keep talking?”

She knew she should say no. Her nerves were shot, her emotions twisted and frazzled. She was in no state to keep speaking with him.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitating. This may be the only chance she had to speak with him before he left town again. “Yes, I would.”

………………..

His room was larger than hers, with an expensive looking sofa in a separate sitting area from the “bedroom,” with a small kitchenette and dining area. It made sense. Ever since he and Mor had both been hired by an international news station, her reporting and him as a photographer, Elain had assumed they made good money. Their station sent them all over the world - rarely allowing them time to visit home.

They sat on the sofa, facing each other. Elain spied an unmistakable camera bag in the corner with his luggage.

Azriel spied her looking.

“I don’t trust it anywhere else besides with me,” he explained with a smirk. “My trusty sidekick.”

Elain nodded, thinking about everywhere he had been. The horrors he had seen.

Something about him inspired honesty. She thought he was in the right profession for that reason.

“I worry about you,” she admitted, her eyes still fixed on the black bag. “And Mor.”

At the addition of her friend’s name, Azriel seemed to loose a breath he had been holding.

“We’re okay, we’re careful,” he reassured. She could feel him scanning her face again, as he leaned back against the arm of the couch. “I know how to stick to the shadows, where it’s safe.”

She didn’t admit that she religiously watched the news twice a day. Frantically scanning his station for Mor’s beautiful but often grim face, Azriel’s name in a tag line beneath a photo. If one of their reporters were injured, she had reassured herself that they would know, it would be front page news.

“Do you ever miss home?”

Elain’s heart raced as the loaded question left her lips, biting down so hard on the bottom one that the coppery tang of blood filled her mouth.

She nervously pulled down at the hem of her shorts as she awaited his response. Silence filled the room, and instead of comforting as it usually was when she was all alone in her own house, this silence felt dangerous. Painful.

“Sometimes,” Azriel hedged. “I do miss home.”

I miss you. She wanted to scream. I miss you so much.

But she was tired. And the world was brand new - reshaping around them with every second that passed without Mari and Anna. And this was no time to hold on to the old when the new threatened to drown them all if they let it.

So she would be careful.

“I better get some sleep,” Elain exhaled, standing tiredly. She would give him an out this time.

“Okay,” Azriel responded softly, standing with her to walk her to the front of the room.

Each step was harder than the last.

But then, just as she had rested her hand on the metal door pull…

“Would you… would you stay?” Azriel asked tentatively. Elain turned back to look at him, hand drifting away from the door.

“It would be nice not to be alone tonight,” he explained, voice raw as he looked at her pleadingly, emotion churning in his hazel eyes.

Maybe she wasn’t the only lonely one.

She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded. Just one night. Just one night to not be alone. One more night to dream of something that might have once been.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Azriel reassured her.

She was too tired to argue with him, and he made his way over to the bathroom while she made for the king bed in the middle of the room. Morning would be there before they knew it, and she knew she had to at least try to sleep.

Even his sheets seemed more expensive than the ones in her room, as she pulled back the covers to slip beneath him. Maybe it was just the lingering scent of him that seemed to permeate the room, but a wave of comfort washed over her, even as strange as the situation was that she found herself in. In Azriel’s hotel room, a man she hadn’t seen for two years. A man she had been so completely, head over heels in love with just a decade prior.

Rest called to her, and she let the familiar sounds of someone preparing for bed wash over her. She hadn’t realized how she had missed those mundane, ordinary movements of life shared with another person.

Not 10 minutes later, Azriel emerged, and she feigned sleep.

He paused, and she imagined him looking her way to see if she was asleep. Her forced movements of deep, slow breaths must have assured him as the light turned off, and Elain heard the throw being removed from the back of the sofa to drape over him as he got comfortable. She imagined it must be difficult, as he was much taller than the sofa was long.

And then, silence.

Elain was used to the sound of crickets, a rush of water from the creek near her house. But there was only silence in the city, an occasional siren.

A few minutes passed.

Another siren.

A siren.

Red flashing lights reflected against the shadows on the wall of the room, as her eyes adjusted to the pure darkness.

A siren.

Flashing lights from an incoming ambulance.

The burning, sterile smell of a hospital room.

Beeping monitors.

Her father, dying in the hospital bed as Elain struggled not to fall asleep. She didn’t want his last moments to be alone, and she had stayed up for three straight days to hold his hand, to read to him, to talk with him.

In the end, she had fallen asleep. And he had passed while Elain dreamt.

A familiar panic began to constrict her careful, slow breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the flicker of lights still reflecting against the hotel wall.

Not here, not now.

But it was too late.

“Elain?” Azriel’s voice called softly from across the room. She could hear the worry in his tone.

Not here, not now.

But she couldn’t speak, her breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps as she curled further into herself in the large bed, wishing she could sink beneath the fabric and disappear entirely.

She heard movement through the pounding in her ears and soon the covers were being pulled from around her, Azriel slipping into the bed next to her and replacing the blankets. It was a small relief when she felt their weight on her again, the last tether grounding her to this earth.

Her eyes were still squeezed shut when he felt her reach for her hands, which she imagined must feel disgusting - cold and clammy, her rings squeezed tightly against her swollen skin. Her whole body felt swollen from how much crying she had done over the past few days.

“Elain,” Azriel’s voice skittered across her skin, even over the din of her panicked memories pulsing in her mind like a second, thunderous heartbeat.

“Where’s this ring from, Elain?”

She barely felt him lift her hand from where it had been gripping the sheets so tightly that the skin was turning white.

The texture of his scarred thumb scraped across the top of her ring finger, circling the emerald stone she had picked out to signify Nesta’s birthday.

The memory of the day drifted to her, a hazy thing that she reached desperately for before it could split through her fingers.

“A… a French market, near my new house,” Elain stammered, eyes still pressed closed as she fought to speak.

A desperate gulp of air.

“And this one?” Azriel prompted her gently, his touch moving over to her middle finger, where a simple gold band lay.

“We all - all have them,” Elain choked out, “Nesta, Feyre and I. We all have the same one, from a store near Cassian and Nesta’s old apartment.”

Another merciful breathful of air in her lungs.

Elain opened her eyes, and almost began to cry at the softness in Azriel’s features. A softness that she had once thought had been meant solely for her, before it hardened like it did for all the rest of the world.

And on it went, him asking where each of her rings were from, and then carefully sliding them off of her fingers, collecting them in the palm of his hand. When he was finished and her hands were bare, he carefully reached over her to set them on the bedside table closest to her, where they settled with a clatter.

When it was done, Elain was exhausted. But Azriel did not move, did not make to leave the bed. He didn’t even stop gently tracing over her hands, his own fingers ghosting over the edges of hers, and then moving to her palms, where he meticulously moved over the lines and callouses he found there. His touch was warm, and soft - even through the gentle scrape of his own textured hands.

She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to stay. That she would never ask that of him.

She had tried once, she didn’t think she had the strength to ask and be turned down again.

But he didn’t move. And Elain let herself drift into sleep to the warmth of him pressed reassuringly next to her, his hand never leaving hers.

Tag List:

@ultadverb

@shadowflorecita

@illyrian-dreamer

@123moiaussi

@dailyelriel

@reverie-tales

@demarogue

@gracie-rosee

@impossiblescissorspeachpaper

@mis-lil-red

@tswaney17

@zdenkah

[nova-stardragon]

Y'ALL I FOUND IT

MY FAVORITE ACOTAR MEME

[redheadspark]

can i pretty please get an angsty/fluff with Azriel using 37. "You are worth everything and so much more" and 49. "I love you, every single thing about you" please and thank you!

A/N: I like this request! Thank you anon!

Worth

Summary: Your mating bound with Azriel makes you doubt your worth as a potential mate. Azriel, however, doesn't see it that way

Warnings: A mix of fluff and angst

"So....you and Azriel are mates then?"

"....yeah"

Mor gave you a sweet smile, you sitting nervously in your chair as you were fiddling with your fingers and grasping some of the material in your dress. This recent discovery was a huge slap across your face, making your nerves stand on end with that tug of the bound strumming hard and deep.

Strumming towards Azriel. The Spymaster of Night Court.

How could you have a mating bound with him? Of all beings there in Velaris, your bound was singing and screaming out for Azriel. You two were such opposites, his cool and almost scary demeanor to your shy and meekness. His tough fighting style to your pacifist nature. But there was something about Azriel that did draw you into him, something deep inside of himself that made you see his heart was in the right place and he fought for good and for the weak.

When you felt the bound hum, you were working in the garden at the Townhouse with Elain, it was strumming so loud in your chest that you paused in your weed pulling and you sat back on your legs. It felt like the dull heartbeat tuner your wrist that was pounding against the muscles, the aching and yearning to be near Azriel and to have his company close by to be satisfied.

You were beyond scared, and you had to talk to Mor.

"You make it sound like you're being punished for having a mate," Mor explained calmly as you two were sitting in the parlor at the Townhouse. You shook your head, reaching over to clutch your glass of water as Mor was nursing a glass of red wine, "I think it's a great match, you and Az,"

"But," You paused, Mor raising an eyebrow for you to continue, "It's Azriel!"

"That much we know thus far," Mor commented in a joking tone, but she saw the scared look on your face as she cocked her head gently at you, "Do you...not wish to mate with Azriel?" "I'm thinking of the other way around," You muttered, then chugging some of the water as Mor looked at you with wide eyes.

"You think he won't want you?" She asked, reading your mind as you were clutching the glass in a death grip, "Honey, Azriel wouldn't think like that about you. He thinks nothing but the best of you,"

"But what am I to him when it comes to being a fae?" You countered, Mor going quiet as you sighed and leaned your head back in frustration, "I'm no fighter or warrior, or one for delegations and politics. I'm not even High Fae...just a seamstress with barely a family name,"

"If I know one thing about Azriel, and I have known him for centuries on end, he doesnt care for titles or rank. He sees past that, which I find admirable because of how rare you find that in a man," Mor explained as she played her glass on the table and rubbed your arm soothingly, "And I see how he watched and interacts with you. Azriel is enraptured with you,"

You looked at her, almost dumfounded with the notion that the Spymaster would find interest in you. He seemed like someone who was too powerful and too intimidating to find love and interest in someone like you. You were always so sure of yourself when it came to your worth, but it felt like Azriel was on a different pillar and level.

"Talk to him," Mor urged you, her voice calming and gentle, "It doesn't hurt to talk to him and see what he thinks. But I know deep down, he would be honored to call you his mate,"

So after you two spoke, you decided to be brave and talk with Azriel with what was on your heart and what was making you hesitant. He deserved the truth, not wishing to play with his heart or your own. He met you at the House of Wind, the rest of the home was deserted since it seemed as though Mor warned them all. But as you stood at the balcony, overseeing the beauty and peacefulness of Velaris in the deep evening, Azriel made his presence known when he walked out on the balcony from behind you. Instantly, you felt his presence that was thrumming in your chest, not screaming out for you to recognize what was meant to be.

Why was your head getting in the way though?

"Mor told me what was bothering you about....about our bond," Azriel said calmly, sounding very certain and yet hesitant at the same time while he stood behind you. You stayed quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say or how to say it. Part of you wished to be honest and open with Azriel, but the other side of afraid of hurting his feelings in the process. From what you heard from Mor and what she has confessed to you, Azriel had feelings for you and has had them for some time. It wasn't that you didn't reciprocate the feelings, you were in the same boat and your feelings for him grew over time. But you felt your value would be less than what Azriel desired or deserved.

"I don't find myself worthy of you," You explained simply, clutching the balcony railing as your eyes were trained on the city below you and the bickering lights that made the night a bit brighter, "I wish to be honest with you, Azriel. You are a high ranking soldier here, a Spymaster, admired by everyone you meet. I'm....I'm just a dressmaker with no title or no rank,"

It sounded so pathetic when you said it, but since it was out in the open there was no need to hide it or make it simpler. Azriel had the right or know what you were thinking about and what was holding you back in wishing to accept the Bond. You thought of how others would think of the pair of you together, how the judgement would come. Not to mention how you felt as though you couldn't be up to par with all that Azriel was.

But Azriel took a few more steps over in your discretion, you could feel his presence behind you as you were attempting to stay still and not show him how scared you were in your stance and in your eyes.

"I have to disagree with you," He said simply, you pausing on your feet as he sounded very sure and determined, "I feel as though I am the one not worthy of you,"

That made you slowly turn around, seeing how he was 10 feet away and watched you with vulnerability in his eyes and looseness in his stance. You looked in shock, thinking you heard something else and your mind was playing tricks on you.

"Don't say that to make me feel better," You pleaded gently, but Azriel shook his head.

"I'm telling the truth," He explained, "Ever since I met you...you have always been on my mind. Whether it was the way you spoke about your craft and how much you love making dresses, or the softness of your soul that you would bear to me consistently. You make it seem so easy to be open and vulnerable, and I envy that."

You were watching him in silence as he took another step closer, the mating bond was thumping louder now in your ears and under your skin.

"Your kindness and need to have peace is something I wish to have and cherish, and I fell in love with that first. Then it was how you could make my day lighter and brighter with your words and jokes, even the sillier ones," He went on, you lightly smiling and feeling a few tears about to come out from your eyes from hearing all of this, "And lastly, whenever I was in your presence and your beauty....I couldn't breathe for a moment or two. Far before I felt our bond...I felt a tug towards you that I never wanted to let go. I don't wish to....and I'll do anything you ask to have you believe that I fell in love with you. I love you, every single thing about you."

"You....you love me?" You asked sheepishly, Azriel took another few steps to be right in front of you and gaze down at you with his hazel eyes. It seemed like it was too good to be true, maybe a sick dream. To hear the very Spymaster that you've pinned for and felt unworthy of, pour his heart to you and made it sound so heavenly and simple at the same time.

"I would be honored to call you my mate, because you make me wish to better. I can't picture my life without you in it, and I don't have the courage to do so," he said softly, being so close to you as he reached up to cradle your jaw with his scarred hands. You were silent, eyes wide as Azriel showed his love in his eyes and in his hold along your face, "I'll change all of me to have you as my mate. You are worth everything and so much more, and I only hope you feel the same,"

Nothing could prepare you for how your own heart was exploding with the notion of being loved by Azriel. To know that he loved you, that the feeling was mutual, and your bond was no mistake or no chance. It was real, the bonding tug was feeling so strong and yet so warm. The warm almost being a sign that you two were content in this bond and you accepted it.

All you could do was lean up to kiss him, taking the first step you were so hesitant to take. Within a moment, Azriel moved his hands to your waist and held you close in his arm, so possessively and protectively like you two were the last being in Velaris. It felt that way, the softness and intimate feeling of his lips on yours and his fingers along your hips and waist made your head spin and your bond expand.

That night was the first of your new life together, the best night of your life.

The End.

[spidey-stark]

Pairing - Azriel x Reader

Warnings - Mentions of death 

Word Count - 2,400+

Summary - It’s the Reader’s first Starfall back home in Velaris after being trapped Under the Mountain with Rhys, though trauma holds them back from fully reuniting with their family-The Inner Circle. Azriel comes to find them, potential feelings beginningto rise to the surface.  

A/N - I don’t know what this is. I was just absent-mindedly writing and this is what I ended up with, so I might as well post it. Be kind, I haven’t ever wrote for Azriel before so I’m still learning the best way to write for his character. I also haven’t wrote anything in quite some time so ya know... not that great. 

It hadn’t made sense at first. 

The city had been my safe-haven, one that filled my dreams Under the Mountain whenever exhaustion would set in and finally force my eyes shut. My beloved temporary escape from Amarantha’s cruel reign, the only remaining tether to my sanity; and now that I had finally returned after forty-nine Gods-awful years, I was left to find that it was no longer what I remembered it to be. 

Velaris was one of the only places to remain untouched by her merciless hands, though it still felt as though it had been stripped of all its beauty, just as the rest of Prythian had been. My home, a place that had brought me such solace, now felt cold and foreign.

Then, eventually, it dawned on me. Velaris hadn’t been the one to change. I had. 

No one had escaped Under the Mountain unscathed and I knew this, but somehow I had been foolish enough to believe that returning home would be the cure to all the horrors I had endured. Velaris was as beautiful as ever-the same warm, welcoming city that I loved with all my heart. But I was no longer beautiful. No longer warm. No longer willing to welcome anyone into my life, including my own family. 

A part of me had expected Rhys to share in that realization, to have a similar feeling of unease as we were forced to relearn how to exist within the confines of our home. The two of us had felt things under there that our friends would never fully understand, seen things that I knew would haunt us for centuries. I hadn’t thought it foolish to assume that he too would struggle upon returning home; upon remembering what it felt like to be safe. But, I soon realized, that I was the only one to feel a sense of estrangement here. The only one who hadn’t stopped living as if they were still trapped Under the Mountain. 

We were all meant to spend Starfall together, celebrate as a family for the first time in decades. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to go downstairs and join them. I could hear the sound of their laughter as I stood atop one of the many balconies a the House of Wind, listening as they made small talk and drank wine. I wanted them to be happy, I wanted to be happy with them, but the sound of their joy only left me feeling more hollow. 

I leaned against the balcony railing, burying my face in my hands and savoring the feel of cold palms against flushed cheeks. I tried to will that empty feeling away, sighing as it only began to morph into the only other emotion I had felt since returning: sadness. At this point I wasn’t sure which was worse. 

As tears began to well up in my eyes I felt the soothing touch of shadows brushing against my bare arm, grazing gently just below the sleeve of my gown. My head instinctively snapped up from my hands, once again letting the emptiness consume me in an effort to hide just how broken I had become. 

“Mor sent me to look for you.” 

Azriel’s footsteps had been feather-light as always, a carefully honed skill that worked to his advantage as the resident Spymaster. His shadows continued to whirl around my arm, acting as a considerate gesture to make sure I had been aware of his presence rather than just sneaking up on me. 

“She’s asked for you about a dozen times in the past ten minutes.” 

I forced a chuckle at his words, followed by a small smile. “I’m sure she’s already raided the wine cellar and began overindulging herself by now, yeah? Give it a bit longer, I’m sure soon enough she won’t even notice I’m missing.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that since she’s had to suffer through forty-nine years without her favorite drinking partner. If you don’t hurry up and drain the rest of the cellar with her then I doubt she will be quick to forgive you.” 

Azriel came to join me in leaning against the railing, his head tilted towards the sky as his shadows began to dissipate. For a moment he indulged in the silence between us, giving me some time to think over my list of excuses as to why I wouldn’t be joining them tonight. Then, he spoke again. 

“Where have you been lately?” 

The question was deceptively simple and didn’t come with an easy answer. 

“Well,” I took a heavy breath, beginning to pick at my nail-beds, “Rhys signed off on me going back to work so long as I work under Madja for the time being, so most of the time I’m in the city. I tried to tell him it was silly and I didn’t need to be supervised, but you know Rhys. He insists that it’s for the best so I don’t get too overwhelmed.” 

Madja had been the one to oversee my training when I first decided to become a healer. I had just barely completed my training before Amarantha’s reign began, and my time spent Under the Mountain had only aided me in honing the skills she taught me as I tried to tend to whatever injuries I could. But Rhys had been alongside me as I fought to heal as many as I could, had witnessed the way each person I lost had taken a piece of me with him; likely the reason why he had felt more comfortable having me work under Madja rather than begin healing on my own again, an attempt to place less weight on my shoulders for a while. 

“While I’m glad to hear that you’re working again,” I could feel his gaze shift from the stars to me, though I still refused to look up from my own hands, “you know that’s not what I meant.” 

Another smile tugged at my lips, though this one was genuine, albeit weak. “You can’t blame me for trying to avoid the question, can you?” 

“Not at all, though I do hope you’ll try and answer it anyway.” 

“Gods, things really have changed, haven’t they? It used to be me having to pester you to let your feelings out. I guess the tables finally turned.” I shook my head at the thought of all the nights so long ago where I would fight to gain Azriel’s trust, and the ones that followed where he would actually share some of the things that plagued him. “I think I’ve just been stuck in my own head lately.” 

A weak answer, one that I knew wouldn’t satisfy him, because I wouldn’t have been satisfied with it either if the roles were reversed. 

“You’ve been home for months now and yet this is the most we’ve spoken to each other--so I’ve noticed that you haven’t been very present.” His words were so careful, so gentle, and they were laced with so much concern that it made my stomach twist. 

“Have I?” Been home, I mean.” I forced myself to look away from my hands, glancing over at him as his brows furrowed together at the question. “I know it probably doesn’t make any sense, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore, ya know?” 

“Velaris?” His head tilted slightly as he spoke, offering me his full attention. 

“The world.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, averting my eyes from him again to stare at the stars. “I used to have so much faith in everything. Maybe not in the Gods or even the High Lords, but in the world. I believed that there was a purpose to it all, believed in the beauty of life--the same beauty that made me want to become a healer. And now? All of that is gone. I don’t have faith in any of it anymore.” 

The weight of sadness began to creep back into my chest, once again filling the hollow space and making me feel weighted. 

“I thought being back home would fix that. That seeing anywhere that hadn’t been touched by her would fix it. It was supposed to give me something to believe in again, to know that something beautiful had survived.” I chewed on my bottom lip, fighting to keep my voice even, “Truthfully? I think everything beautiful died under there.” 

“No.” Azriel spoke quickly, not allowing even a moment of silence. He lifted his hand off the railing as though he were going to reach for mine, hesitating at the last moment as it hovered over my skin, ultimately settling against the railing again. “Not everything beautiful is dead. You survived.” 

“Is it bad that I wish I hadn’t?” It fell from my lips before I had a chance to stop it, the collected mask that Azriel always wore falling in an instant, replaced with an emotion I couldn’t quite figure out. “I tried to save as many lives as I could, but there were just too many that needed saving. Some of them were beyond help, but fuck Az, some of them? They begged for death, begged me not to help them. Death was just a means to an end for them, and honestly? I think they might have had it right. It would have been better to die than to live like this.” 

He didn’t fight the silence this time, letting it grow until it felt like I was suffocating in it. I turned my head towards him, his lips parted slightly though no sound came out, words lost upon the Shadowsinger at the confession. 

“I’m sorry.” It came out as a whisper as a new emotion flooded through me for the first time in years. Guilt-for thrusting the weight of my problems onto him. “I shouldn’t have put that on you.” I cleared my throat, forcing myself to be louder this time. “It’s just--I don’t know--there used to be so much good in the world, and I just can’t see it anymore.” 

“Try a mirror.” His statement was forward and a bit awkward, a hint of desperation behind the rushed words that was entirely unlike him. “You know, once we realized that you and Rhys weren’t coming back, that there was absolutely nothing we could do to save the two of you, you were what got me through Y/N. I took my favorite things about you-like the way you would smile whenever all of us would find time to be in one room together-and I committed them to memory. And every grueling day that I had to force myself out of bed, every day I was forced to live without you, I would think of them. I would use them to remind myself that I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t lose faith. Because even if I couldn’t see you, I could still feel you, and I wasn’t going to allow myself to give up until you were safe again.” 

Azriel’s hand raised again and this time he didn’t hesitate as his hand pressed itself against my cheek. I forced myself to stay still against his tough, afraid that if I moved even slightly he would take his touch away. 

“When I first met you, you forced yourself into my life. Spent years clawing at the walls I built around myself, around what happened. You never gave up. ” His thumb hesitantly stroked my face, scarred skin against smooth flesh. “You are all the proof I will ever need that beautiful things still live.” My eyes fluttered shut, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through the hollow space that lived inside me, “You’re one of the most intelligent healers I’ve ever met, and so you know that trauma doesn’t heal overnight. But I can promise you that all of us are here to help you. I am here to help you, in whatever way you need.” 

I felt his breath against my skin as he spoke, warm and minty, and I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter to try and fight against the tears attempting to force their way out. 

“You’re not a prisoner anymore. You’re allowed to come home, love.” 

“I’m terrified.” My voice wobbled as a I spoke, forcing myself to look at him, tears sliding down my cheek and falling against the hand still pressed against my face. “What if the pain never goes away? The fear?” 

Azriel let himself smile, “It never goes away, not fully. But it changes, becomes more numb with time, until you barely feel it at all. And I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.” 

There was a sudden crash from downstairs that sounded like the shattering of a bottle, followed by an eruption of drunken laughter. Azriel rolled his eyes at the noise while I couldn’t help but let out a giggle of my own through tears. “They’ll be there for you too, I’m sure.” 

“I don’t want all of you to be worried about me, though. I don’t want you worrying about me.” I playfully shoved his arm, “There’s so much happening, so much to focus on. Worrying about me will just add to the stress.”

“You could never add to my stress.” All hints of teasing vanished, his tone serious as he now used both hands to cup my face, hazel eyes glued onto my own. “I’ve worried about you for the last forty-nine years. At least now I get to do it with you by my side. You matter so much to me, Y/N.”

He didn’t follow it up with a reminder that I also mattered to our family, that everyone worried for Rhys and I’s safety Under the Mountain. He spoke only of himself, in such a personal and intimate way. That unfamiliar warmth in my chest began to grow larger, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of nerves as he leaned closer to me, pressing his lips against the top of my head.

My heart threatened to beat right out of my chest as he pulled back from me, his hands falling from my face as that composed mask of his began to take over his features again, though a tinge of crimson coloring still painted his cheeks under the moonlight.

“I should probably rejoin everyone before they send Cassian after me.” Azriel took a step back, silent for a moment before offering his arm towards me, “You’re welcome to accompany me. I know everyone would love to see you-especially Mor.” 

I took a few deep breaths, steadying my still-racing heart before moving towards him to lock arms. 

“Time to come home.” 

[writeroutoftime]

Hi there! I have a free day tomorrow, so if anyone wants to send in any requests for our favorite acotar men that would be lovely!

So far I’ve written a Cass story and a Rhys story!

I’d love to write more for either of them but also for Azriel and Lucien! Send whatever you’ve got my way (just no smut please!) Hope you all are having a great day! 💛

[latent-thoughts]

Such a compelling argument it is, that a relationship isn't about mutual choice and love, but about the capacity of a woman (female? because it's the fae?) to birth kids for the guy. Bravo!

I'm a very moderate, ship and let ship type of person, but when I see this argument pop up on my dash, with the op claiming that this is why gwynriel will be canonTM and not elriel, I cannot contain my annoyance. Way to go... to minimize someone to their capacity to bear children.

ALSO: The whole thing about the pliant bones was about Gwyn's body having adapted to the training so well, so quickly. Not about birthing children. The whole thing is just so stupid and illogical. (A normal pelvic girdle shifts during birth anyway, you know. It's not about the bones. It's about the birth canal.)

So please stop reducing these two characters to their 'baby popping' capacity just to justify your ship and hope that it'll be canon. You can do that without the misogyny.

(I'm annoyed at SJM too, for putting this thing about wings and uterus and birthing canal in the books. With no safe c-section available in the ACOTAR world (but shredded wings and spilled guts can be healed within a day? WHAT?) It's ridiculous. It's why we're getting such lovely misogynistic takes in the fandom.)

[cest-la-vieve]

Meeting Eve (The Seventh Time)

Summary: Rhysand intervenes and Azriel is not pleased.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: cussing, angst, bit of our mans az going crazy

Next: The Eighth Time

ACOPAP Masterlist

---

The seventh, eighth time, I didn’t know. I began to lose track of the times I actually saw her with how often she occupied my thoughts.

I tried, I did. I tried to stay away, keep my distance. But damn her, she wanted to be friends. And sometimes… Sometimes I let myself think she wanted more than that.

I had left her standing unceremoniously in her bedroom because if I had stood there one more moment, with her looking up at me with those eyes, I would have done something I couldn’t take back.

So I seethed my way up to the training ring, needing to hit something, anything. And I did. I lost myself in it until I could feel the burn in my muscles and the ache in my knuckles. With every punch and exhale, I tried to let go of every thought that plagued my mind. This impending war with Hybern. The complete failure in the throne room. Feyre in the Spring Court. Evelyn.

Azriel. 

Rhys’s voice in my mind caused me to pause. What? I snapped.

Peace, brother. I could sense his smirk. My office, half an hour.

I sighed. Fine.

Unwrapping my hands, I began the descent to my room.

Despite my annoyance with Rhys, I figured the least I could do is tidy myself up a bit - especially if he was sending me out somewhere. I entered my room, fully focused on bathing and meeting Rhysand but froze. 

It still smelled like her. I sighed and ran my hands through my hair.

A shower. I was here for a shower.

From there it was almost automatic, taking my clothes off and slipping under the warm water. This was always the one place where I could just… think. Unfortunately, that meant all the time in the world to wonder what I was supposed to do about Evelyn.

Or rather, do with Evelyn.

I ground my teeth in frustration and did my best to ignore the way my entire body warmed up at just the thought of her. It hadn’t been like this with anyone in the past. Even with Mor, there was a sense of familiarity in the longing when I was with her.

With Evelyn, I needed her. I needed her in the way misery needed company - where one only thrived with the other.

I let my head rest on the wall as water dripped from my wet hair and onto the ground below. I willed my thoughts away from that and onto this meeting with Rhys. I have been controlling and hiding my emotions for 500 years, there’s no reason I couldn’t do it around a female I had only just met and focus on what my High Lord required of me. Gods only knew what he wanted from me this time. 

Finally, I removed myself from the water and dried my hair. What if I just told Rhys to go fuck himself? I shook my head, sending droplets of water spraying. It wouldn’t be the first time and likely not the last, but it would mean an earful from him later.

I resigned myself to my inevitable meeting with the High Lord. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I let the steam from the bathing room waft into my bedroom as I exited. Pulling open the top drawer of my dresser, I stared at the clothes, likely a little too hard and a little too long. My focus was long gone - instead replaced with a thoughtless battle between my emotions and my logic.

I snapped out of the daze as my bedroom door was flung open.

Evelyn stood there, cheeks slightly flushed and eyes determined… until she saw me.

I felt my shadows around me, informing me that she had been wandering the hallways trying to find her way to her room.

Her mouth dropped open and I restrained myself from moving toward her.

Master yourself, Azriel. Don’t let it phase you.

“You’re in my room,” her voice came out the slightest bit breathy and it took every ounce of control not to grab her and have my way with her as her scent of arousal filled the room. She was so newly Fae, I doubted she could tell the difference or that I could sense it.

I chuckled lowly, letting it break the tension building inside of me. “I believe you’re the one in my room.”

I turned my back to her, knowing if I had to see her standing in my doorway for another second I would lose all my resolve. I feigned digging through my dresser in hopes she would walk away before she could piece together that the smell of her arousal now mingled with my own.

I felt her gaze on my back as surely as I would have felt her touch.  “Isn’t this the room I was in earlier?”

Damn. Shit. Fuck.

I turned around, looking anywhere but her as I muttered, “Oh, uh, when I found out what happened… Well, I mean when…”

I was met with her silence. I cursed myself, the almighty Spymaster of the Night Court, brought to stutters by a female barely half his size. It was laughable. I had killed and maimed and tortured without so much as blinking an eye but here I was feeling a blush crawl up my neck.

I gathered myself enough to explain, “Once Madja helped bandage me up, you were still unconscious and there wasn’t another conjoining room with Nesta and Elain and I don’t always stay here so I figured it would be fine if they just kept you in here and…”

She paused for long enough that my shadows began swirling around my feet impatiently. I looked up at her then, seeing the thoughts connecting in her mind.

Eventually, she crossed her arms, shifting her weight so one of her hips jutted out to the side. I let my eyes track the way the muscles in her thighs flexed at the movement, clenching my jaw in response.

“Well, where exactly am I supposed to sleep then?” Gods, I was so far gone.

 “Rhys had one of the extra rooms cleaned out for you down the hall.”

When she didn’t leave, I realized she didn’t know where the room was. The words left my lips before I could think better of it, “I’ll get dressed and show you the way?”

She remained in the doorway, wings splayed behind her. When did that happen? How had I not noticed? 

I couldn’t read the expression on her face as she stood, unmoving.

“I’ll need some privacy for that.” Don’t go.

I had never seen anything as heartwarming as the way she stumbled backward at my voice, mumbling, “Right, yes, of course. So sorry,” before finding her way into the hall.

I dressed quickly, wanting to get her to her room so that I could reorient myself before my meeting with Rhys.

I opened the door, though she didn’t notice. Her wings drooped behind her as she stared blankly at the wall ahead, clearly thinking hard about something.

“You really shouldn’t let those drag on the ground, you know?” I teased, hoping it would make the frown lines on her face disappear.

She responded before shutting her eyes in concentration and, much like Rhys, willing the wings away.

“That’s… one way to do it,” I said as I began walking down the hall, putting some distance between us. We stopped at her door and I waited for her to enter, hoping to be chivalrous but also making sure she was safe.

As we stood for a few moments I slowly drank in the details of her face. I wanted to memorize every freckle, kiss each worry line at the corners of her eyes away, and be the one responsible for her dimples showing when she smiled.

Her soft voice interrupted my thinking, “I appreciate it, you know.”

“What?” I asked, unsure what she was thanking me for.

She considered me for a moment before saying, “Well, everything. I appreciate you letting me meet your shadows when you first visited. And then swearing your allegiance to me and my sisters. But mostly, I appreciated your comfort earlier when I woke up. I just assumed… that wasn’t something you’re necessarily accustomed to doing and it meant a lot to me…”

In over 500 years of existence, I hadn’t been surprised often. But hearing her thanks and the genuine appreciation pouring out in her words, I was caught more than off guard. My hand at my side twitched in restraint to prevent itself from holding her perfect cheek in my palm.

I tried to think of what to say, how to remain neutral, but she cut me off before I could, “You don’t have to say anything. I get it. I just wanted to say thank you and that’s it. I, um, definitely hope to see more of you around. For now, I hope you have a good night.”

She was in her room quicker than I could exhale to respond. I stared at the door she had disappeared through, blinking to myself a few times. I heard her sigh against the closed door and her movement as she got into bed.

What if I just… Fuck it. 

I reached out a hand and just as it touched the doorknob I heard Rhysand’s commanding tone in my mind. You’re late, brother.

I snarled low enough that I hoped Evelyn wouldn’t hear, stepping into my shadows and appearing a moment later in Rhysand’s office.

“What?” I bit out, echoing my tone from earlier.

Rhys sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair with both hands behind his head. “Now, is that any way to speak to your High Lord?”

“Out with it, Rhys.”

“Oh, I don’t actually need anything. I simply wanted to see how the timing worked out between Evelyn returning to your room after dinner and you getting ready to come down here.” He smirked, leaning forward so his forearms were braced against his desk.

“You-” The question caught in my throat as I fully processed his words. The prick had known I would shower after training. And he purposefully didn’t tell Evelyn that she had a new room next to her sisters.

“What the fuck, Rhys?”

He put his hands up in defense as I stalked closer to his desk. “I meant it when I said you deserve happiness, Azriel. And if you’re not going to take it for yourself, I supposed there was no harm in helping it along.”

I stood, shaking. He had interfered and therefore interrupted any and all plans I had to stay away from Evelyn for her own good. I appreciated his effort, though, knowing my brother had only done what the thought best, but wished he could stay out of my business, especially where it concerned Evelyn.

The look on his face was so earnest though and it had been so difficult to battle myself internally with this. Normally, I had no problem working through issues myself. In fact, I preferred it. Too many opinions only made matters more complicated. But Rhysand knew how this felt. He knew because he kept himself away from Feyre. It was that alone that compelled me to reply, “She’s too good for me.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise that my anger had dissipated so quickly. He asked, with a gentleness that made me want to punch that concerned look off his face, “Shouldn’t you let her make that decision on her own?”

Yes.

But I couldn’t handle it if she didn’t pick me. So it was far easier to save her the trouble and stay away in the first place. I’d rather have Cassian throw me into the prison than admit that to Rhysand though.

“If you don’t need me for anything, I’m going to bed.” I left before he could say anything else.

Once I was in my room, I stripped the clothes from my body, hating the way they had started to constrict my breathing. Left only in a pair of cotton shorts, I relaxed myself on the bed. 

I sent my shadows away with a flick of my wrist, watching them take refuge in the corners of the room. Their constant reminders of what was going on, of what Evelyn was doing, were not necessarily something I needed right now.

Rhysand’s meddling needed to stop yesterday. I didn’t want him getting involved, even if the chance meeting this evening would be replaying in my mind for the next several years of my life.

She had looked so determined to find the right room, her delicate eyebrows pinched together from when she retraced her steps. And the brief look of triumph as she recognized the space - my space. 

Then there was the delicious way her eyes had unabashedly roamed my chest upon seeing me. The desire that flooded her eyes and her scent. And the blush that spattered her face as she realized the situation. Then that attitude that returned instantaneously. That attitude was going to be the death of me. The crossed arms, a cocky smile on her face, and her sinful hips cocked to one side. 

Years of a sedentary lifestyle had left her with more curves and dips than her sisters, not that I minded. If anything it just gave me more to love, more to wrap my hands around and crush against me.

I growled realizing that my wandering mind had done more than get my heart racing and was just about to relieve the tightening in my pants when I heard it.

It was quiet at first, sniffles and sobs, but then screams. Screams that reverberated into whatever shred of my soul had not been corrupted. I felt part of it crack at the heartbreak echoing throughout the halls.

Arousal and daydreams forgotten, I ran throughout the House of Wind faster than I had moved in my entire life. My mind was still hazy but my body knew exactly where to go.

I was in front of her door within seconds, feeling my brothers appear on my flanks not a moment later. Despite my intrusion into Rhys’s usual position in the lead, we worked together naturally, flawlessly.

Rhys grabbed my shoulder as I leaned back to kick open the door, not thinking straight enough to even see if it was unlocked. He gestured to the light shining from underneath the door and I looked expectantly at him.

He sighed and shook his head, letting his power push back whatever was happening inside Evelyn’s room. The entire time, those screams ripped pieces from my sanity and Cassian had replaced Rhys’s hand on my shoulder, serving as an anchor for my mind and holding me back from doing anything stupid.

The second that light dimmed as a result of Rhysand’s intervention, Cassian removed his hand and I threw open the door.

Evelyn lay on her bed, thrashing wildly as light and power poured from her. Rhys held me in the doorway as I roared Evelyn’s name. Over and over until her eyes snapped open and the room went dark.

Her soft voice rang out, “Um. Hi?”

On either side of me, Cassian lowered the sword he had raised and Rhys let his power balk. I just stood staring, my chest rising and falling heavily.

Evelyn’s eyes traced over us hastily and I held the growl in my throat as I realized what my brothers were wearing. Or rather, weren’t wearing.

I took a step forward at the fear and confusion in her eyes, fully intending to scoop her into my arms and comfort her. Who knows if I’d ever let go?

But she cowered from me. Looking for all the world like she wished the pillows would swallow her up so I couldn’t get any closer.

That one movement broke whatever piece of me the screaming hadn’t quite reached. I turned on my heel and roughly shoved past Cassian and Rhys, silently making my way back to my room.

I paused only to shut the door before shoving all the papers and books off my desk. The next victim was the dresser which was thrown to the ground, the drawers spilling their content haphazardly. I lost track of what was next on my path of destruction until the entire room was trashed beyond repair. Holes littered the walls and all of my belongings - of which there were few - were scattered and broken. 

Only once I had stopped did I feel the tears streaming down my face and the gasping sobs that had my chest convulsing.

I sunk to the ground, tearing at my hair as I fought for control of my emotions.

She didn’t want me.

She was terrified of me.

And why wouldn’t she be? I had killed and tortured enough that I had lost count. I had repeatedly pushed her away and shut down any attempts at friendship she had offered me. I wasn’t what she wanted and I never would be.

It took hours but I fell into a fitful sleep on the floor, nightmare after nightmare of Evelyn telling me how much she despised me, what a monster I was, or dying while I couldn’t do anything to prevent it.

-

The next morning, I groaned as the sunlight filled my room. A pounding headache had formed from the crying and fitful sleep from the prior evening. I moved sluggishly to pick up clothes from the floor before getting dressed and stalking downstairs.

After breakfast and a glass of water, my head had stopped throbbing and I almost felt relaxed enough to go train on the roof. Until I felt Rhysand pushing at my mental shields.

Yes, High Lord? I asked, after lowering them enough to let him in.

I need a favor, came his drawling reply.

I waited in silence.

Evelyn requested to go running this morning. I took her to that field in the north by the creek. Something came up and I need you to go pick her up.

No.

His reply was no longer as my brother but as the High Lord, That wasn’t a request.

I slammed a fist on the counter. Godsdamn it, Rhys. She doesn’t want me anywhere near her.

I have it on good authority that’s not necessarily true.

My heart swelled in my chest. Maybe I hadn’t completely ruined everything.

Fine, I told Rhys.

When he didn’t respond, I took that as my cue to go out onto the balcony and begin my flight to Evelyn. I spent the whole time debating what to say to her and how to approach her.

I settled on doing what I did best - taking cues from her and seeing what exactly she wanted from me. I had spent my life learning how to read someone and this was the most important time to use that.

I landed in the field and looked around expectantly. Only she wasn’t there.

I took a deep breath, taking in the smell of grass and trees, the crisp clean air rolling down from the mountains, and there - that scent like the first snow in Velaris that was indescribable with a hint of lavender from either her time spent outside or whatever soap she had used.

I followed it all the way to the creek, miles away from the clearing. I held in my amazed smile at the fact that she had presumably run all this way. I caught a hint of the joy she had felt in that spot in my chest reserved only for her. I approached slowly, seeing her shoes beside her where she lay on the bank of the creek and kicked her feet through the water. My shadows hummed to me in contentment as she giggled up at the clouds and I almost did the same.

I walked the last few steps to stand next to her and drank in her peaceful face.

Her mouth quirked to the side as she said with no small amount of sass, “Go away, High Lord. Your loyal subject is enjoying herself.”

I snickered at the mistaken identity. Apparently, she still hadn’t learned to differentiate scents.

She scrambled into a sitting position and looked up at me. My breath caught a bit as she blinked and looked through her lashes, my brain going to a far less innocent place at her nearly on her knees in front of me.

“Hi, Azriel,” she whispered.

I smiled down at her and responded, “Hi, Evelyn.”

I held out a hand to help her to her feet and shoved down my surprise when she accepted. As I hoisted her up, I may have stepped closer, hoping she would mistake it as a coincidence. But as she froze, I realized my mistake. I quickly schooled my face into disinterest, realizing she had no desire to be closer to me than necessary. 

She yanked herself away from my hold and retreated a few steps away. I exhaled in frustration. Why couldn’t I read her?

“Evelyn,” I started.

Her arms were crossed as she demanded, “Where’s Rhysand? He was supposed to winnow me home.”

“He was called away on urgent business. I’m meant to fly you to the House of Wind,” I responded flatly.

I could sense her nervousness as her eyes looked at the ground, “Fly me… all the way home?”

I flexed my wings. Of course, she hated flying. I explained as gently as possible, “The House has wards on it to prevent anyone from winnowing in. And since I can’t winnow, not in the way Mor or Rhys can, the only way I can get you there is by flying.”

She nodded. I would kill Rhysand for this. Especially if he knew how uncomfortable she would be with flying home. I wanted to distract her from wherever her thoughts were spiraling.

“You know, I’m much better at flying than Rhys. It might have something to do with having to learn much later than him and Cassian,” I smiled awkwardly.

She laughed and my shadows danced in response, even if it sounded like it was more for her benefit than mine. “If that’s your idea of a joke, we have a lot of work to do.”

I raised my eyebrows in mock offense and reached a hand out to her again. She grabbed my hand but didn’t move closer. I didn’t force her to, wondering what she had taken such an interest in as she looked at my hand. I noted the way her eyebrows met and tried to resist pulling my hand away from her, realizing just how poorly the scarred skin contrasted with her soft hand.

“What are these for?” She asked, turning my hand and tapping on my siphon with one finger.

My mouth tightened in relief. “They’re siphons. Illyrians have a raw killing power. Siphons help them focus it. The more siphons, the stronger the power.”

I scowled as she asked, “Am I going to need one?” I could only hope the power she had wasn’t vile enough to warrant an Illyrian siphon.

Not wanting to upset her, I said, “I’m not sure. We’ll have to determine the extent of your power and see if siphons can help direct it.”

I remained quiet as I saw her mind racing in thought. The way her mouth turned down on one side as she became absorbed in her own world rather than the outside one filled my stomach with something suspiciously like fluttering.

“You and Cassian are going to be jealous when I need more than both of you,” she teased, stepping closer.

I couldn’t say anything as a result of the new lack of distance between us. Instead, I let my eyes slowly roam her face. I wasn’t even sure I was thinking about anything other than how beautiful she was. I couldn’t keep track of the time we stood there even as she raised a hand but stopped herself. She breathed out my name and instinctively I grabbed her hand in my own. I gently guided it to where she had originally intended for it to go, covering it with my own as I pressed her palm to my cheek.

My eyes closed of their own accord as I let go of her hand and moved to spread mine across her back, pulling her closer until she was pressed against me. My body sang everywhere it touched hers. Realizing she hadn't said anything, I opened my eyes and searched her face for any hint of hesitation. 

Her darkened pupils had me groaning internally. Her head tilted up, her beautiful neck elongating as she offered herself to me. 

Kiss her, my mind chanted. Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.

I moved slowly, giving her time to change her mind, as I inched forward to meet her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed and I was close enough I could have counted each eyelash.

At the exact moment I closed my eyes, I felt hands shoving me backward as her voice came out harshly, “Take me home.”

I stood, staring lamely, trying to think of what to say. She didn’t give me the chance. “Take me home. Now.”

Of course. I knew that this would happen and I was a fool for thinking I had left her with any reason not to reject me. 

I nodded and gently picked her up, wanting to account for any soreness from her earlier running. I kept my mind carefully blank as I took off and began my flight toward the House of Wind.

Azriel, Feyre’s in trouble. Meet Cassian at the border to the Autumn Court. Now. Rhysand’s command came in through the nothingness in my head.

I have Evelyn. I shot back, hating myself for having to postpone rescuing Feyre.

I heard his desperation as he replied, It doesn’t matter. Mor is waiting at the treeline on the opposite border. Leave Evelyn with her then get Feyre.

I banked to the right, heading for the Winter Court.

“Where are you going? I told you I wanted to go home,” Evelyn’s voice came out so shaky, I almost apologized for having to fly further than originally planned.

I didn’t look at her as I said, “Feyre’s in trouble. Rhysand told Cassian and me to meet her on the border of the Winter Court and I don’t have time to drop you off.”

“What kind of trouble? What can I do?”

I admired how quickly her attitude changed, fear forgotten for determination to save her sister. I responded disdainfully, “The kind caused by the heirs to the Autumn Court. The kind you are getting nowhere near. So what you can do, Eve, is wait with Mor on the shore while Cassian and I get Feyre the hell out of there.”

“Like hell I am,” she grabbed my chin and my pace stumbled at the feeling of her thumb and forefinger on my face, “Azriel, you take me to my sister or you drop me here and I will walk to her.”

“Only you, Evelyn Archeron, would speak to the Spymaster of the Night Court in such a tone,” I said once I got over the initial shock of her touch, shaking my head slightly.

“I’m not scared of you.”

She said it so confidently I almost believed her. Until I remembered the way she had backed away from me last night.

I didn’t respond, instead reaching across the bargain bond between Cassian and me. We’re a few paces out.

I see you.

Seconds later I saw Cassian flying toward us.

Evelyn perked up in my arms and my heart dropped as she yelled in pure joy, “Cassian!”

“Enjoying your flight, kid?” He yelled back to her.

I stifled a smile as she responded, “Not as much as I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass for that, you dusty old male!”

Figures appeared below us on the frozen lake between the Autumn Court and the Winter Court. I saw Feyre, and four Autumn Court males, judging by the hair.

Two for you, two for me, I said to Cassian. I’m leaving Evelyn with Mor and then I’ll meet you there.

He nodded and I began descending, keeping Evelyn close to my chest and searching the woods for Mor. 

Evelyn’s hands clenched my collar as she yelled, “Let me go!”

“Absolutely not!” I yelled, giving her a look that told her she was crazy if she thought I was going to drop her.

“Azriel, just drop me, I’ll be fine. We’re close enough to the ground.”

I clutched her to me as tight as I could without hurting her. “No.” 

The last thing I heard was her saying, “You stubborn male,” before she pushed against me with all of her strength and forced her way out of my hold.

I watched in horror as my heart plummeted to the ground and I could do nothing to stop it.

-

Taglist: @mis-lil-red @ambivertedcroissant @reareaikea @biblophilefox82 @in-some-fandoms @hollyismentallyillhelp @donttellmehowtowrite @issybee0611 @vera0124 @juulle987 @bankerfrog @pricklepearbloom @sevikas-whore @strawberyseas

[heylookliisten]

feyre is stronger than me because i would have folded so easily for rhysand

[secretlynestaarcheron]

Velaris University: Pitch it to me Ch. 3

Nessian / Gwynriel fanfic

Nesta

The bell above the diner door jingled as a couple walked in and made their way to a booth in the far corner. “Who are you looking for?” Gwyn asks from where she was making a fresh batch of coffee. 

“Yeah, you jump every time the door opens. Is it that psycho ex again?” Emerie asks from where she was peeking out from the kitchen. She holds up a spatula she had just been using that’s still covered in pancake mix. “Do we need to kill him? Egg his house?” 

Nesta laughs and looks back at the silverware she was rolling. It was 8 o’clock, she had told Cassian to stop by before 11. He was probably still asleep. “What were you going to do? Drown him with pancake batter?” Nesta chuckles. Emerie gets a twinkle in her eye and slightly shrugs. “I am just wondering if Azriel is going to pop out and surprise Gwyn.” 

A red blush floods Gwyn’s face as she turns away from them. Nesta and Emerie turn to each other and burst out laughing. “We’re joking, G,” Emerie calls. “I still can’t believe you are paired up with your knight in shining armor since freshman year. This is the universe telling you to make your move.” 

Gwyn shakes her head quickly. “Absolutely not, we are definitely just going to make awkward comment exchanges on the google doc until the project was over,” she says, as she pours the coffee into two mugs and walks down the aisle towards the couple in the back. 

She takes their order before moving back behind the counter to hand the slip to Emerie. “Then why did he text you wanting to meet?” Nesta questions with a raised brow. 

“I don’t know, he didn’t even remember me and if he did he was not happy about being paired with me,” Gwyn replies shortly. 

“That’s only because he had a crush on Elain,” Nesta retorts. Gwyn turns towards her quickly with wide eyes. “Gwyn, seriously? You were watching him all love struck this summer. You did not see him looking all love struck at Elain?” 

Emerie slides the two plates across the counter and Gwyn moves to grab them. “Elain and him would not be good together,” Nesta replies. “I wholeheartedly believe that she was just there. That’s the only reason he clung to her. If you let him see you. Gwyn. He’d be stupid to let you go. You should keep meeting with him in person” 

Gwyn bites her lip not saying anything as she takes the plates and makes her way to the back. Nesta hadn’t known Gwyn when she went through what she went through in freshman year, she didn’t even really know the whole story. Only that something happened and Azriel was there to help. 

She hasn’t gone on a date or even been near a guy since Nesta had met her. She barely left the library until she met Nesta. They had both worked there fall semester of sophomore year and Nesta got Gwyn out of her funk. They bonded over romantic novels, pasta, and their passions for being dependent and strong. Nesta even got Gwyn this job at the diner where they met Emerie. 

“I have to get to class,” Gwyn says, as she begins to untie the apron from behind her waist. She shoves it into her cubby and pulls out her backpack. “I’ll see you at home later?” 

Nesta nods. “I’ll text you when I am on my way and I can grab take out for us for movie night.” The door jingles again and Nesta’s heart skips a beat when she sees Cassian stroll through. The tight grey shirt he wore was wet from his hair, he must have showered before he came. Nesta scoulded herself for thinking his shirt was tight and for creating the image of him in the shower. 

His eyes scan the diner until they land on her and his smile brightens. Gwyn leans in next to Nesta and smirks, “Looks like I am not the only one who has a their eyes turned by a baseball player,” she snorts. 

“I am helping him with a paper,” Nesta replies quickly. Too quickly. Gwyn’s eyes dance with mischief. “You know, the other job I have?” 

Gwyn hums as she finishes grabbing her stuff. “You just happen to meet your tutoring peers outside of your tutoring hours?” she asks knowing that she stumped Nesta. Nesta shoves her lightly and says, “Don’t you have a class to get to? And a project to work on?” 

Gwyn’s laughter echos through the diner as she leaves. Cassian comes up to the counter with a sheepish grin. “I am sorry I am late, I had morning practice and had to shower quickly,” he says, gesturing up to his wet hair. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate having to smell sweat and dirt since your going out of your way to help me.” 

Nesta laughs as he sits up on one of the barstools and begins pulling out his laptop and notebook. “Technically, you are also going out of the way to help me,” she retorts talking about the fake boyfriend thing. “Are you still okay with that?” 

Cassian chuckles. “I am completely okay with being your arm candy for a night, Archeron,” he quips. 

For the next hour, they work together between customers. Nesta explains how to write a thesis statement, outlining, paragraph structuring, and anything else Cassian would need to tackle this assignment. She watched as he begun complining sources and working on making a makeshift outline. 

She moved throughout the diner refilling coffees and dropping checks before returning to where Cassian was staring intently at his notebook, his hand paused mid stroke. She raises an eyebrow and she glanced down at what he was trying to write. “I am not stupid,” Cassian interjects before she could make out the word. She opens her mouth to say that she didn’t think he was but he continues, “I am just not great at English. I am better at math or physics or even history.” 

“Why do you do that?” she interrupts. 

He lowers the pencil and looks up at her. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

“I didn’t say you were stupid. I don’t even think you are, but whenever I see you pause in the slightest you have to tell me you’re not,” she replies. “Has someone told you were?”

His gaze moves away from her. “No,” he says quickly. They both know that Nesta knows that he’s lying. “I guess I just feel stupid for needing help in my senior year for a subject that I use daily. I speak English for fucks sake.” 

An older couple at the table behind him gasps and he turns around to give a sheepish apology. “We all have subjects we aren’t good at, Cas,” Nesta replies easily. “I am not great at science, terrible at it actually. Anatomy? I can’t name a single muscle. Physics? All I remember is the word velocity but I don’t even know what it does. Don’t even get me started on chemistry. That was a nightmare.” 

He cracks a smile at her but Nesta notices how it doesn’t meet his eye. Before she can say anything else, Emerie shouts from the kitchen. “Nes, get out of here. You have class and I have a whole tip jar to myself for the next few hours.” 

Cassian lifts up his phone to see the time and his face falls in disappointment. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Nesta asks as she unties the apron from around her waist and grabs her book bag from her cubie. 

He begins putting away his own stuff. “I’ve got a group workout, English, and then I’ll be planting myself in front of this computer for the rest of the day. I really appreciate your help, Nes,” he says softly. “It actually makes sense when you explain it.” 

“I would hope so,” she replies as they begin to walk out the door of the diner. Nesta waves goodbye to Emerie as they exit into the chilly March air. “Gwyn and I are having a movie night at our apartment. Emerie will be there and sometimes Lucien, Elain, or Feyre will show up. You should come and bring your bat boys.” 

“Does Nesta Archeron want to see me again? And on the same day?” He chuckles. “I thought you would be sick of me by now.” 

She laughs. “I will say you are much more tolerable than you were last summer,” she retorts. “You can bring whatever you’ve completed and I’ll begin proofreading.” 

“You don’t need to bribe me to hang out. I’ll do it completely free,” he retorts. Nesta's heart jumps at that and she scolds herself for the reaction. In a few days, Cassian would be back to baseball being his true love and Nesta would be back to working three jobs and studying for the LSAT. “But only for you, my standard rate is pizza and foot rubs.” 

She rolls her eyes and shoves him as they stand in front of the car. “Good luck, I’ll see you tonight,” she says. He gives her a bright smile and a wave as he moves farther into the parking lot towards his own car. Nesta pulls out her phone and sends a text to Gwyn, hoping she wouldn’t be mad about the few extra guests she invited.

[ladyveravincent]

Something Much More than Love

Excerpt from Chapter 20

“And I think that the daises next to the- ?” The light bells of the clock chimed, causing Elain to blush as she realized the hour.

“Oh Gods! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to babble about garden plans for… three hours ?” The copious amounts of liquor caught up with her as she let out a deep infectious laugh, drunk and dizzy with delight until she fell onto a chuckling Azriel's shoulder.

Had there ever been a happier Solstice? He didn’t know. On top of the blue embroidered towels from Mor lay the headache powder, perhaps the funniest and most endearing gift he received throughout his five centuries on Earth. When he saw Mor’s gift, the old familiarity of his affection seemed duller than usual, even a pang at the memory of a male who enjoyed love from far away, so if it left, it would not hurt. 

But this? This was pure. No pain, no confusion, just ease and laughter. He had pined for Elain since he met her, but two nights ago, something shifted. When she fixed his plate at dinner, it transformed his inhibitions into vulnerabilities. He didn’t want to admire from afar, he wanted to listen to any word that could pass through her lips, worried if he spoke he’d miss something important. 

He had loved Mor, for centuries. But perhaps he did not know how happy love could be until he met Elain. Perhaps love did not require sacrifice and pain. Perhaps real love was the eagerness to learn anything about another soul simply because of its existence. Unconditional love was foreign to Azriel. His mother was a rare spirit, he received that undying affection from Jophiel, but he never considered that sort of love could exist romantically. 

Now he knew. 

But he still was a coward. He couldn’t admit what he felt for Elain, but he knew it would bloom into something very, very pure. 

“No! No, keep going, I think you were getting to the oak trees by the irises-” They were laughing too hard, their noses touching, liquor on their breath, and happiness on their tongues. 

Honey. Jasmine. Happiness. Peace. That’s what love was like now. 

He was so happy she decided to stay. 

Her head rolled slightly, sleepiness and alcohol causing the lids of her lovely brown eyes to become heavy, in a so very endearing way. Elain was a beautiful woman, but a divine Fae. Did she know how often he thought of her upon waking? That he wondered how she looked in the morning light as she breathed away her dreams? What did she look like when she brushed her curls, or when she bathed her smooth skin? Did she like warm or cold bathwater, and did she know the ways she could touch herself to bring a blush to those cheeks? Could he ever help her find out?

“You deserve more,” she said and pointed to his empty whiskey glass. How true her statement rang. He glanced at the packet of thistles that lay next to the garden plans, a gift given away from the eyes of his family. With glee, Elain exclaimed thistle was the flower she unsuccessfully searched all of Velaris for in the fall, and couldn't believe he got his hands on the seeds. He neglected to tell her he went to the continent that fall when he noted she looked for it on market stall shelves for months. It seemed so small a gift, though, she seemed not to mind, but rather, touched. If he ever got over his cowardice, he'd make sure the following Solstices were filled with gifts fit for a Lady.

The Lady in question stumbled over to the cabinet, stopped to pick her poison, and decided on a bottle of port.

“Ha!” she squealed with delight and took a large swing.

“Keep that up, and Cas and I will have to take the blame. No one will believe it was you.” She held up her hand to silence him as her gulps continued. He got up to take it from her, but she backed away, her eyes never leaving his. 

“Elain, you really want to get me in trouble?” He already was in trouble. 

“Mmmmh!” she kept going until he glanced up in shock. 

“Oh Gods! Rhys, we’re so sorry,” She turned beet red and instantly let the bottle drop to hide it behind her skirts, and in one quick swipe, Az had the port at his lips.

“You!” she screeched in delight and beat her fists on his arms as he walked away, the bottle going down smoothly. 

“Oh, sorry?” With one eye closed, he looked down the neck of the bottle. “You wanted some?” Elain raised it to her lips, and he burst out laughing when only a drop remained. 

“Fine. For having to listen to me drawl about begonias for four hours.” 

“I didn’t mind,” he answered truthfully. 

“No male is that patient, you're just polite.” 

“Well, your very thoughtful present remains unused. So you know I tell the truth,” he said. With a wide smile, she sat down on the floor against the couch.

“Good, because we all know that you’ll be using double whenever I’m around,” she replied, and he plopped next to her, very happy she let him lean into her body.

“Triple for everyone else,” he remarked and tapped her foot with his boot. After a moment's pause, she reached out to squeeze his hand.  

“Thank you.” He blushed bright red.

“What for?” 

“Everything.” He simply nodded.

For months, Azriel sought out Elain to make sure she was still in Velaris, in the hopes his friendship would convince her to stay. He was ashamed his family assumed she would adjust to Fae life with no resistance, that their not-so-subtle teas with Lucien wouldn’t encourage her to run back to the human lands. They underestimated her fighting spirit, and wrote off her silence for acceptance, relegating her to a pitiful damsel. She was anything but. 

That clever girl visited any library in Velaris and figured out in less than two months what Amren took centuries to plan. When he glanced at her notes, he was not just impressed, he was terrified. Through her detailed and thorough cursive musings, he came to realize Elain was nothing short of a genius. 

While she so easily tricked each family member into thinking she was content to bake and garden, he caught the Seer studying notes under the table or saw candles aglow from her bedroom window at midnight while the shadows of a furiously scribbling quill danced on the walls. And no one was the wiser until tonight’s dinner. Even then, did they know how much she knew?

 He only agreed to help because he knew what it was like to be a stranger in a strange land in an even stranger body. 

“What’s your home like?” she asked. 

“My home?”

“Illyria.” When she said it, his home sounded real. She had been once before, very briefly, in the haze of her early days as Fae, but by the wonder she wore upon her face, she wanted to hear about his home. Not the land itself.

“It’s-” Shouts and fists from his father and generals filled his ears, images of his mother as a starved servant flashed through his mind. But they dissipated when he saw the mountains.

“I come from a place where its people are like the mountains.” He raised her soft hand and drew several peaks into her palm.

“We bow to no God, for the mountains bow to no one, not even the wind.” He gently whistled a low ancient tune and she mimicked him.  

“Ramiel is the heart of our land.” Her skin was so soft, and he relished drawing a circle over a faded cut from a thorn.

“And in the spring for one week, there are three stars above, Arktos.” How would her skin feel against his?

“Carynth.” Did she taste like honey too?

“And Oristes.” He pressed each star onto the tops of her fingers. 

“That is the symbol of Night Court, the mountain with the stars.” What unknown thoughts lay inside that brilliant mind?

“Beautiful,” she said, mapping the steppes and stars on his palm. He nodded when she remembered each valley and peak.

“Illyrians are warriors. When we are very young, males are put into training camps across the land. I trained at a camp called Windhaven, which is how I met Rhys and Cas.” He took a breath to say more, but Elain started to trace the tattoos that traveled up his arm. 

“What do they mean?” she asked, her large brown eyes filled with such a pure curiosity. He tried to suppress his proud smile when he rolled up his sleeve to show her more. 

“They are given to warriors for luck and glory on the battlefield. I got them in honor of my mother,” he said as her finger traced an intricate swirl. No touch had ever been so divine. “I, uh, do not come from a noble background, so I wanted her to have a son that bore the marks of a Lord’s son. To know her hard work was worth something.”

“She must be very proud of you.”

“I would like to think so,” he said sheepishly. It was easier to say one’s son was a warrior than to admit they were an executioner. 

“You know, Azriel,” his head jerked up in shock. She had never called him by his name. But to hear it from her lips was nothing short of life itself. 

“I don’t remember much when I first came to Night Court, but I do remember your scars. And I used to think they reminded me of the bark of trees. But now,” she raised to examine them, “I see they are like the stone that forms mountains. You wear your lineage on your hands very, very well.” 

“Oh, no, that’s- I um, I-” his breath came fast, and the tears of shock started to well.

“Yes, I see raises and ridges, stars, and rivers. What do you see?” 

“I see,” he bit back tears but kept a stoic face, “I see a young boy whose hands were set on fire by his half-brothers, and I hear the word bastard on their lips and I feel my father’s anger and I search- I search for,” he turned toward a wide-eyed Elain, eyes full of sympathy. Not pity, but sympathy. 

“I search for light,” he finished. She glanced over her shoulder as pink and orange hues filled the room, dawn around them. 

“Seems like you found it,” she said.

This was something much, much more than love. 

~ A Court of Bones in Bloom A03

[poquito-burrito]

Is the bonus azriel chapter canon?? Was it published by Sarah herself???? I was wondering if it was and I couldn't find a clear source on this so I thought, hey, Tumblr knows all