#elriel AU

[bluelancess]

Midnight Blooms | Elriel AU part 1/?

Sports romance, college AU.

Summary: When Elain is told by her father, a ruthless politician, that she is to marry the son of one of his closest friends, Lucien Vanserra, to assure her father’s win on the next election, she has no other choice but to agree. What she never expected was her convictions being tested by a tall, devastatingly beautiful black-haired hockey player who moved in right next door. And if there was one thing Elain was certain of, was that Azriel posed a dangerous threat to the previously dormant desires roaming inside her. And she needed to stay far, far away from him.

Tags: forbidden love, arranged marriage, forced proximity, modern setting, slow burn

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Read on AO3.

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Chapter 1

I never saw you coming

ELAIN

I never thought the house where I’ve only lived for a year would become the place I’d end up calling home, but here we are.

It’s a two story brick structure, with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. The kitchen is big enough for me to spend dead moments baking, and discovering new recipes, the living room is open, and gorgeous, with a somewhat high ceiling, a chimney and big windows that showcase the back patio beautifully. My favorite thing, no doubt, is the garden. The one in the back to be more exact. It is the main reason why I fell in love with this property last year when my sister Nesta, and I were hunting for a place to live during the school year. 

The big patch of land was pretty much dead. 

The landlord said he didn’t have time to waste planting flowers or trees, and laughed at me when I mentioned the immense potencial this place has. Right now, is unrecognizable from how it was when we moved in. I have a little vegetable garden at the far right corner, the newest addition, it has been a pain on my butt to get the flimsy vegetables to grow, but I think I’m going in a good direction. 

Right below the windows, there are planters with my favorite flowers, when some of them get to big to share the space I move them into either the soil along the sides of the wooden walls separating this property from the ones beside it, or I give them their own special little planter and distribute them along the backyard's sitting area. It depends on my mood, really. 

Anyway, I haven’t been here in two months, since last semester ended, and summer break began. Father has us stay with him during vacations, and holidays, and although I wanted to sneak out and come check and make sure my flowers were nice and watered, he didn’t allow it. Good thing I decided to ask Mrs. Wade to help me during the months I’d be away. Being the sweet old lady she is, she agreed in a heartbeat, only demanding I bake her some of my special chocolate chip cookies once I returned. 

I’ve been anticipating coming back here so much, that feeling absolutely nothing when I do, wasn’t really what I was expecting. 

Guess it has everything to do with the silly, little fact, that I’m getting married in six months.

Twenty-six weeks. 

A blink of an eye, in wedding planning time. 

Even worse considering I don’t even know the man I’m supposed to marry and spend the rest of my life with. 

Father and his dreadful ideas you can't refuse. 

“We should call the police,” Nesta says, sitting angrily at my side by the breakfast table, although her eyes remain glued to the little kitchen window, it has an excellent view to the house on the other side of the street. “Look at them! They totally sell drugs.” 

She crosses her arms, and furrows her thin brows, her mouth is slanted on a grim pout. I blink, rapidly, trying to make sense of her words. I have no idea what she might be referring to, but Nesta has a reputation of hating everyone and everything that crosses her path, so I don’t take her words very seriously. 

“Sure,” I reply, bringing my cup of tea to my lips for a sip. It’s cold, and doesn’t taste as good as it usually does. 

How long have we been sitting here in the kitchen? We got back here at lunch time, and we've been cleaning and setting things up all afternoon. It feels like just seconds since I boiled water to have a nice cup of tea and relax a little, but considering my cup is still full, and mostly cold... I have a habit of drifting too far into my thoughts and having trouble coming back. 

“I’m serious, Elain.” She insists. “It would be just our luck to end up being neighbors with…” she points at them with a firm and accusing finger, “jerks like that.” 

I look out the window, and my lips part when I see the reason of my sister's fury. 

Three guys. All tremendously tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, tattoos covering their tan skin. All of them, shirtless, wearing low rise sweat pants, laughing and playing around like little kids on the front yard, bottles of beer in their hands. 

“Who was the owner of that house, again?” Nesta asks, still not turning around to look at me. “Didn’t our landlord mention he knew them? Maybe he can get me their number, I’m sure a call would solve this.” 

“I don’t see the problem,” I say and she lets out a tiny, frustrated groan. “They’re just guys. It might be nice to have someone our age living near us, for the first time in forever.” 

“You say that now, but when you can’t sleep because of the noise they’ll make throwing parties… then you’ll agree with me.” 

“You like parties.” I point out. 

“Not when I want to rest.” Nesta points out. "You're so unbothered because your bedroom isn't the one looking out into the street." 

Her bad mood makes me smile a little. What can possibly be bothering her so much? She loves male company most of the time.  

“Are you sure that’s really the problem here?” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Now she looks at me, with liquid fire in her eyes at the accusation. I giggle. She might think she is hiding her true feelings well, but I know her better than she’d like to admit. She's spent all summer away from men because father would be furious if he found out one of his daughters is sleeping around, the tabloids would go crazy if it got leaked to the press, and he'd probably cut her allowance off. Which is why she behaved. 

But father is not here. And if some guy is stupid enough to not recognize my sister as the eldest daughter of our soon to be governor, then it is fair game for her. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Feyre asks, coming into the kitchen wearing a knitted sweater and denim shorts. 

“Nesta is drooling over those guys.” 

“I'm absolutely not!” Nesta says, standing up to point towards the window, moving the think, embroidered curtain to a side, to show Feyre the show. “I’m just saying that they don’t look like the kind of guys you want to have as your neighbors. They probably cook meth in the basement.” 

Feyre’s mouth opens and her eyes follows the three muscled man like a hungry beast following their prey. When she notices this, she shakes her head and takes a step back, awkwardly walking towards the fridge to retrieve a chilled bottle of water. 

“They’re fine… I mean, they don’t look like meth dealers,” she says, and clears her throat. “How come you guys never mentioned you had such hot guys living only a couple feet away, huh?” 

“Because we didn’t.” Nesta says, looking out of the window again, I’m pretty sure she’s giving them her signature death stare. “The house was empty last semester.” 

Feyre shrugs. 

“I don’t see the problem.” She brings the bottle water to her lips, peeking through the window once more. 

“That’s what I said.” 

“You two are too naive.” Nesta says, and then in a flash, her back straightens, and her shoulders tense. “Motherfucker.” She mutters, shaking her head from once side to the other so violently, the braid on the top of her hair looses a bit. “I know who these idiots are!” 

“What?” I ask, standing up from the table, to peek at the window with them. Feyre is pretending not to be as intrigued as she is, and Nesta is just spewing curses. “Who are they?” 

“The fucking hockey players, you know, the Night Beasts. Won the hockey tournament last year, or whatever it is called.” She says, and right as the words come out of her mouth, one of the guys, the tallest one, with shoulder length dark brown hair, half of it put up on a messy man bun, looks straight at us, the mischievous smile in his face only growing. “Is he looking at us?” Nesta lowers her voice as if she spoke a little louder he might listen, and the three of us freeze in place. 

“Can he even see us?” Feyre asks. 

“The window is glass, of course he can see us, Feyre.” 

"I meant from that far." 

And then, after a beat, the guy blows us a kiss and Nesta seems to me fuming at the ears. 

“Cocky bastard,” she says, closing the curtain and grabbing our arms to get us away from the scene of the crime. “That’s it. I’m kicking them out.” 

“You can’t kick them out, it’s not your house.” Feyre says, leaving the water bottle on top of the breakfast table, looking at me with concern. Neither of us really understands exactly what has Nesta so riled up, but she’s not listening to reason right now, and she most definitely won’t stop until all the anger boiling inside her disappears. 

“What are you going to do?” I ask, following her with quick steps towards the main entry of our house. She rapidly puts on some shoes, fixes her braid, and storms out the house with a very scary aura surrounding her. 

“Should we go too?” Feyre asks at my right. “She might kill them.” 

“She won’t kill them,” I assure her, not sounding sure at all. 

“Hey, you assholes! This is a family neighborhood.” We both hear her scream, and come to the silent agreement that yes, we should probably go stop her. Feyre moves faster than I do, crossing the threshold in three long, clean steps. 

“Hey, there!” The tall guy says, waving a hand at us. “Maybe you should get binoculars next time, my abs are more impressive up close. That is, if you don’t have the balls to actually cross the street, our door is always open.” 

“Don’t be a jerk, Cassian.” One of the guys say, he’s the shortest of the three, not less handsome, his torso also covered in dark ink, hair short, and perfectly combed. He looks friendlier than his friend. As soon as I join my sisters, I notice that Feyre’s feet are glued to the floor, her stare unmoving from the new guy’s face, and when he notices my sister, his eyes glisten at the attention, his smirk grows, and then he has the audacity to wink at her. 

Feyre’s cheeks turn rosy pink, but she rolls her eyes.  

“This is me being polite, Rhys,” Cassian replies, not breaking the eye contact with my sister, and hey, props to him for having the balls to face Nesta, not many have survived. 

“Ladies, I’m sorry my brother here has the manners of a brute,” Rhys says, walking slowly to the side of the street, right where their front yard ends. 

“I couldn’t care less about your brothers manners,” Nesta says. “This is a residential street, parties or loud noises after ten p.m are not allowed. And you don’t look like the kind of guys that live a very… quiet life. So, pack your shit up, and find somewhere else to live.” 

“Nesta…” Feyre warns. 

“Wait,” The Cassian guy says, pointing at my sister with one of his fingers. “I remember you.” 

“What?” Nesta says, and I approach my sister until I’m standing next to Feyre. 

Cassian laughs, throwing his head back as he does, like he can’t really contain it. “Don’t play dumb, now.”

“You don’t know me.” Nesta states as a fact. 

“Oh, I know you,” he shoots back. “Very well, I might add.” 

Nesta arches a brow. And the tension between them is so strong, it’d probably give you whiplash if it cut in half. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“The alley behind Elysian the last week of February? Ring any bells?” He teases her, and I chew the inside of my cheeks, watching their word war is like waiting for a grenade to explode. 

Now it makes more sense why Nesta was so riled up by the presence of these men. She would’ve never admitted it to us, though. Not if we tried to pry the truth out of her with the worst kind of torture. She’s closed off like that when it comes to the men she dates, or sleeps with. Dating is not really on her dictionary. 

“Seems like you have it committed to memory,” She teases him back, and Feyre looks at me surprised, biting her lower lip to keep herself from laughing. “Can’t say the same, I don’t waste time remembering guys who are… underwhelming, to say the least.” 

Cassian’s confident smile disappears in a blink. 

“You gave me a fake phone number, you know?” He tells her, like he’s wanted to say that to her for months, but never had the chance. 

“Oh, I did?” Nesta feigns innocence. “Guess I couldn’t be bothered to remember my real one.”

Feyre chuckles beside me, then clears her throat. “We should go back inside.”

“I’m done here, anyway,” Nesta says, turning around on her heels. But before she can fully go back to the house, she says to them, lifting a single finger in the air: “One transgression to my rules, and I’m calling the police.” 

“You’ll be joining in on the fun soon, gorgeous, don’t worry,” Cassian tells her, his confidence is back in place, like Nesta never gave a life threatening punch to his ego. 

“In your dreams, asshole.” 

“Believe it or not, my dreams come true all the time,” he tells her. “Mostly the dirty ones.” 

Nesta rolls her eyes, and goes back inside of the house, closing the door with a bang. 

“Sorry about that, my sister can be… a little intense.” Feyre says.

Cassian looks over Feyre's shoulder, like he's hoping to get one final glimpse of Nesta. “Just how I like them.” 

“Cass,” Rhys warns and Cassian shuts his mouth, then Rhys turns his attention to feyre. “We won’t bother you. Much.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about us,” Feyre says, also turning back around to go inside the house. “It’s Nesta the one you want to keep… content.” 

“Will do,” Cassian replies, fast as lighting, like he’s accepting a challenge and he hasn’t even realized it yet. 

“Good luck with that.” 

Feyre takes a couple steps towards the porche, and knocks on the door. Nesta completely forgot we were outside with her when she decided to do her grand exit. 

I’m about to follow my sister, when a new, rich, and velvety voice that we hadn’t heard before reaches my ears. 

“We are throwing a little get-together tomorrow night,” he says. I look up at the sound, and my mouth dries at the sight of the man in front of us, my breath catches and my heart pounds so fast, all I can hear is the frantic heartbeats. High cheekbones, and a boyish grin on his face. Short dark hair like his friends, but a little messier. I hadn’t noticed him before, standing on the porche, like hidden by the shadows. Now, he’s all I can see. “You should come.” 

“Azriel is right, you should come. It’ll be something small, I promise,” Rhys says, also walking back towards the house, putting one hand on top of the shoulder of his friend. “A one time thing, even. To kick start the year. I’m sure your sister won’t mind if it’s a Friday, correct?” 

Azriel. 

He looks down at his sneakers, but there’s a tiny smirk on his lips, the right side of his mouth lifting up slightly more than the left. Then his eyes look up again, directly at me, and my knees buckle, like they want to give in at the heavy weight of my body. God, he’s beautiful. 

Beautiful, like it should be forbidden, illegal, to be. 

Men like him don’t exist in real life. They just don’t. 

And it is so unfair, so unfair, that he happens to live so close. 

“Will there be booze?” Feyre asks, and Rhys smiles at her. 

“What kind of booze do you prefer?” 

She takes a couple seconds to answer, chewing on her lower lip, gloating at the way the guy can’t keep his eyes off of her. 

“I really like wine.” She replies. “Good wine, though.” 

“I’ll get you the best.” 

She smiles even broadly. 

“Great,” Feyre knocks on the door one more time, and it opens with an angry force, I chuckle when I see Nesta walking away with heavy and furious steps towards the stairs. “I’ll bring my boyfriend.” 

And then Rhys is not smiling anymore. 

“Come on, Elain.” She tells me and I giggle. “Wanna order pizza for dinner?” 

“Sure.” I turn around and wave at them. “Goodnight.” 

Rhys and Cassian grunt, twin annoyed grimaces in their faces. 

But Azriel... he smiles at me. 

And then waves back softly. 

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hi! thank you so much for reading! I've been wanting to write an ACOTAR fanfic in a modern setting for so long, and i finally have the time (and the ideas) to do it, so i really appreciate you taking the time to read it! I will be updating it as i go, i hope to post regularly, so we'll see!

i´m also posting this on AO3, so it'd be great if you guys could go support me there as well! <3

ps. i always say this, but english isn't my first language, so i apologize if there are any mistakes<3

[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

[pinkrasberryfish]

That's a damn WRAP on "The Pointe of Love!" 🩰🫀🦢🌹🌙

Chapter 16 - "I'm In Love With You Too" now up.

[tswaney17]

Daddy's Snowball

This might be the cheesiest of cheesy fluff that it's almost cringeworthy. 😅 My one Christmas fic turned into an AU (honestly, who's even surprised?) so there will be three, possibly four parts to this that I'll be posting throughout the month. This first part, basically Az being a simp for his wife and son. Enjoy, and happy holiday's! 💙

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: tooth-decaying fluff.

Word Count: 1,820

Azriel had his hands, elbow-deep in the sink as he finished washing the dishes from their breakfast. Elain had made a brioche French toast that was unbelievably delicious—though everything she made was always wonderful.

His wife was currently cleaning the syrupy mess that was their son. By the time he finished eating, Azriel was pretty sure more of the sugar glue had ended up on his face and hands than in his mouth. He smiled to himself at the image.

Sunday was always his favorite day of the week. Because, on Sunday, he, Elain, and Kaden sat down for breakfast and then spent the rest of the day together. Sometimes they planned little day trips. Others, they spent lounging around the house just playing with their son. Kaden had quickly caught on to their Sunday rituals and started voicing his own suggestions for what they should do. Going to the zoo, watching a movie, or spending the afternoon at the park were just a few of his many ideas.  

He was finishing up wiping off the counter when a little hand tugged at his pant leg.

“Daddy,” Kaden looked up at him with those large, pleading eyes that had his heart melting in his chest. “Can we go outside to pway in the snow?”

A smile took over his face. “Of course. But we need to get our snow gear on.” He dropped the towel on the counter and held his hand out for him. “Come on, let’s go get changed.”

Small, tanned fingers grabbed his ring finger and pinky as they walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. Azriel grabbed all of Kaden’s winter clothing, his snow pants, and a sweater, helping him change. “Your jacket is by the door and so are your boots. I’ll meet you down there.”

“Tank you, daddy!” he called, racing from his bedroom.

Az chuckled, shaking his head at the hyperactivity his son was now displaying from his sugary breakfast. Quickly pulling on his rain pants over his jeans and thick socks, he met Kaden at the back door where Elain was zipping up his jacket.

“Don’t forget your gloves,” she told their son, helping him stuff his hands into snow gloves. “And a hat,” Elain added with a giggle, flopping a blue beanie on top of his rogue curls.

She turned, eyes beaming. “You too,” she said and tugged a beanie over Azriel’s head.

He leaned forward for a quick kiss as their son slid open the door and plunged into the snow. “Can I convince you to join us?”

“Oh, no. It’s much too cold for me. Plus, this is good to spend time with him alone. I’ll make some hot chocolate for you guys and come get you in about an hour.”

Azriel pecked her soft, pink lips again. “You’re too good to me.”

Elain’s fingers slipped into the hair at his nape, holding him there for a few more seconds.

He would’ve stayed rooted to the spot in the open doorway, kissing his fucking amazing, beautiful wife, had a high pitched, “Daddy!” not beckoned him to the frozen wasteland they called their backyard. Elain’s gardens flourished the rest of the year, but very little could thrive in Velaris’s harsh winters.

“Coming, buddy!” he called out, closing the door behind him as he trudged out in the nearly two-foot-deep white blanket that covered their yard.

It was cold enough that Kaden didn’t sink too far in, the underneath layer frozen. But Az’s heavy, muscular body sent his steps nearly to the ground. He snatched his son around the waist, tossing him in the air and catching him under his arms.

Kaden squealed, falling into him as they both landed in the snow, the little one on his chest. The happy giggles coming from his son’s lips were one of his favorite sounds, ones he collected like precious stones to store and take out when he was having a bad day.

“Can you do a snow angel, Kaden?” he asked, lying him down on his back.

Those hazel and green eyes looked up at him in such wonderment. Azriel sometimes forgot how innocent children were until Kaden came into his and Elain’s lives. They were his providers, his caregivers, his everything. It gave him whiplash how much their lives had changed since his adoption.

“Okay,” he started, positioning his limbs. “Be a starfish.” He followed his orders, his limbs forming a spread eagle. “Now slide your arms up and down.”

Kaden’s arms shuffled, pushing the snow around.

“And your legs,” he guided gripping the tip of his boots to direct him into the proper motion. “All right, up we go.” Az grabbed him and hauled him into his arms. “Look at your snow angel, buddy!”

Those eyes widened in child-like astonishment. “Now you, daddy!”

Setting Kaden down on the ground, Azriel flopped back into the snow, swishing his limbs to create his angel right next to his son’s. White powder dusted his dark hair, collected at the collar of his jacket, but he didn’t care. Not when it produced the precious, toothy grin on his son’s face.

“You’re so big,” Kaden stated, pointing at his snow angel once he climbed back to his feet. “Will I get big like you, daddy?”

He ruffled dark hair under his beanie. His soul softened every time Kaden called him that name—it had taken a while for him to grow comfortable with it.

At one point in his life, Azriel believed he’d never be worthy of a wife, of children. And then Elain came along and turned every doubt, every insecurity, into something he fought to concur. His demons, his past, they couldn’t touch him because of her love, her undying affection. He adored her for it.

“One day, you’ll be as big and strong as me,” Az promised, cradling the back of his head, and letting his thumb swoop in his loose curls. He could see it, with Kaden copying a lot of what he did. Elain had probably two hundred photos and videos on her phone, catching him grabbing more meat and veggies after Azriel did, trying to mimic him doing pushups when he worked out at home, sitting at his desk scribbling on paper pretending to work with him, tinkering in his shed with him. It was, undoubtedly, the cutest thing.

Those sweet eyes lit up at his words. A few weeks ago, Kaden announced he wanted to be “just like daddy,” and Azriel would be lying if he said that proclamation had him both puffing up his chest in pride and wanting to sob at the same time. It also had him stepping up his game to be an even better role model for his son.

They rolled around in the snow, tossing handfuls of it up into the air and letting it rain down on them, when he asked, “Kaden, do you want me to show you how to make a snowball?”

“Yes! Show me, daddy!” he cheered, running to plop himself on the ground next to Azriel’s hip.

He grabbed a handful of snow, forming and shaping it into a perfect sphere, explaining to Kaden how to pack it and smooth out the edges. Over his many years of snowball fights with his brothers, he learned quickly how to create the perfect ball.

His son watched him attentively, trying to copy his movements. “Like this, daddy?” he asked, presenting Azriel with a misshapen white blob of snow.

Az had to hold in his chuckle, knowing that as soon as Kaden threw it, the ball would disintegrate in midair. “Very good, buddy. Would you like me to help you make one of daddy’s snowballs?”

He nodded his head enthusiastically.

Digging into the ground, he told him, “First off, you want to get the right kind of snow. The top layer is typically too soft to hold together, so go down a little bit and get some of the firmer snow underneath.” He helped Kaden dig down, collecting a handful of snow in his small, gloved palms.

“Next, we want to pack it together.” Folding his hands over his sons, he helped him tighten the snow into a firm ball. “And then, shape it so it’s round.” He dusted off some of the rougher edges until it was smooth. “And there we go, a perfect snowball.”

Az lifted Kaden to his feet, aiming him for one of the close trees. “Try and hit the trunk.”

He threw the snowball with all his might, the frozen thing missing the tree by a good three feet. Az laughed. “Good try, bud. Here, let’s make more and try it again.”

Sitting on the ground, not caring that his ass was currently frozen, he made snowball after snowball for his son who took every single one in an attempt to hit the tree trunk.

Finally, after thirty balls or so, he did, the bark covered in a splotch of white. “Daddy!” he screamed in delight. “I did it! Did you see?” A little body came crashing into his chest, arms thrown around his neck.

“Awesome job, Kaden!” He hugged him tightly, taking every advantage he got while his son was still young, knowing that when he got older, hugs would become less and less frequent. The realization had him holding Kaden closer.  

The sound of the sliding door opening caught his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Elain, leaning against the doorframe with a smile gracing her face.

“Boys, come inside before you freeze. I’ve made hot chocolate,” she beckoned.

Azriel rose to his feet, still holding his son against his chest.

“With marshmallows, momma?”

Gods, the smile on Elain’s lips would one day make his heart stop. It was so beautiful, so bright, that it lit up the darkest corners of his troubled past. Made him feel warmth, unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

“Yes, with marshmallows. I’ve already put some in your cocoa.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss Kaden’s reddened cheek and then placed another on his. “Come in before you let all the hot air out.”

He set his son down, halting him when he started to run off to the kitchen. “Boots and jacket off, buddy. We don’t track snow all through momma’s house.”

After stripping him down to appropriate houseware, Kaden took off for the kitchen where yet another sugary concoction was waiting for him. “He’s going to be bouncing off the walls today.”

Elain laughed, looping her arm with his. “Yeah, well, he’s sweet and deserves it.”

Azriel looked down at her in awe. Because he knew she was right. They wanted to spoil their son with love, and he did just that. Sitting down at the table, he clinked his mug with Kaden’s and then Elain’s, thinking just how lucky he was to have this perfect little family.

~~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

I’m not doing a tag list anymore because they’re really more trouble than they’re worth. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

[shallyne]

Elriel AU where Elain gets thrown into the sleeping beauty fairytale and there's only one way out: she has too wake Azriel with true love's kiss and get her happy ending

[lupusbloopus]

elriel—spy and assassin au.

elain archeron week day 4: romance ( @elainarcheronweek )

inspired by a fic by @casuallivi

taglist: @tys-kitty @tea-and-a-clandestine-agenda @potato-jem @15-dozen-ros3s @rinadragomir @priorities-as-straight-as-alec @pansexual-lilychen @feyredarlinq @lenina-huntress @allofusvillains

[casuallivi]

A Sea of Fire - elriel AU

Captain Elain had no interest in perpetuating the cruel and destructive ways of a common pirate. All she wanted was to travel the world and pile enough gold to give herself and her crew a full belly, a pint of ale and the ability to do whatever the fuck they wanted. Her easygoing life is threatened when she accidentally sets a man free. Azriel is a dragon shifter who has been imprisoned for centuries and is thirsty for vengeance. The only problem is by a trick of the stars, the magic which bounded him to the cave, now has him bounded to the one who set him free. The lazy captain and the prissy dragon embark on a journey to break the mystical shackles. The only problem is the more they try to separate, the more they yearn to be together.

[cinnibelle]

[cateyesinlove]

“𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐄𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧—𝐄𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐭𝐨𝐨. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐳𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭.”

-

-

Art by @llumetrii

Commissioned by me

-

I am OBSESSED with this com 😭 Kate did such a wonderful job with it! Also Anwar and Senka are so fucking cute 🤣♥️ love them so much! If the pomegranate seems random I promise it’s not, this is inspired by the one shot for the #acotardæmon AU, the chapter should be out between Friday or Saturday🥰

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Four

Chapter Summary: Azriel meets Elain’s new boyfriend at Nyx’s birthday party. Graysen has some questions about Elain’s “friend.”

Word Count: 4.4K

Missed the first three chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: chapter four already!! Thank you to everyone that’s read this fic and commented or interacted in anyway! I’ve had the loveliest messages come through and it’s been such a joy to chat with you guys about this. I’m a little extra nervous to post this chapter, please keep in mind that this is a bit of a slow burn and we must suffer a little before we get our reward. Alternate title is “Graysen Slander (Azriel’s version)”

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Flying back home to Velaris had caused Elain a level of anxiety that had previously been unknown to her.

There used to be a time where she enjoyed seeing her city from the birds-eye-view of an airplane window. She loved to look down and admire the twinkling lights on either side of the sprawling river that split her hometown in half. She liked to scan the buildings as they came into view and point out each place that held a space of her heart because of the special memories attached.

There was her elementary school, the movie theater parking lot where she had her first kiss, and her favourite library. There was the ice-cream shop located a few blocks from their childhood home that she and her sisters would sneak out to at all hours of the night for their cookie dough fix, not bothering to change out of their robes and slippers. She’d look out for the small park where she and Nesta spent their Saturday’s sprawled in the grass, reading books and gossiping. Her heart ached as she spotted the rose and sculpture garden she and Azriel liked to stroll through early on Sunday mornings, hot cups of coffee warming their hands as they walked and talked, Azriel leaning in close to tell Elain that the roses there had nothing on the ones that she grew in her garden.

She hadn’t bothered to point any of those places out to Graysen as their flight had made its descent. Hadn't really felt the need or desire to share those parts of herself with him. She’d just sat quietly, staring straight at her own reflection in the little screen in front of her as she took deep breaths to try and ease the rapid beating of her heart.

Her anxiety had calmed a little once they’d landed and disembarked, emerging from their gate to Nyx’s loud squeal of her name which brought her back to reality just in time for her to drop her bags and catch his tiny body as he ran towards her at full speed and flung himself into her outstretched arms. 

“Hi, baby!” She’d hugged him tight, overwhelmed by just how much she’d missed him.

“Hi, Lain!” Nyx giggled, his little face tucked tight against her neck.

She hadn’t questioned the nickname, one her nephew had never called her before, because she had been too distracted breathing in the scent of his hair - the scent of the same watermelon shampoo that her mother had used during bath time when she and her sisters were kids. It was comforting and familiar and exactly what she needed to push past the worry that had rendered her useless for the past few hours.. 

The initial introductions had gone as well as she could’ve hoped.

Graysen had defaulted back to the easy charm that he’d used back in the day to talk Elain into a drink and it seemed to work on Feyre and Rhys well enough that the drive back to their house and the late dinner that followed were easy and painless. The only hiccup was that Nyx refused to even greet Graysen and had thrown him the most menacing looks he could muster up each time Graysen so much as attempted to hold Elain’s hand. 

“He’s jealous,” Feyre had laughed nervously, embarrassed by her son’s behavior after he’d insisted on sitting next to Elain at dinner. “He’s always been a little territorial when it comes to her and since he hasn’t seen her in a few months…” 

Graysen had laughed it off but Elain had caught the annoyance in his demeanor at the idea of having to share her. Even if the person he was sharing her with was just her soon-to-be five year old nephew. 

Elain’s anxiety returned in full force the next afternoon when guests began to arrive for Nyx’s party. No amount of rearranging balloons or organising the treat station could keep her attention off the front door each and every time it opened. It was only a matter of time before he showed up and the wait was torture. In the years she’d known Azriel, he’d never once missed an important event when it came to his friends and there was no way he’d start now. 

“So…” Nesta appeared next to her suddenly, head cocked to the side as she leant against the table and watched in amusement as Elain straightened the goodie bags for the seventh or eighth time that hour. “Graysen seems nice.” 

“Yeah,” Elain nodded, not bothering to look up from the little cellophane bags full of treats that she’d been busying herself with for the last ten minutes. She didn’t need to look at Nesta to know her true feelings. She could hear it in her voice. “He’s great.” 

“He’s very… passionate.” Her sister studied her nails as she fought to hold back the teasing smile that played on her lips.  “About work. And golf. And work. And his car… Did I mention his work? Because he certainly did.” 

“Okay, okay.” Elain groaned, casting a fleeting glance across the room where Graysen was still chatting to Rhysand. 

She sent a thank you to the universe that Feyre had married a man that had the talent and patience to talk to absolutely anyone. She couldn’t say the same for Cassian, who had quickly maneuvered out of that conversation and over to the backyard to terrorize the kids, instead. 

“He just loves his job,” Elain shrugged, finally turning to face her sister. 

Nesta raised a perfectly manicured brow, fixing Elain with a pointed look. “You mean he loves money.” 

There was a reason Elain had never introduced a boy to her family and the reason was standing directly in front of her, all perfectly coiffed hair and dangerous eyes. Feyre could find a way to see the good in anyone and the boys would say they were okay with whoever Elain dated as long as she was happy. But Nesta - Nesta had always had a knack for seeing straight through any of Elain’s lies and she’d never been afraid to call her out when necessary. It was a quality Elain had come to appreciate from time to time but she didn’t appreciate it today.

“I mean… he does work in finance.” 

“Elain.” Another pointed look was thrown in her direction.

“Nesta.” 

“He looks like he pays more for a haircut than I do.” 

“Nesta!” Elain hit her sister on the arm, unable to stifle the laugh that bubbled to the surface. She knew exactly how much Graysen paid for his hair cuts and Nesta was right. “He’s nice.”

“You know who’s nicer...” Nesta said it under her breath but Elain heard her loud and clear. 

“Stop,” Elain lowered her voice. “Please. You promised.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell the boys and I haven’t,” she replied without missing a beat. “I never promised we wouldn’t talk about it at all.” 

“Nesta, please. I can’t talk about this now.”

What Elain really wanted to say was that she couldn’t talk about this ever, but she knew that would only result in more back and forth and right now all she wanted was for this conversation to be over.

“He’s miserable, El.” Nesta lowered her voice to match Elain’s. “He’s very good at acting like he’s fine but he’s not. You just left and I know you’ve cut him off completely since and -”

“I haven’t spoken to anyone, really. It’s not like I’ve only stopped talking to hi-” Elain abruptly stopped speaking, standing up straight and plastering a smile on her face just as she spotted Graysen beginning to make his way towards them.

He didn’t have a chance to say anything, had only just managed to sling an arm around Elain’s waist when the front door swung open and Shadow came flying through. She was nothing but a black blur, ducking and dodging around furniture as she ran straight through to the kitchen. She paused in front of Rhys for a quick hello before she made a beeline towards where Elain stood with Nesta and Graysen by the dining room table. 

Her long tail wagged furiously, whipping against the wooden leg of the table. Shadow was seemingly unbothered, too busy flailing around happily between Nesta’s legs before she finally came to a stop in front of Elain. Her long snout nuzzled into Elain’s open palm and her lean body leant heavily against her thighs.

Much like Nyx, Shadow paid Graysen little to no attention other than to sniff  in his direction just once which Elain thought quite strange given that Shadow loved meeting new people and she’d famously always favored the company of men. 

“Hi, Shadow girl!” Elain cooed, crouching down to properly greet the dog that had come to feel like her own over the years. She’d gone with Azriel the day he’d picked her up and brought her home, had even helped name her. “Look how gray you’ve gotten!”

“She’ll be nine next week.”

The timber of his voice hit her at the exact same time as the familiar scent of his cedar cologne and Elain was suddenly grateful that she was already on the ground because if she’d been standing, she was sure her knees would’ve given out completely.

Elain swallowed her nerves, raising her eyes from Shadow’s sweet salt and pepper face to look up at Azriel only to find that every bit of his attention was focused solely on her.

“Hi, Lain.”

There were a couple beats of silence before Elain got a hold of herself and stood up. She stepped forward and before she could stop herself, she raised onto the very tips of her toes and wound her arms around his neck. Azriel’s arms wrapped around her waist in turn, tentatively at first before she felt his fingers flex against the middle of her back as he relaxed, readjusting his grip to pull her tight against his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Probably because it had been at one point in time.

“Hi, Az.” She whispered into his neck, breathing in the divine scent of him. The scent of home.

“Hey, Azriel!” Nesta said loudly from behind them, effectively breaking the trance that Elain had unwittingly found herself in. 

She let go of Azriel quickly and took a large step back, bumping into the dining table, as Nesta took her place in his arms. 

She was only just aware of Graysen staring at her in her peripheral, his hand once again heavy against her hip.

“Were you planning on introducing me?” He asked her as Azriel and Nesta separated and Azriel turned to face them again. Elain hadn’t noticed that she’d been staring dumbly straight ahead - directly at Azriel’s chest. 

He was wearing an oatmeal coloured fisherman’s sweater that she’d told him she loved on him more than a few times and a small, stupid part of her wondered if she crossed his mind when he slipped it on this morning.

“Oh, yes!” She shook her head, laughing nervously. “Um, Az… this is Graysen, my uh…”

“Boyfriend.” Graysen finished the sentence for her, extending his hand towards Azriel. “And you are…”

“This is Azriel. My…. Azriel.” Elain stuttered as she watched the two men shake hands.

She allowed herself the tiniest shake of her head to ease the frustration she felt towards herself. She sounded like an absolute idiot.

“I think I’ve missed something,” Graysen looked between Elain and Azriel, eyebrows lifting slightly. “How do you know each other?

“We’re good friends.” Azriel answered at the same time Elain said “He’s Rhys’ best friend.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. 

She couldn’t possibly have handled that any worse.

“So you’re Rhys’ friend or Elain’s friend?” Graysen asked, the slightest hint of a frown forming on his lips. 

Any hope that Elain had of him dropping this topic evaporated in front of her eyes.

“We’re all friends. We met through Rhys when he started dating Feyre and we all spent basically all our time together.” She answered quickly, briefly meeting Azriel’s eyes.

Another mistake. 

All she saw was hurt. No one else would’ve noticed because the emotion was there and gone in a flash but Elain saw past the mask. She saw the hurt she’d caused him. Hurt at being reduced to a friend of a friend, as if he wasn’t so much more to her. As if they hadn’t spent years of their lives seeing each other almost every day. Trading secrets. Letting each other see parts of themselves they’d never allowed anyone else to see.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Azriel smiled politely, redirecting his attention to Graysen. “I’m gonna go find the birthday boy but I’ll talk to you guys later, I’m sure.”

He didn’t look at her again before he walked away, Shadow obediently following right behind him. Even Nesta quickly excused herself so she didn’t have to be around to witness the uncomfortable tension that had settled heavily between Elain and Graysen..

She had absolutely no idea what had come over her. She thought she’d been somewhat prepared to see him again but nothing could’ve prepared her for the reality of him standing in front of her. Smiling at her. The feel of his arms around her - strong and sure and familiar. Nothing could have prepared her for seeing him walk away from her, disappointment lingering behind his eyes. She’d done that to him and she hated herself for it.

She silently cursed herself for ever thinking that bringing Graysen back here would be a good idea. Mere minutes had passed and she’d already fucked up. She had no idea how the hell she was supposed to make it through this day, let alone survive an entire weekend of this.

“What the hell was that?” Graysen muttered as Elain turned in his arms, once again plastering on a smile in a last ditch effort to rectify the mess she’d just made of that introduction.

“Nothing,” She shook her head, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “That was nothing.”

… 

When Azriel walked into Rhys and Feyre’s house earlier and caught a glimpse of Elain for the first time in four months, she was wearing another one of those dresses that threatened to send him to his knees. 

He loved each and every one of her dresses but the one she wore today was a pale blue with delicate straps that tied at her shoulders and draped elegantly over her frame in a way that just about teased at each dip and curve concealed by the lightweight, silky material. It was perfectly demure for a children’s birthday party but something about that dress on her was downright sinful. 

Maybe if the circumstances were different, he’d be able to steal a glance every now and then and attempt to carry on with his life, but the circumstances were not different and Azriel was cursed to get through this afternoon looking at Elain in that dress with some other guy’s arm around her waist. 

He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. Even if he had no right to think of her in that way. Not when she’d made it abundantly clear not once but twice now, that she didn’t want him like that. Still, he couldn’t help that the memory of her kneeling on his bed and tracing a path across his hips with that pretty mouth of hers came rushing back to the forefront of his mind in the ten or so seconds that she’d been on her knees in front of him, patting his dog and looking up at him with those big, brown eyes. 

Any satisfaction that he’d gotten from that memory or simply from seeing her and having her in his arms again, disappeared the second she stepped back and he’d been introduced to her boyfriend.

He knew there was something off with the way they interacted within the first few minutes of watching them together that afternoon. Azriel knew that the smiles she gave him weren’t genuine because they never quite reached her eyes. Elain evaded Graysen’s touch, swiveling out of his grasp each and every time he went to put his hand on her hip, ducking her head so the kiss he intended to give her landed on her forehead instead of her lips. 

He wondered how no one else seemed to notice it when he could see it so clearly. He was in tune with her every emotion, knew her better than he knew the back of his own hand. He’d had time to hone that skill and right now, the piece of his brain that was dedicated solely to her was screaming that something wasn’t right. 

Azriel hated the way she acted around him. Hated the way Graysen acted towards her. Actually, Azriel just outright despised Graysen.

He’d come into this day wanting the best. He genuinely wanted to see Elain happy even if the notion of her being with anyone else made his chest constrict in a way that couldn’t possibly be healthy. But he knew she wasn’t happy and one handshake was all it took for Azriel to know exactly what kind of guy Graysen was.

His grip had been firm but his hands bore no evidence of ever doing anything more difficult than swinging a heavy golf club. Graysen had a smile befitting of a politician’s son - charming but edged with insincerity, like he’d do or say whatever was necessary to get what he wanted. He carried himself with the ease of someone that had had things handed to him on a silver platter for his whole life and there was a certain arrogance to him that had Azriel wondering what Elain could possibly see in him. He knew her well enough to know that it wouldn’t have been the expensive clothing or the twenty thousand dollar watch on his wrist that had piqued her interest just like he knew that the glittering diamond tennis bracelet circling her wrist was for Graysen’s benefit and not hers.

He’d endeavored to try and find out if the guy had any redeeming qualities at all to help Azriel come to terms with them being together but he’d been stopped every time he’d tried to approach Graysen.

Azriel almost found it amusing the way Elain had been running what could be considered award winning interference between himself and her boyfriend all day, somehow managing to keep them well away from each other in and amongst entertaining her nephew and his flock of tiny friends. But now that all Nyx’s friends and their parents had gone home and the sun was beginning to set, there was very little Elain could do to keep them from speaking. 

Graysen had started the conversation as they sat on the couch next to each other, just behind where Elain was sitting on the floor helping Nyx unwrap the copious amounts of presents he’d received today. Graysen asked Azriel about how he had met Rhys and Azriel explained that they’d met when they were kids and Rhys’ family had all but adopted him as one of their own. The topic had turned to Velaris and Azriel had sat through mind-numbing comments about how the river looked nicer in pictures, how things closed too early, and how there was no real potential for growth. 

He’d just nodded and shrugged wherever he thought appropriate and he’d failed to get more than a sentence in but then Cassian had asked if Azriel was still planning on staying at their place after dinner with everyone the next night and when Azriel had answered that he would as long as he managed to finish the ring he’d been working on, Graysen had suddenly had a lot of questions. 

“So you set up a little stall at what? … Weekend farmers markets? Sell jewelry to old ladies and teenage girls?”  Graysen asked after Azriel patiently explained exactly why he was making jewelry. “And you make money from that?”

Azriel noticed the way Elain stiffened at the condescending tone of Graysen’s voice. The snide way he laughed as he reduced Azriel’s work to the equivalent of a children’s roadside lemonade stand. She set down the toy she’d been unboxing for Nyx and swiveled around to face them.

“He’s not making jewelry with dollar store plastic beads, Gray.” It was maybe the most fed up Azriel had ever heard her sound. He’d always known her to stay quiet and avoid confrontation. He didn’t even need one hand to count all the times he’d seen her snap and each of those times had been at Feyre or Nesta so he didn’t really count them. “It’s his business and he’s done really well.”

“It’s fine, Lain.” Azriel said softly, his heart swelling in his chest at the way she defended him even if he was unbothered by Graysen’s comments. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before from his own father or brothers. He continued to speak, confidently taking Graysen’s questions in stride in a way that Elain hadn’t quite been able to.“I actually work in data security but I make jewelry in my spare time and sell custom pieces online. Although, I did have some pretty successful mornings at farmer’s markets when I was just starting out and -”

“I thought you didn’t like being called that.” Graysen interrupted him, calculating eyes shifting from Azriel to Elain.

“What?” Elain asked, eyebrows furrowed in a way that Azriel would’ve found endearing in any other circumstance.

“He calls you ‘Lain.’” Graysen replied. “You told me you hated when I called you that.”

“I just prefer ‘El,’” She shrugged, picking at the sleeve of the cream cardigan she’d thrown on over her dress. “And he isn’t the only one. Nyx has called me that all day today, as well.” 

Azriel stayed silent. He knew exactly where Nyx had picked that nickname up from but he wasn’t about to expose himself for cornering his friend’s kid into multiple conversations with the secret agenda of trying to siphon information about what Nyx’s Auntie was up to these days. 

Graysen huffed, crossing his arms like an overgrown child as he sat back. He’d dropped his line of inquisition for now but Azriel had a feeling that wasn’t the last Elain would hear of this topic and the thought made him sick.

He’d been carefully watching all afternoon - noticing the way Graysen spoke about Elain and the possessive way he touched her as if she was something to have or to own. It had turned his stomach, memories of the way he’d seen his father treat his mother seeping into his mind despite his best efforts to keep them at bay.

Azriel paid extra attention to him now, picking up the way Graysen acted towards Elain as he continued to answer questions about his jewelry. He cringed at the scowl that found a home on Graysen’s lips each time her attention was pulled away from him and the way that scowl only deepened at each passing remark that hinted that maybe Azriel and Elain had, in fact, been closer than what she might’ve alluded to earlier. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what she’d told Graysen about him. He had a feeling she hadn’t told him much at all. But he saw the wheels turning in Graysen’s head when Azriel’s craft came up again and Azriel explained exactly what type of jewelry he made and Graysen’s eyes had drifted to the chain that had faithfully stayed clasped around Elain’s neck year after year. 

His suspicions were confirmed an hour or so later when Azriel rounded a corner, making his way towards the powder room at the foot of the stairs only to stop halfway there when he was distracted by a pair of low voices coming from Rhysand’s office across the hallway. 

It was just a simple hushed whisper but his ears perked up at the voice he’d come to find grating over this very long, very tortuous day. 

He could hear his mother’s voice in his head telling him that it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop, that nothing good every came from it, but he couldn’t help himself as he stood there - still as night, locking in on the hushed conversation and blocking out the raucous laughter coming from the kitchen. 

“You know what I find most interesting about all of this?” Azriel heard Graysen ask. “In four months, I’ve heard about your sisters and their husbands but you haven’t even mentioned his name once.”

“He’s just a friend,” Elain answered quietly. “I swear.”

“Right,” Graysen scoffed. “And I suppose he’s the friend that gave you that necklace?”

Azriel swallowed,  his eyes pinching closed at the animosity - the clear jealousy - that laced Graysen’s question. He could hear the malice in the way he spat out the word ‘friend’. He could only imagine the way he’d be glaring at the little gold oval that Azriel knew Elain would be clutching in between her thumb and index finger.

Graysen had asked her about the necklace, that thin gold chain Azriel had gifted her all those years ago that sat faithfully around her neck every day since. It was his only sign, as delusional as it might’ve made him, that she still thought of him. After everything that had happened the year prior, Elain still wore that small, handmade pendant and even if they didn’t speak, even if his messages had gone unanswered… Maybe her continuing to wear that necklace meant that she didn’t completely despise him. 

Azriel kept moving, not allowing himself to so much as breathe until he was safely behind the closed door of the powder room. He had wanted to keep listening but he knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t think he could stand to hear her answers to Graysen’s questions. Didn’t want to know if she’d attempt to explain to Graysen whatever this thing was between them or if she’d continue to insist that he was nothing more than a friend. 

But Azriel wanted an answer. He deserved an answer. He just didn’t want to get it by eavesdropping on a conversation he wasn’t a part of. He needed to hear it directly from her. He needed to talk to her.

[witchlingsandwyverns]

Why are you a gwynriel?

cus it makes my brain go brrrrr

I mean, there's a lot of reasons, but mostly I'm intrigued by their dynamic and am curious to see how they evolve - same reason I'm an elucien. I consider myself a multi-shipper and like a LOT of different ships, but there's just some combinations that make my brain churn with possibilities. Gwynriel is one of them.

And it doesnt really hurt that it was the ship that introduced me to a lot of incredible mutuals ♡♡ (and @gwynrielweeksofficial)

[bluelancess]

Midnight Blooms | Elriel AU

Chapter masterlist

Sports romance, college AU.

Summary: When Elain is told by her father, a ruthless politician, that she is to marry the son of one of his closest friends, Lucien Vanserra, to assure her father’s win on the next election, she has no other choice but to agree. What she never expected was her convictions being tested by a tall, devastatingly beautiful black-haired hockey player who moved in right next door. And if there was one thing Elain was certain of, was that Azriel posed a dangerous threat to the previously dormant desires roaming inside her. And she needed to stay far, far away from him.

Tags: forbidden love, arranged marriage, forced proximity, modern setting, slow burn

Chapter list:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

————————

to be updated as the story progresses.

[nikethestatue]

Happy birthday to my bestie, my mate, my Elriel sister @tswaney17

I wouldn't have joined this fandom without her. So if anything, blame her! Jokes aside, I hope you have a marvelous year and meet your own stranger in the night. Please enjoy!

One shot

Summary: Elain Archeron is celebrating her birthday and happens to meet an enigmatic and mysterious stranger who upends her world

She smoothed her black bodysuit over her hips, though it wasn’t wrinkled and then tousled her hair, in what she hoped, was sexy, beachy curls.  

Anyone else would’ve told her that she looked great—well put together, elegant, and not trying too hard. But to her self-critical eye, she saw a slew of imperfections. Hips too wide, breasts too large, stumpy fingers...She could stand here all night and critique herself, but what would be the point? It was what it was, right? Some part of her though, liked what stared back. The black bodysuit hugged her in all the right places, and paired with strappy golden heels and some delicate gold jewelry, she looked...nice. Not quite her 31 years old. Her friends always said that she was a ‘young 30’. She looked about 24. But inside, there were days when she felt 78.  

Oh well. Time to go. That’s not to say that she didn’t want to back out of her solo restaurant trip about 25 times today. Internally, she’s been telling herself that she is too busy, too tired, too poor, and that staying in with a bottle of wine and pizza would be just fine. Another part of her wanted to get out. Even if she looked like a loser, dining alone. At least it was a Wednesday night—not the weekend—so she could theoretically make up a story of being on a business trip. Not that anyone’s going to ask. But she needed that security blanket for herself: “I am eating alone, because I am here on business’. Yeah, that sounded legit. She was a successful, professional woman, determined and confident, and she was on business in Chicago.  

She grabbed her clutch and headed out.  

It was a warm evening by Chicago standards. The middle of April could be blustery or it could be blistering. You never knew. Tonight was lovely, actually. Trees were in full bloom—white, pink, yellow, assertive red, purple, even blue—bursting in flowers of every shape and size along the streets of her neighbourhood.  

Beatrice was a quint restaurant in Fulton Market. Or as ‘quaint’ as a restaurant could be in the bustling, hipster corner of the city. She only knew it because she’d come here before with her stylish, popular co-worker, Morrigan. She recalled how Mor wore a pristine baby blue bodysuit, sky-high heels, and a sparkling silver belt studded with glittery gemstones. Mor’s hair was a waterfall of golden blonde, which cascaded sensually down her back. Her skin was flawless. Her makeup was perfection, and her nails the right shade of pearl. When they were seated, all the girls in the party immediately rattled off a list of things they didn’t eat, were allergic to, and ‘avoided’. Mor announced that she was ‘celiac’ in a tone that implied that obviously she was celiac! And then proceeded to order bread. When the waiter told her that bread has gluten, Mor said that ‘she was allowed to today’.  

Back then, she’d ordered something called the Straight ‘A’ Salad, not wanting to tuck into something juicy and fatty in front of everyone. It ended up being empty and unsatisfying. But she still wanted to go back there, because the other items on the menu looked good, the vibe was nice and not overwhelming, and the drinks were inventive. If nothing else, she’d get her full in alcohol. 

“Follow me, Miss,” the hostess beckoned her and she scurried quickly between tables, wanting to be seated as soon as possible. 

It was nice. The table was by the wall, and she could see inside the restaurant and out the window. She laid her clutch on the table and exhaled. She was here. She was in her place, in her chair.  

She made it. 

“Are we celebrating anything tonight, Miss?” the waiter asked, when he approached with the menu. 

“Oh no,” she laughed, “I am on a business trip.” 

“And do you have any allergies?” 

“No!” she stated decisively. No. She is going to eat what she wanted. No faux allergies for her. 

The drinks menu looked a bit intimidating. Lots of things with Mezcal and Elderflower and words like ‘smoked’ and ‘hibiscus ginger kombucha’. After discreetly googling what kombucha was, she gagged and decided on a Lemond Drop. Safe and sound. 

The waiter wasn’t exactly impressed by her choice, but she didn’t care. Instead, she ordered Cheddar Popovers with bacon butter, and green chili queso for appetizers. It harkened back to her California upbringing, where things were less formal, the food less complicated, and the loneliness less acute. She suddenly and desperately missed her sisters, who lived back home. She missed the sun, tacos, trips to Sacramento and the simpler life she had back home.  

Sighing, she sipped her cocktail and looked around. It was fairly bustling, couples and friends chatting animatedly, drinking their complicated drinks and laughing. But...she felt okay. Not amazing, but okay. It was peaceful.  

It felt peaceful until her eyes fell on a singular, solitaire figure of a man, who sat at the bar, with a drink in front of him. The reason she even paid attention to him was because he was literally breathtakingly beautiful. So handsome, her breath stalled in her chest. Big. So goddamn big, it felt like he was sucking the air into the vortex of a black hole that he’d created just by simply...being. He sat, unmoving, in a sharply cut suit and a white shirt, unbuttoned at his neck. The other reason why she looked at him was because he was staring back at her. Big, bold, unflinching stare. Those incredible, luminescent eyes almost glared at her, and she wished she’d know what colour they were. The man’s face remained impassive, but he continued staring, even once she’s averted her eyes and squirmed in her seat. And now, all she could feel was his stare, following her every move. It was suddenly hot, and she felt her nipples pop like tiny Whack-A-Moles beneath her bodysuit. Served her right for not wearing a bra! Jesus Mary and Joseph. Well, her evening was ruined just like that. Instead of being at peace with her lemon drop and her popovers, she was not being scorched by the gaze of this absurdly handsome man, and all she wanted to do was look his way and see if he was still looking at her. While she didn’t want him to be looking at her. But she wanted to make sure that he was. Oh, god. What. The. Hell. 

She was on the verge of fanning herself, before realising that she’d be looking like she was having hot flashes, and it was too early for that. Her nipples were hard as bullets and she was forced to cover her breasts with her folded arms, just to maintain some sense of decorum. As she ‘busied’ herself with her drink, she snuck a momentary glance at the man. He was still there, but no longer looking at her. Instead, he was on his phone, and a deep sense of regret and longing washed over her at once. 

He was interested in her for 23 seconds.  

That was it. 

But she supposed that for the most handsome man in the world to take notice of her for 23 seconds was sufficient enough. 

“Miss, your popovers,” the waiter stepped up to the table, placing one plate down in front of her, and then the other, “and queso. Please be careful, it’s hot.” 

The food looked fine, but somehow, she no longer felt particularly hungry. She wasn’t sure if it was because the man was no longer looking at her, or because he was looking at her before. Did she want him to look at her? No. No, she didn’t. He was entirely outside her comfort zone, with his piercing gaze and his unnaturally good looks and he was definitely a player, so there was no need for all of this.  

On her birthday, all she wanted was peace and quiet. She didn’t need smouldering men giving her the death stare. Instead, she forced herself to concentrate on her food. The popovers were light and fluffy and crispy on the outside, and the bacon butter was to die for. Sinful, but so, so good. 

She sunk into her seat, enjoying her cocktail and alternating between the popovers and then the rich, spicy queso. She was still deciding on the main course—penne with spicy vodka sauce? Slow cooked short rib?  

“Miss,” 

Her contemplation was interrupted by the waiter, who was holding a drink. 

“From the gentleman at the bar,” he said and placed the drink in front of her. 

Her mouth fell open. Whaaat... 

Timidly, she allowed her eyes to travel to the bar and sure enough, there he was. Staring. A small, secret smile touched his beautiful mouth and he inclined his head just a bit. She didn’t exactly know how to act in these situations. Was she supposed to drink the drink that he sent? Invite him over? Go over there herself? Ignore him like a total douche? 

Okay, first things first. She raised the pretty coupe glass to her lips and tentatively sipped the drink. Sour and smokey, with a touch of sweetness and heavy on lemon flavour, this was definitely a whiskey drink. And she didn’t like whiskey. But for some reason, she really liked this. She took another sip, a bolder one, and then glanced at the man. He was smiling, as he watched her drink, and when she swallowed, he winked at her. Approving? Enjoying watching her? Smug? Pleased? She wasn’t sure. But she... 

“Ready to order, Miss?” the waiter was back, and she absently said ‘fish tacos’ which isn’t what she even wanted, but she was too scrambled to come up with a better idea. “Very good,” the waiter chirped, and before he disappeared, she said, “can you ask the gentleman who bought the drink to join me?” 

Her throat was dry. Her underarms were sweaty. 

WHAT was she doing?? 

She never did anything like this before? Inviting strange men to eat with her? Never! 

“If he wants to,” she added quickly and the waiter nodded.  

God, please say no. Please. Please god, let him say no. I don’t want it. I don’t. 

There he was. Moving through the restaurant like the Angel of Death. Dark and tall and slim and muscular. Jesus. He was actually coming over! Oh. No. Nononononono. 

And then he was standing at her table, how own drink in hand. 

“I wasn’t sure if Whiskey Sour was the way to go,” he said—his deep, dark, raspy voice matching his appearance to a tee. "But it looks like I did well.” 

She swallowed hard and then muttered, “Is that what it is?” 

Yep, it sounded lame even to her own ears. 

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “First time?” 

Somehow, this made her blush. A simple question, and a correct assumption, but for some reason, it was laced with innuendo. 

Their eyes finally locked.  

Hazel. His eyes are a gorgeous greenish amber colour, spectacular like the rest of him. 

He took a sip of his drink and slowly dragged the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, swiping the droplet and that made her even sweatier than she was before. Soon she was going to be sweating like a sumo wrestler—which of course is the most enticing look a woman could sport.  

“No, I’ve had it before,” she finally managed to answer. 

He smirked a knowing smile. 

“Have you?”  

As he was looming over her and attracting way too much attention from the females of the species, and even some males, she all but ordered him, “you can sit down!” 

He smiled again, that smooth, secret smile, saying, “I thought you’d never ask”. 

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just watched him in silence as he slid onto a chair across from her.  

“Thanks for the drink,” feeling awfully uncomfortable, knowing she was not great at small talk, and completely out of depth with this man, she thought that this was all a pretty bad idea. What was supposed to have been a quiet and nice evening alone, was turning into...well, she wasn’t sure what it was turning into, but it was something.  

“You aren’t waiting for anyone, are you?” he asked, sounding curious. “I wouldn’t need to fight a boyfriend or something...I mean, I’ll win, but,” 

She huffed, and snorted a laugh. 

“So confident?” 

He shrugged, “pretty confident”. After a pause, he pressed, “so?” 

“No,” she blushed despite her best efforts to appear cool. “I am here alone. On a business trip,” she lied smoothly, grateful for having this little nugget in her pocket.  

He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, lounging comfortably. Suddenly, he said,  

“Nope. Try again.” 

Startled, she glowered at him, not knowing what he meant. All the while, as she squirmed in confusion, he casually drank his whiskey, watching her closely. 

“What,” she brought her glass to her lips and took a generous swig of the drink, “what do you mean?” 

“Only that you are not being exactly truthful,” he shrugged, and then grabbed a popover and swallowed the whole thing easily. “You aren’t here on any business trip.” 

“What?!” she exclaimed with indignation. “Excuse me! How do you know? What do you mean?” 

His eyes slowly slid over her bare arms, her chest, her neck, and again, she blushed like a fool, but there was no stopping her body’s reaction to this strange man. 

He was...enigmatic.  

“A beautiful woman like you, wearing something so elegant and understated,” 

Understated? Did he mean boring? 

“is not in Chicago on any business trip. So, that makes me think—if you aren’t waiting for anyone, and you are dressed up, then you must be,” he cocked his head, considering, “celebrating something? A new job? A birthday?” 

Most of his words rolled right over her head, because all she heard was ‘a beautiful woman like you’. He thought that she was beautiful? He? HE thought that?  

“What?” she asked dumbly. 

He chuckled, amused. “You are a little naughty liar, is what I am saying,” 

“You can’t call me that!” 

“Then don’t lie to me.” 

She bubbled her lips and finished her drink. Finished already? Shit. 

He noticed it too and motioned for the waiter.  

“Another drink for the lady,” he ordered. “And I’ll take another whiskey. And,” he thought for a moment and added, “bring us a bottle of champagne.” He looked at her and asked, “what are you eating?” 

“I think I ordered fish tacos,” she recalled, watching him in confusion.  

“Want to eat them?” 

“I dunno.” 

“Mind if I cancel them and order us steaks?” 

“Uhh...okay?” 

He did just that, telling the waiter that he’d pay for the tacos as well.  

Who the hell was this guy? He flicked his fingers and just got whatever he wanted. The waiter didn’t even question him! ‘Of course, sir’ ‘Whatever you want, sit’ ‘Right away, sir’.  

“So, is it your birthday?” he asked once the waiter ran to fetch the drinks. Literally, ran.  

“No.” 

His brows knitted together and he pursed his lips. 

Something about him and his look made goose bumps rise on her skin and she shifted under the table, crossing her legs. This guy and his unbelievable dominating bossiness were both scary, but also highly sexual. She knew that she was a bit of a submissive at heart, but that was mostly because she read way too many omegaverse books. But now, she was faced with a true Alpha. When they spoke of an Alpha Male, she suddenly became aware that she was in the presence of one. He wasn’t just tall, dark and handsome—even if he was a walking cliche with all of these attributes. But it was his undeniable, almost God-given natural dominance and superiority that she found so fascinating. And yes, so appealing as well.  

“It’s not your birthday?” he repeated. 

“N-no,” she bleated pathetically. 

He didn’t respond immediately, but only drummed his fingers on the table, and she noticed that his hands were scarred. Rather extensively. Burns, from what she could tell. Jesus. How did he get these? And both hands, too.  

“Lie to me again, and I will take you over my knees and spank that perfect bottom until you beg for mercy,” he warned, his voice impassive, his face unchanged.  

Her mouth dropped open and she thought that she was going to slide under the table and dissolve into a puddle. 

Was she supposed to cause a scene and slap him? Was she supposed to storm out of the restaurant? How does one reacted to being threatened by a spanking by a complete stranger? 

Also, he thought that her ass was ‘perfect’? 

“Let’s start anew, beautiful girl,” he proposed then, while she made silent gasping noises like a dying fish. 

The waiter arrived just then, and only that prevented her from fainting or screaming out loud. He popped the champagne bottle with flourish and poured both of them a measure, while also setting their cocktails down before them. 

“Don’t come back until the food is ready,” the stranger warned the waiter and the man nodded and left without saying a word. 

“What is your name?” 

She swallowed, but remembering his warning, she decided to go with the truth this time. 

“Elain.” 

“Gorgeous name,” he approved. “It suits you. I am Azriel.” 

“Azriel,” an exotic name for an exotic man. “Nice to meet you. I think?” she ventured and extended her hand to him. 

“Pleasure is certainly all mine,” he said, squeezing her hand in his huge, warm, powerful palm, watching her with strange, almost palatable hunger. “Whether you’ll receive pleasure from me or not remains to be seen,” he decided vaguely and she bit her lip, sensing that innuendo again and not knowing how to deal with it. 

The one time a guy was instantly interested in her, and he is a dangerous weirdo. Figures. Just her luck. 

He raised his glass and said, “Happy birthday, Elain! I hope it’s wonderful to you.” 

“Thank you. That remains to be seen, I think,” she said softly and they touched their glasses. She sucked the champagne quickly, and with a sense of foreboding and some kind of desperation. She had no idea where this was going, or what he wanted from her. But she wanted it to continue. At least for the duration of this dinner. 

“What do you do?” he inquired, dipping a chip into the queso, but instead of eating it, he held it out to her. She looked around, in some kind of futile hope that someone would save her from this, but there was no one. Only this stunning, somewhat insane man, who was feeding her chips and dip. 

“Come on, beautiful Elain. Open up,” he urged soft, his voice smooth and husky and so tempting.  

Numb, and only driven by the sound of that sensual voice, she opened her mouth and he gently pushed the chip inside. As she pulled it between her teeth, he brushed his finger over her lower lip and then brought it to his mouth and sucked. 

“More?” he whispered and then concluded, “more.” 

He dipped another chip and fed it to her again. 

“So?” 

“I am in marketing,” she answered, knowing in advance that hers was the most uninspiring answer in history. But she was more preoccupied by the fact that she was being fed chips by a strange man in the middle of a restaurant. 

“And you live in the city?” he asked further. “Please don’t even start with the whole ‘I am here on business’.” 

She sighed and admitted, “Fine, I am from the suburbs. But I work in the city. What do you do?” 

He didn’t seem too thrilled about her question and took his time eating the last of the popovers. 

“Do you really want to know?” he asked finally. 

“Yes, of course. Why not?” 

“You might not like it.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? What do you do? Kill people?” she joked. 

He smiled at her, but the smile was less of a smile, and more just a stretch of his lips. The smile didn’t reach his eyes 

“And if I am?” he wondered at last. 

She frowned and then it dawned on her and she laughed, “what? You kill people?” 

“Maybe.” 

A shiver ran down her spine and she gawked at him in shock. Until she dissolved in a flurry of laughs. 

“You had me there for a sec!” she wiggled her finger at him. “A+ for a perfect deadpan delivery! I am impressed.” 

He didn’t seem to be laughing, but he added, “but they were all bad”. 

She stopped laughing and nervously shifted in her seat. 

“Wait. What?” 

“You wanted to know what I did for a living,” he reminded her. 

As she processed his words, he just sat there, watching her intently. 

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed at last, realisation dawning on her, “it’s a scam, right?! You are one of those guys who pretends to be an assassin, or a millionaire, or in the CIA and then I fall for it, and in two months you’ll start asking me for money and I blow all my savings on you and then never hear from you again.” 

Shaking her head in disbelief she grabbed her napkin and then said, “thank you for the drink, Mr. Azriel. But I am not stupid. I appreciate the gesture—the razzle dazzle—but let’s part ways right here so that no one leaves here too traumatised.” 

He listened to her impassively and in the next moment, the waiter arrived with their steaks.  

She was hungry and upset, but she knew that she couldn’t stay here any longer and remain in his company. The whole thing was too bizarre and she didn’t want to get in trouble. And this man was clearly trouble. Or maybe troubled. Or both. 

“Azriel, I am,” 

“Sit,” he ordered, though his tone was soft. “You are safe with me. Don’t worry. But you did ask me what I did for a living,” he insisted again. 

“Well, when I did ask you, I didn’t expect for you to tell me that you are some kind of a killer!” she snapped, her voice rising. 

“I’d rather you didn’t yell,” he requested. “However, I wanted to tell you,” 

“Why?!” she exclaimed. “Don’t killers usually try and keep their profession,” she made a quotation mark sign with her fingers, “a secret?” 

“Normally, yes,” he agreed. “But, I want you to trust me and I felt that being honest is the best way to earn that trust.” 

“Trust me? Why? And,” 

“Because I want you,” he interrupted her and his tone was blunt, but calm. 

“Wha,” 

“I want you,” he repeated. “I saw you and you...well, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And now, I am obsessed with the idea of learning what you’d look like when I enter you. What sounds you’d make when you come on my tongue.” 

At that, the big steak knife fell out of her trembling fingers and she wondered if she was having some kind of out of body experience. An ‘episode’? She wasn’t prone to episodes, but hell, there was a first time for everything, right? 

He shrugged, and continued like this was a perfectly sane conversation they were having, “Sorry if this is a bit unorthodox,” 

An understatement of the century! 

“However, I am not one to mince words,” 

Another understatement of the century. 

“And when I want something, I go after it. And right now, I want you.” 

She made a gurgling sound, but he ignored it, then cut into his steak, and chewed slowly.  

“However, you don’t strike me as someone who sleeps around or who is used to the type of man I am,” 

Was any woman? 

“Therefore, I wanted to build a baseline of trust between us. Like I said, you have nothing to fear from me. I am simply a man, interested in a woman.” 

He was anything but, but okay. 

“So,” she finally found her voice which was lost somewhere in the bottom of her stomach, “telling me you are an assassin is your way of establishing a baseline of trust?” 

He looked at her hand, which was clutching a butter knife, her knuckles white, and smiled faintly. 

“I suppose so.” 

She reached for the bottle of champagne, but her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely grasp it. Smoothly, he took the bottle and topped off her glass. This was probably the worst idea—to continue drinking—but she couldn't think of anything else. 

“Why don’t you relax and eat,” he suggested. “The steak is cooked perfectly.” 

“I don’t think I am hungry.” 

“Nonsense. Lay down your weapon of choice, dig into your dish and relax a bit. Have fun. It's your birthday!” 

He then raised his glass and mused, ‘what should we toast to?” 

“Me remaining sane after this dinner,” she muttered under her breath. 

He laughed.  

“How about ‘to the future’? Because tomorrow with you is worth every yesterday I spent without you,” he said and she almost choked.  

He couldn’t be for real.  

No man talked like that. Ever. 

“Listen, I know I could a little blunt, but in my line of work, I have to move quickly and I typically don’t get many second chances. And I don’t want to miss my chance with you,” he drank his champagne and watched her attempt to concentrate on her steak. “And when I said that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I am being honest. I saw you across the restaurant and you kind of blew my mind. It happens, you know,” 

“No, it doesn’t,” she argued. “Only in romance novels.” 

“Okay,” he shrugged, “so we have a romance novel beginning, so what?” 

“It’s not real,” she insisted.  

“Well, while you think on that, tell me when I can kiss you, because I’d really, really would like to kiss you right now,” 

“Never!” she shrieked. “Stop talking like that!” 

She desperately needed him to stop talking. Stop using that sensual, deep baritone to say deliciously sinful things to her. Because if he continued, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. She kept trying to shield her breasts from him, since her nipples were achingly sharp, threatening to poke through the top of her body suit. And between her legs—disaster. She was flooded. Every glance at his strong, powerful hands made her wonder what they’d feel like between her thighs. What his soft lips would taste like if he did get that kiss from her. And every word he said just made her wetter and wetter. She feared she’d have a stain on her clothes once she got up from her seat, and the thought alone was mortifying.  

“I think you should let me kiss you,” he insisted, watching her intently. 

“No, I am not kissing you!” 

God, this steak was good!  

“How about this then,” he proposed slowly, “I scoot closer to you, and you let me play with your clit, while you eat, and then you come all over my hand. I pay the bill and we go to my place and I’ll continue making you come. Because all I want to do right now is kiss every inch of your porcelain skin, and fuck your soft, lovely mouth and watch my dick disappear between those rosy lips. And then you’ll come on my dick in your perfect pussy and ask for more, while screaming my name. And if you let me, I’ll fuck that gorgeous ass as well and will make you come from that as well. And then you’ll sleep in my arms and in the morning, we’ll go get breakfast.” 

She watched him in dull astonishment, her brain failing to work properly as she attempted to process his words.  

This really couldn’t be real. At all. No man, in the history of mankind, ever said words like these to a woman.  

Yes, he just sat there, with her perfect face and his perfect body, and waited. 

“And then you’ll go and kill some people at work?” was all she managed to say to his explicit monologue.  

She’s never been fucked anywhere, let alone her ass. So yeah. 

“Well, not at work. For work,” he corrected. 

“Uh uh,” she sighed. “And you are okay with me knowing about that then?” 

“Like I told you, I want you to trust me.” 

“Uh uh,” she sighed again. Then she set her napkin aside and told him calmly, 

“Azriel, it certainly has been an interesting evening. I thank you. I am not sure I’ll ever forget it, or you, but...I don’t think that I am the girl you need,” 

“All me to decide that,” he argued sharply. 

She chewed the inside of her cheek, before clarifying, “I suppose I choose not to be that girl for you.” 

“Why?” 

“I like my boring little life. It suits me. And you...you don’t suit me or my life.” 

She couldn’t even believe her own assertiveness. She was rarely like this.  

“It’s unfortunate,” he said sadly. “Forgive me if I offended you,” 

“Astonished, more like,” 

“Better than offended.” 

She got up from her chair and her knees felt soft and shaky, and for the first time she understood what ‘jelly legs’ were. She had jelly legs because of him.  

“Thank you for dinner. I better be going.” 

“I’d like to walk you to your car,” he offered. 

“I think it’s a bad idea. Besides, I am getting an Uber. I drank too much. Goodbye, Azriel.” 

She rushed out of the restaurant and onto the bustling Fulton Market, where there were hundreds of people milling around. Her fingers trembling, she got her phone out of her clutch and pressed the Uber button on the verge of hysteria now. She didn’t know where she was going even, so she pressed ‘home’ even though she knew this Uber would host like $60 at least. But she needed to get away. Away from here, away from him, away from making a bad decision. Very bad, terrible decision that she was yearning to make right now. 

3 minutes. 

3 minutes. 

Okay, she just needed to make it for 3 minutes out here, until the car came. 

She glanced at the phone frantically, over and over again, watching the little car move along the street diagram. 

Suddenly, a familiar scarred hand reached over her shoulder and grabbed her phone.  

“Wait! Give it back!” she demanded desperately. 

Azriel smiled at her and then typed something in her phone.  

“Now you have my number.” 

A text chimed, and he added, “and I have yours”. 

“We’ll never see each other again,” she promised. 

“We’ll see,” he said simply. 

Finally, Honda Civic! Blue! There she was!  

She bounced on her heels impatiently, hoping he wouldn’t do anything, and yet hoping that he would at the same time. 

Ugh. 

“Goodbye, Azriel,” she said again. 

He opened the door for her politely and before she folded herself into the car, he pressed his lips to the top of her head. 

“Happy birthday, beautiful. I’ll see you later.” 

-

Azriel ‘The Shadow’ Night had two problems on his hands. 

As he watched the Honda weave in and out of busy traffic, he lit a cigarette—an occasional bad habit of his—and inhaled deeply. 

Nothing that he told her was a lie. 

He did find her to be incredibly beautiful. And his attraction to her was instant and hit him like an avalanche. He’d never felt anything remotely like this before. He wanted her with every fiber of his being and know, innately, that their paths were crossed forever and for a reason. 

The only omission in his tale was that their meeting was not accidental. And that she was the target, who was his current assignment.  

Now, he needed to figure out how to murder her, while keeping her alive. 

[pinkrasberryfish]

👀 new chapter out! https://archiveofourown.org/works/43076520/chapters/120523804

[bloomingdarkgarden]

E L A I N + A Z R I E L | A Modern Love Story

[shadowsingerdraco]

as an elriel, am i the only person who likes elucien and gwynriel as ships? like i would totally eat up fanfics with those pairings. but when it comes to canon, it’s elriel all the way. like,, i’m a huge dramione stan and i love them so much. but dramione is not canon, and i do not wish that they would have gotten together in the hp books because it isn’t supported by canon content. same goes for elucien and gwynriel. but i do like them as ships! (this is in fact a formal invitation for anyone to direct me to some good fics, any ships mentioned above welcome)

idk do any other elriels feel this way??

(also, if you’re a gwynriel and elucien reading this, all love to you babes don’t let anyone be mean to you. yall can ship whatever you want just like anyone else mwah)