jasmineandcedar

[jasmineandcedar]

In my slightly headcanony version of this scene, dude went full peacock mode. I don't think he read a single word of those reports. His mind went, "If I flex my wings like this and the sun hits them just right... yeeees, that should impress her" 👀. He was having the time of his life.

Sprawled on the chaise longue...

... or the power Elain's presence has on Azriel.

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

"Why not make them mates?” I mused. (ACOWAR)

This paints such a beautiful picture. The whole 'Would you like me to show you the garden' scene is my favourite between them, because I think it shows what they provide for each other. Attentiveness, safety, and peace and quiet.

Can you imagine how relaxed and safe an Illyrian male would have to feel to be sprawling and sunning his wings in someone's presence? That little detail always gets me. Not just the wings, but the sprawling. And the fact that it's Azriel, who is never particularly relaxed.

Sprawling.

That's got to be the most relaxed way to be lying down. And it's got to be the most relaxed we've ever seen Azriel. It seems almost surprisingly relaxed, given how they haven't known each other for very long, and Azriel is often quite formal and courteous. Still, he's sprawling. There's no awkwardness or tension at all if you are comfortable enough to be sprawled across a chaise lounge in someone's presence. It tells me so much about how he feels about Elain and her presence. He's safe and relaxed. Azriel, who is almost never relaxed, and I doubt he's ever felt very safe. It makes this scene feel so precious, peaceful, and right to me. Azriel and Elain, in the garden. Right after Elain saw beauty in his hands after having been lost to her visions for so long. And now she got her sunshine, sitting comfortably with Azriel in her precious garden.

Elain is really his peace and quiet. And he is hers. The clinging is mutual. Reciprocal.

No wonder it's this scene that causes Feyre to question why they're not mates. It makes so much sense.

Just this one scene gives me so much joy and contentment. It's simply beautiful. Can you imagine a whole book with the two of them? It's become almost an abstract concept to me after all this time, but at some point, we will have a book in our hands full of the two of them.

[jasmineandcedar]

Sprawled on the chaise longue...

... or the power Elain's presence has on Azriel.

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

"Why not make them mates?” I mused. (ACOWAR)

This paints such a beautiful picture. The whole 'Would you like me to show you the garden' scene is my favourite between them, because I think it shows what they provide for each other. Attentiveness, safety, and peace and quiet.

Can you imagine how relaxed and safe an Illyrian male would have to feel to be sprawling and sunning his wings in someone's presence? That little detail always gets me. Not just the wings, but the sprawling. And the fact that it's Azriel, who is never particularly relaxed.

Sprawling.

That's got to be the most relaxed way to be lying down. And it's got to be the most relaxed we've ever seen Azriel. It seems almost surprisingly relaxed, given how they haven't known each other for very long, and Azriel is often quite formal and courteous. Still, he's sprawling. There's no awkwardness or tension at all if you are comfortable enough to be sprawled across a chaise lounge in someone's presence. It tells me so much about how he feels about Elain and her presence. He's safe and relaxed. Azriel, who is almost never relaxed, and I doubt he's ever felt very safe. It makes this scene feel so precious, peaceful, and right to me. Azriel and Elain, in the garden. Right after Elain saw beauty in his hands after having been lost to her visions for so long. And now she got her sunshine, sitting comfortably with Azriel in her precious garden.

Elain is really his peace and quiet. And he is hers. The clinging is mutual. Reciprocal.

No wonder it's this scene that causes Feyre to question why they're not mates. It makes so much sense.

Just this one scene gives me so much joy and contentment. It's simply beautiful. Can you imagine a whole book with the two of them? It's become almost an abstract concept to me after all this time, but at some point, we will have a book in our hands full of the two of them.

[jasmineandcedar]

Beyond lust

I stepped away from the fandom for a few days to ponder the important things in life (elriel), the mysteries of existence, and at long last, I am ready to share my wisdom 🙃

I love how soft and sweet and precious Elain and Azriel are together. I could read an 800+ page book of them being sweet and fluffy together, and I'd die happy (it might actually be my one-way ticket to the afterlife). But, I'd like to take a moment to praise the lord our heavenly father for Elriel's lust--that beautiful, misunderstood thing--which entered the chat not a moment too soon nor too late in the most glorious slow burn of the ACOTAR series. That sweet and slow buildup is what makes the lust all the more glorious to me. Elriel--the gold standard of romantic pacing!

When some say Azriel is lusting after Elain, I say thou art not doing him justice! You do not give him enough credit for the boundless depths of his desire for Elain! Lusting doesn't quite cover how utterly, desperately, obsessively down bad Azriel is for Elain. Lust is but for mere mortals. Azriel has transcended mere lust. He has entered a new realm of yearning so intense it defies language. He is beyond lust. He is down bad in ways that should be studied.

His desire for Elain, the goddess, is so intense our guy went from lingering in doorways, stealing glances and brushing fingers, and then completely malfunctioned when he got to put one blessed hand on that absolutely immaculate neck. He was reduced to near groaning in her face from one sanctified touch.

And let's not forget about Elain, because she is to be equally credited for the unhinged tension here. Some like to pretend she was but a passive participant, but nay! She practically grabbed that blessed hand and placed it on her immaculate neck with that offer and permission. She was ready to go. She was saying yes with her whole bosom. And wouldn't Azriel like to get his mouth on that.

And it makes sense.

After spending so much time gravitating towards each other, after mutually clinging to each other for peace and quiet, after that one solstice night when elain gifted him that holy tylenoly and went, "have you seen my flower beds?" 🌸🥰🌸 past 3am and Azriel probably went, "bbg my knees buckle before your beauty" 🦇😍🦇 they are now so into each other that as soon as they got one single moment alone again and Elain went:

✨️yes✨️

They both went full on:

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, etc etc...

Praise the Lord.

[jasmineandcedar]

Oh damn. I've been staring dreamily into her eyes for about 20 minutes.

Elain Archeron, waiting in a veil.

[jasmineandcedar]

Finding this was like finding an oasis in a desert. Thank you.

WIP: Sin & Salvation

In which Cass and Az act like slutty little teases.

Whatever spell that had overtaken Nesta seemed to have broken because she sighed and rolled her eyes towards Cass. He only smirked back at her.

Elain cleared her throat. “Yoga, actually.”

Cass arched a brow at Nesta. “You're going to do yoga?” He asked flatly. Disbelieving.

Nesta glared at him. “I was going to try.”

The disbelieving look on Cass’s face grew. Nesta cut him off before he could say something else snarky.

“Shut the fuck up, whatever you're about to say.”

Cass snapped his mouth shut.

Az approached Elain and planted a light kiss on her cheek. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Sweaty.”

Elain swallowed again, turning pink.

Cass cleared his throat and gave his brother a meaningful look. A look that only a brother could read. A look that said, “These two women are drooling right now. Let's give them something to eat.”

The corner of Az’s mouth tipped up. “Stay,” he said to Elain and Nesta. “We're almost done.”

“Alright,” Elain answered, still seemingly unable to look away from the sweat glistening on his bare chest. She sat down in a chair, Nesta following her with an annoyed huff.

The brothers took up their stances again now that they had their audience. Ready and willing to be objectified.

[jasmineandcedar]

This one might be one of my favourites. I want this trio with this energy in Elain's book 😂

"Eyes that promised death" and "murder on her mind" and then there's sweet Elain, the Kingslayer 🌸🥰🌸

Elain visiting Vallahan and attending a ball on behalf of the Night Court, with Azriel and Mor as her protection squad. Some fae royals and upper echelons approached Elain to engage her in conversation. They have all heard about her devastating beauty and had been dying to behold her beauty with their own eyes. When Elain curtsied and introduced herself, Azriel noticed where their eyes were glued to.

His wings shifted in agitation, which earned a haughty sneer from one of the fae princes. “And what are you? Her bodyguard?”

“I’m her husband.” He said with a straight face and eyes that promised death.

“I’m her bodyguard.” Mor countered with a delighted smirk on her red lips and murder on her mind.

[jasmineandcedar]

I absolutely LOVE the drabbles you've posted lately. They're so beautiful.

I invite you to imagine not being able to tell past from future.

The dreams you once had all vanish into dust, and others took its place. Dreams so vivid that you can smell the fire, feel the feathers. Almost taste the lake water heavy on your tongue.

It makes you question if you are dreaming. Are you…? Dreaming?

And the heartbeat through the wall. Tum tum tum.

You see the way they all look at you now. They think you’re mad. Suffering the loss of a life, loss of a love. Loss of your mind.

Maybe you are mad. Or just dead? Maybe the Cauldron took more than your sanity and you are now in a limbo.

Gods, how you wish for a light—a beacon of hope—because you’re drowning.

Tum.

Tum.

Tum.

“The Cauldron made you a Seer.”

At last, sunlight.

How can you not be excited to finally see the world through the eyes of a Seer? Elain is coming and I couldn’t be happier!

[jasmineandcedar]

That's our girl.

She's made all of us her bitch purrrrrrrrrrr 💕

[jasmineandcedar]

Elain Archeron smells like jasmine. Lush and sugary, the kind of scent that clings to your skin, stays in your lungs long after you’ve left the garden. That’s not just her scent or a pretty detail.

That’s a warning.

Jasmine isn’t a delicate little bloom, not really. It’s the most horny flower of all time. A flower of seduction. It blooms at night, when the world is quiet, when secrets slip between shadows. It smells like desire and danger, wrapped in soft petals. It’s a flower laced with indole, the same compound found in the scent of human skin, in places meant to be kissed and touched.

Elain, all golden light and careful hands, smells like that.

Because she is not just sweet. She is not just kind. She is something waiting to unfurl. And when she does, when the jasmine truly blooms, oh, it will be ruinous. It will be ruinous in the way night pulls things from their hiding places. It will not be soft or quiet. It will be something that drags you under and makes you forget yourself.

And I, for one, am ready to watch the world burn for her. 🗡️🌸

[jasmineandcedar]

Now that thing, too, shall haunt my wretched mind! Oh, cursed fate--the tortured existence of a feral simp poet!

I regret to inform you that I may have been possessed by the spirit of feral simp Azriel. I have written several sonnets from his desperate, unhinged soul to Elain, and they will not stop. They assail my mind. I fear I may never know peace again.

This blog is no longer mine. It belongs now to the pathetically down-bad, feral simp poet Azriel Allan Hoe (for Elain, on his knees).

You have been warned.

Once silent, stoic--now I sob and plead, O sweet Elain, I am but whipped for thee.

[jasmineandcedar]

I regret to inform you that I may have been possessed by the spirit of feral simp Azriel. I have written several sonnets from his desperate, unhinged soul to Elain, and they will not stop. They assail my mind. I fear I may never know peace again.

This blog is no longer mine. It belongs now to the pathetically down-bad, feral simp poet Azriel Allan Hoe (for Elain, on his knees).

You have been warned.

Once silent, stoic--now I sob and plead, O sweet Elain, I am but whipped for thee.

[jasmineandcedar]

Same! I love how SJM has written their attraction to each other. We're reading fairy fantasy, but their attraction to each other is very human and relatable to many readers, I bet. Being shy and a little flustered. Blushing. Not able to meet their gaze. Elain wanting to fix her appearance. Azriel being very demure and mindful and not able to stay away (and then spending quality time with his other dagger to the thought of her at night).

It's all very sweet (including the nightly solo sessions).

Does Elain has asthma or is this romantic build up?

A little compilation of SJM showing us something is taking our girl’s breath away!

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, ‘Beautiful.’

The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. “I..." He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. "I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier."

Elain closed the distance, and her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away. She extended the wrapped gift, her hand shaking. "Here.'

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Elain in the next book.

[jasmineandcedar]

Genuinely, my favourite part of reading ACOTAR is watching Azriel and Elain fall in love.

Flustered Elain is the cutest.

✨Azriel✨ emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants. 🦇😏🦇 I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.🌸😳🌸 [...] But I strode to my seat—nestled between Amren and Mor—in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.” 🌸🥰🌸 Az said nothing. 🦇😳🦇 No, he just moved toward her.🦇😏🦇 Mor tensed beside me. But ✨Azriel✨only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.” 🦇🥰🦇 Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them. 🌸🥺🌸 With a blink, she lowered them, and noticed her apron. “I— I’ll be right back,” she murmured,🌸🫣🌸 and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one cared if she showed up to dinner covered in flour and that she should just sit (ACOFAS).

And this gem:

“I always thought she was born on the wrong side of the wall,” Elain admitted. “She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two,” she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly 🌸☺️🌸, to ✨Azriel✨. Azriel offered her a small smile 🦇🥰🦇 that Elain quickly looked away from. 🌸😳🌸Cassian tucked away his puzzlement. Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long. (ACOSF)

Does Elain has asthma or is this romantic build up?

A little compilation of SJM showing us something is taking our girl’s breath away!

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, ‘Beautiful.’

The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. “I..." He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. "I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier."

Elain closed the distance, and her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away. She extended the wrapped gift, her hand shaking. "Here.'

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Elain in the next book.

[jasmineandcedar]

It's days like this I joined the fandom for. So much creativity and good vibes.

Blessed with so much gorgeous Elriel arts for V Day today!

Love is in the air! 💗🥰💕

And much thanks and love 💗 to the Elriel community! We might be small(er) but we are mighty!

[jasmineandcedar]

The wind beneath my wings | Elain's wedding vows

Read Azriel's vows here.

Azriel,

The first time I met you, you told me about the song of the wind. Since then, you’ve been the wind beneath my wings. 

When my mind was a maze of visions, you walked beside me. Not to mend me, but to find me. When silence stretched between us, you filled it not with ornate syllables but with your time. You didn’t offer empty platitudes. Only presence. Because you understood that time and presence were all I needed. Whenever I swayed, you stood beside me—not to hold me back, but to steady me.

And when darkness closed in, when all I knew was the beckoning of the void, you cradled me to your chest as if nothing in the world could have kept you from carrying me home. Not out of duty. You came for me not because you had to, and not because some divine force declared me yours to protect, but because you couldn’t bear not to. Even with nothing binding us—neither fate, nor promises or expectations—you still came for me, expecting nothing in return.

And then, you placed the sharpest of blades in my hands. Not one forged from metal but from something far stronger. The blade of your quiet, unwavering trust in my ability, as if you already knew I'd be strong enough to wield it. With that trust, you helped unearth the strength buried within me, giving it room to grow—like roots stretching unseen in the dark before they can reach for the sun.

You gave me wind beneath my wings.

And in time—in the safety of your presence—I found myself. 

And as your shadows retreated, I found you.

Shadows linger where there is light. They are shaped by it, defined by it. I’ve often thought that’s why the shadows cling to you so dearly, why they will always stay with you. Because they know what I know. That when the world gave you darkness, your light never went out. They remain because even in the deepest of darkness, you were still the source of something bright enough to cast them. And just like your shadows, I am drawn to you. Not in spite of the darkness you have endured, but because of the brilliance that survived it.

Your shadows are your testament. A reflection of the light you’ve always carried. But they have also been your shield. The echo of a boy who once had to hide. And I promise you that you will never have to hide from me. I vow to be your sanctuary and your haven. Your home. Not a shield, but the place where you don’t need one. A place where you are seen, fully and completely, and don’t have to carry anything but the truth that I love you as you are. 

If love were measured only in grand gestures and bold proclamations, perhaps the world wouldn’t always see ours. But love isn’t always a thing of loud declarations. Sometimes, it is something softer and quieter, built in the smallest of moments. Sometimes it’s the beauty of an outstretched hand, peace and quiet in the sun, stolen moments under moonlight. It’s the way your gaze always finds mine in a crowded room, how my hand will always reach for yours and find it. It’s two souls falling in sync, moving to the quiet cadence of understanding.

I vow to honor that quiet. To cherish the language we have always spoken—one of presence, of action, and of understanding. A love that does not need to be loud to be true. A love where silence can stretch between us not as something empty needing to be filled, but as something already full. Because the presence of the other is enough.

But know this—that even though we’ve always moved to a quiet cadence, I will love you proudly. 

For a lifetime, you have loved without expecting love in return, have given without expecting to receive. Now let me love you so deeply and certainly that you will never cease to feel it. Let me love you in the way you would never ask for but have always deserved.

For you are loved. You are worthy. You are mine. And I am proud of you.

No more stolen moments. For the rest of our lives, I will proudly claim every moment I share with you. Because you have shown me that wanting can be sacred. That my desire doesn’t diminish me—it frees me. 

And I want you. 

Azriel,

It was not fate that brought us here, and yet, this day has felt inevitable. Not in the way fate might mimic inevitability and demand surrender, but in the way roots—through gentle and persistent care—grow deep beneath the earth long before a flower is ever seen. In the way love, true love, does not take form in an instant but is the inevitable result of care and nurture.

When you told me of the song of the wind, I did not know what we would become. But I know now that with every time you reached for me, with every outstretched hand, I grew ever surer. Not in an instant. Not through some great, all-consuming revelation, but like the shift of seasons. In the way day becomes night and night becomes day until you wake up and realize things have changed but you can't really tell when that happened.

But your hand was still there, always offered, etched with the history of what you have endured and who you became in spite of it, and I knew I would always reach for it. In your outstretched hands, I saw not the weight of your past but the promise of our future. I knew there was no future I could imagine without you in it.

I knew it not because some divine force willed it. But because I did. We did.

It was not fate that brought us here, not some preordained path laid out by the divine. It was the thousand quiet choices. The kindness freely given, the understanding that grew between us long before our love even had a name. It was how you saw me, really saw me, when no one else did. It was the way I looked at you and saw not the spymaster or the warrior, but Azriel.

I have tended to gardens all my life. I have watched tiny seeds grow, nurturing them through darkness and doubt into something breathtaking. It has taught me that nothing ever flourishes simply because it was meant to. It flourishes because someone was there to care for it. Someone tended to the soil, weathered the storms, and had the patience to wait for unseen roots to take hold beneath the earth, believing in their growth long before beauty could bloom in the open. 

Love is no different. And that is what we have.

It is not the empty certainty of something preordained. It is the quiet and steadfast inevitability of something nurtured. It is the result of every offered hand, every moment you’ve spent by my side, all the many silent ways you’ve chosen me. It is the result of every taken hand, every moment spent in your presence, all the many silent ways I’ve chosen you. Until we could bloom in the open.

I vow to love you, with the quiet but unrelenting force of nature that dwells within me. As certainly as the seasons love the earth—always present, always faithful. I vow to stand by your side, whether in spring’s first bloom or during winter’s longest night. With the conviction that true love, when nurtured—when chosen again and again—is the most inevitable thing of all. 

Through that care and nurture, through every choice, I have made you my fate. My inevitability. Not because the stars decreed it. But because I did—we did—again and again. 

-------

Read Azriel's vows here.

Read on Ao3 here.

[jasmineandcedar]

That's such a beautiful detail.

And the lighting and the colours are so warm and soft.

The way they look at each other. 🥹😭

𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮 ₊˚⊹♡

𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪...

𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙥.

𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙨;

𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚.

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙗𝙮 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚;

𝙄 𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣.

𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨,

𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨,

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡.

Happy Valentine’s Day from us to you 🫶🏼 Elain and Azriel’s love is warm and gentle—it’s like coming home. Their love is like the soft glow of the morning sun. It is a love that brings contentment, joy, and peace. @annluvazzel conveyed that feeling perfectly in this piece and we cannot be more appreciative of her work!

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥

𐙚 Art by @annluvazzel

𐙚 Commissioned by @duskcowboy & I

𐙚 Characters belong to @sarahjmaas

Find it on IG here!

Please do not repost 🚫

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥

[jasmineandcedar]

I mean, she was running out of adjectives in his BC alone.

Perfect, glowing, immaculate, velvet-soft, trusting, hopeful, beautiful, sweet...

Azriel's part of Elain's book will be a 400 page love sonnet.

Whenever I write a fic from Azriel’s pov, it’s just paragraphs upon paragraphs of him staring at Elain in reverence and describing how ethereal she is.