nikachansstuff

[nikachansstuff]

Happy Elriel Winter Solstice ❤️

This is a piece I've been working on for a while, but I'm ready to let it fly with Azriel and Elain over Velaris. ❤️

Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?”

He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.”

“That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“It is sometimes,” Azriel said.

I would adore seeing a beautiful flying moment with Azriel and Elain in the next book, with Elain enjoying the freedom of flying while Azriel admired her beauty. 🥹❤️

All characters belong to SJM

Art by me Rae2Velaris

[nikachansstuff]

Azriel’s Secrets in ACOSF

A compilation of Azriel’s “little secrets” in ACOSF & the explanation of the secret in Azriel’s bonus POV.

No commentary. Just passages from the book. 

Keep reading

[nikachansstuff]

I’m getting too irritated with these people who say that Azriel is only lusting over Elain as if Cassian wasn’t only lusting over Nesta back in Acomaf, Wings and Ember proves that. The double standard when the woman your fave is simping over is the character that you can’t self-insert💀

I mean... it’s just silly to expect a romantic declaration in a chapter that a very small number of readers can get. It’s just as silly to say that Nesta and Cassian’s dynamic is so different from Elain and Azriel’s so therefore, Azriel doesn’t feel as deeply for Elain. If you read closely enough, Azriel’s feelings for Elain are quite clear in the bonus chapter and throughout ACOSF. I’ve compiled all the hints in the book here and here.

Nesta and Cassian are loud, rough, and passionate. Elain and Azriel are quiet, soft, and intimate. Nesta and Cassian circle each other like predators. Elain and Azriel do a quiet dance and slowly drift towards each other. 

Both couples are like night and day.

Given that, there are a lot of parallels and similar themes...

These may be totally out of order but... You get the jist. 

Wings and Embers

And in those blue-gray eyes, he could see the thoughts swirling in her as if they were smoke under glass. The cunning mind at work behind that face—the one he hadn’t been able to get out of his head these weeks.

Azriel’s POV

Az tried not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year -- a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Wings and Embers

Cassian leaned toward her, and Nesta found herself tipping her head back, exposing her neck, granting him utter access as he grazed his nose against her throat.

&&

So he’d just . . . moved.

And then Nesta had tipped up her chin, allowing him access to her throat.

Azriel’s POV

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.  

Offer and permission.

Wings and Embers

“It’s easier, isn’t it,” Cassian breathed, crossing the distance again, not caring who saw them standing in the bay window. “To wield the words and the coldness as armor to keep everyone from seeing where and who you failed and how you did not care until it was too late.”

Only hatred gleamed in her eyes, no hint of that slumbering lust that had addled his senses.

“Well, I see it, Nesta Archeron. And all I see is a bored and spoiled girl—”

&&

Something must have shown on her face, in her scent.

Because his annoyance vanished—no, it shifted. Into something else, something . . . Rage.

That’s what stilled Cassian’s face. Pure, burning rage.

It robbed her of breath, of any sort of sense that she might indeed have the upper hand as he ground out, “Who.”

Azriel’s POV

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face. She'd waited until everyone was asleep before venturing back down, where she'd leave her gift amongst his other, opened presents, subtle and unnoticed.

&&

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Wings and Embers

Soft—her skin was so soft; so fragile. He could scent the mortal blood rushing just beneath. Cassian breathed in the smell of her into his lungs, stirring his cock as it latched onto some intrinsic part of him and sank its talons deep.

Nesta Nesta Nesta

Her eyes drifted closed, and a small, breathless sound came out of her as Cassian brushed his lips over where his nose had touched.

Azriel’s POV

Letting scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp. 

Wings and Embers

It hit him in the gut so hard he could barely focus, and it took five centuries of training to make himself meet her eyes rather than let his own roll back into his head.

&&

Every instinct in his body came roaring to the surface, so violent he had to choke them with a brutal grip or else he’d find himself on his knees, begging her for a touch, for anything.

But he leaned in, and grazed the tip of his nose along the side of her neck.

Azriel’s POV

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. But Azriel just stroked her neck again.

Wings and Embers

His knees nearly buckled as her slender hand dug into his fighting leathers. He tried not to think of what that hand would feel like on other parts of him. Gripping him; stroking him.

Azriel’s POV

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

&&

Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Wings and Embers

“I’ll mail the letter tomorrow morning.” Nesta paused with her hand on the knob and looked over a shoulder. “You know nothing about who I am, and what I’ve done, and what I want. And while we’re on the subject . . . Send someone else next time. If I see you on my doorstep, I’ll scream loud enough for the servants to come running.

Azriel’s POV

“Snarl all you want." Rhys leaned back in his chair. "But if I see you panting after her again, I'll make you regret it.”

ACOMAF Chapter 39

I assumed seeing Nesta went about as poorly as could be imagined, because my lesson the following morning was longer and harder than it’d been in previous days. I’d asked what, exactly, Nesta had said to him to get under his skin so easily. But Cassian had only snarled and told me to mind my own business.

ACOSF Chapter 59

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

Both chapters make it clear that there is some intense sexual attraction but also - Cassian can read Nesta and see through her. Azriel doesn’t need his shadows to read Elain. He knows her. 

Cassian clearly feels something for Nesta. As does Azriel. But they are two very different male leads who will express those feelings very differently. 

As a side note, SJM did not know if Nesta and Cassian would get their own book so I think she purposely made their chapter more overt in terms of romantic/sexual undertones. She found out that she would get to write their book after ACOMAF was published. 

SJM has also left enough breadcrumbs throughout ACOSF to assume that Azriel is most likely in love with Elain. He’s tormented, he’s upset, he can’t sleep, something is eating at him. I mean it’s right there. 

If he just had sexual feelings for Elain, he’d take Rhys’ suggestion and go to the pleasure house. Why risk all the trouble for a quick fuck? Why get so upset over that? It’s never stopped him before. 

Sorry for the soliloquy, I’ll stop talking now 😅

[nikachansstuff]

Not Another Hallmark Christmas Story

@sirenarts

My dear Siren, happy Solstice, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year! I am your Secret Santa!

Please enjoy this dark Christmas story.

Summary:

Azriel Singer is my boss. My harsh, unpleasant, demanding boss. A boss that I want to avoid at all costs, but it's proving harder than I imagined. He's infiltrated almost all aspects of my life and there is no escaping him. Now, it's Christmas, and what I did not expect was having him in my house, uninvited and unwanted. But Azriel Singer doesn't care. He takes what he wants. And I fear that perhaps, he wants me?

A dark Christmas story where the hero is more of an anti-hero and consent is dubious.

*this fic is inspired by 'If I Can't Have You' by deathsdoll

-

Chapter One

There she was.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

Exquisite.

Soft and full, and just the right height.

She was everything I was looking for and if I couldn’t have her, I didn’t want anything else. 

My fingers itched to touch her. 

I wanted to bring her home with me immediately and adorn her in all the finery that I had prepared for her. 

I’ve been waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the opportunity to snatch her. Waiting to make her a part of my home, eager to have her greet me every time I stepped over the threshold and to be the first thing that I saw in the morning. She’d scent my apartment with her delicate aroma and would sparkle with a million lights.

I rubbed my hands excitedly.

This one was mine!

All About Last Christmas 

The blustery wind of Chicago winter was unforgiving today. It was only 4:53 pm but it was already pitch dark outside and soft snowflakes swirled lazily in the glare of streetlights. I had all but clawed my way out of the office this early–was it early? –requesting a 4:30 pm leave weeks in advance. 

My dreadful manager, Azriel Sebastian Singer, pursed his lips, like he was sucking on a lemon, when I encountered him in the hallway on my way out of the office. 

“Leaving early, Elain, is not how you get ahead,” he told me then.

“Sorry, Azriel,” was all I said. Why did I say that I was sorry? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t do anything improper or incorrect, but somehow, under his scrutiny, I always felt the need to apologise. For what? I didn’t know.

“Have a good day then,” he tossed dismissively.

Day. Not night. Because unless I left before 7 pm, it was ‘day’ to him. And therefore, I was ‘slacking’. 

“Thank you, Azriel,” was all I said. “You too.”

He strode off without further glance, his hand in his pocket, his perfect dark navy suit barely creased.

God, how I detested him. Avoidance has been my preferred and best option when it came to interacting with Mr. Singer, but as he was my direct supervisor, that often proved challenging. However, this time around, I did my due diligence. I’d emailed him weeks in advance–weeks, for god’s sake–only to request a reasonable leave on a Friday in early December. It was frustrating when he didn’t respond for four days and that forced me to ping him again, sending a gentle reminder. 

His response was predictably terse: If you must. 

That’s how he responded, if you must. Well, yes, I must. Problem was that it wasn’t exactly an answer. Was it a ‘yes, if you must’ or ‘I’d rather you didn’t, but if you must…’? He was impossible to read and I had no idea what his answer actually meant. The most logical assumption was that it was a ‘yes’, however, when it came to Azriel Singer, assumptions were a death trap. 

Hence, I was forced to face him, and ask the question directly. 

I really don't know why he filled me with so much anxiety. Perhaps, it was because of his superior bearing, and how he seemed to judge everything I did. Maybe it’s his look, intense and scrutinising, the eyes that seemed to be always watching. Maybe it was because he was always…excellent, at everything. No matter what, he just had It–as far as I knew, he jumped from promotion to promotion with remarkable ease, and nothing seemed impossible for him. He dressed well. He smelled delicious. He knew everything there was to know about sports, wine, whiskey, eating, cars, art, music, politics. He knew how to speak to anyone, about anything. He was never awkward, or unsure. And if he was–though I refused to believe it–he never showed it. 

But with all that excellence came arrogance, and unreasonable demands, and impossible standards. He didn’t tolerate imperfection at work. He didn’t accept sloppiness. I’d seen him send more than one associate home in the middle of the day because they weren’t wearing suits. ‘We are Night Capital Management, not Sizzler’ was his favourite expression when he berated someone for untidiness or incorrect data. And gosh, have I been on the receiving end of that critique! 

Redo, and pages marked up in red.

You are better than this

Sloppy work

Yep, that was pretty typical feedback from Azriel Singer. He never offered an explanation willingly. Never provided guidance. 

He just…waited.

He watched me and he waited.

And when my tongue wouldn’t move in my mouth, and tears pricked my eyes, and I couldn’t bear to ask him for help, he simply ordered ‘Fix this’ and left me to break my head trying to figure out what the issue was.

On Monday, I couldn’t wait any longer. ‘If you must’ wasn’t cutting it. I’d wracked my brain all weekend long trying to figure out how to avoid him, and still get the ‘early’ leave permission, but ultimately, I decided to man up and just ask directly. And still I stalled until almost 5 pm, before finally mustering enough courage to walk to his office.

He was seated behind his large desk–devoid of any personal items, of course–staring at his computer. Uncharacteristically, his suit jacket was off, and the sleeves of his pale blue shirt were rolled up almost to the elbows, exposing his thick, muscular forearms. And the scars. Of course everyone was aware of the scars, though not the story behind them, but when I glanced at his arms, I realised just how far the burn scars extended. It wasn’t just his hands. Streaks of glossy scar tissue reached almost to the elbow.

He glanced at me, and then followed my gaze and when he saw me looking at the scars he actually shifted in his chair. Didn’t say anything, but his expression hardened.

“Azriel, sorry to bother you,” I told him, because he hasn’t said a word just watching me stand there. “But, do I have your approval for Friday, the 5th. To leave a little earlier?”

“Didn’t I already give it to you?” he asked indifferently. 

“Ummm, I guess,” I responded stupidly.

“You guess?” he repeated. “Did you not get my email?”

“I did,” I stammered. “I just wanted to confirm.”

“Well, perhaps if you need verbal confirmation to emails, then you might as well not bother with them and just run back and forth asking me in person,” he suggested.

I flushed.

God, he was an asshole.

“Okay then,” what else was I supposed to say to him, other than call him names? “Thanks.”

Just as I turned to leave, he suddenly asked, “Where are you going?”

“What?” That was a weird question. “I am…back to my cube?”

“No, I mean on the 5th? Are you going somewhere?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms on his chest, effectively covering the scars, though I saw the gesture for what it was–he was uncomfortable.

“No, not really. I just have some things to do,”

“And the weekend isn’t enough time for you to do those things?” he pressed.

I didn’t know why he suddenly decided to interrogate me about this. 

“I just…” I sighed. “Just things, for Christmas,”

“You are taking time off work to do Christmas shopping?” he actually raised a brow in my direction.

“Is it so unusual?” I demanded at last, losing my patience with him. Why was this any of his business anyway?

“So you are going Christmas shopping? Alone?” he repeated. 

Alone? Why did he care if I was going alone? “Um, yes. I have things to take care of, alone.”

He hummed under his breath, sizing me up with his heavy gaze. 

“Is that so?”

His probing questions drove me crazy. What did he want?

“Are you going to tell me then that Graysen Nolan taking the same day off has nothing to do with this?”

Graysen?

This was about Graysen? I was bewildered by the mention of our co-worker. Graysen Nolan was an analyst on the team, and yes, he’d been flirtatious with me during meetings and lunches, and had even attempted to ask me out, but I wasn’t particularly interested.

There was nothing wrong with him–he was handsome, in a preppy boy sort of way. Tall, but not as tall as Azriel, fit, with a heap of brown hair on top of his head which made him look like a llama. Great teeth and blue eyes. I had nothing against Graysen, but I was too mentally exhausted and stressed out to really consider any kind of dating right now. Especially someone from my own team. 

And I guess that I was right to do so, considering the interrogation that Azriel was putting me through currently. 

“You know that interoffice romances aren’t encouraged,” Azriel reminded me sternly, watching for my reaction. 

“I know that,” I said quickly. “I am not…I am not with Gray. I am not with anyone. I am not dating,” it all came out in one sentence. IamnotwithGrayIamnotwithanyoneIamnotdating. I sounded deranged. But I wanted to make sure that Azriel didn’t think that there was any impropriety happening on his team and that I wasn’t involved with a coworker.

He sighed at last, seemingly relieved.

“Good to know. We wouldn’t want you dating. Anyone…”

“No, no,” I agreed quickly.

He sighed again and finally nodded, “Alright then, have fun.”

“Thank you, Azriel.”

He didn’t mention it for the rest of the week, but as I was leaving today, he just happened to appear in the hallway and offered his unhelpful rebuke about leaving early and my career. 

It’s not that Azriel Singer was an awful man. He wasn’t. It would be unfair to characterise him that way. In fact, to most, he was irresistible: at a towering 6”5, he was muscular and extremely fit, his expensive dark suits always bespoke and made to accentuate his excellent physique. He carried himself confidently and with natural ease, and despite being a quiet man, who never said more than necessary, I also watched just about everyone at the office gravitate towards him. He was magnetic in how he moved about, his head bobbing above the line of cubicles, his voice distinct and attractive because of its deep, gravelly quality and timbre. But it was the face that really was unforgettable. Listen, I might not like him, but I am realistic. The man is devastating. Cheekbones that could cut glass, and a jawline as sharp as a knife’s edge. Big hazel eyes, more green than brown and full lips which softened the cruel set of his mouth. 

He was the kind of man who succeeded in everything, it would seem. Men were desperate for his approval and women were desperate for his attention. 

I don’t really know when it started. I suppose a year ago, last December.

At the last Christmas party, held at the enchantingly lovely The North Pond, there was a trivia game that our Senior Managing Director Rhys Darling had organised, and insisted that everyone partake in. There were groans and moans of discontent and no one wanted to go against Azriel, until they pushed me forward and told me that ‘you are so smart, you can take him’. It’s not that I am exceptionally smart, though Azriel and our Director seem to think so, but the questions were relatively easy, and if you had a good memory, you could take Azriel on. I didn’t want to. I really didn’t. I didn’t want to be scrutinised by those hazel eyes and I didn’t want to see that tiny smirk on his lips. I would’ve rather disappeared completely. But I played along and both of us received the same scores. I think that he was surprised that we came head to head. I wasn’t surprised, but I didn't let him or anyone know that. Azriel only won because of ‘sudden death’ and he shouted the correct answer a fraction of a second before me. The question was tricky–what country that doesn’t directly border the US (aka Canada and Mexico) is closest to America? Everyone was shouting their incorrect answers, most assuming that it was Cuba. A good guess, but an incorrect one. Apparently, only Azriel and I knew the right answer–and he was just a hair faster than I. In case you were wondering, it’s Russia. Only about two miles separates Russia and the US. I know, it’s a fun fact–use it at your own holiday party next. 

My colleagues seemed surprised, but they yelled excitedly and High Fived me, like we were at a frat party and not at the North Pond. I supposed that considering the amount of money the company was plunking into this party, a little yelling was allowed. Besides, we rented out the whole restaurant.

It was then that he’d approached me, after a good fifteen minutes of humble bragging about how he is ‘just a dilettante’. I mean, who even uses ‘dilettante’? I noticed a few confused glances, and spotted a couple of people reaching for their phones to check on the meaning of the word.

In case anyone's wondering, a dilettante is a person who cultivates an area of interest, such as the arts, without real commitment or knowledge. A dabbler.

“Elain, a word.”

I remember how I shuddered back then. It was involuntary. I couldn’t help it.

The dreaded expression. It haunted me. Haunts me to this day, really.

Let me explain a little about my background.

I am twenty-seven years old, born and bred in Chicago. I didn’t go away to school, but attended Northwestern, before being accepted to the Kellogg School of Business. I received my MBA and at 26 joined Night Capital Management–one of the top five investment firms in the world. The fancy description of what we do is that we provide investment, advisory and asset management solutions. The short of it is simple–we manage money. Everyone’s heard of BlackRock, Vanguard, State Street, Citadel…We are like that, only more exclusive. 

I was hired as a Senior Financial Analyst, in Asset Management specifically. Obviously investments have to do with how to invest the money, advisory is where to invest it and asset management is all about growing the existing funds. And that’s what I do–I run reports, analyse risks, look at projections and calculate the best possible financial option for my clients. Well, our clients. I am not a hedge fund manager. I am just an analyst. 

The actual manager is Azriel Singer.

When I was interviewing for the position–seven rounds, no less! –thankfully, he wasn’t in his role yet. He was still a senior manager, a step below what he currently is, which was the manager of an entire fund. For lack of a better term, Azriel Singer 'inherited’ me, and he’s been tormenting me ever since his promotion back 13 months ago.

“Elain, a word.”

And that’s how we met.

I didn’t know who he was. I was in my role only for two months, so I was still getting my bearings and learning who was who and what was what. We received an email regarding him being promoted and that it would be effective in 90 days. We then received another email, this time from him, stating that he was looking forward to meeting us and that we’d be part of his team. He’d schedule individual introductions with each one and discuss ‘deliverables’ and ‘performance expectations’. 

I raised my eyes from my screen and was faced with an enormous looming presence, which threw a shadow over my cubicle. He stood there, like some warrior of old–huge, broad-shouldered, pristine, but also wild somehow, his arms so big, they were like tree trunks. He was just so big. And I caught myself thinking that I’d never met a man more handsome than him ever in my life. It was almost obscene. 

I blinked at him. 

He just looked down, his gaze both disinterested and intense. His eyes, forest-green and brown like hazelnuts, considered me for a long time, as he assessed me wordlessly. I didn’t know what to say, or who he was, and why he was standing here. 

“Elain?” he asked at last.

“Yes?” my voice came out sounding thin and small. 

“A word,” he said impassively.

I swallowed. Suddenly, my throat felt impossibly dry. 

“Yes?”

“Better be done in my office,” he ordered curtly, and then turned around and headed down the hallway, expecting me to follow him.

I jumped up from my seat, still unsure of what he was and who he was, though I suspected that this was my new boss.

His wide, powerful back flexed with muscles beneath the dark charcoal suit that he was wearing. I could see that the suit was bespoke, and British. My younger sister Feyre is a fashion designer and I know all about various styles and cuts of suits, because menswear has very rigorous schools of design. You could never mistake a Caraceni for a Henry Poole. 

He didn’t look back to see if I was following. I suppose he just expected me to. 

The name plaque outside the door said Azriel S. Singer, Esq. 

So he was a lawyer too. Great.

By the time I reached the office, he was already inside, seated behind his bare desk, a wall of windows behind him, overlooking downtown Chicago. 

Quite the corner office he got.

“Sit,” he told me. I sat.

He folded his hands on his stomach, lacing the fingers together and I noticed the scars. Obviously I said nothing. He made me nervous. His presence was dark and overwhelming, like he swallowed the air around him.

“Elain Archeron, a Senior Analyst,” he stated the obvious. “You started in Investments, worked there for three months and then were recommended to Asset Management. That’s quite a quick promotion.”

“I wasn't promoted,” I argued quietly. 

He shot me an unamused glare, silencing me and making it known that he wasn’t pleased with my interruption.

“Nevertheless you are here now.”

I nodded just once. 

“I usually don't do this with my subordinates,” he said meaningfully, implying that I was the exception. “But I will do this for you. Ask me anything.”

“Pardon?”

“You have two minutes of my time. Ask me anything.”

I felt hot and was sweating beneath my black jumper. I had no idea what his game was and why he was bothering me, and I certainly didn't have any questions for him, but I knew that he was expecting something. Something smart. Something that he wouldn’t consider a waste of his time.

“What’s the secret to achieving success?” I asked at last. My heart was beating wildly in my chest and my palms were sweaty.

A small smirk touched his mouth, as if he was pleased with my question.

“In this company?” he said and then rubbed his chin. “Come in first and leave last.”

That seemed deceptively simple. 

“That’s all?” I repeated.

He nodded.

“They basically want to see how much pain you can take. How dedicated you are. How bad do you want it.”

Then he peered at him with his penetrating eyes and asked, “And do you want it bad, Elain?”

I looked behind him, at the stunning view behind the windows–the blue waters of Lake Michigan, the greenish ribbon of the Chicago River, the gleaming skyscrapers all around us.

“I do,” I said at last.

His handsome face changed and turned cold and unreadable.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“I am,” I insisted.

“Well, we’ll see if you will tell me the same thing in a few months,” he stated menacingly.

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but then he spread a stack of reports on his desk and said, 

“Let’s start with this. Because you are not going anywhere with a report like this. This is pathetic. I expect better from a Senior Analyst.”

And that’s how it began.

Three months later, we were at the North Pond, champions of the trivia game. And just like I did every day prior, I heard the cursed expression ‘Elain, a word’. 

What did he want? Again?

He already won! I lost. There was nothing else to talk about.

I was hoping that I could sneak out soon-ish and disappear and go home and get into my sweats. 

Listen, I am an ambivert. I don’t mind socialising with others, it doesn’t bother me, but I was running on empty and the trivia game took a lot out of me because of the pressure. Not only did I have to lead my team (who were useless), I needed to do that against Azriel, my terrifying boss.

And now, he was yet again, looming over me, probably here to berate me or gloat. Again, in his defense, he has always been reasonably respectful to me, and didn’t put me down publicly. When we were in our 1:1 that was a different story. He never lost his temper, was never unprofessional, was never outright mean or improper. It’s just that he had this ability to destroy everyone’s self-esteem and pride with two-three well-placed words. And it usually began with the words ‘Elain, a word’. I knew that I was about to be annihilated. That my reports would be red marked all over the place. And that I was going to get a dispassionate ‘you can do better’ comment, with him expectantly waiting for me to ask him ‘how’. I never did. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I didn’t care that this job sucked the life out of me and that I spent most of my weekends working. I didn’t want his help. I didn’t want him near me. I didn’t want to see his stupid gorgeous face and hear this stupid gravelly voice. I didn’t want any of it. 

“Good job out there,” he said suddenly.

Y’all. I just about fell over. 

What was this?

Did I just transport to the Bizarro World? Azriel Singer giving an unsolicited compliment out of his own free will?

I forgot how to speak for a moment or two. I really had no idea what to say and he expected me to say.

“Thank you?” I managed at last, desperately looking around to see if anyone was available to save me. But of course no such luck.

“Please don’t say that you were surprised,” I begged him suddenly. I am not sure where it came from, but I desperately wanted him to acknowledge that I was…good. At something. I was good at trivia, at least.

He looked at me with genuine surprise and even took a step back.

“Why would I?” he asked.

I sighed.

“Because…because…I don’t know,” I truly didn’t. I didn’t know what he actually thought. 

“Contrary to whatever you are thinking right now, or in general about me, I respect you, Elain,” he told me and his expression was sincere and kind. Something in his face softened at that moment. 

“Do you?” I confirmed.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he raised his dark brow at me. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to think most of the time, if I am being honest,” I admitted.

He looked at me, and then, shockingly whispered, “You look beautiful today, Elain.”

I gasped.

Did he just actually say this to me right now or was I hallucinating?

He smirked and then offered, “let me buy you a drink! We fought valiantly and we came out on top. As expected.”

“As expected,” I whispered. 

Smiling conspiratorially, he moved closer to me and suddenly, I felt his large, warm palm on the small of my back. He never touched me before. Even when we first met, when he ambushed me at my desk, we didn’t shake hands because we were not properly introduced. I was used to him and his nearness because he often stood behind my desk or sat near me while showing me something, or when we prepared for meetings together. However, this was the very first time when he touched me and I remember feeling very warm and very secure at his side. He was so large and I knew that if anything, this is the man who’d protect me from anything. I mean, who’d even challenge him? But still, the feeling was pleasant and novel. He smelled good, his cologne clearly expensive–Armani? Tom Ford? –and I scented him like a loon, like I always did when he was near. I am not exactly sure why and what compelled me to smell him, but there was something alluring in the combination of his masculine musk and cedar.

He guided me towards the bar and out of the main dining room, his hand never leaving my back. It wasn’t just his fingertips that touched my burgundy dress–he had his whole palm planted just above the curve of my behind. It felt intimate. Possessive, in a way a boyfriend or a husband might touch his woman. But I wasn’t his. And he didn’t want me to be either.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked, leaning over the bar. With one hand, he pulled a bar stool closer and then handed his card to the bartender, opening a tab. “Whatever she wants,” he jerked his chin towards me.

“You don’t have to!” I exclaimed hurriedly. “I am not much of a drinker,”

“I am,” he winked at me. “What’s your poison, Elain? Whiskey? Tequila? Vodka? Gin?”

“An Aperol Spritz?” I blurted, even though I didn’t want one. But it seemed like a safe, cheap choice. It wasn’t a winter drink. 

“She’ll have a dirty martini,” Azriel said easily, ignoring my lame order. “Gin. Two measures of Gordon’s. One measure of Gray Goose. Half a measure of Kina Lillet. Olive brine. A spritz of lemon zest and three anchovy olives.

“And I’ll have a Macallan, neat.”

“You got it,” the bartender nodded, clearly impressed by Azriel’s order. I didn’t even know half of the things he said. Also, I didn’t like anchovies, I don’t think.

“Trust me on the anchovy olives,” he said, obviously reading my mind. 

“What if I wanted the Aperol Spritz?” I insisted, not liking him taking all the control away from me.

“No one wants a spritz in December in Chicago. But if you insist…should I get you one?”

I pouted.

“No.”

He smiled at me and while we were waiting for the drinks, he unexpectedly wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the floor, placing me on the stool. 

“Wait, wha-,” he began saying, but he just smiled at me again.

The drinks were set in front of us, and I couldn’t finish my thought. Azriel picked up his tumbler and raised it, lightly clinking it with my martini glass. 

“To the victors go the spoils!” he announced and then watched me take a sip of my martini. 

Oh god. Even now, I think of it and I can’t forget how lovely it was. Crisp  and sharp and enticing. Kind of like the man who’d ordered it.

He didn’t sit down and remained standing, still towering over me, his hazel eyes keen and penetrating.

“I want to ask you a question, Elain. And I’d like an honest answer,” he requested, taking me aback.

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you like me?”

“No! What?” I scrambled for answers “I am…I don’t,”

“I asked for you to be honest,” he cut me off and then sipped his whiskey.

“It’s not true,” I argued, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and overwhelmed. It wasn’t a fair question and he shouldn’t have asked me that. What was he expecting me to say exactly?

He didn’t wait for me to continue, but instead, said,

“Because the thing is that I like you.”

I swallowed my drink hard, stunned into silence by his admission. He didn’t seem fazed and continued,

“I think that you are brilliant. You are sharp, intelligent, highly accomplished. You are the best analyst on my team–by far. Look, I have a few reasonably good people on the team, and a few who aren't worth my time.”

“Then if you think so, why are you so harsh with me?” I asked boldly. 

His brow furrowed and he shook his head, “No. I am not.”

“I think that you are,” I insisted. “You criticize me viciously. You are mean. You berate me for every little infraction,”

“I am doing my job,” he said plainly. “Which means getting the best results and the best work out of my associates. I am not going to baby you, if that’s what you are asking. And I don’t ‘berate’ you. I correct you. There is a difference, you know. In fact, I will expect even more from you.”

“Why? How much more can I give?”

Coldly, he said, “you’ll give as much as I take, until I am satisfied.”

“And when is that going to be?”

He chuckled darkly.

“Not any time soon, Elain. Not anytime soon. In fact,”

My heart dropped.

I was vaguely aware that his palm was pressing to the small of my back again. I felt his thumb stoke the few lower knobs of my spine. 

“It’s not official yet,” he said at last. “But I wanted to tell you and give you a heads up.”

I swallowed the rest of my martini. I drank it too fast. It was going to my head. I was feeling hot and mellow. 

Azriel snapped his finger and said to the bartender ‘another one for her’. 

“Nooo,” I protested. “I am buzzed…”

“I know,” he said calmly.

“What do you want from me?” I whined, emboldened by the alcohol that I had consumed.

“You know that I am officially moving into my role on January 1st,” he stated.

I nodded. I hoped that he wouldn’t be my manager anymore.

I hated hearing ‘Elain, a word’. I hated the red Montblanc pen that he used on my reports and calculations. I hated his critiques. I didn’t want to hear him tell me how I messed up and where I went wrong. I wanted a nice boss, who’d be kind and supportive of me.

“And I have the opportunity to build my own team. And I want you, Elain.”

I got another drink handed to me. He was staring at me, his hand now on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. My shoulder was bare and his hand was hot and dry. The silvery scar tissue on his palm felt smooth and if he had calluses, I couldn’t feel them. His fingers were long and strong. His hand was very heavy. 

My heart dropped.

He wanted me.

“On my team,” he added. “Under me. My...tutelage.”

I looked up at him. There was something like triumph blazing in his eyes. 

His hand tightened on my shoulder. 

And I knew then that I wouldn’t be escaping any time soon.

All About This Christmas

I approached her, huddling into my scarf, wanting to do this quickly and get back in my car.

Typically, I took the Blue Line downtown where the office was located, but today, I drove, spent $56 on parking, which made me sick to my stomach, but it was worth it.

She was so fluffy.

I smiled to myself.

Perfect size.

I hurried over to the seller and pointed, 

“I want this,”

“One,” to my horror, utmost, undiluted horror, Azriel Singer’s voice sounded behind me.

I had to be hallucinating. This was PTSD, right? I was hearing his voice everywhere! Right? After a year of working with him, and him being the dominant man in my life, whom I saw more than I saw anyone, including my sisters, I was just hearing his voice in my head. 

I couldn’t…I couldn’t turn around. It was impossible. I was definitely hearing things.

Maybe, maybe it was Cassian?!?

A little glimmer of hope lit up in my chest. Yes, it had to be Cassian. Obviously. How didn’t I guess that? Azriel would never leave work early and wouldn’t be here, buying a Christmas tree.

Cassian Wilbur Singer, Esq. was Azriel’s younger brother. 

After Azriel casually handed me my indefinite sentence that promised that I would remain under his control and on his team for the foreseeable future, I had to grin and bear it. Short of quitting the company, which is something I was absolutely unwilling to do, I resigned myself to serve at Azriel’s feet for lack of a better term. 

I’d learned a few things about my new boss fairly quickly. He was incredibly patient–surprising, I know, but also ruthless. But mostly, he was just demanding. 

Elain, redo the projections for the 4th quarter

Elain, did you consider the new data? I sent it to you yesterday 

Elain, you are using too much finance jargon in this report

Elain, walk me through your analysis

Elain, send me the numbers before 10 am

Elain, let’s walk through this together before the meeting

Elain, what are you doing for lunch? Let me know if you have time to discuss?

And on and on and on.

My sister Feyre said that I was ‘the victim of my own success’ and that I’ve made myself ‘indispensable to him’ and that he grew to rely on me too much.

My other sister Nesta was harsher in her assessment and said that ‘he uses you like a crutch’ and ‘he knows you are a pushover, so he is taking advantage of your inability to say ‘no’ to him’. 

I didn’t really want to say ‘no’ to him. And maybe I was a pushover, but I just felt that it was easier to let him guide the team and be responsible for the decision-making. At work, Azriel Singer was a star, and I trusted him. As hard as he was, he was also fair. And maybe, just maybe, I liked hearing his praise, or when he hummed under his nose and smirked to himself. I knew then that he was pleased with my work. Receiving his approval was incredibly difficult, and when it came, I was going to take advantage of it and enjoy every morsel of his good will. 

What did not create any good will with him was when he caught me a couple of times asking my team members for assistance, or an explanation. Especially if it related to something that he sent back or corrected on my report. 

I wasn’t sure why, but for whatever reason that set him off. He wouldn’t say anything. He never confronted me, and if I hadn’t learned how to read him, I might have missed it entirely. But I did pick up on a few scoffs, the subtle changes in his expression, the annoyance that he tried to hide. What was an even better indicator of his displeasure, was how rough he became afterwards, and how harsh his critique and his demands were towards me. I knew that he wanted me to ask him for directions, and I knew that he liked to make decisions for me, but I couldn't bring myself to do it most of the time. Firstly, I liked figuring things out myself, and secondly, he was intimidating as hell.

I met Cassian Singer one morning, following an early call with a client, which was held in Azriel’s office. By the time the call ended, I was tired, hungry and cranky. While Azriel did most of the talking, I needed to speak to some of the numbers and explain two parts of the report. It wasn’t difficult, but the client was asking a lot of questions, and while Azriel was helpful and guided the conversation, I was expected to deliver my part flawlessly.

“Good job, Elain,” was all he said when I got up and unplugged my laptop.

I smiled. I pressed the laptop to my chest and left his office, heading to the break room with a pep in my step.

A very tall, very handsome, very muscular man was in the break room, laughing with the other men from my team. He was broad, his shoulders spanning nearly the width of the fridge. He had the same bronze skin tone as Azriel, the same hazel eyes and the same black hair, though his was longer. And the voice was the same. It was jarring to hear–watching another man speak in Azriel’s voice. 

He looked at me, while I went to pour myself a cup of coffee. By the time I was done with the cup and tossed the creamer in the bin, when I turned around, I saw Azriel standing in the doorway, arms crossed on his wide chest. He was watching me with his typically unreadable expression. I thought that I looked good that day–I wore a dusty pink dress, a little flowy, so it didn’t hug my body too closely, and my brown suede pumps. My hair was smooth and sleek, tied in a high ponytail.

“Az, care to introduce us?” the man swaggered towards me.

Azriel pursed his lips and then simply said, “Elain Archeron, this is my brother Cassian Singer.”

“And the pleasure is all mine,” Cassian murmured and extended his huge hand to me. I hesitated for a moment, and he urged me on, saying, “come on, Ellie, I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

“Cass!” Azriel snapped at him, almost angrily. I wasn’t sure why. Cassian ignored him and pumped my fist in his. 

“So, this is the brilliant Elain that I’ve heard some much about,” he added. “Nice to meet you, Elain. Finally I am putting a face to the reputation.”

I had a reputation? Also, brilliant?

“Cassian, you are being weird,” Azriel sneered, while he went to grab a bagel off the tray. Cassian argued,

“Why? Poor Ellie is stuck here with you bunch, the drollest and the dullest finance bros of all finance bros,”

I snorted a laugh at that and Azriel didn’t look amused, while the others booed and shouted.

“Come work for my department, Ellie,” Cassian offered. “We are rich and successful and we are all lawyers!”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Azriel hissed through his teeth. “What are you doing here? Don’t attempt to poach my best analyst either,”

At that, Cassian snatched my cappuccino muffin from my plate and saluted me, before swallowing the muffin top all in one bite.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whistled. “My glum brother is not fond of many people, Ellie, but he is fond of you,” he winked at me and then sauntered away, devouring the rest of the muffin.

I sighed and went to get another muffin, before rushing back to my desk. As I was walking, I overheard Azriel and Cassian whispering to each other.

“I see it now,” Cassian said to him.

Azriel didn’t respond right away, but then warned him, “Back off and don’t piss on my territory.”

Cassian laughed, “Wouldn’t dream of it. Seems like you fully staked your claim.”

I didn’t know what they were talking about, but that’s how I met Cassian.

“I’ll take this one,” he said again.

I whipped around and shouted, “Cassian, that’s mine! I saw it first!!!”

And then I was frozen in place by a pair of hazel eyes.

Azriel Singer stood right in front of me, so close that I figured that he was able to put his chin on my head if he wanted to. 

His expression was bland, but I could see the vein bulging and ticking in his temple. Slowly, he crossed his arms on his chest and glared at me from his height.

“Expecting Cassian, are you?” he asked slowly.

My cheeks flamed and I took a steadying breath.

Why was Azriel here???

It made no sense for him to be here. We were in Wicker Park, and surely he didn’t live anywhere near here. Not with his money and status. Surely he lived in River North? Lincoln Park? He was too young for the Gold Coast, but Wicker Park? There was no logical explanation for his presence here. 

“Waiting for Cassian?” he repeated, his voice cold.

“Why are you here?!” I cried out instead. 

He stepped even closer, and suddenly got in my face, all but snarling,

“I swear to god, Elain, if you are fucking my brother behind my back, I will,”

He didn’t finish his threat, because the seller stepped forward and exclaimed, “whoa, whoa, buddy! Chill!”

Then he looked at me and asked, “Miss, is he bothering you? You want me to,”

“Am I bothering you, Elain?” Azriel asked sarcastically. “Do you need to be rescued? The gentleman here is ready to spring up and fight for your honour,”

The venomous expression on his face took me aback. His vein kept bulging, though he appeared normal outwardly.

“No,” I stammered, and looked at the seller, “he is…he is okay. He is my boss…”

“Your boss?!” the man scoffed. “Maybe you should look for another job.”

Azriel shrugged, and then said calmly,

“I’ll be on my way. Let me get the tree and I’ll leave you to meet Cass.”

“No!” she snapped. “NO!”

Azriel seemed confused for a moment and looked at me quizzically.

I clarified, “it’s my tree! I found it first. You aren’t getting it.”

He huffed an incredulous snicker.

“Excuse me? I am taking the tree,” he insisted. “You can get that one,” and he waved towards a bunch of ugly trees stuck in the corner. “I am not getting another tree. Go away, Azriel,” I dared to say, tears pricking my eyes. 

I know it was absurd. I know that I was acting petulant and ridiculous. But I wanted that tree. It wasn’t fair that he could just sweep in and take it. He already demanded and took too much from me. And I wanted the tree. I wasn’t going to let him have it. 

“Go away?” he repeated, eyes popping open wide.

I propped my hands on my hips and resorted to a fighting stance.

“Yes, go away. You are not my boss here.”

“I am always your boss,” he argued snappily.

“No, you aren’t! I am not working right now and I am going to buy this specific tree. You can step aside and leave me alone.”

“I am not leaving, Elain. And I am getting the tree,” he pressed. 

I was shaking my head. 

“No. You're not my boss out there and you can’t have it. I was here first!”

Before the seller could interfere again, Azriel wrapped his massive hand over my upper arm and carefully, but firmly pulled me aside. 

“Don’t sell that fucking tree to anyone,” he ordered the man, and the guy just stared, but didn’t say anything.

I’ve never heard Azriel curse before. He was always highly, scrupulously professional at work. Was it something that I unexpectedly liked? Perhaps.

Once we were out of the way, Azriel didn’t release my arm, but I felt his thumb making small circles over it through my jacket sleeve. He was very close and his crisp scent invaded my nostrils. His eyes assessed me, but they weren’t cold and disdainful right now. There was warmth in them. Amusement too. And I couldn’t think of why that was. 

“I think that we need to reevaluate your attitude, Miss Archeron,” he semi-whispered in my ear. His lips were so close, they were almost touching me.

“What?” I stuttered, not sure what he meant and feeling overwhelmed by his nearness. He was too close. Like last Christmas party. Which I preferred not to recall or think about. 

“What do you mean?” I finally managed to ask.

“It means that you will respect me always, at work and outside of work. At work, I am your boss and out here, that doesn’t change. Just like I will respect you always, regardless of your… imperfections.”

Imperfections? Screw him.

I tried to jerk my arm out of his grasp, but it was like an iron claw around my sleeve.

“Furthermore,” he continued, ignoring my movements, “please do remember that I am the one who makes all the decisions. You follow my guidance. Because I know what’s good for both of us.”

“No you don’t!” I argued instinctively.

“Oh no?” he challenged. “Who’s been helping you with everything at work? Guiding your career? Offering you advice? At times protecting you from mistakes and scrutiny? Yeah, me,” he snapped. “Not that you’d noticed!”

I blushed.

He wasn’t wrong.

He has been incredibly helpful and patient with me, even when he was harsh and demanding. 

“Not that you’d ask me for help,” he ground out under his breath.

Defensively, I argued, “I asked you many times! All the time!”

He scoffed, 

“Yeah, only when there is no one else left to ask!”

The back and forth was exhausting me.

I was tired and he still hadn’t explained what he was doing here. 

“I need to get the tree and go home,” I told him at once.

His grip on me finally eased up a bit and he said thoughtfully,

“Hmmm,”

“Not hmmm,” I taunted. “Let me go. I will see you on Monday.”

“No.”

“No?” I repeated. “What do you mean, no?”

“No means that I have something else in mind,” he offered. “And I suggest that you take me up on my generous offer to you.”

I was feeling a bit hysterical and laughed, my voice dry,

“Oh, how gracious of you. And what is this offer that I cannot refuse? Pray tell!”

“I’ll let you have that tree,” he pointed at my perfect tree. 

“Let me?”

“Stop interrupting me every sentence!” he didn’t look amused. “Yes, I will even help you hoist it up on the roof of your car. Then, we’ll go to your house, you will be a gracious hostess, we’ll have dinner and we’ll decorate the tree together.

“That’s the only offer you are getting. If you reject it, you aren’t getting the tree. Your choice.”

What the hell?

What. Is. The. Actual. Fuck??

He was inviting himself to my home? Or, more like, forcing himself, and ordering me to cook him dinner and decorate my tree, with him there?

“We can’t do that!” I cried out.

“Why?”

“Because…because…We can’t! You are my boss,”

“Glad to see you remembered, finally,” he snorted a chuckle.

“You can’t be at my home. People will talk!”

Not to mention that I didn’t want him there.

I didn’t want him inside my sanctuary. The only place that was actually free of him. My god. This was the worst idea in history!

“Take it or leave it,” he shrugged callously.

I attempted to dissuade him again, “Azriel, I cannot let you–it’s improper,”

“Is it? I was in your apartment last year,” he reminded me and my heart jumped in my chest. “And somehow, we managed.”

He tapped his feet on the pavement and said,

“Let’s go. I am freezing.”

“You said that I get to decide,” I tried feebly.

“I did. And you decided that I will be coming along and we’ll be decorating your tree together. Come on.”

He extended his hand to me.

I just stood there, trembling.

He flexed his long, powerful fingers in the space between us. His arm was a bridge. And somehow, I knew that if I took his hand, if I crossed the bridge, nothing would ever be the same. 

[nikachansstuff]

This right here is the Elriel bible. The whole timeline and relationship development!

The Progression of Elain and Azriel’s Relationship.

Let me preface this by saying this is LONG. 

After a second read through of ACOSF, I really think it’s clear that Elriel will be featured in the next book. Sooo, book by book, I’ve complied excerpts that show the progression of Elain and Azriel’s relationship and why I think the next book will feature them. I’m not going to be adding a lot of commentary, just my general interpretation of the scene. The excerpts speak for themselves. 

Keep reading

[nikachansstuff]

You know something I frequently question myself?

Does Elain know that a bond can be rejected? Did anybody around her told her that it’s possible? Does she know she would have her family and court supporting her in case she decide to break the bond?

Cause all we know is that Rhysand told Feyre about it. Did anyone conveyed the message to Elain? What we get from Feyre about the bond is the brief conversation in ACOFAS saying “Lucien is a good male.” And that’s it.

I wonder if Elain knows or if she is just doing her role of not antagonizing or creating problems for her family by quietly showing her wish to not be mated with Lucien.

Can’t hardly wait for her POV in all of this mess, truly!

[nikachansstuff]

[nikachansstuff]

“Elain doesn’t want Lucien at this moment, but it could change!”

Yup. Everything could change, Feyre could get a divorce, Nesta could turn into a professional ballerina, Mor could decide to raise wild horses in her private land and Tamlin could join the circus as a trained beast.

That’s not a strong argument when you take all the story so far and apply the realm of possibilities and what ifs.

[nikachansstuff]

NO!

I’m putting my foot down! I can’t handle any Az/Jack dying 🫠🫠🫠

Don't u tempt me

[nikachansstuff]

Mesmerizing

[nikachansstuff]

Now I need this book hahaha

also, someone has to be brave enough to say it: too many mainstream hockey romance books about being a wag in the stands and NOT enough hockey romance books about being an exasperated penalty box attendant developing feelings for the team miscreant who ends up in the box twice a game minimum

[nikachansstuff]

Elain frowned, brushing her damp hair from her face with the back of her hand. She hated how it clung to her skin, making it harder to focus. Her breath came faster as she backed up, sliding the dagger into the sheath on her thigh. Her fingers trembled from the effort of their session as she reached up to tie her hair back.

Her arms lifted as her fingers gathered her hair, the cool air brushing her skin as she revealed the graceful curve of her neck. She pulled the ribbon tight, letting her fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary, caressing softly her skin.

There. She felt it, his gaze. Heavy. Burning. His eyes focused on her neck, as if he were carving the image into his memory. And she, though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, secretly enjoyed baring her neck in front of him, knowing exactly how much it unraveled him.

Azriel stood frozen a few feet away, his dagger held loosely in one hand, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. He looked like a male at war with himself, his chest rising and falling too evenly, as if he were trying to control his breathing.

“You’re staring again,” she said softly, her brown eyes meeting his.

Azriel didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. “Am I?”

She stepped closer to him, her fingers brushing the slit of her skirt where it swayed lightly with her movements.

“You always do that,” she murmured, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks ,her voice barely above a breath. “When I style my hair up.”

This time, he didn’t even try to hide it. His gaze dropped to her neck, tracing the line of her throat, lingering just below her ear where her pulse pounded, then down to the swell of her breasts. Heat spread through her, as his eyes lifted back to hers, dark and filled with hunger. She loved the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing he desired in the world.

Elain swallowed, her throat dry. For just a moment, she let herself wonder what would happen if he stepped closer. If his hands reached for her. If his lips followed the path his eyes had taken.

As if he read her mind, Azriel moved, sliding his dagger into its sheath. His steps were silent as he closed the distance between them.

Elain moved back until her back hit the wall. She gasped softly when his hands captured hers, pinning them gently but firmly against the stone behind her.

Her heart raced as he leaned in, his body close enough for her to feel the heat of him, his cedar scent enveloping her. His wings flaring slightly.

“You know what you’re doing,” he murmured.

She did. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his breath warm as the tip of his nose grazed her cheek.

She didn’t. Instead, she tilted her head, exposing her neck in silent invitation.

His head dipped, and she felt him inhale, the warmth of his breath brushing her skin before his lips followed. They were soft, brushing over her throat with a featherlight touch that made her shudder. He stayed there for a moment his breath uneven.

Then he started kissing her along her jaw moving slowly down until he found the soft curve of her collarbone. She bit her lip as his tongue flicked over the spot, then dragged up from her collarbone in a slow, torturous glide that sent a shiver down her spine. He licked her like he was savoring every moment. He stopped for a second, pulling back just enough to look at her, his eyes smoldering with desire "Honey, you taste like honey."

Her head fell back against the wall, knees barely holding her up . She gasped, the sound turning into a quiet moan as his teeth scraped along a sensitive spot on her neck. She arched into him, pressing closer as his low growl made heat pool deep inside her. His hands released hers only to grip her bare thigh, pulling her more against him.She could feel the hardness of him against her stomach, and her body betrayed her completely, trembling against him. Her fingers gripped his biceps, desperate for more. She could feel him holding back, the way his muscles were tense ,the sharpness of his breaths against her skin.

Her nails digged into his leathers as he continued, his lips and tongue working their way down to her breasts, the neckline of her dress slipping off her shoulder...

And then, a shadow curled around Azriel’s ear, whispering something Elain couldn’t hear.

He froze.

She felt the change instantly,the way his hands fell from her, the sudden stillness in his body. When he pulled back, his face was unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes were dark and wild, filled with everything he hadn’t allowed himself to take.

“We’re needed,” he said, his gaze fixed on the red marks he’d left on her skin.

“By who?” she asked, adjusting her dress.

“Rhys,” he answered.

[nikachansstuff]

Another proof that the sister’s journey will be about female empowerment, each sister with their own way.

Three Sisters: The Beacons of Change

Been a minute since I yapped on the internet and I’m bored on a long layover so here we go! A few housekeeping items before we dig in:

This post is pro Nesta, Feyre, and Elain. I love them all.

Some of the discourse involves pro-Elriel ramblings. This post is largely about Elain herself, so I’ll be including her general tag in this post, but wanted to make note of the Elriel discourse in case that isn’t your cuppa.

A huge shoutout to @jasmineandcedar and @nikachansstuff for the inspiration on this post. Their post/comment largely inspired this.

My thoughts are never coherent and all of this is just my opinion. Also I didn't edit this whatsoever lmao.

If any of these things aren’t for you, no worries, but peace out Girl Scout, keep on keeping you're peace. If you're interested and ready to read more then let's get on into it!

One interesting theme I picked up on within the ACOTAR series is change. More specifically, inciting change on not only a personal level, but also on the societal level. And I’m of the mind that each sister is meant to spark some sort of change, both within themselves as they get their healing arc, but also within the greater Prythian society as they come into power.

Let’s start with Feyre darling.

The First High Lady

Before Feyre came to Prythian, before her story, there were no High Ladies. Or at least the history of them were lost to society as we learned in the CC3 series. Females were not welcome to the role of 'High Lady'. They were not equals to the High Lords, even as their mates.

But with Feyre’s rebirth, with her sacrifice as the Curse Breaker, she rose to power in a way that changed fae society. She was the first High Lady. And we can see that this change spread with Viviane becoming the High Lady of Winter.

Feyre, as a monarch, represents ruling power. The power to command. She is the Crown. And with her character arc she brought change to Prythian in that she opened the door for other High Ladies to take their thrones. She challenged the misogynic lens on which Prythian viewed political leaders and proved that women can have their own political power.

The Valkyrie Reborn

Before Nesta, before her being Made, the Valkyries were lost to the world. The systems in place, largely those in Illyria as we saw in the forefront of her novel, believed women couldn’t be warriors. That they were lesser, weaker.

But with Nesta’s healing, and the revival of the Valkyries alongside Emerie and Gwyn, she challenged this. A challenge that was overcome in the Blood Rite.

With Nesta, she proved that women can have physical power. That they can be warriors. She brought about the rebirth of the Valkyries: an all female army. She challenged yet another societal (and misogynistic) standard within Prythian.

The Bondbreaker

Warning: Pro-Elriel content below

Like her sisters, I think Elain Archeron will also challenge an aspect of Prythian society. But the way she changes society and challenges it will be different than that of her sister's. Like Elain's personality, I believe her own defiance will be softer. Rooted in the heart and emotions.

But damn will it be a choice that radiates through the narrative.

As it stands in Prythian, mating bonds are sacred. Holy. They’re something not to be questioned, no matter what. As we learn from Rhys, some mates aren’t even true matches in spirit, but the bond is regarded so highly that females accept it any way, despite what they want for themselves for their lives. For their hearts.

Tamlin's parents and Rhysand's own mother and father are excellent examples of mated pairs who aren't "true pairings of souls". And I'd argue that SJM introduced these pairings to the narrative as a way to hold a mirror up to Elain's own mating bond.

I believe Elain will challenge this societal standard by rejecting her mating bond. Autonomy and freewill is a huge theme with her character and rejecting the bond would be the culmination of this. More of my yapping on this can be found here.

Elain's choice would also be a sign to other females with unwanted bonds that they too have a choice. That the bonds don’t always know best. That, perhaps as the Cauldron. doesn't always know best. Elain’s rejection of the bond would spark change in Prythian, just like her sister’s arcs sparked change.

Note: Yapped a bit about the lore drops in CC3 and the implications of it in my post here. I personally believe there's two forces warring in the Cauldron (the Mother v. the Asteri's corruption) and believe it raises some interesting implications...

The TLDR: Each Sister is a Beacon of Change

Feyre, the monarch, challenged the system surrounding females in positions in power. With her, the role of High Ladies was reborn and the stigma in Prythian surrounding female leaders was fought.

Nesta, the warrior, challenged existing systems surrounding the strength and validity of female warriors. Through her, the Valkyries were reborn.

With Elain, I theorize that she'll lead a quieter rebellion. But one long overdue. She'll challenge the issue of fate, of the Cauldron's eddies and the Mother's will, over the heart. She'll challenge the heart. The bond. And stand in defiance of it.

okkk bye!

[nikachansstuff]

THAT’S FREAKING GORGEOUS!!!

Adding to my TBR another amazing fic by my lovely @violetasteracademic

“𝑩𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑬𝒏𝒅𝒔” — 𝑨𝒏 𝑬𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒍 𝑺𝒐𝒍𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆 ❄️

This feels like forever in the making, but Violet and I are so happy to finally be able to share this with you all! When I reached out to Lulybot earlier this year, I knew I wanted an Elriel proclamation of love on Solstice. As the art was in the works and I got my first sketch, I knew it needed a story to go with it and immediately thought of Violet. I reached out to Violet (her fics are amazing) and thankfully she hopped on board 🫶🏼

You can find the link for the AO3 fic “Before the Night Ends” by @violetasteracademic here. Though it was inspired by this art, she has turned it into its own amazing story that I can’t wait for yall to read 🩵

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Art by @lulybot-blog

Commisioned by me, theseersgarden (Insta/Tumblr/X/TT)

Fic by @violetasteracademic

🚫 NO REPOSTS WITHOUT PERMISSION 🚫

🌸 Likes & shares appreciated 🌸

🚫 NO SHIP DRAMA PLEASE 🚫

If you don’t like this ship that is totally fine! But unless you’re commenting on the beautiful art the artist put their time and heart into, or something nice, please keep all other type of negative comments to yourself 🫶🏼 I don’t go to others posts and leave negative comments so I’d appreciate the same ☺️

[nikachansstuff]

Fill my cup, baby

[nikachansstuff]

Classic one bed left trope - ELRIEL

..... @snelbz and I are suckers for a classic one bed left trope. Enjoy.

Azriel walked into the cabin and nearly dropped his bag. The place was massive and beautifully decorated. He’d never been to the mountains before, at least not this far up, not on an overnight trip. But, when his group of friends asked him to go along with them, even though they were all couples, he couldn’t say no. It was time for him to take some time off of work, time for him to do something for himself. 

A weekend getaway was the perfect opportunity. 

He only had a moment of silence, though, because his friends soon trailed in after and they were not as quiet and serene as Azriel himself.

“This place is fucking huge!” Cassian yelled, his voice echoing throughout the grand room. Nesta followed him, eyes rolling, her hand in his. 

“Three days in this place,” Rhysand said, sighing as he entered. 

“It would be better if it was just Em and me, but I suppose it’s still going to be fun,” Mor chimed, giving Azriel a wink as she passed him.

“Let’s get unpacked and make a trip into town for groceries,” Feyre said, dropping her purse onto the counter and heading back out to the car to get her art bag. 

“And booze,” Cassian said, following to grab he and Nesta’s bags. “Can’t forget the booze.”

Azriel’s dropped his bag by the door and went back out to see what he could help unload. He nearly ran into Elain on the porch.

“Let me get that for you,” he said, taking her duffel bag from her.

“What a gentleman,” she sighed dramatically, her hand over her chest.

He rolled his eyes and carried it inside before making a couple more trips and then found himself in the grand room where Elain, Nesta and Feyre were whispering frantically. He raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the counter by Rhysand. “What’s happening there?”

“There aren’t enough beds,” he replied, simply.

With a shrug, Azriel said, “We knew that when we booked this place. Elain is taking the last bed and I’m taking the couch.”

Rhys took a swig from his beer. “There is no couch.”

Azriel blinked and looked around. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it, but…there wasn’t. Those closest thing was an ancient loveseat Mor and Emerie were sitting on and there was no way he was fitting on that thing.

Elain caught his eye with a wince. “I guess it’s a good thing Gwyn got invited to speak at that conference in Cesere, or you’d be sleeping on the floor.”

He blinked again. “What?”

Rhysand chuckled. “Follow along, Az.”

The realization hit him the moment he saw Elain’s cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. “You want me to share a bed with Lainy?”

Rhysand grinned and walked away, only for Azriel to realize that his tone had made that sentence sound like an insult.

“Not that that's a bad thing,” he followed, quickly.

Elain’s cheeks turned brighter, if that was even possible. 

“I can sleep on the floor,” Azriel continued, when she said nothing. “Or, the…chair, thing.”

Elain looked at where Mor sat with Emerie on her lap. They barely fit on the little piece of furniture. 

“You’re not sleeping on that,” Elain said, at last, her voice quiet. “And the entire cabin has hardwood floors. You…can sleep with me.”

Azriel nodded, all the while thinking that this “mix up” had been intentional. Rhysand’s grin had been telling enough, but Feyre had been trying to play matchmaker between him and Elain for years. She probably sorted out the whole ordeal the second they found out that Elain no longer had a roommate for the weekend. 

He wondered if there was a couch stashed somewhere in their room, just to make sure this happened.

“It’ll be just like when we had sleepovers when we were little,” Elain added when he picked his bag up and set it by the door to the room.

Their room.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share a room with Elain. It was that he did, far more than he should. He’d been in love with his best friend for longer than he could remember. He didn’t remember a time where he didn’t love Elain. But she had no idea and she never would.

Rhys, Feyre and Cassian decided to go to the store, while Elain, Nesta, Emerie, Mor and Azriel stayed behind. Within minutes, Mor and Emerie were making their way out to the hot tub, Nesta joining them. Which left Elain and Azriel in the living room.

“I’ll warn you,” she said, opening the cooler they’d brought from Velaris and pulling out two beers. “I'm a blanket hog.”

Azriel huffed a laugh, taking one from her outstretched hand. “That’s not good, then, because so am I.”

“Looks like we’ll need to find another blanket, then,” she smiled, that blush still staining her cheeks as she clinked her bottle against his. “Should we…join the others in the hot tub?”

Azriel nodded and when they both made a move for the bedroom, Azriel rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll just…get my shorts out of my bag and change in the bathroom.”

Elain cleared her throat as she nodded. 

He did just that, and when his shorts were on, he went out onto the back porch and sank into the hot tub with Mor, Emerie, and Nesta. 

The second he made himself comfortable, the sliding door opened again and Elain appeared in a little lavender bikini. Azriel’s mouth went dry and he tried his best to look away but he couldn’t. The second Elain’s eyes met his, Aziel’s jaw locked. Her eyes remained on his as she set down her towel and got in, opposite of him. 

“Az!”

Azriel’s eyes snapped to Mor. It obviously hadn’t been the first time she had said his name. “Hmm?”

“I asked if you minded being a gentleman and going in and grabbing us each a beer, too,” she said, raising an eyebrow as she looked at him.

He cleared his throat and looked at where Elain sat, her own beer pressed to her lips. He stood quickly, getting out. “Yeah, of course, I’ll be right back.”

He wrapped his towel waist and walked back into the kitchen. Rather than grab a few bottles, he grabbed the entire cooler, knowing Cassian would make sure the alcohol they were buying now would end up in the fridge anyways. Shouldering open the door, he found Nesta and Elain talking quietly, while Mor was swigging from a flask. They immediately hushed and looked at him, even as he set the cooler down and eyed Mor. “You needed a drink, huh?”

“I needed a beer,” she specified, taking one from him, as did Emerie and Nesta. “I never said I didn’t have a drink.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, grabbing fresh drinks for himself and Elain before taking his seat again, across from her. “What were you two talking about?” He asked, looking between Elain and her sister.

“The four orgasms your brother gave me last night,” Nesta grinned, opening her beer.

Elain choked on her beer, letting Azriel know that they certainly hadn’t been talking about that which made his curiosity grow. He gave Nesta a blank look. “Sorry I asked.”

Mor laughed quietly as Emerie put her arm around her. Elain was still trying to catch her breath, trying not to choke, blaming it on the beer going down the wrong pipe. 

The others returned from the grocery store and Feyre and Rhysand began cooking up a meal that was way too big for the lot of them. Once they’d eaten, they found themselves in the hot tub again, this time all of them trying to fit. Azriel was practically sitting on Cassian’s lap at one point, and once Cassian was drunk enough to become handsy, he excused himself. 

“Done snuggling?” Cassian grinned as Nesta climbed onto his lap with her newly filled drink. 

“Only to go clean up the kitchen,” Azriel announced, nudging Cassian in the head as he passed. “Feyre and Rhys did enough. It’s the least I can do.”

Azriel was almost to the door when Elain said, “I’ll help!”

The water sloshed and she rose, beads running down her body before she wrapped it up in her towel.

He swallowed, nodding and holding the door open for her. The headed for the kitchen, both sides full of dirty pots and pans, the counter lined with plates and silverware from their family meal.

“I’ll be right there,” she said, pausing as they passed their room. “I’m gonna change real quick.”

“You’re not getting back in?” He wanted to see that lavender bikini again…

“Too cramped,” she replied, scrunching her nose. “Wanna turn on a movie instead?”

So much for the bikini, but she did have a point about it the hot tub being a bit full.

One by one, they changed, before meeting in front of the sink.

“You wash, I’ll dry?” She asked, handing him the sponge.

Those hazel eyes narrowed, but he turned the hot water on. “Seems like I got the raw end of the deal, but sure.”

“What movie do you want to watch?” She asked, taking the pot he’d just finished rinsing bubbles out of.

He didn’t hesitate. “Something scary,” he grinned, even as Elain’s face blanched.

“You know I hate scary movies,” she groaned, wiping down plate after plate.

“We’re in a cabin, in the middle of the mountains,” he defended. “There’s never a better chance than now.”

“This sounds like the worst time possible!” she laughed, shaking her head as she put the dry dishes into the cabinet. 

“You asked what I wanted to watch, that’s what I want to watch,” he said, washing the last pot and drying it himself. His voice was light and Elain’s little smile only made him want to keep the gag going longer. “I promise not to let anyone get you tonight.” Since we’re sleeping in the same bed.

Elain must have thought the same thing because her cheeks were heating, once again. “Fine. One scary movie, but we’re watching something funny afterwards.”

“Deal,” Azriel said, smiling as he turned off the faucet and helped her put the clean dishes away. 

They went into their room and opened Azriel’s laptop on the bed. Opening one of the many streaming services, he scrolled through his options until he found one he liked and selected it as he grinned. 

“Friday the 13th,” Elain said, looking at the date on her phone. “Ha ha.”

“It’s practically a holiday,” he said, settling back against the pillows. “Only comes around a couple times a year, we might as well celebrate.”

She muttered something that sounded like Doesn’t seem like celebrating to me, but tucked her legs underneath herself and leaned back against her own pillows. Her arm leaned against his.

He pressed play.

To his surprise, she lasted a good half hour into the movie before starting to hide behind her pillow. Azriel pretended not to notice the way her knee fell against his, tried not to notice how when she jumped, she jumped towards him. 

“How pissed would you get,” Azriel began, quietly, as tense music began playing through the speakers, “if I scared the shit out of you in the middle of the night, just for giggles.” 

Elain slowly looked over at him from behind her pillow. “Try it and find out.”

Azriel’s brow rose and he grinned. Something in her tone had his stomach doing strange, familiar things. “Are you trying to be intimidating?” 

“Is it working?” she asked, the screen still blocked from her vision. 

Azriel pretended to think about it for a minute before saying, “No. Not at all.”

A scream sounded from the movie and Elain yelped, throwing her arms around Azriel. He caught her with an oomph as she buried her face into his chest. 

“I hate you,” she said, her words muffled against his shirt. “I hate you for making me watch this horrible movie.” 

He laughed softly, rubbing up and down her arm. “You’ll live. A little adrenaline is good for the body.”

“A little is one thing,” she said, her arms wrapping tighter around his neck as the wet sound of someone being stabbed came through the speakers. “My heart is about to beat out of my chest.”

Indeed, he could feel her frantic heartbeat, they were pressed so closely together. He could smell the vanilla and elderberry scent of her shampoo where her head was tucked beneath his chin.

With his other hand, he gently rubbed her back. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you if anyone tries to come get you.”

She pulled back, just a bit, so she could look him in the eye. “You better.”

Another scream rang out from the movie and Elain jumped just as bad as she did the first time. Azriel only chuckled and continued to rub her back. After a minute, he felt Elain’s head turn toward the movie again.

But she didn’t act like she had any intention of moving from where she was curled up in his lap. The laughter of their friends out in the hot tub still carried in to them, and Azriel knew both Cassian and Mor were drunk beyond reason. But no one had come to check on them after they’d gone inside to wash dishes.

He assumed that was Feyre’s doing.

After a particularly gruesome death where a woman took an ax to the face, she asked in a small voice, “How many more deaths?”

He glanced down at her and thought for a minute. “Four. Including the bad guy.”

She nodded. “And then we can watch something sweet?”

“Something sweet?” Azriel raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said something funny.”

“Well this movie has traumatized me and now I want to watch something romantic.”

“Romantic?” he repeated. “I don’t know about that.”

“No, no,” Elain said, fighting back. “You picked this mess, I pick the next one. Those were the rules.”

“Since when?”

“Since now, when I made up the rules.”

Azriel laughed, quietly. “Alright, fine. What romantic nonsense are you forcing onto me?”

“Oh, 13 Going on 30, not even a debate,” Elain said.

It was her favorite. He knew it was her favorite. He knew it was the movie that she was going to suggest, which is why Azriel had his eye roll ready to go.

Once the movie ended, he found hers and pressed play. She was instantly perkier, instantly invested in the laptop. 

Meanwhile, Azriel was leaning back against his pillows, yawning. “Wake me up when it’s over.”

“Oh no,” she said, chuckling. “I watched yours, you’re watching mine.”

“You spent half the movie behind your pillow,” he argued.

“You may do the same for this movie if you feel so inclined,” she jabbed. “But, you’ll miss the best parts.”

“Anthony Serkis dancing to Thriller is the best part,” he replied, leaning back, arm stretched out across the back of the pillows. “Wake me up when that scene comes on.”

Elain poked him in the side which made him jump, which made her giggle. 

“Eyes open or I’ll do it again,” she warned, and settled back into the pillows.

They were close.

It wasn’t unusual. They’d known each other for twenty years at this point and had been best friends for the majority of it. Throughout that friendship, there had been a thousand movies watched and their bodies had grazed one another’s. No, it wasn’t unusual, but every time Azriel’s skin grazed hers it still sent an electric buzz throughout his entire body. 

He never showed it, though, never gave any indication that he felt a damn thing when his skin touched hers. He wondered if she felt something similar or if she had ever had a thought like the many of his that ran through his mind. 

Surely, she hadn’t.

If she had, their friendship would be very different. Shit, it wouldn’t even be a friendship. It would be something more, something greater, something real that would have come out of Azriel’s wildest dreams. 

He looked over at her. She was fully engrossed in the movie, not even aware of his inward thoughts. 

Maybe it was that fourth beer, even though he felt none of the alcohol’s effects by the point, but he let his arm drape across her shoulders, just to see what she’d do. And at first, she did nothing. Azriel nearly muttered an apology and a fake excuse about reaching around her for something I’m the night stand…

But then she scooted closer, infinitesimally, settling against him. Into him.

His fingers began drawing shapes on her bare shoulder, the sleeve of her cardigan having fallen down. The tank top she wore beneath showed off the beginnings of a tan that he knew would be golden in the summer from working in her garden any spare daylight she had. And likely some nights, depending on what shift she’d be working at the hospital.

Slowly, as if she didn’t want him to notice what she was doing, she laid her head in the crook of his neck.

It was a wonder he was still breathing.

The door from the balcony slammed and they jumped apart, Mor’s bright laughter suddenly much louder than it’d been before.

“Are they in their room?” A voice tried to whisper from right outside their door.

Tried, but failed, because it was Feyre and it sounded as if she’d made good on her promise to drink the entire bottle of wine she’d bought at the store.

“I think so, but I think they’re asleep, so we should go to bed.” Rhys was, once again, the voice of reason.

The door knob jiggled and both Elain and Azriel held their breath. Thank God he’d thought to lock it, figuring Cassian would try to play some prank in the middle of the night.

They heard a very unladylike snort. “The door is locked. They’re not sleeping, they did what we’re about to go do—”

There was a scream and then Rhys’s voice was fading as he spoke, getting quieter with every word, as if he’d tossed Feyre over his shoulder and headed for the stairs leading to the rest of the bedrooms.

The movie continued to play, but neither of them spoke in the silence. Azriel felt Elain’s eyes on him after a moment, and he turned towards her. Gazed into those warm, caramel eyes. But her eyes weren’t on his.

She was looking at his mouth.

To hell with it.

Azriel leaned down and brushed the softest of kisses to her lips.

At first, she didn’t react but perhaps it was just the shock of it all because her lips met his as her hand rested idly on his thigh.

The kiss was soft, sweet, gentle. Yet, it was earth shattering. He felt that kiss in every inch of his body, he felt alive for the first time in a long, long time.

When the kiss broke, Azriel only backed up an inch and they stared at one another.

When Elain didn’t say anything, Azriel whispered, “Sorry.”

“Why?” she breathed. “I’ve been…waiting for you to do that for a long time.”

Azriel’s breathing hitched. “How long?”

“Long enough,” she promised, and kissed him again. Her soft, gentle hands ran through his hair as Azriel’s arms went around her. That kiss deepened and Azriel couldn’t form a single thought.

His entire world was changing before his eyes, but he couldn’t focus on that, couldn’t focus on a thing. He’d spent many nights dreaming about this, and here it was: he was kissing Elain Archeron. 

If this was all he got, thank the Mother, but he would take advantage of the opportunity he’d been given. His lips left hers and she next felt them on her neck, followed by the barest hint of teeth. Her head tipped back, giving him better access, and a quiet moan slipped out as his lips found that glorious spot where her neck met her shoulder. She melted into him as he explored that spot, what she did when he kissed, licked, sucked, tasted.

Her hand was still on his leg and she squeezed lightly as his mouth worshipped her neck. He paused for a moment, her hand much higher on his thigh that he’d realized. If she even scarcely moved her hand up, her fingers would brush against him, his body would let her know just how much this was affecting him. But as he let his teeth scrape over a sensitive spot, she didn’t timidly shift her fingers up a bit. No, Elain brazenly reached out and cupped Azriel through his sweatpants.

He hissed onto her skin, all the while relishing in the feel of her fingers around him. 

She seemed to find satisfaction over this, over his sounds, over the way his body tensed and quickly relaxed. She smiled, Azriel feeling the gesture against his own lips. After she gave him a gentle squeeze, Azriel was pulling her by her hips until she was planted in his lap, straddling his waist. One arm was instantly around her, the other holding the back of her head as he kissed her. He wanted to be as close to her as possible, every hesitant inch of him that he held back all these years finally being able to let go. 

The second her body made contact with his, she rocked her hips and Azriel swore against her lips. 

“Too much?” she breathed. As she pulled back, he could see how flushed her cheeks were, even though the only light came from his laptop. 

Azriel couldn’t help but quietly laugh. For her to think that this was too much… “No. Not at all.”

This time when he kissed her, her body melted into his. She was pressed up so tightly against him that he swore he could feel the beating of her heart against his chest. 

When his tongue slid between her lips, she moaned and the sound alone had Azriel wishing he was inside of her. What sounds would she make then, as he pleasured her far greater than anyone surely had before? He would be sure of it, if that time came, when that time came. Judging from the way her hands had been wandering, it wasn’t too far off. 

The movie still played in the background, the laughter of their friends outside, but there was nothing and no one but the two of them in that moment. Elain ran her hands through Azriel’s hair, hair nails lightly dragging against his scalp and he made a low noise of pleasure. Smiling, Elain pulled back to survey him. He’d be willing to bet his face was just as flushed as hers, his lips just as swollen.

“Tell me when to stop and I will,” he breathed.

She bit her lip and glanced down. Down, at the evidence of how much he was enjoying this. “And if I don’t want you to stop?”

Azriel hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to go further, he had never wanted to go further this badly before, but because he was caught off guard. If there was one thing that he and Elain never talked about throughout the years of their friendship were each other’s sex lives. He knew Elain, though. She may not have been completely innocent, but she sure as hell wasn’t as outspoken as her sisters about what went on behind closed doors. 

“Then I won’t,” Azriel said, at last, jaw ticking as he swallowed. He felt like he was about to combust, every part of his being barely hanging on by a thread. 

Elain ran her hands down his chest as she said, “Good.”

Her fingers delicately found the hem of his shirt and she pulled it up over his messy hair before tracing the ink on his chest. Azriel scarcely breathed as he remained perfectly still, letting her explore the skin she had always seen but never touched.

She followed one flowing swirl of dark ink that trailed down his bicep, letting her hand continue down his arm until it wrapped around the hand he had resting on her hips. Azriel watched in frozen silence as she brought his scarred hand to her lips and pressed a kiss over his skin. At his quiet gasp, the only sign of his shock, Elain’s eyes flicked up to his. Keeping her eyes on his, she then kissed each finger, before taking his other hand and showing it the same love and affection.

He blinked away the burning in his eyes at the tender act. He and Elain had discussed his hands before. She knew how he felt, to have them acknowledged. The cool wash of shame he usually felt was replaced by a tightening in his chest and he kissed her again. Her hands were once again exploring his body so he took the opportunity to do the same.

One of Azriel’s hands left her face, trailing down her neck, to her breast— where he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.

He felt her smile against his lips and he chuckled, loving the feeling of her breast in his hand, even through the thin t-shirt she wore. It was baggy enough that he hadn’t even noticed, but now…

He couldn’t stop himself from pulling away from the kiss, from pinching her nipple just hard enough that she whimpered, and he watched as they both hardened beneath the fabric.

“Can I take this off,” he whispered, letting his thumb brush beneath the hem of her shirt, over her soft, warm skin.

Elain nodded and he wondered if words may have become just as foreign for her as they were for him. He took his time taking off that first piece of clothing. There had been so much anticipation that led to that moment, so many years wondering and imagining. Now that it was happening, he didn’t want to rush it, wouldn’t rush a thing. He would take his sweet time.

They had nowhere else to be. 

He pulled the thin tee over her head and tossed it aside, not bothering to look away from her for a second to see where it had gone. His gaze was fully focused elsewhere.

Elain watched, slowly rocking her hips side to side in a silent tease, as Azriel gently cupped her breasts in his palms, his thumbs brushing over her peaked nipples. 

Elain let out a held breath as he leaned down and took one of them into his mouth. Her fingers twisted into his hair and she gasped, eyes falling shut.

Her hips bucked of their own accord, her head falling back, and one of Azriel’s hands swept down her, holding her to him. His teeth bit down on the sensitive nub, his tongue flicking over it a second later, before his lips closed around it and he sucked. At the same time, his other hand showing the other as much attention as he could. He was hard, so hard, just a pair of leggings and panties between the two of them. She ground her hips down on him as she straddled him, the quiet noises she made like the sweetest song he’d ever heard.

His lips found her other breast, becoming as acquainted with it as he had the first, letting his teeth and tongue explore and then his lips were back on her neck.

“Az,” she breathed. 

“Hmm?” His mouth never left her breast.

“I want you inside of me.”

The words rushed out of her mouth, hardly a whisper, but Azriel caught each and every word with perfect clarity. He leaned back and caught her eye, and he knew by the look in hers that she meant it.

Slowly and gently, Azriel held her tight and rolled her over, laying her back against the blankets. Hovering over her, he kissed her softly on the lips before trailing down her body. His lips found her neck, her shoulder, between her breasts and down her abdomen before he looped his fingers into her shorts and pulled them down to reveal a lace thong in a color very similar to what her swimsuit had been. 

He pressed a kiss over top of her sex, through the lace and he swore he heard her release a shuddering breath. He relished in the sound, in the sight and smell and feel of her. His senses were overrun with her, everything around him screaming Elain, Elain, Elain. All he lacked was the taste of her, though her kiss was still fresh on his lips. He wanted to linger, to truly taste her, but she’d been very clear with what she wanted. He’d take his time between her legs, the next time he had the opportunity.

So he slowly dragged that scrape of lace down, Elain lifting her hips to help him. And then she was bare before him.

Azriel sat up on his knees, taking her in. There was a blush on her cheeks and he couldn’t tell if it was her nerves that caused it or what they’d been doing, but he brushed his thumb along her lips. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

That blush deepened and she pressed a kiss to his thumb before she reached out and tugged him towards her by his sweatpants. “How are you supposed to fuck me with those on?”

The noise that came out of Azriel was primal as Elain’s fingers gripped the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged them down. She sucked in her bottom lip as his cock sprang free, beautifully hard and ready for her. 

Slowly, she brushed her thumb over the head and stroked him once before she laid back and spread her legs for him.

For a moment, it all became real. Azriel felt like he was living in a dream and maybe he was; but, if he was, he didn’t ever want to wake up. He ran a finger between her folds before sweeping his hands up her thighs, positioned himself just right, and slowly slid his cock inside of her. 

Elain gasped as her fingers dug into his skin, her body tensing before starting to adjust to his size, his length. 

Her eyes had fluttered shut as he slid all the way home, in to the hilt.

“You feel…” Azriel couldn’t find the words. Amazing didn’t seem to cover it. Earth-shattering was a little closer to what he was looking for, as was mind-blowing, but he dropped his forehead to hers and breathed, “so fucking good.”

She only nodded in agreement, pulling his lips to hers and kissing him with a need that told him she’d been waiting for this as long as he’d been.

He pulled out and pushed his hips back into hers a long, slow thrust. He let her feel every inch of him, and with every roll of his hips, he moved faster, harder, deeper, until the headboard was thudding against the wall. Azriel had a hard time caring, didn’t really give a shit as he looked down at Elain, watched as his cock slammed in and out of her. She was whimpering, his name tumbling from her lips in hushed whispers.

Her head fell back against the pillows as she moaned and her hand went right between her legs, expertly finding that tight bundle of nerves.

“Are you close?” He asked, dragging his teeth along the exposed column of her throat.

“Yes.” Her voice was high, breathy, something straight out of one of Azriel’s most private, personal dreams.

He leaned down, his lips inches from her rosy nipple, ready to help guide her over the edge with his teeth, but she threaded her fingers into his damp hair and pulled his face up to hers.

“I want,” she panted, hand tightening in his hair, “to come with you.”

The words nearly destroyed him. Azriel nodded, lips finding hers and set a brutal pace, not caring about the banging of the headboard on the wall or the fact that the movie quit playing at some point. He was too focused on how amazing Elain felt, how beautiful she looked, how sliding his cock inside of her had felt like home. He felt it build, felt her winding up tighter and tighter and then Elain cried out, his name a prayer and a curse all in one. As soon as she shattered around him, nails dragging down his back, he’d cum right alongside her, burying his face in her neck and groaning her name.

He had never felt anything like it, had never felt anything even close to how he felt as he fell over the edge, holding her in his arms. He rode out his orgasm as she rode out hers, and when he couldn’t move anymore, he fell into her. His face was still buried in her neck, he was still whispering sweet nothings into the silence.

Once Elain’s knees stopped shaking around his hips, her hands found his back. Those gentle, delicate fingertips of hers swept across his skin until his breathing evened out. When he finally found the courage to look up at her, the look in her eyes made his knees weak. He brushed back her hair that had fallen into her face and pressed his lips softly to hers.

“That was…” he began, quietly, shaking his head. “Elain, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Years?” she suggested, and when he grinned she laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

“Was it…”

“Better than I ever expected,” she confessed, taking a deep breath. With his face in her hands, his forehead fell against hers. “What do you want to bet that everyone in this damned house just heard everything we just did?”

Azriel laughed quietly before kissing her, sweetly. “I don’t give a damn if they heard or not. Let them hear.”

Elain’s laughter echoed through the cabin as Azriel rolled them over, only to perfectly pleasure her once more. 

[nikachansstuff]

Hahahaha let me have this ok?!

I know I’m late to the party, but what struck me during Sarah’s Spotify video—including her rings (😆)—is that she is dressed as a tortured poet. She’s clearly in her ttpd era. The question is, did she want her outfit and accessories to tell us what kind of story she’s currently drafting editing?

If she’s been using ttpd as inspiration, as we suspect, then it might mean she’s editing a love story that is forbidden and all-consuming...like the one that plays out in Fortnight (and this whole tortured, fatalistic theme can be found throughout the entire album, including the song Sarah featured on her instagram). Now, why am I bringing up Fortnight specifically?

Because of this scene:

In the music video, we see forbidden lovers pining for each other, sharing secret glances and touches. Everything is in black and white until they both type the tortured words: I love you, it’s ruining my life. These words emit two colors that draw together and blend. Kind of like Elain’s warm light and Azriel’s cold darkness in acowar. Or, you know, Sarah’s contrasting, colorful rings amid her black and white outfit. ✨

Even if it doesn’t mean anything more, I am here for all the ttpd vibes (and a real update, please).