#and Elain's quiet confidence in this one thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewulf · 8 months ago

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Escapism || Azriel

Summary: Request -can you make an azriel x night court reader fanfic request? I was listening the song escapism by raye and this just kinda came to me! It's kinda unhinged so you can change whatever if you choose to write it. Y/N and Lucien have been together for like 100+ years but then Elain Archeron comes along and they are mates so lucien begrudgingly breaks up with Reader... Read Rest Here

A/N: This one is sad but gets sweet towards the end. Reader is in her feelings!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.1k +

TW: Drunkeness, reader being mean, some physical altercations

Your relationship with Lucien had always felt destined. Willing it to be woven by the threads of fate and bound by centuries of love and laughter. For over a hundred years, you and Lucien had built a life that straddled the boundary between the Autumn Court and the Night Court, which you called home. It was a life full of compromises and sacrifices, but every moment was a testament to the depth of your affection for each other.

But fate had a funny way of not being so destined. Elain Archeron stepped into the picture. Her very presence unraveling the future you had envisioned. When Lucien revealed that Elain was his mate the foundation of your world crumbled. This wasn’t just about losing a lover. It was about the rending of a bond you believed was unbreakable. Lucien’s voice trembled with conflict as he confessed the truth. His amber eyes reflecting a pain that echoed your own. He didn’t want to leave you, but the mating bond was not something either of you could fight. It was powerful, demanding, and absolute. It was destiny.

Amidst your heartbreak a more piercing pain emerged when you discovered that your friends—Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and even Nesta—had known about Elain and her bond with Lucien before you did. Half of the Inner Circle knew, and the other half was excluded. Amren, Mor, you and Azriel were the ones left in the dark. They had kept it a secret hoping to protect you from the inevitable heartache. Yet this revelation only deepened your sense of betrayal. How could they, the ones you considered family, keep you in the dark about something that would shatter your life?

The night you found out was an uncomfortable one. You weren't usually one for confrontation, but the rage that built up inside you was ready to explode. As you sat among Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta in the quiet, imposing space of the House of Wind the air felt thick with tension. They began to explain, voices low and fraught with anxiety. They each detailed how they had known about Elain and Lucien’s mate bond for months. Their words were meant to be comforting but were instead filled with reasons and justifications about protecting you from heartache, sparing your feelings until they absolutely had to share the truth.

Sitting across from them in the quietude of the House of Wind you couldn’t hold back the surge of anger and disappointment that welled up inside you. "How could you?" you demanded, your voice quivering not just with sorrow, but with indignation. "You all knew. For months, you knew, and not one of you thought to warn me?"

Rhysand had a somber expression. He was the first to respond. "We struggled with whether to tell you," he admitted. His usual confidence replaced by a hesitancy that did little to quell your growing resentment. "The last thing we wanted was to see you hurt."

"And yet, here I am. Hurt all the same," you shot back. The pain sharp in your voice. "Hurt and betrayed. You chose to protect me from heartache but instead you ensured it."

Feyre reached out with her hand tentative and unsure. "We thought we were doing the right thing. We thought it might not happen. That maybe the bond wouldn’t take hold right away and..."

"And what?" you interrupted ripping your hand away from her touch. "That I’d what? Be spared the pain? Look at me, Feyre. Do I look spared to you?" Your voice was sharp. Sharper than you’d ever spoken to any of them before.

Cassian who was usually the one to lighten the mood sat unusually quiet. His usual bravado nowhere in sight. Nesta had her jaw set, her eyes revealing a turmoil that mirrored your own. It was a rare glimpse into her often-guarded emotions.

"It was never about doubting your strength," Cassian finally said, his voice low. "It was about giving you happiness for as long as we could."

"Happiness built on a lie?" you asked. The irony was bitter on your tongue. "Is that what our friendship is about? Lies?"

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Each of them struggled with their choices, now clearly regretting the pain those choices had caused. It was evident in their downcast eyes and the slump of their shoulders. It was a shared burden yet unequally felt.

"I'm not just some fragile piece of glass," you continued. Your anger only fueled by their silence. "I deserved to know, to make my own choices. To prepare, or... to say goodbye on my own terms."

The conversation that followed was a painful unraveling of trust and intent. As they each tried to explain, to justify, you realized that this wound would take time to heal. Perhaps what stung the most was the realization that their intentions had robbed you of your agency. Leaving you to a mere spectator in your own life. They spoke of protection. Of sparing you pain. Each explanation threading through the air with the weight of unspoken truths now laid bare. Their voices blended into a cacophony of excuses, each one fueling the fire of your anger and hurt further.

Rhysand’s voice held a note of desperation as he tried once more to explain, "We only wanted—"

"Would you just shut up! All of you!" you erupted cutting him off mid-sentence. Your voice, resolute, sliced through the room. "I don't want to hear it. Nothing you can do or say will make this right.” The room went deathly silent. The gravity of your words hanging heavily between you. Their faces were etched with regret and shock at your outburst. It was a stark reminder of the deep rift that had formed within your group.

You stood abruptly. The chair scraping sharply against the floor. "I can’t be here," you stated flatly. Your voice colder now, resolved. Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, each step echoing your departure.

You needed space. Needed air to breathe away from the stifling atmosphere of justifications and apologies. You decided to go to Mor’s place. She too hadn’t known about Elain and Lucien. She hadn’t been part of the deceit that had upended your world. As you left the House of Wind the open sky above seemed to offer the first breath of true freedom since the revelation had shattered your peace.

The walk to Mor’s was quiet. The streets of Velaris holding a serene calm that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you. Reaching her house, you knocked briskly, and she opened the door with a surprised, yet immediately concerned expression.

"Can I stay here for a bit?" you asked without preamble. The weariness in your voice more pronounced now that you were away from the others.

"Of course," Mor responded instantly before stepping aside to let you in. Her eyes searching yours for the pain she was quick to sense. "Whatever you need."

As you stepped into the refuge Mor offered you felt a slight unclenching in your chest. A small relief in the acceptance of a friend untouched by the deceit that had marred your trust in others. You hoped to find the space to heal. To gather the scattered pieces of your heart and perhaps, in time, to forgive. But for now, you simply needed the quiet understanding of someone who had been kept in the dark as much as you had.

Compounding your agony was the necessity to leave the Autumn Court where you had spent half your time with Lucien. You had to come home completely now, full-time to the Night Court. Each step away from the Autumn lands was a reminder of the isolation waiting for you back home. Away from the life and love you had known. The Night Court felt more oppressive than ever. It was supposed to be your sanctuary but now it only served as a cage. It was trapping you with your memories and your pain.

Despite the profound sense of betrayal and the sharp sting of heartache that pervaded your days you chose to stay because Velaris was still home. It was here among the winding streets, the starlit skies, and the vibrant buzz of the Night Court that you had grown, loved, and dreamed. Leaving would mean abandoning not just the place but the fragments of yourself that still clung to the hopes and dreams you’d nurtured here. The thought of leaving Azriel, the one constant who understood your pain without needing words, whose silent strength had become your sanctuary, felt like severing the last thread of stability you possessed. In the depths of your turmoil, Velaris, with all its darkness and lights, remained a place where healing seemed possible. Where the pieces of your broken heart might someday mend.

You withdrew into yourself. Your nights consumed by reckless escapades and endless drinking. You shunned daylight, avoided responsibilities, and ignored the worried glances of your friends. Azriel, who had always been a silent sentinel in your life watched from afar. His shadowed gaze filled with concern that you were too lost in your grief to notice.

This spiral of despair drew you deeper into the depths of the Night Court where you sought oblivion in the bottom of a glass. You hoped and prayed it might wash away the ache in your soul. Your heart felt like a hollow shell, beaten, and bruised by betrayal and loss. You had to wonder if you’d ever find your way back to the light.

As the days bled into nights your world narrowed to the dim corners of taverns and the bitter burn of liquor. Training sessions were skipped, duties neglected. Each glass raised was an attempt to erase the sting of wasted years. You had given a century of your life to Lucien, woven dreams and plans tightly around a love you believed was mutual. Only to find it undone by a destiny that held no space for you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that your love had been a placeholder until his true mate appeared.

You felt like a fool, a pawn in the grand scheme of their secrets and politics. This revelation forced you into isolation. You could hardly stand to look at the people that left you in the dark. Let alone speak to them. Only Mor and Azriel became your solace. Mor who had also been kept out of the loop shared in your feelings of betrayal understanding the deep cut of being excluded by those you loved. Azriel, too, had been kept in the dark, his complicated feelings for Elain used against him to justify the secrecy. You found it cruel. A manipulation of his unspoken affections that only deepened your trust in him, knowing that he, too, had been a victim of their concealments.

Azriel watched over you with a quiet intensity. His shadows whispering of your pain in ways words never could. He knew the depth of your heartbreak having borne his own silent loves and losses. From the shadowed corners of the room, he observed your self-destructive spiral with a growing sense of desperation. There was an understanding in his eyes, a shared recognition of love unreturned that made him reach out to you despite your withdrawal.

Your interactions with Azriel became the few moments of genuine connection in your days. He didn’t push you to speak or to return to the life you’d left behind. Instead, he simply shared your space. Offering you a silent solidarity. His presence was your calm. And in his eyes you found the empathy you’d been denied by so many others. Yet, even this comfort was tinged with the bitter knowledge that it was borne from shared pain. Something created from the fragments of your broken hearts.

On one particularly rough evening, feeling the dull ache of wine coursing through your veins, you sought the familiarity of the library. It was a place that once offered solace, but now it felt like navigating an once beloved yet distant landscape.

Staggering slightly, you found yourself pushing open the heavy door of the library. The scent of old books and ink momentarily grounding you. Inside Mor was tucked into her favorite nook surrounded by a mountain of scrolls and books. Her presence immediately brought a smile to your face and without hesitation you blurted out, "Mor! My girl, let's go to Rita's." Your voice wavered with a mixture of forced cheerfulness and palpable pain betraying your already intoxicated state.

As you made this impromptu invitation you were acutely aware of Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel gathered in a solemn cluster near the grand oak table that dominated the room. Their conversation was likely heavy with undisclosed burdens. They paused abruptly as they noticed your entrance. The library usually a sanctuary of whispered lore and hushed dialogues felt oppressively silent as their eyes fixed on you.

With a deliberate effort to mask your pain with a veneer of cheerfulness you ignored Rhys and Cassian completely. Instead directing your gaze to where Azriel stood, his figure cloaked in customary shadows. "Hi, Shadowsinger!" you exclaimed. Your tone lighter than your heart felt. It was easier to pretend. To keep up the facade of resilience than to acknowledge the jagged pieces of your heart.

Mor quickly stood, catching the tail end of your forced merriment. Her eyes flickered with a mix of concern and understanding. She exchanged a look with the others. Her expression pleading for them to somehow mend the chasm that had opened between you all. But when she saw you purposefully ignoring Rhys and Cassian, her shoulders slumped in resignation. Recognizing the depth of your pain and your current incapacity for forgiveness.

She packed up her belongings. Her movements deliberate. "You're going one way or another, aren't you?" she asked you. Her voice was filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own. It wasn't a question, but a statement. A knowing of the inevitable path the night would take.

"Yes. I need to not think… just for a little while," you replied. Your own smile faltering as the false cheer began to crumble under the weight of your true feelings.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a glance with a mix of frustration and regret marring their features. They understood that their attempts at reconciliation would be futile this evening. Azriel stood silent and observant. He met your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes. He nodded slightly. A promise that he would keep you safe even if from a distance.

Even as you grappled with your feelings of betrayal and heartache Azriel had already found it within himself to forgive Rhys and Cass for keeping the truth from both of you. His capacity for understanding their motives. Flawed as they were by their protective instincts, allowed him to see past the pain they had inadvertently caused. Azriel recognized that their actions stemmed from a deep-seated desire to shield both him and you from the inevitable pain of Lucien’s bond with Elain.

You, however, found forgiveness not so easily granted. Your feelings of betrayal were compounded by the thought that your closest friends had decided your fate without your input. Treating you more like a fragile object to be protected rather than a person capable of facing harsh truths. While Azriel had moved towards reconciliation you remained rightfully stubborn wrestling with a wound too fresh to close

With Mor in tow, you left the library. The heavy silence settling back among the shelves after your departure. Azriel followed discreetly. A shadow among shadows. His concern a tangible cloak around him as he watched you attempt to drown your sorrows under the guise of revelry at Rita’s. The night stretched before you. It was filled with the echoes of what could have been and the sharp sting of what was now your reality.

At Rita’s the ambiance had devolved into a haze for you. Each drink an attempt to erase the sharp edges of your reality. The buzz of the crowd and the clink of glasses were a distant backdrop to the storm raging inside you. As you reached for another glass your movements were sluggish and unfocused. A stranger slipped beside you, his smile too eager, his intentions unclear. He offered you a drink with a slick insistence that made your skin crawl even through the fog of alcohol.

The moment your fingers grazed the cool surface of the glass Azriel materialized at your side. His movements were a blur. The glass knocked from your grasp and shattering against the hard floor with a resounding crash that sliced through the bar's cacophony. "Enough, Y/N," his voice cut through your stunned silence, low and laced with an urgency that tightened his features.

"Why?!" The word tore from your throat, raw and loud, fueled by the sharp bite of alcohol and a torrent of pain you no longer had the strength to contain. "Why do you care? Just let me drown it all out, Az! Let me forget!" Your words were a mix of accusation and desperation spilling out in a reckless cascade.

Pain flickered across Azriel's face His eyes darkening with concern. "It’s not safe, Y/N. That drink. That male was trying to drug you. I can't—I won't let that happen,” he insisted. His voice firm despite the chaos around you.

Rebellion surged within you, potent and bitter. "Don't do this to me, Azzy!" The nickname was usually a term of endearment but now sounded like a rebuke, heavy with your anguish. "You can't save me from this. Let me have this!"

Your attempt to pull away was futile against his strength. Azriel’s eyes scanned the crowd one last time giving more a quick nod, his decision made in the span of a heartbeat when she nodded back. With no other choice as you continued to struggle against him he wrapped his arm securely around your waist and winnowed you both away, the world dissolving into shadows. You reappeared on a deserted hillside just outside the city. The sharp, cold air was a slap against your heated skin. The stark silence a jarring contrast to the noise of Rita’s.

“I can’t watch you destroy yourself, Y/N. I just can’t,” Azriel implored, his voice thick with emotion as he steadied your staggering form.

"Destroy myself?!" you screamed back. The frustration and hurt boiling over. Your hands balled into fists. Your entire body tense with pent-up emotion. "My life is already destroyed, Azriel! I've lost everything. My love, my dreams, my worth! What's there left to destroy?"

In your anguish you lashed out physically, pushing against Azriel's chest with all the force of your despair. He staggered slightly but didn't push back. He of all people understood your need to vent the storm of emotions inside you.

“You haven’t lost everything,” he tried to reassure you but even he knew where your head was at. You weren’t going to listen to him.

"I have!" Your voice broke, raw and quivering with the intensity of your pain. "For a century, I loved him, Az. A century! And for what? To be discarded when his real mate shows up? What does that make me? Just a placeholder? I'm worthless, Az. If he couldn't even love me, who will?"

"No, Y/N, that's not true—" Azriel began but you cut him off again. Your hands pushing against his shoulders trying futilely to move the immovable.

"No, you don't get it!" Tears streamed down your face blurring your vision as you swung a punch. Your fist connecting weakly with his chest. He absorbed the blow with practiced ease. His expression pained more by your words than the physical contact. "Everyone has someone… Feyre has Rhys, Elain has Lucien now... and me? I'm alone. Utterly alone. Who could love someone so... so replaceable?" Your words tumbled out as a cascade of hurt and insecurity forgetting in your pain that Azriel himself had known the sting of unreciprocated feelings.

Azriel caught your wrists gently, stopping your strikes. His gaze intense, a mix of pain and resolve flickering in his eyes. "Y/N, listen to me," he implored. His tone firm yet tender. "I understand more than you know. I've felt that loneliness. That fear of being unloved and replaceable. But you, Y/N, you are not replaceable to me. You’re invaluable. You’re loved deeply by those who truly know you, even if you can't see it right now."

Your resistance faltered with tears spilling over as his words washed over you revealing his own vulnerabilities. You sagged against him, your energy spent, your sobs muffled against his chest. Azriel didn’t just offer comfort. He shared your grief, understanding it from his own unspoken heartaches.

"Because you mean everything to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. A confession laden with the weight of his own once-hidden feelings. "And I refuse to let you believe you're anything less than that." In his embrace you felt a sliver of solace pierce the veil of your despair. Perhaps you weren't as alone as you had believed. In the quiet of the night with Azriel, you dared to hope that your heart could find a way to mend.

As your sobs quieted into weary, shuddering breaths on the hillside, Azriel recognized the depth of your exhaustion and despair. With a care born of years spent navigating the shadows, he scooped you up into his arms. His strength a quiet reassurance in the enveloping darkness. You were too lost in your own misery to protest. Your body limp against his chest as he winnowed you both back to the sanctuary of his room.

Once inside Azriel carried you straight to the bathroom. The soft glow of candlelight casting gentle shadows across the walls. Setting you down with the utmost care he turned on the tap letting cool water fill the basin. With a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual stoicism, he soaked a soft cloth, wringing it out gently before turning to you.

"You're safe here, Y/N," he murmured. His voice low and soothing as he began to dab at your face. Each gentle touch wiped away streaks of makeup and tears revealing the raw vulnerability beneath. His hands were steady and careful. Moving with a respect that honored your brokenness without making you feel more fragile.

Seeing you so shattered, so utterly surrendered to your grief, stirred a protective tenderness in him. After he had cleaned your face he helped you out of your clothes and into his own. Each movement was respectful and patient. His eyes averted to give you privacy even in your despondent state. He chose a soft shirt and loose pants. Clothes that would comfort rather than constrict. When you were dressed he guided you to his bed with his arm around your waist both a support and a shield. The world seemed to quiet as he tucked you under the covers.

You lay there, a small, fragile form in the vastness of his bed with your eyes staring blankly at the shadowed ceiling. Azriel hesitated, watching you with a mix of concern and a poignant ache to ease your pain. Unable to bear the distance, he lay down beside you. His body a careful line of warmth at your side.

As you lay next to Azriel his presence enveloped you in a tenderness you hadn't fully seen before. The night around you was quiet, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind outside and your own unsteady breaths. Azriel's room was usually a place of solitude and shadows. It felt different now. Warmer, filled with a quiet strength and a palpable gentleness that radiated from him.

"Let it all out, Y/N," he whispered next to you. His voice was a soft command in the darkness, soothing and deep. His hand found yours under the blankets, his fingers intertwining with yours. You felt a sob rise again. The emotions overwhelming.

He didn't shush you or tell you to be strong. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter. His grip a lifeline in the turmoil you felt. His presence was a vow of steadfastness. A promise not spoken but felt deeply.

Lying beside him, you realized you had never seen Azriel so openly gentle and caring. His usual reserve and cool demeanor were replaced by an earnest tenderness. It was as if the night had peeled back a layer of his persona revealing the depth of his empathy and the true extent of his kindness. This wasn't the Spy Master known to most. The one that was cold and calculating, always in the background. This was Azriel as only someone he truly cared for might see him. His kindness wasn't just an act of comfort. It was a testament to his genuine concern for you. To love you when you felt most unlovable. To be there in every low and hold you through every shadow.

"I'm not going anywhere," Azriel continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "You are loved, deeply. Even when it feels like you're alone. You are important to me. More than you could possibly know."

With Azriel's words wrapping around you like a gentle embrace you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a moment, that you might one day feel whole again. His kindness, his unwavering support reminded you that even in your most broken moments you were not alone.

Azriel didn't rush you or demand that you compose yourself. Instead, he simply held your hand throughout letting the quiet solidarity of his presence anchor you back from the tempest of your grief. As the emotional exhaustion of the day's events caught up with you, your eyelids grew heavy with the weight of sleep tugging them down.

With Azriel's fingers interlaced with yours and his calm breathing next to you, a profound fatigue began to blanket your senses. It was the kind of tiredness that came from having wept thoroughly and being in the presence of someone who demanded nothing of you but to be yourself. Slowly, the room around you seemed to fade away as you drifted into sleep. The echoes of your turmoil quieting into silence under the protective watch of the Shadowsinger.

As the first rays of dawn began to filter through the curtains you stirred, slowly emerging from the restless grasp of sleep. Your body felt heavy. Each movement laden with the remnants of last night’s despair. As you shifted, trying to orient yourself, you realized you were entangled with Azriel. His arms loosely draped around you, his body a protective barrier against the chill of the morning.

Opening your eyes fully, you met his gaze—alert, intense, yet filled with a softness that was reserved only for moments like this. He had been watching you. His eyes tracing the lines of worry and sadness that had settled on your face even in sleep.

The memory of last night's breakdown. The raw pain, the tears, the desperate words, rushed back in vivid clarity. You were suddenly mortified. The intensity of your vulnerability making you feel exposed and small. You tried to pull away, intending to escape the intimacy and your own mortification. But Azriel’s arms tightened instead, gently but firmly keeping you in place. You faced him, cheeks burning, and your words stumbled out in a flustered rush.

"Az, I... I'm just so—sorry," you stammered as if the words tripping over each other. "For hitting you, and—everything. I wasn’t... I shouldn’t have..."

He was quiet for a moment. His gaze steady and understanding. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and calm, cutting through your babble of apologies with effortless precision. "No apologies," he said simply. His eyes locked on yours conveying depth beyond words. "It’s okay."

"But I lost control, and I—," you tried again. Your voice a tangled whisper of regret and embarrassment.

Azriel gently shushed you with a slight shake of his head. "You needed to let out," His tone left no room for argument. "I’m here. That’s what matters."

Your attempts to articulate the mess of emotions felt cumbersome and inadequate compared to his succinct reassurance. You swallowed hard. Your next breath shaky as you tried to reconcile the kindness in his actions with the turmoil you felt inside. The warmth of his embrace, the quiet strength in his few words, slowly coaxed the walls around your heart to lower. His acceptance was simple and unwavering. It granted you the space to be vulnerable without the burden of judgment.

"You're here," you spoke softly. A statement rather than a question. You allowed yourself to lean back against him, finding a measure of peace in the security his presence offered. In the quiet that followed his steady breathing became a reassuring rhythm in the soft light of dawn, anchoring you amidst the remnants of last night’s storm.

As you settled deeper into Azriel's embrace, comforted by the warmth of his body and the protective enclosure of his wings around you profound sense of security enveloped you. His wings isolated you from the chaos of the world and allowed the weight of your troubles to recede momentarily.

Within this intimate cocoon Azriel's hands gently soothed you, tracing calming patterns along your back and occasionally running his fingers through your hair easing away the knots of both stress and sadness. This gentle touch, combined with the protective embrace of his wings, invited a deeper relaxation and a fleeting peace.

"You're safe here," Azriel whispered. His voice a soft rumble that was both reassuring and grounding. "You will always be safe with me."

His words were simple yet deeply meaningful. They comforted you, encouraging a slow, steadying breath as each word seemed to ease a little more of your turmoil. Surrounded by his presence the room no longer felt like just a physical space but a sanctuary against all your fears and uncertainties.

As Azriel offered a rare comfort his mind was awash with thoughts and feelings for you. He had always admired your strength, your grace, and the kindness that seemed to illuminate your every action. Even when you were with Lucien he had noticed how your presence could soften the hardest of hearts and brighten the darkest corners. His feelings had been kept hidden. A secret shadowed beneath his stoic exterior as you had seemed unreachably intertwined with someone else.

Azriel's interest in Elain initially served as a safe distraction from confronting the deeper, more intense feelings he had for you. Now with the situation having changed and the possibility of being more than just friends emerging. He realized that his feelings for Elain had been a way to guard his heart against the more daunting prospect of a deeper connection with you. Recognizing this, Azriel was determined to be patient. He understood the importance of timing and your need to heal. He knew that any possibility of exploring something deeper with you would require careful consideration and respect for your emotional state. Thus, he was prepared to wait. He would offer his support and presence as you navigated your path to recovery, hoping that when you were ready, he might have a chance to express his true feelings.

In this quiet moment as dawn's light began to seep through the curtains, Azriel made a promise to himself for you. He would be there for you not just as a protector or a friend, but as someone who loved you deeply. Even if that love must remain unspoken for now. He would help you heal, support you in finding yourself again, and offer his love silently, unwaveringly, during the times you found it hardest to love yourself.

"Whatever comes next, I'm here. We'll face it together," he murmured. His voice a soft echo in the quiet room. This promise was not just a commitment to support you through your healing but a silent acknowledgment of his hopes for the future. A future where, when you were ready, he might share his heart openly with you. For now, though Azriel would be your steadfast shadow, a silent guard to you with a love profound yet patient. Waiting for the moment when your heart could welcome the depth of his.

As the morning stretched lazily into afternoon, the quietude of Azriel's room was punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of you resting against him. The previous turmoil had ebbed away leaving a calm that hadn't been felt in a long while. In this peaceful interlude you slipped back into a deep, restorative sleep, cradled by the warmth of Azriel and the secure embrace of his wings.

While you slept Azriel carefully extricated himself to prepare a simple yet thoughtful meal. He moved quietly, his shadows flitting about, almost as if they were checking on you. Ensuring that your slumber was undisturbed. He returned with a plate bearing a light lunch.

As the soft light of the afternoon filtered through the curtains you slowly awoke from the deep, restful sleep. You had been vaguely aware, even in slumber, of their comforting presence. Something that went beyond Azriel's physical proximity. It was his shadows, those silent watchers that typically hovered at the fringes, manifesting his will, and echoing his moods.

These shadows which normally adhered to Azriel’s strict commands with unwavering discipline, had over time, subtly changed their behavior around you. It started with small gestures—shifting slightly to cloak you in warmth when a cool draft swept through the room, or playfully fluttering around when your spirits were low, trying to elicit a smile. Gradually they had begun to act almost independently when it came to you. They were drawn to your innate warmth and light. The same qualities that Azriel himself cherished deeply in you.

As you stirred awake, stretching and yawning, the shadows seemed to mimic the morning’s embrace. Azriel watched from beside you with a slight smile playing on his lips as his shadows caressed your arms and legs. They were reluctant to withdraw their gentle touch even as you became more alert. He made a subtle gesture, a silent command for them to give you some space, expecting immediate compliance as always.

To his surprise and slight amusement, the shadows hesitated. They lingered around you. Their formless caresses a tender contradiction to their usual stark obedience. When you noticed their reluctance to leave you couldn’t help but to giggle. The shadows seemed to flutter with a visible delight, moving closer as if encouraged by your laughter.

"It’s okay, Az," you said. Smiling at the unusual scene. "I don't mind them, really. I actually quite like them."

At your words the shadows almost appeared to swoon, swirling around you with what could only be described as affectionate enthusiasm. Azriel watched this with a raised eyebrow and an ever-widening smile, clearly amused by their outright defiance when it came to you.

"They're not usually this defiant... or affectionate," Azriel remarked. His voice tinged with both bemusement and a hint of pride. "Seems they've taken quite a liking to you."

You watched the shadows swirl around with a playful grace. Their cool touch leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. Smiling, you responded, "The feeling's mutual." At your words, one of the shadows playfully swooped up mimicking a kiss on your cheek.

The whimsical gesture drew another giggle from you, a sound so light and joyful that it seemed to brighten the entire room. Azriel watched you with a deep warmth filling his heart as your laughter echoed softly. The sound so rarely heard in your despair was so full of life and free from the burdens you had been carrying, It was a melody he hadn't realized he'd been longing to hear. It reminded him of the resilience and beauty within you, qualities he had always admired now shimmering through even in your laughter.

Azriel’s gaze softened as he watched you interact with his shadows. The corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine delight. It was rare for him to see his shadows disobey but in this instance he found the situation endearing rather than concerning. The shadows, so attuned to his deepest feelings perhaps recognized the special place you held in his heart and chose to express their fondness in the only way they knew how.

As you continued to enjoy the playful affection from the shadows, Azriel leaned back, content to observe the bond forming between you and parts of his own essence. This moment, light-hearted and filled with laughter marked a significant turn in your relationship. It showed not only his own deepening feelings but also the unique acceptance of his shadows, making you a cherished presence in both his world and theirs.

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bookfanatic06 · 15 days ago

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I haven’t written anything in over a decade, but this head canon just won’t go away. I’ve often wondered if the idea of “like calls to like” will be prevalent in Elriel’s book like in all the others. I really feel like Elain is hiding some deep shit that just can’t be ignored. This piece is really what I think could happen if Elain deep down shares Azriel’s penchant for self loathing and low self esteem. She gets so much crap from the fandom for being boring, I really see her surprising us with some darker personality traits.

Also, my favorite thing about this other than the Elriel fluff is Nesta. I wanted to see her and Elain making up after the events of ACOSF on page. I didn’t hate Nesta, just thought she treated my baby El poorly.

I’m not sure if I’ll write more to this, or if it’s going to stay a one shot. I’m also not sure if I’m ready to post to AO3. I’m a mom with 3 kids and a full time teaching gig. I’m not sure I have it in me.

So here is my first shot at writing Elriel.

Unworthy

Words: 5112

Angst/Romance

Pairings: Major: Elain Archeron/Azriel,

Minor: Feyre/Rhysand, Cassian/Nesta, Varian/Amren

———————

Remember who you are, Kingslayer.

She breathes to herself as she stares at her reflection in the mirror, plastering on the smile she knows her family would never second guess. Perfected so much over the years in her mother’s keep, as she was taught to never reveal her true emotions, to never let anyone see the heartbreak, the pain of unworthiness embedded in her very soul.

The dreams plaguing her at the moment, the ones that increase with the unyielding torrent of emotions swirling in her mind, are of her family having lost their use of her. That she has become a burden that they can cast aside so needlessly. So she sits at the mirror and contemplates how to be helpful. She’ll practice those new recipes that she received from that fae female at the market. She’ll make the gardens of Velaris so beautiful, people will ask for her. She’ll care for Nyx when his parents need a break.

But still, she feels the hole in her chest and wonders if it’ll be enough. Will she forever be cast aside or passed over in favor of her sisters because of their far more important accomplishments?

What exactly has she accomplished?

I killed the King of Hybern. She whispers so that only the shadows can hear. Not Nesta, as all of Prythian seemed to believe. She knows she pushed that knife into his throat, she still dreams about it; still feels the hilt of the blade in her hands. Even the shadows, the ones that she felt the comforting presence of for so long, have gone quiet since solstice.

She knows that her sisters are magnificent. That they both have earned their right to voice their opinions and be cherished in this world. Feyre, the High Lady that the Night Court deserves, and Nesta, the warrior she was always meant to be. But Elain, she carries the weight of unworthiness everywhere she goes. She wasn’t born to lead, she wasn’t born to be a warrior. She was born with a gentle heart, with a delicate resolve. But a will of iron.

You shoved that knife into his neck. You aren’t as gentle as you believe yourself to be.

She’s intimately familiar with self loathing by now. It curls around her like the vines that wrap around the fortress of her mind. But that voice, the voice that is hers, but much more confidently so, tries to remind her of what she has to offer. Her heart breaks as the self loathing pushes through whispers, “He doesn’t want someone who is brittle and weak. He wants someone courageous, someone with fire in their heart, someone like…”

Mor.

Despite the months that have passed since she found herself alone in the foyer in the early morning hours of Winter Solstice, she is still tortured by the thought that even her dearest friend, or whom she believed him to be, had been repulsed by her meritless existence. The pain of that night has yet to ebb, and she wonders if, at some point in her immortal life, it ever will.

She huffs a breath and stands from her vanity, moving to open the door and walk into the hallway, that gentle but false smile she’s perfected on her face.

As she reaches the kitchen, she is surprised to find Feyre, eyes clouded with sleep, hair poking out of the halfhearted braid she probably threw together before bed the previous night, holding a bottle to Nyx’s whimpering mouth.

“I think he’s starting to teethe. He’s been like this all night.” Feyre’s eyes flicker to Elain quickly before resting on her son’s mouth as it attaches to the bottle and then detaches with a small wail. Elain opens her arms, a silent request to take over – and make herself useful.

“I’ll take him, you go get some sleep.” She says gently, taking the babe into her arms. Feyre gives her a tired smile.

“Rhys and I are so lucky to have you here with us, El.”

Elain’s false smile returns to her features, and before she can give herself away, she shoos her sister out of the kitchen to take over as Nyx’s caregiver. She cradles her nephew to her, his chest to her own, rubbing circles on his back, between his little wings as she’s watched her sister and Rhys do time and time again. For a moment, the hole in her heart fills with the love she has for the babe in her arms. It doesn’t escape her, that if her life hadn’t so explicitly changed thanks to the betrayal that left her at the mercy of The Cauldron, she would probably have a babe of her very own by now. THAT thought doesn’t hurt as much as she thinks it should.

Because a child with Grayson would have been a monumental mistake.

The thought is gone as fast as it had come. That’s one part of her life that she is resolute in. Being Grayson’s wife, the mother to his brood, would NOT have been a step up from her current existence. She’s not sure how she knows that, perhaps from watching how Feyre and Nesta are treated by their mates. The unmatched adoration, the passion between the mates that she can sense from the couples as she plays the fifth wheel.

Why don’t I feel that way towards my own?

It’s not lost on her that she covets the bond her sisters have with their mates; what it must feel like knowing that your mate would give their very lives for your happiness. Her and her mate can barely be in the same room as each other, the bond an uncomfortable tether pulling at her rib.

She had once asked how it felt for her sisters, to see if the bond was true…

“It’s a blossoming warmth in my chest. The pull to Rhys is oftentimes so strong that I can't imagine my life before him.” Feyre had told her.

Her and her mate definitely could not relate.

But that warmth, she could have sworn she felt it before. When three fae males had walked into her home in the humanlands, and she had chanced a glance into the hazel eyes of the fae male with sapphire gems on his leathers. His gaze had caused her breath to catch, and every once in a while, when the war was over and she would be in his presence again, she would find herself looking into those eyes and she could almost feel the ghost of that warmth in her chest. Her breath would catch every time.

That hole was deep and chilled now.

The circles she’s been rubbing on her nephew’s back have quieted his little whimpers and he’s quiet on her chest as she moves to the window overlooking the gardens she’s cared for all these months. The gardens bloom in the vibrant colors of late spring. In her angst, she just wishes that the loveliness of the flowers she’s cultivated filled that hole in her chest that she so achingly wants to forget. An ache that, for the moment, her nephew in her arms has dulled significantly.

“Little one, you hold my heart in your hands.” She whispers as she kisses the thick black hair on his tiny head. At two months old, Nyx is the splitting image of his father, with Feyre’s temper to boot.

She sways back and forth, Nyx a solid presence, a weight holding her down to this earth. She almost misses the sound of the front door opening, but turns just in time to see the eyes of the male who still so captivated her thoughts.

No words are exchanged but he sends her a quick nod of acknowledgement as her own eyes quickly return to her nephew’s sleeping form. Her heart thundering in her empty chest. Before she can return her gaze to where the male stood, he is gone. Leaving her alone with that chasm in-between her ribs. The feeling of unworthiness crawling back into her thoughts.

He’s too good for me anyway.

She walks silently to the nursery, opting to place Nyx in his crib to attempt to get some breakfast prepared. She leaves the door slightly ajar, in case he awakens while she is cooking in the kitchen. Her fae hearing attuned to his little cries.

In the kitchen, she washes her hands and pulls out what is necessary for a quick meal. Bacon, eggs, some leftover scones from the pantry that she can reheat for her family to enjoy. She’s startled when Rhys and his companion walk briskly down the hall and through the foyer to the front door. Their voices quiet but unmistakable.

“All I need is 24 hours of rest and then I can head back down into the tunnels.” his deep tenor voice feels like a balm to her aching chest.

“Take the week, you look like you haven’t slept in months.” A pause and a sigh.

“I can always count on you for a confidence boost, Rhys.” She can feel the small smile gracing his lips as he speaks with his brother.

“I’m serious, Az. You’re no good to us if you’re dead on your feet. Take the week. Clean yourself up, eat a few hot meals, and sleep.” She wonders if this pause after Rhys speaks is meant to last as long as it does in her mind.

“Okay.” It’s breathless, and she can feel the exhaustion behind every syllable.

“Come to the kitchen. I’m sure Elain is whipping up something for breakfast. It’ll do you well to get something into your stomach.” She bites her lip at the invitation. He hasn’t had a meal in her presence in months, since before Nyx’s arrival, possibly not since Winter Solstice, but she’s unable to remember.

Elain straightens her spine, contemplating whether she should look in the pantry for some potatoes to add to her small spread. Her thoughts are interrupted by his forlorn response.

“I should really get back to the House of Wind, Nesta and Cassian are waiting for me.” An obvious lie and she feels like the remnants of her heart have turned liquid and puddled on the floor.

“Ask the House to make you something nice.” Rhys’ voice takes on a worried tone.

“I will.”

She holds back the tears threatening to spill as she hears his boots take him to the door and then outside. The heartbreak is still as tangible as it was months ago.

If Rhys notices the silver in her eyes when he strides into the kitchen, he doesn’t mention it. Just kisses her sweetly on the cheek and smiles,

“Good morning, Dear Sister.”

—————-

It’s a few nights later, while her family, sans Mor and Amren, sits at the dinner table eating the roast and potatoes she and the twins had been slow cooking over the course of the day, that Nesta looks at the empty chair across the table and says with worry gracing her normally icy gaze, “when are you going to start ordering Azriel to attend family dinners?”

Cassian places a hand on her knee as if to say NOT NOW.

She shrugs him off. Giving him that icy stare that’s become her calling card, “He’s a shell of himself. Even more closed off and broody than ever. He crawls around those tunnels and pokes his head out for a day or two and then heads right back in. The bags under his eyes are darker than yours” she points at Rhys. “And he doesn’t have a newborn to account for it.”

Elain sits up at that, heart sputtering as if she can feel him. As if she can feel the darkness pulling him under.

Maybe she can.

“I’m worried. Cassian is too; he’s just too stubborn to admit it. Az is working himself to death.” Elain puts a hand to her chest, as if that hand could hold her heart into place.

“Az is working very hard to get the answers we need about the Daglan and protect all of us, Nesta.” Feyre states gently, holding Nesta’s gaze as they narrow.

“But he shouldn’t HAVE to. We could rotate duties. We can go down there for a few days and let him rest.”

“This is what he wants, Nesta. He’s volunteered.” Rhys’ response is like an ash arrow to her gut.

“And why would he volunteer to do this assignment and be away from his family for so long if he was genuinely happy, Rhysand?” The room falls silent and the remnants of the meal she’s so thoughtfully made is ash on her tongue.

He’s not happy. That word, once vocalized, is hard for her to break from her thoughts. Azriel is unhappy.

It's her fault.

She grips the fork in her hand so tight the metal bends. It’s her fault because she read his intentions wrong on solstice. He is avoiding their family because she made things so awkward between them that he can’t bear to be in the same room as her. Nesta glances at her direction as if she can sense that feeling of worthlessness creeping into Elain’s body. Before Nesta can say anything, Cassian places his hand in hers.

“You’re right, Nes. We need to find out what’s going on with Az. I’ll ask Mor to visit him and get him to work through it. If anyone can get through to him, it’s Mor.”

And there was that feeling again. The feeling of a heart shattering, her lungs struggling to expand as her friends begin to plan for the intervention of the male who she so loved, even if he wanted nothing to do with her.

———————

Azriel was many things, within the last year or so, he’d resolved to adding foolish to his attributes. Foolish for thinking that he could be loved for the male he was, foolish for thinking he had any right to the happiness he saw in the faces of his brothers, and foolish to think that he could be hers.

It plagued him daily, the pull to a female that belonged to another. That he was not deemed worthy by the Cauldron of the female that held his heart, but that one of the sons of Autumn was.

She belongs to no one but herself. His shadows, his only companions, whisper.

It was a small mercy that she seemed as uninterested in her mate as her mate is with her. That she was once so willing to spend time with him despite being mated to someone else. That she was once happy to be his friend.

And now, they were nothing.

That thought buried deep inside of him, burrowed into his bones and tore through his limbs.

So he cut himself out of her world. He threw himself into his work. He trudged through the tunnels under the Night Court and pretended that he was keeping his family safe from the Daglan, when in reality, he was avoiding them.

It was another grueling pass through the tunnels. His eyes slowly adjusting from the change in light when he stepped out of the dark and into the quiet grasses surrounding the opening to the tunnels that have become his tomb. He had promised to wait a week to return to his work, but the ache in his chest had him packed and ready to continue his mission only 3 days after his last excursion. After a week of fighting through the tunnels, sliding Truthteller through the folds of the various beasts that inhabited the chasms below, his exhaustion was threatening to take his knees out from under him.

So he gathered what little strength he had left, and flew himself to the House of Wind.

And it was a mistake.

Nesta stood in the middle of the training pit, arms crossed. The rest of the priestesses were long gone by the early-afternoon. Precisely why he had chosen this time to fly back to the house, a feeble attempt to hide from everyone. He landed with a little less grace than intended, and as he took a glance at Nesta, he could have sworn that the silver flames that had been given back to The Cauldron to save her sister were still present in her eyes as she stared back at him disapprovingly.

“So you’re volunteering for these tunnel missions, huh?”

Azriel sighed. He learned long ago that arguing with Nesta was futile, that she would never let him go without a word.

“My schedule is open.” He shrugged absently.

“The hels it is, Az!” She bellowed, looking him up and down for a sign of…what exactly?

“Are you hurt?” She asked, this time with a gentleness not many would associate with the accomplished warrior, Lady Death.

“I’m fine.”

She continued to observe him, not completely believing he was all well and good. She noted his tired eyes, his rigid shoulders.

“What’s going on, Az? You’re like a ghost, never staying long enough to rest. Barely managing to function. This is so unlike you—-“ it pained him to interrupt, but the unworthiness creeped into his chest at her care for him.

“—this is me, Nes. It’s been me for 540 years. You’ve only glimpsed a small part of my life. I’ve always been like this.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” She says through her teeth, the frustration evident in her voice, in her posture. Azriel bows his head in a movement meant to placate the female before him. She sighs, and with a voice far calmer than she’s treated him with thus far speaks.

“She’s a ghost, too.”

He knows who she’s talking about immediately. And he dares not let her know that he’s affected by those words. He swallows the lump in his throat and moves to go around her. She stops him with her palm to his chest, right where his heart should be.

“I don’t know what’s happened between you two, but I know that the last time I’ve seen her smile, her real smile, was when you were the one to put it on her face.” The hole in his chest is infinitely bigger as Nesta moves her hand and places it gently on his arm.

“Be present, Az. We love you. She—loves you.”

Az is sure that Nesta means he is loved in a friendly way, but the idea of being loved by Elain Archeron makes his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He nods his head, words failing him.

“Everyone is coming here for dinner tonight.” Nesta states firmly. “Get cleaned up and meet us in the dining room at 5.” She shuffles past him to reach the door to the house and smiles mischievously at him behind her.

There’s no hiding from them now. Nesta will hunt him down until he appears. So he plans to arrive for dinner even as his brain tells him to run.

——————

Elain stares at her sister as she repeats the itinerary for the day, eyes wide as she questions Feyre over the plan to “meet Nesta and Cassian at the House for dinner.”

Elain is confused. Never has Nesta invited them to the House for dinner. Tea, on occasion. Training, frequently. Never dinner.

“What’s the occasion?” She asks, trying not to let her nerves show.

“She just misses us.” Feyre smiles, and although Elain is suspicious, she gives her little sister a genuine smile.

“Sounds delightful.”

And if her nerves intensify as her sister’s mate puts her down gently on the balcony of the House of Wind a few hours later, she doesn’t let it show, because she can absolutely scent the one person she is anxious to see the most.

Azriel is here.

And it takes all of her mother’s etiquette training to hold her head up high and enter the dining room to see his gorgeous, but somber face. A face she’s conflicted to commit to memory. He looks so tired, she muses. And despite the ache in her chest, the unworthiness that her mind flashes into her skull, seeing him is like breathing air after drowning, and she can’t look away.

Dinner commences and for the first time in months, the smile on her face is real. Everyone she loves is at the table, Mor and Feyre chatting animatedly with each other. Amren, Rhys, and Varian are lost in their own conversation about the Summer Court. Elain chances a look at the glorious Shadowsinger across from her. He’s impressive as usual, but she notes that his shadows are moving lithe around him, as if they are also exhausted from his travels. His eyes meet hers, and that warmth in her chest that only he can provide blossoms under his gaze. And she smiles, for real, and she thinks she sees the corner of his own mouth move up slightly.

It’s only when the meal is done and the House takes the dishes away that Rhys and Feyre take Nyx home to bed. Amren and Varian go back to Amren’s apartment, and Azriel excuses himself to finally get some rest. The rest of the family moves to the sitting room to continue to chat and Elain sits with them, appearing to listen to their conversation, but barely hearing what is being said. Her thoughts are helplessly on the male asleep somewhere in this house.

“Elain, would you like to stay here tonight?” Nesta asks with a beautiful smile on her face that captures Elain’s attention. She points a finger at her mate and says, “It’s easier for this old man to fly in the daytime. His eyesight is going poorly, and Mor is too drunk to take herself home, let alone you.” Nesta nods her head towards the beautiful blonde already falling asleep on the sofa across from her. Cassian scoffs.

“539 is NOT old.” He crows indignantly. The sisters erupt into laughter but Elain can’t help but think that her sister is only asking for her to stay because it’ll make things easier, and not because she wants her there. As the others begin to move towards their bedrooms, Nesta stops Elain with a gentle hand on her arm.

“I know I haven’t been the kind of sister you deserve, Elain. I want to make that up to you. I want to have breakfast with you tomorrow. I want to sit and talk to you about your life. I want to show you that I’m trying, that I’m here for you.” Elain’s chest expands with hope and a love she can only have for Nesta.

“I would like that very much.” She smiles. And Nesta offers to show her her bedroom for the night. The two walk arm in arm as they move through the house until they come upon the door of a room at the far end of the hallway. The room she’s given is warm and inviting, with a giant bed covered in lilac sheets. There’s a fireplace in the corner that is not in use due to the late spring warmth, but the double doors opening to the balcony overlooking Velaris is the crowning feature. She bids Nesta goodnight, with a promise to meet in the dining room for breakfast, and immediately heads for the balcony after Nesta shuts the bedroom door behind her.

What Elain doesn’t expect, is to end up sharing a balcony with the Shadowsinger himself.

And it appears he’s just as surprised as she is.

“H—hi” she breathes. Taking in his tall form in the shadows of the night. He’s seated on the edge of the balcony’s railing, one leg hanging over the edge while the knee of his other leg is bent for balance on the railing. His glorious wings are tight against his back, the bottoms on either side of the balcony. His hazel eyes, the ones that torment her in her dreams, are wide.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know you— or anyone, would be here—on the balcony, I mean.” She stammers as she looks down at her feet in embarrassment. He’s still quiet in front of her, and she curses the fact that the Cauldron didn’t boil her alive when it had the chance.

“I—I’ll just go…” she says and begins to move. She’s vaguely aware of him sitting up straighter than before.

“No, please— don’t.” His deep voice is a whisper that her fae ears only hear because she’s desperate to hear his voice again. She wouldn’t miss his first words to her in months for anything in this world. She swallows, unsure of how to proceed. Any courage she might have deep within her, sputtering.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He says louder, with conviction, and that hole in her chest feels the fullest it’s been in months.

“I don’t want to leave, either.” She says confidently. Her courage soars with the vibrancy of his words.

“I miss you.” He adds gently, finally meeting her gaze, and she’s at a loss. This male who has captivated her body and spirit for years now. Whom she thought was angry with her. Who walked away from her on solstice and didn’t look back.

“Then why?” She whispers back, a silver tear escaping and trailing down her pale cheek. The question is open ended, but he knows what she means.

“Because I am unworthy of you.” He admits. The self loathing in his voice matches her own every time she thinks about him.

“Of course you are. If anything, I am unworthy of you.”

“Never.” He replies instantly, but she waves him off. Moving to his side, eyes peering at his form under the stars, tears falling down both cheeks now.

“You are kind, Azriel. You are gentle, and you are courageous. You’ve fought on the battlefield, and you protect the people of this court, of this family. I bake bread, watch Nyx, and plant seeds in the garden. You deserve so much more than I can offer you.”

The air between them crackles with the intensity of his gaze. He moves, and before she can loose a breath, his scarred hands are wiping the tears from her skin.

“How can you not see how incredible you are, Elain?” He speaks softly, rubbing his fingers back and forth over her cheeks. “You put the needs of others in front of your own. You bake bread, watch Nyx, and build gardens to bring comfort and beauty to those around you. In a world of war and bloodshed, you are reminder that there are things out there so beautiful it’s worth fighting for.” She gasps at the depth of his stare. “You are everything I could ever hope for, but I can’t have you.” The words he’s spoken break something within her. Her hands land on his own on her cheeks, and she uses them to push his away, to push him away. Confusion gracing her features.

“And why can’t you have me? Why have you shut me out all of these months?”

He thinks carefully at how to respond. It’s in his best interest to lie, the rage in her beautiful brown eyes cuts him further than any blade and he pauses for a moment.

Rhys will mist him for revealing the truth. He’s disobeying his order right now, just being alone with the female that possesses his heart and soul. But he finds that lying to her is impossible. That he would rather be misted than lie to the female before him.

“Because I have been ordered to stay away from you.” He says with deep remorse.

The earth ceases to rotate for Elain. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She stares in horror and Azriel wonders if he’s made a grave mistake.

“Rhys?” She whispers. He nods.

“But—why?” The devastation in her voice is palpable, and he wants nothing more than to fly to the river house, despite his exhaustion, and hit his brother in his pretty face.

“You have a mate, Elain.” She scoffs. Ready to deny such a thing. He weighs his words carefully before he continues. “Our—involvement could have severe consequences for the Night Court.”

“What consequences?” She asks, in an eerily calm voice that he doesn’t recognize. He takes a deep breath and prepares himself for her ire.

“The Autumn Court has an archaic tradition that allows for a mate to call for a blood duel against any male that threatens his mating bond. Lucien or Beron have the right to challenge me to that blood duel if you and I—“

Elain looks up into his eyes, horrified at the realization that this is what is keeping them apart.

“—but I would fight for you. Rhys knows it. And I would win, because there would be no chance in this lifetime that I would give up a life with you if I had the choice. But if I were to kill Lucien in a blood duel—“ he pauses. “Beron can enact revenge by calling for war against the Night Court.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Her chest, that was finally full only recently, is hollowed out and bleeding down to her toes. Rhys has deemed them unworthy of each other. Have deemed them unworthy of his protection. Unworthy of the Night Court’s protection. She steps forward, so that her breath mixes with his. He’s stunned for a moment, peering down into her face, determination and understanding amongst the many emotions crossing her features.

“I would rather have you in secret, than not at all.” She says so quietly that only the two of them can hear and places her hand on his chest where his heart beats against it. He’s dumbfounded for a moment.

She’s choosing him?

“Are you sure?” He whispers just as quietly, so that only her and the Mother can hear him.

“Yes.”

The word is barely out of her mouth when his lips meet hers in a kiss that stops the world around them. It’s soft and gentle, just like they are, but Elain swears that this feeling in her chest, at finally tasting the male of her dreams, is the same one her sisters have so lovingly described about their mates.

How can this not be it? They both muse to themselves.

His lips move slowly against her own, savoring her taste, committing it to memory. She has chosen him. She is willing to risk war and their family’s loyalty for him. He will never understand why, but he’s too far gone to talk her out of it.

They stay on the balcony until the early morning hours, touching, tasting, and chasing away the demon of unworthiness inside of each other. Because even if their family or the Night Court didn’t need them, they found out that night that they needed each other.

Fin (or is it?)

#elriel #elain kingslayer #elain archeron #elain x azriel #pro elriel #pro elain #like calls to like #acotar #azriel

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infiniteetcetera · 7 months ago

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My next weekly controversial ACOTAR post: A defense of Azriel, because if I see one more post saying he has no personality or is an incel (but also an f-boy apparently) then it’s game over

Azriel is such an interesting and complex character I think it’s an incredible shame so many readers misinterpret him just because his character is shown is small bursts rather than loud blasts. SO i’m not going to try and defend him because this man has done nothing wrong, instead I’ll provide y’all with a list of moments that prove both that Azriel DOES have a personality and that’s it’s a loveable one:

•He tells Feyre that Cassian is annoying right up front (a small thing but I appreciate it)

• He spent the night at Rita’s with Feyre, playing silly games betting on Rhys’ dating life (funny for so many reasons) and making her feel comfortable in an overwhelming situation

•Even though he’s quiet and private, he confides to Feyre he doesn’t know where he belongs after 500 years and feels he doesn’t fit in to reassure her that the feelings she’s having are normal

•He was reassuring and polite to Elain and Nesta when they first meet

•Acknowledged that it was a risk and a sacrifice for Nesta and Elain to lend them their house and was thankful rather than antagonistic or rude (*cough cough Cassian*) and met them both with a protective regard to Feyre but an open mind about their circumstances

•Is so upset by the mysogny and abuse in Illyria he straight up refuses to go there because he will not play nice and polite with these jerks like Rhys and Cas do

•In Feyre’s own words, she trusts him well enough that if Rhys was ever doing something to harm her/locking her up like Tamlin did she believes he would not only save her but deal with Rhys himself if it came to it

•Follow up on above, he spies on Amren against Rhys’ orders. When Feyre asks about it Amren says Azriel is the most disobedient of the IC (some of them could never) because he’s willing to do what is right over what Rhys thinks is right (hot)

•Gave Feyre such a stunning smile after she accepts the mating bond that Rhys is filled with jealousy and ready to attack (that is to say, this man is very pretty and deserves credit for it)

•Amren putting her head on his shoulder after battle because she’s tired and everyone (including him) is shocked but he’s polite about it and also it just radiates male worth trusting vibes

•Was literally bleeding out screaming crying throwing up poisoned and still sassed the king of Hybern for Mor and Feyre

•When Cassian is trying to make Lucien uncomfortable Azriel KICKS HIM (all the Azriel is so mean/hates Lucien people come down to reality please)

•When Cassian implies something rude about Nesta and Mor wants to join in Azriel shoots her a look to stop (yes the Az that is supposedly obsessed with Mor and her opinion of him) and Feyre describes said look as as if they had talked about it many times before so YES EVEN PRE-ACOWAR THIS MAN WAS SUPPORTING NESTA

•Feyre and Mor both agree he’s the only one with manners

•He laughed at Nesta’s sassy comment to Mor because man respects good comedy

•When Cassian makes a sexist joke and implies Az is thinking the same thing not only does Azriel not engage with his tomfoolery but Mor cuts in to defend him as the only batboy who never says such things

•Just the ENTIRE sequence of him training Feyre to fly. He’s so sweet and witty and charming

•So gentle and reassuring to Elain, offering to show her the garden and carrying her all the way up to the house

•Him taking care of Feyres injuries from the flying lessons. Again just always being so gentle and sweet. He trusts her enough not to go easy on her but isn’t cruel and overworking either

•The entire Nephelle story and just the fact Rhys gave the story to Azriel as a “gift” this boy appreciates sweet stories about underdog lesbians with wings and I love it

•Just him paying such close careful attention to Elain and recognizing she is a seer, him talking her through her visions and helping reassure her she’s not crazy (he knows what that feels like)

•Even though he hates Illyrians, he helps Cassian break the news to the families of those who lost warriors in the war

•Just “I don’t see you spouting poetry brother” “I don’t need to resort to it😩🔥”

•BE CAREFUL HOW YOU SPEAK ABOUT MY HIGH LADY

•Eris uttered the word “slut” about a woman and this man ATTACKED. Like I am an Eris stan and I know some people don’t like this scene but it’s the true feminist energy I need

•Ignoring Rhys’ order to stand down but stopping the second Feyre says something bc this man respects women’s authority (t’s literally an intentional way of demonstrating Feyres power right after she was belittled by Tamlin. people act like he was rabid in this scene but it seems so clear to me he was intentionally doing this to support his high lady)

•Was the first to realize something was wrong with Elain (also has a sweet exchange of looks with Nesta over it, like they are homegirl’s designated protectors)

•Just EVERYTHING about him volunteering to get Elain back. Whether you ship Elriel or not this was such a sweet moment. He doesn’t hesitate at all even when Nesta says it’s a death wish and everyone’s sentiment starts to change.

•Everything about him saving Elain and the human girl. Just 10/10 all around, hot, stunning, sweet, incredible, precious angel of death boy

•Az is so badly wounded after the rescue mission that Rhys and the others who see him are shocked but he refused to set Elain down (even though she’s not hurt) until Rhys takes her and the first thing he asks is for Helion to come unchain her (not anything for himself). Again just SOOO sweet and caring whether you ship Elriel or not

•Another Elriel moment but well they happen, Az giving her truth teller is just🤧 he’s never lent out this blade to his brothers or anyone else, we know it has some special brand of magic and he likely does too and he offers it to Elain to give her a sense of safety (again even if you don’t ship them it’s just so considerate)

•”Chain me to a tree Rhys, I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back” LIKE TELL ME THAT ISNT HOT

•A super small moment but after the war when the boys are watching the sisters/Mor laughing and Rhys starts crying Az tells him “it’s real” and I just think the intuitive understanding and care behind that is so sweet (especially when Az is so misunderstood by his brothers)

•This sounds more like a hate comment to Rhys/Cassian than pro Az but when Rhys admits he and Cassian used to beat Azriel for hours to get him to speak to them and he never would, I think that’s such crazy determination and resolve and also he’s wayyyyy nicer than me for still putting up with them after that

•HIM REFUSING TO SPY ON LUCIEN. I just love that degree of respect it’s made even better by the fact Rhys asks about Lucien a second time bc he literally assumes Az was joking and Azriel’s just like “nope not doing it” (again people who say he hates Lucien, please)

•Him finding drunk Cassian and Feyre and trying to fix their terrible decorations the just chugging some wine himself😭 he’s so funny AND sweet

•”Sit, I’ll take care of it.” I NEED THIS ENERGY FROM EVERY MAN EVER PLEASE

•Also him telling everyone to wait for Elain because she’s literally the one who cooked and them eating before her would be rude and I just IWJDKWKDN again so hot and polite and it’s not even a romance/flirting thing bc when Elain comes back and she/Cas give him the opportunity to take credit he doesn’t at all?? He just did it because it’s right and proper

•Him insulting Amren to defend Elain (and then blushing when everyone laughs at his joke) he’s precious (and funny af)

•Him dying at Elains gift JMEKXNEKD the IC stresses him fr and he’s waiting for someone to free him

•Him being nice about Mor’s awful gifts even though she’s known him for 500 years and still gets him awful gifts and also exchanges lingerie with Cassian to his (and Nesta’s) face even though she thinks Az is in love with her

•Half compliment to Az half complaint about Cassian, but when there’s mention of all the universe research Rhys does in ACOSF Cassians like “Rhys told him and he instantly forgot” but As is super interested and listens intently and wants to learn more and I just love a boy with hobbies and interests��

•Small thing but when he first sees Nes in the house of wind in ACOSF he smiles and is so polite and Nesta tells us for like a whole paragraph how beautiful he is and I trust that woman above all

•Also in reference to the above, Nesta chats with Az for like 10 seconds and instantly wants to train with him over Cas because she knows he’d be better to her

•Azriel blushing when Nesta calls him pretty✨ (such a sweet lover boy I swear)

•He laughs at Nesta’s insults to Cassian but holds back from laughing at Cassians✨

•The only one who literally JUST ASKS why Nesta won’t train and also sparks the idea in Cassians obtuse head that it might be because she doesn’t want to train in Illyria (VALID)

•I know people have mixed takes about how the scene is written but him asking Nesta if she was pushed down the stairs feels genuine to me, like he asks the question very pointedly serious and focuses just on Nesta, his vague amusement after is only in regard to Cassians dumb reaction but the fact he asked her and the way in which he does it (ignoring Cassians input and still waiting for Nesta’s answer) shows genuine consideration to her (still a stranger to him for all intents and purposes) over his brother’s feelings

•Him paying such careful attention to Nesta and being the only one who never starts fights with her to such a strong degree that even Nesta feels too seen by him

•Such a basic thing (but it’s not when you look at the quality of other ACOTAR men unfortunately) but when Cassian asks him if he wants kids he says it’s not his decision (like this is why I hate the anti-elriel “elain can’t bare his children” argument, I assure you Az does not gaf)

•”Azriel had never said a bad word about Nesta” and i’m not supposed to stan???

•Also the fact he doesn’t like hand to hand combat bc he doesn’t like getting covered in people’s sweat JEKKDKW I know it’s just a gag Cas jokes about but there’s something so funny and refined about that

•Him being so competitive is hot honestly😩 especially how Cassian describes it as not being in an arrogant or scary way but in a very strategic sort of manner, how he’s often the only one who can compete with Rhys (who was trained for this stuff since birth) like YES

•Az getting flustered and awkwardly walking away when he sees how Nesta is staring at him and Cas KEKKDKE i so highly appreciate his balance between confident and shy boy

•Him and Nesta smiling about Cassians stupidity, being “allies against his insanity,” again, Az just being a friend to her is so sweet (and important given it’s like the one thing Nesta needed in this book)

•Not only does he vote with Cas against keeping things from Nes but when Amren starts saying lewd things about her it’s Azriel (not Cassian bc apparently he could never) who tells her to STFU about Nesta

•Amren tells the boys NOT to touch the sword and Az is legit the only one who tries to listen (the ONLY bat boy with brain cells half the time)

•Just the fact that once he starts training the Priestesses with Cas Nesta notes a bunch of them seem to have crushes on him. Like these girls who have been so traumatized by men they can barely stand to be in public feel that comfortable with him so quickly, he just radiates safe energy

•Also a small moment but him awkwardly smiling the first time he sees Gwyn at training and just trying to act casual to not make her feel weird is so sweet.

•Him dancing with Nesta “as easily as breathing” (again, their friendship means everything to me)

•When Nesta asks him why he came to solstice if seeing Elain/Lucien hurts him and he says “Because Rhys wants me here and it’d hurt him if I didn’t come” like HEJEKNDO he’s so selfless for the people he cares about FR (especially given how Rhys talks to him that same night)

•EVERYTHING about his gift to Nesta. The fact he didn’t have to give her one in the first place (it was no one’s expectation, including hers. on the surface he didn’t even get Elain a gift so it wasn’t just a polite thing). The way the gift is literally SO SWEET AND GENUINELY THOUGHTFUL like he took care not just to get her something but to get her something that would bring her joy and be useful (and is definitely based on his observations about her avoiding the fireplace)

•ALSO when she hugs him the entire room goes silent because they’re just that shocked but he just laughs and hugs her gently and then is blushing after like ANDKEKD

•The entire relationship he forms with Gwyn and how he notes shes competitive and uses that to help inspire her in training and even when he’s teasing her he’s so potently rooting for her too

•Him being nervous about holding baby Nyx with his scarred hands like this precious angel IEKKDKW

Most Offending Thing, His Bonus Chapter (the good and the bad)

•Him scheming about a snowball fight for a whole year is hilarious

•Also him including in his plotting that Cassian would be up all night with Nesta (little did he know his boy only lasts like one round, that and Cassian being so horrified at the thought of Az finding out about him being quick off the mark with Nesta, I just know Az is the stamina king)

•Even his shadows just want him to sleep but your boy is too depressed

•I’m sorry but everything about his and Elains almost kiss is HOT people who think it was overly sexualized or something have missed all the first thoughts we get from like every SJM boy about their LI (ROWAN IN QOS FR) and also the fact that this tension has obviously been brewing for a while??? he’s been avoiding her because it’s that palpable and ELAIN KNOWS IT. it’s a mutual thing it doesnt mean there isn’t romance beneath it or that he’s a creep for wanting her after a year of putting off his feelings

Brief interlude, his offending lines:

•”My two brothers are with two of those sisters but the third was given to another” - the language here might make you uncomfortable but that’s because MATING BONDS ARE UNCOMFORTABLE. we’re told by Rhys himself that they’re often used to “give” a female to a male. the distinction he makes here that Feyre/Nes are “with” Rhys/Cas but Elain was “given” to Lucien is because Elucien is the only mating bond example we’ve followed in this series where the foundation is not love and choice. Azriel does not feel entitled/think he deserves Elain. In this same chapter he feels unworthy to even touch her, stands outside in the freezing cold until he’s “again nothing at all.” Mor tells us all the way back in ACOMAF that he feels completely undeserving of love. Azriel does not think he deserves Elain just because Rhys said so (Az LITERALLY glares at him for saying it). Azriel brought up a valid point (that other characters have too) that the Archeron sisters (who have comparable power) would makes sense all mated to the bat boys (again, comparable power) since we know that’s a crux of mating bonds. Not to mention, Azriel and Elain genuinely just like each other and always have, more so than any of the mated couples even. From a logical standpoint, they would make sense as mates. Even this ships haters say they would be “too predictable/obvious” like SO YOU AGREE THEY MAKE EASY LOGICAL SENSE that’s what Az is implying.

•”Lucien will never be good enough for her” I’ve seen a lot of people use this line to say Az hates/drags Lucien but that’s not how I interpret it at all. First off, all of Az’s other actions (i’ve listed some above) show he’s actually very considerate of/trusting in regards to Lucien. This line to me reads less as “lucien is a bad/undeserving person” and more “Lucien is not what Elain wants” (right after he says she has no interest in him). From Azriel’s POV (and ours my fellow readers) Lucien has done nothing to win over Elain. Yes he’s been polite and I applaud him for that over others actions with their mates (cough cough Cassian) but he’s also never sought her out for a real conversation about the bond, never had any sort of “clicking” moment with her, and still after years just makes her uncomfortable (as far as we and Az know). I think it makes perfect sense to infer from this Lucien is not “good enough” in regards to what Elain is seeking (I think the easiest way I can put this is the idea of “somebody can be perfect but still not perfect for you”). Is Azriel’s opinion a little biased? Yes FS, but also this girl was about to let him do filthy things to her down the hall from Lucien, I say it’s pretty safe for him to infer that she doesn’t want Lucien (and therefor never will).

•”He hadn’t gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to” - I won’t repeat what I said above regarding the sexual undertones in the chapter, but also the reason why Az hadn’t thought beyond this is in the chapter and it’s not because he’s some fuck boy. AZRIEL KNOWS HE CANT HAVE A FUTURE WITH ELAIN AND DOESNT THINK HE DESERVES IT. It’s written all over their interactions together. He wanted to kiss her to have a piece of her to hold onto, not because he thinks he can have a future with her because he knows as things stand he can’t. He doesn’t want to plan to push her/seduce her (like rhys implies) or anything because he doesn’t feel worthy of her and knows circumstances won’t allow them to be together safely. What’s driving him crazy and keeping him up at night with fantasies is that they do both want each other, but imagining a life where they could have more than that and be happy together is impossible for Az because he’s someone who has never prioritized his happiness and does not expect it.

•”I’ll defeat him with little effort.” - Again reading comprehension I beg, this is not a diss against Lucien. If Lucien was the type of guy to invoke a blood duel because Elain chose Azriel (Lucien wouldn’t, Azriel doesn’t even think he would it’s Rhys who suggests it) then YEAH AZ CAN KICK HIS ASS WITH LITTLE EFFORT BC THAT WOULD BE A CRAPPY THING TO DO.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming

•I LOVE everything about his scene with Gwyn on the roof. His vague awkwardness, his teasing of her and trying to be polite, him actually trying to help her train (after we learn Cas has been useless, go figure), and just being so sweet and kind to her in general even though he’s probably still incredibly sad/upset🤧

•This precious boy gets a small urge to cross his arms and is thrown into a PTSD flashback of his father with his mom??? He constantly consciously makes effort not to appear scary/threatening to women because he’s that scarred from his fathers behavior😭

•Listen, I won’t try to entirely defend the necklace thing because I do think it’s weird no matter who you ship Azriel with BUT i will say my best take on it is that it’s a version of self harm/sabotage. Like the only thing that makes sense to me here is he’s subconsciously creating barriers in his relationships with both Elain/Gwyn by doing this which is honestly way less f-boy (a weird take i’ve seen from people, especially given at this point he has no plans to pursue either Elain or Gwyn) and just way more very sad.

FINALLY, sprinkles from HOFAS:

•He’s so FINE in this book

•His silly little things like kicking rocks while trailing Nesta and Bryce to make a point are SO funny

•Him and Nesta working so well together, may not be a point in his favor but it makes me happy

•Azriel loving and defending his mom✨

•Azriel barely snapping at Nesta and then immediately apologizing and saying he loves her. THAT is more emotional intelligence than any other male in ACOTAR has shown

•Him liking club music but also being embarrassed about it? Adorable

•Everything about his interactions with Bryce in this book strike me so hard because you can tell he’s trying to keep his guard up but still has a lot of sympathy for her. I think that gets to the core of who Az is: smart and distant and guarded but also genuinely kind above all

•Also so many small funny little jokes and lines

I COULD PROBABLY SAY MORE AND GO ON FOREVER BUT HOPEFULLY PEOPLE GET THE POINT :)

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #pro azriel #my sweet angel boy forever #elriel #nezriel #anti cassian #anti rhysand #anti amren #anti IC minus azriel honestly #pro azriel acotar

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bright-side20 · 1 month ago

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Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused ..., but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. She will be an asset on the marriage market for us oneday, if that beauty holds, but it will be our own maneuverings, Nesta, not hers, that win us an advantageous match.

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

Rhys asked, “Have you ever seen Elain act like that before?” “No.” I chewed on my bottom lip. Rhys's gaze tracked the movement. “I mean, she's been brave when she had to be, but she's never been confrontational.” "Maybe she was never given the chance to be that way."

“But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she'd disappoint you all.” He sighed toward the ceiling. “With time and safety, perhaps we'll see a different side of her emerge.” “Don't forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one's hands dirty along the way."

Elain’s feet slipped against the floor, but Nesta gripped her upright, running her hands over Elain’s face, her shoulders, her hair— “Elain, Elain, Elain,” she sobbed....Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides.His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

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

“You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?” “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—” “You belong to him.” “I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.” Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard. “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”

"It's so interesting how he played such an important role in her taking control of her power. He gave her his legendary blade and was confident that it would serve her well. He trusted her ability to make the right decision and always knew that she was more than the fragile flower everyone assumed.

“He brought you a present.”Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them.“And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral,something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past,leading Nesta into the room.

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat betweenFeyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.

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

Elain is Blodeuwedd

#pro elriel #elriel #pro elain #elain archeron

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acourtofthought · 3 months ago

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Lucien is set up to be High Lord as Helions sole heir. Not to mention Spring doesn't have a real leader at the moment.

I wonder if it's possible that Elain had a vision where she was wearing a crown next to Lucien who was also wearing a crown.

Aelin ran from her destiny.

Why isn't it possible that Elain would be doing the same?

For a female who once wanted a quiet human life, maybe the thought of living one that is anything but is a bit overwhelming.

For a female who knew it was her sister who was groomed to make an advantageous match when she herself was raised to believe she had nothing to offer, why wouldn't a vision like that cause her to shrink into herself?

There are so many things Elain might have seen in her dreams / visions involving Lucien. Leaders of a people, encounters that are anything but proper.

Of course a girl who was taught to behave a certain way and never given the confidence to think herself capable wouldn't know how to handle being near Lucien if those are the sorts of things she saw in their future.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #lucien and elain #elain x lucien #elain and lucien

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feyres-divorce-lawyer · 5 months ago

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warmth

For @praetorqueenreyna

AO3

Tamlin stumbles slightly as he winnows into the clearing. His magic was still a wild thing that he fought to reign but he’d mustered up enough strength to achieve a stable winnow. His drab tunic and dirt stained boots were a far cry from the finery befitting a High Lord, but he wasn’t befitting High Lord at the moment.

The dust pink envelope had emerged from thin air, landing smack dab on his face while he’d been taking stock of the Manor’s repairs. He’d been apprehensive at first, awaiting a night-silk voice coming to taunt him yet again; he’d waited two nights before opening it, still expecting someone to come along, but the envelope had arrived, and remained, alone.

It contained a wine dark card with the same dust pink lettering reading: Arrive at Tolos’ Clearing by the full moon.

Tamlin didn’t know why he’d listened, but there had been something urging him to come anyway.

So here he was, in the frigid night. The air was cold, due to the Clearing’s proximity to Winter, and nipped at his face. Tamlin resolved to wait only an hour more before returning to the warmth of Spring. Whoever had demanded his presence here would have to learn punctuality.

He paced around to fight the cold, boots sinking into the moss covered ground, a moss that was quickly growing since he could not be bothered to contain his magic.

The air swiftly changed, the scent of spiced acorns and crisp apples filling the air. Finally, he thought.

“You realize when you invite a guest, you should be here to greet them,” he said, turning around to meet whoever had arrived. Tamlin stood shock still, as brown and red filled his vision.

“Beron?”

For that was Beron Vanserra in front of him, tall and staunch, his signature I-Am-Better-Than You sneer fixed on his face.

“Was it you that sent the ridiculous missive?” he demanded.

“No, it was me,” a voice called out.

Tamlin whirled again to see the newcomer. A figure emerged from the trees, cloaked and unfamiliar. “I am glad you chose to respond,” they said.

“And who are you?” Tamlin quickly asked. Beron looked inclined to accompany his next inquiry with a fireball.

“That matters not, it is my message that’s important,” they said, pulling out a scroll from somewhere in their cloak, and unrolling it.

“An Ode to the Lady Elain Archeron is to be held. It shall commence on the Day of Labor and shall end on the seventh day of the ninth month. You, Tamlin, High Lord of Spring, and Beron Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn, are henceforth banned from any involvement with this Ode in any way. You shant do so yourselves, or deceive another party to include you.”

Tamlin stood in confusion. “What would I have to do with Elain Archeron?” He’d never thought about any of Feyre’s sisters beyond their financial safety when they’d still been human. He didn’t think much of any Archeron at all, lately. He looked at Beron who looked well on his way to send the fireball without asking a question.

“I would not associate with that filth,” Beron hissed.

The figure rolled their scroll back up, smoothly placing it back in their cloak with a tilt of their wrist. “You’d better not,” they said, “both of you.”

Tamlin tensed. Or else? “What would happen if we did?”

The figure shifted, almost fidgeting. Were they nervous? “That’s not important.”

Beron finally released that fireball. “No, it is quite important if you think yourself strong enough to threaten me,” he said through gritted teeth.

The figure had jumped back just in time to avoid being cremated, though the same couldn’t be said for the hem of their cloak which was now nothing more than ash.

“Just don’t get involved,” they said, a slight panic in their tone.

That was strange. No one confident in a plan would react this way, but why- Wait.

“You,” Tamlin started, “You’re not going to do anything, are you?”

Quiet, but the scent of the nervous sweat the figure just broke out in was answer enough.

“Just stay away,” they snapped and leaped back into the shadows.

Tamlin shook his head, how ridiculous, he’d come here for nothing. He turned to Beron whose sneer had upgraded to his patented Stare-At-Me-Wrong-And-You’re-Dead glare. “Why did you come anyway?” Tamlin asked. For Beron to have even considered leaving his Court for a reason he would, should, have considered trivial was… peculiar to say the list.

“No one commands me.”

But you were commanded to come here. Tamlin sighed. He should’ve just winnowed back. Why wasn’t he winnowing back?

Beron’s warm, his mind supplied, practically a furnace. Yes, yes that’s why he was still here.

He stared at Beron again, taking him in. There was a new gleam in those mahogany eyes. “You’re going to get involved out of spite, aren’t you?”

Beron’s glare morphed to his Yes-I-Am-Planning-Your-Downfall smirk. “That’s no business of yours, beast. Go hunt for your dinner,” he said and left in a whirlwind of that addicting acorn and apple scent.

Addicting? Tamlin shook his head. The cold had gotten to his senses. Warmth, that was all.

He looked to the Clearing once more, and winnowed back to Spring.

#i've literally never written so fast in my life #like i wrote this all on my phone only got my laptop for edits #today has been so fucking funny #haddie's writings #tamberon #tamlin x beron #in the future #but for tagging purposes #pro tamlin #pro beron #(????)#elaingate

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danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

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Hi would u write something similar to the adhd head anon but with social anxiety instead? Maybe with Eris or Azriel please?

Azriel x reader social anxiety headcanon

Warnings: anxiety

You’re a quite person just like Azriel

The difference is he liked to go out with his brothers to bars and loud places

That wasn’t really your scene

Neither were parties that Rhysand hosted

It took a lot for you to talk to Az when you first met

And it took a lot for Az to gain the courage to ask you out

Your first date was a quiet picnic in the park he planned

You didn’t mind restaurants as long as they weren’t overly crowded, you felt like people were staring at you or judging Azriel for being with you

You talked yourself into going to the annual Starfall party with Az which he was surprised but happy by

It was time to step out of your comfort zone and if you panicked you could cling to Az for the rest of the night

Before you left he gave you a little pep talk since it would also be the first time you were meeting his family

“Just a little warning, they can be a lot. They’re so nice and welcoming but they get over eager with new people. And we can leave any time you want.” You nodded, “Thank you. I’m going to try to tough it out though. Make a friend and all that good stuff.” You smiled up at him and he stroked your hair

Getting to the party you had a little anxiety. Was your dress good enough? Was your makeup ok? Did Azriel want you to meet his family? What if you said the wrong thing?

You clutched Azriel’s hand harder as he pulled you through the crowd to the back yard where his brothers were

You didn’t know Azriel was warning them about your social anxiety/nerves in his mind specifically begging Cassian to be kind to you

As you approached them you stood a little behind Azriel but forced yourself to make eye contact with the very very tall high lord and general

They we’re both very kind in welcoming you to the party, happy that you were there etc.

Then you met Amren who scared you a little, Nesta and Elain who were so sweet to you

You and Elain really connected bc she was a pro at navigating social events but was a little nervous with a new crowd like this

Then you finally met Feyre. She was so not what you expected. She was kind and graceful and you wish you had her confidence

As the night got a little rowdier after the stars started to fall that’s when your anxiety hit you full force

You don’t what set you off but you started squeezing Azriel’s arm

Your heart was racing and your breathing turned shallow

Az noticed immediately and brought you upstairs to his room at the River House

“Hey it’s ok, it’s ok, I’m here with you.” He cooed at you while pulling you onto his lap

He wrapped his wings around to provide a soothing darkness

“Take deep breaths with me ok .” You nodded and started to match his breathing

Once you calmed down you were exhausted

Azriel pulled back from you, “Do you want to just sleep here tonight?”

You got out a small ‘yeah’ through a yawn

Az gave you one of his shirts and helped you take your makeup off

Once you were both settled Azriel pulled you on to his chest and you snuggled into him

He rubbed your back as your eyes got heavy and sleep took you under

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel x you

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nikethestatue · 1 year ago

Text

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XI

The Weight of Love

“What in the world happened?” Elain demanded, seeing Azriel wearing nothing but a button down shirt and a suit jacket. It was the middle of December!

He squeezed inside the house and shivered.

“Do you want to catch another cold?” she fussed. “You just got better a day or two ago. Weren’t you on the date with Mor?”

“Yeah,” he grimaced. “Thanks for that, by the way!”

“Why? What happened?”

“Let’s just say that I don’t think that Mor should be your client for much longer.”

“How come?”

Piglet meanwhile was going wild with happiness and Azriel was forced to pick him up and allow him to snuggle to him. He gave the dog a kiss on the head and that seemed to calm the pug down. “I have a present for you, my baby mate,” Azriel whispered, Mor seemingly forgotten.

“Look!” Azriel waved the Advent Calendar in front of Piglet, who tried to lunge at it.

“Azriel,” Elain said impatiently, “can you tell me what happened?”

Azriel walked to the living room and sat down on the sofa, Piglet by his side.

Elain watched them, and while she wanted to press for an answer, she remained quiet, enjoying the sight of the father and his fur son, getting way too thrilled over this Advent Calendar. Piglet was nosing into Azriel’s hands, grunting and whimpering excitedly, while Azriel was smiling such a genuinely happy smile, it ignited something pleasant, but confusing inside Elain’s chest. What was she going to do with this situation? How was she going to part these two, since they were clearly soulmates. If things didn’t work out between her and Azriel, the whole thing was going to be painful and extremely complicated. And what was she going to do with herself, if it didn’t work out? In the past two months, she came to think of herself as living her life with Azriel, with him at her side forever. He was so confident in the two of them, so sure that they were meant to be, she began believing it as well. She started fantasising about their life together, what they’d do, how they’d spend their days, his ridiculous, inappropriate jokes, him slapping her ass every time he passed her by, Piglet and Azriel having a whole separate, secret relationship between the two of them, Piglet waiting for him at the door every day, her accompanying him to some of the games…

Now, she wanted it. All of it. He presented her with the fantasy, and she expected it to come to pass, which was a dangerous thing to think or hope for.

“Okay, let’s see what’s on day one,” Azriel announced. “Come here, beautiful. This is a family party.”

Elain walked over and perched herself on the arm of the sofa, but of course, Azriel wouldn’t have it, so he reached out, his long body easily stretching the length of the sofa and his vise-like arm grabbed her around the hips, before he dragged her into his lap. Playfully slapping her arse, he gently kissed her neck and whispered into her throat, “this is where you belong”. Then suddenly, his scarred hand wrapped lightly around her throat and he turned her head and smiled, before kissing a specific spot on her neck.

His thumb rubbed over the spot and he muttered, “it’s healing already.”

Elain touched her neck and then remembered what he was referring to. The bruise that he sucked into her neck five nights ago was so prominent, she was forced to wear turtlenecks and scarves in front of her clients.

“Seems like I’d have to put one on you again,” he mentioned easily.

“Excuse me?!” she cried out, “no way! I am running out of turtlenecks! They aren't my style.”

“Don’t you have like a 10-strand pearl necklace,” he wondered, placing another kiss on her neck, “that you can cover it up with?”

“All my pearl necklaces have been passed down from generation to generation.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of anything else for you. Your good mate Mor informed me of your entire family history and was about to reveal your worth as well, before I stopped her.”

“What happened between the two of you!” Elain pulled away from him, her brows knitting with incomprehension.

At that, Piglet lost it and battered through the two bodies, trying to reach the Advent Calendar. He snapped and growled, having lost patience with all this talking!

“Sweetness,” Azriel drew his knuckles over Elain’s cheek, ignoring the rambunctious dog, “you are a good girl. You trust people and believe them to be good like you. Most, unfortunately, aren’t. Mor isn’t good. And that’s all you need to know. I don’t think that she deserves your services and your attention. Cut her loose.”

What Elain said next was unexpected. She didn’t press for any more information, but instead, lightly brushed her fingertips over his face and asked, “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“Naw, baby,” Azriel smiled at her. “The only person who can break my heart is you. But you are my girl, and you wouldn’t do that, would you?”

She shook her head stubbornly,

“No, I don’t wanna do that.”

“Well, that’s good then. That’s all that matters. Now, do the honours and let’s see what the first day of Advent brought our violent and impatient pug.”

Elain laughed and Azriel inhaled the sound of her voice, burying his face in her shoulder, as he banded his arms around her belly. Piglet was watching her puncture and open the little slat with her finger, his buggy eyes full of desperation and hunger, like this was his last meal on earth.

“Ahhh, look at this!” Elain made a show of removing some kind of dog biscuit shaped like a snowman from the calendar. She let him sniff it, and Piglet readily opened his mouth. As she popped half the biscuit in her mouth, she marvelled, “every day a new treat for you! Daddy is really spoiling you, isn’t he?”

At that, Azriel growled a deep, thick masculine growl in his chest and just like that, sunk his teeth into Elain’s neck.

“Oww!” she whimpered, but her dog didn’t come to her rescue, instead nosing into her hand for the rest of the biscuit. As far as he was concerned, Azriel could bite her to his heart’s delight and Piglet wasn’t gonna raise his paw.

“Daddy can spoil mama pretty good too,” Azriel whispered into her neck, biting and sucking on it like it was his favourite meal.

“Will you stop?!” she tried to get away from him, or at least elbow him in the gut, but he escaped her attacks easily, while gently nipping on her earlobe.

“You know,” she huffed, “I have a boyfriend!”

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “Me. I am the boyfriend.”

“Oh, but” she began, but Azriel gripped her chin and made her look at him. “You are mine,” he told her unequivocally. “I don't want you mentioning that red-headed prick, and especially calling him your boyfriend. Where is he then? Show me!” he demanded. “Because I sure am not seeing him taking care of you or of Pinky.”

“He doesn’t even like Piglet,” Elain muttered.

“What the fuck? And yet you are dating him?”

“Well,”

“You know, Elain,” he said seriously. “The greatest mistake one can make in their life is investing their time and efforts into things, while getting nothing in return.

“You’ve been with him, what? 3-4 years now? Essentially, you’ve been self-destructing yourself all this time, because this is not going to lead to anything and yet you’ve convinced yourself that he’ll finally come around and ‘make the move’,”

Bristling angrily, Elain attempted to pull away from him, but he held on tight.

“Who the hell do you think you are telling me about my relationship?!” she spat out. “I know what I am doing!!”

“Do you?” he challenged flatly. “The way you are refusing to put a tree in the house? “Cause it reminds you of how well you know what you are doing. And how absolutely nothing in your life’s gone the way you wanted it to. Also, when was the last time you got laid?”

Her cheek flared and she reared back, and he only had a second to intercept her open palm, which was flying towards his face.

“You are a bastard!” she sneered, yet tears glimmered in her eyes. “I shared something with you in confidence, and now you are throwing it back in my face!”

His expression was solemn, when he gathered her hands together and pressed them to his chest, “I am not a bastard,” he argued. “And I am sorry,”

“Sorry! What do you even have to say to me when you are the one who’s never been in a relationship! You are the one who needed to go to a matchmaker to find a woman to marry!”

Azriel sighed and reminded her, “In my defence, it was Cassian’s idea. Though I don’t regret it for a second, despite you being a massive pain in the arse,”

“Then get the hell out of here!” she told him. “If I am a spinster, who isn’t putting up a tree because she is lonely and alone, and who is a pain in the arse!”

“You are getting angry over the wrong things,” he said reasonably. “Why aren’t you raging at Eris? But are raging at me?”

She sniffled and to her horror, was unable to hold back the tears that were suffocating her.

“Because,” she mumbled, turning away from him, feeling embarrassed and all out of sorts, “because…”

“Because what?” he pressed her.

“Because,” and that came out as a full sob, “because…you are different! That’s why. And I trust you. You…” she couldn’t finish her sentence, as tears of anger and frustration poured out of her and she trembled on his lap, crying openly now. All Azriel did was wrap her in his arms and held her loosely to his chest.

“Shhh,” he whispered gently, kissing her head. “I am here. I won’t leave you,”

“Everyone else has,” she sobbed, snot and drool ending up on his nice shirt. “You will too. Because I am a stupid, ridiculous, fat weirdo.

“You will find yourself a beautiful, attractive, funny, fun woman, who’ll be thoroughly modern and not embarrassing. Eris always said that I embarrassed him with my idiot ways, with my pearls and my pug and…and…he was right, you know…” she smeared more snot on her face with her fist. “Even when I rang Cassian, he said that I was the ‘lady with the pug and the bows’. Because I am a freak,”

Azriel forcefully pulled her head back from his chest and looked at her.

“What do you want me to say?” he murmured, his face devastated at the sight of her. “That you are beautiful? Unique? Hilarious? Independent? Talented? Genuine? Wonderful?”

She was shaking her head ferociously, “I am none of those things, and we both know it! I am a thing to look at and make fun of, and hopefully marry off to someone who’d have me. But no one wants to have me…”

Piglet was whimpering sadly on her thigh, licking her hand, tears in his big round eyes. He didn’t understand what was going on, but his Elain was sad and he was going out of his mind with worry. Everything started off so well. Dad came over. He brought this great gift, and Elain was happy and Piglet ate his treat and everything was going splendid. And now, she was crying, and dad was sad, and Piglet didn’t even want anymore treats, if they were the reason this was now happening.

“I see what I see, Elain Archeron,” Azriel whispered to her, “and what I see is beautiful. All the oddities that you are berating yourself over are what makes you you. Without the pug and the necklaces and the bows you’d be a completely different person. And I don’t want a different person–you are what is attractive to me. It’s irrelevant what that cunt Eris told you and if I ever meet him, I’ll hand him his arse like nobody’s business. But before that, just dry your tears, woman. See what’s in front of you for a change.”

“I’ll find you someone incredible and you’ll be with her,” she argued clumsily.

Azriel pushed her hair back and said, “Yeah, you’ve been doing an excellent job so far! I don’t know how you are staying in business,”

“Shut up!” she mumbled.

He looked at her and smiled, “Is this what it’s like to have a girlfriend? Dealing with insults, emotional breakdowns, an ornery pet, who will always matter more than me, and putting out fires?”

“Ohmygot! Shut up!” she gasped. “That’s not how I am,”

“Ahhhh, so you do agree that you are my girlfriend?” he teased.

“Not even!

“Oh I think that you just did. And I’ll be the judge of how you are as a girlfriend,”

“I already know,” she hissed. “A disappointment and a pain in the arse!”

“A pain in the arse for sure,” he agreed readily. “Disappointment–you’ve never disappointed me in anything yet. In fact, you’ve exceeded my expectations in everything.”

“You are just saying that!”

“Are we gonna go get a Christmas tree?” he asked instead.

“Do you have a car?”

“I sent Dev home after my very memorable date with Lady Morrigan,”

Elain frowned and muttered,

“She is not technically a Lady,”

“A lady she is not,” he agreed, amused, “but why do you say so?”

“A Baron’s daughter is not a ‘Lady’. She doesn't have a title. She just likes using it.”

“Ohhh?” he cocked his brow at her. “The little claws come out,” and he took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips.

“I am just saying,” Elain shrugged. “Considering that she seemed to have done a lot of investigation into my background,”

“Oh, that she did! It wasn’t a date, it was a heraldic class, with high finance thrown in there for good measure.”

Through her tears, Elain couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Are you doing better?” he asked, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“No,” she blurted petulantly. “I dunno…”

“Okay, well, let’s take your car and go get the tree. Maybe that will cheer you up.”

“I don’t have a car,”

“You don’t?” he asked, surprised. “Why?”

“I don’t know how to drive,” she admitted.

“You don’t?” he repeated again. “Why?”

“I live in London. Why do I need to drive?”

“Maybe then you wouldn’t have to lug your portly pug every time he doesn’t want to walk.”

Piglet gave Azriel a side glance, somehow knowing that they were discussing him.

“Well, I don’t know how to and I don’t have a car. So unless you want to call Dev back and put a tree in your Bentley, or you want us to take the bus, we can’t get it. So maybe this is the universe telling me that I can’t have a tree this year…”

Seeing how tears were threatening to gather again, Azriel quickly said, “Nonsense. We’ll figure something out. We’ll have a tree this year. Got it?”

“If you say so,” she shrugged, not believing him. “I have to go wash my face and shower.”

“Want me to join you?” he asked immediately.

She rolled her eyes and slid off his lap. “No!”

“Why? I can wash your face. And other bits and bobs.”

“My bits and bobs are of no concern to you,” she threw over her shoulder.

“Oh no, baby. They are of GREAT concern to me. I’ve never been more concerned about anything before, if I am being honest.”

“I can’t deal with your come-ons,” Elain moaned.

“You will be naked and soaped up just above me in the next five minutes. What else do you want besides come-ons?”

Elain looked at him from her position and didn’t respond with a biting remark, because Azriel’s eyes were the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. They were like the English countryside in autumn–golder browns scattered amidst a sea of emerald green, flecked with dark shadows and golden sparkles. They were magical eyes, and he was a magical man and without a shade of doubt, Elain realised that this unusual man was…into her. It was a strange thought to consider, and it wasn’t the first time that she thought it, but for some reason right now, it became so crystal clear to her. Azriel Night, playboy, hellraiser on and off the field, ungodly handsome, scarred inside and out, so big he blocked out the sun, a man who could have any woman…wanted to have her.

Her company. Her opinions. Her laughter and her humour. Her interests. Her dog. Her body.

Azriel wanted it all from her and with her. Azriel never asked her to change–not one thing. Whatever she wore, however she acted, whatever she ate, however she wished to go about her day, or her life–he never objected to any of it. He just accepted her. All her idiosyncrasies didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“I’ll go,” she whispered stupidly, unable to tear her eyes away from him.

What the hell was this gorgeous man doing in her house? Loving her. Consoling her. Comforting her. Reassuring her. What did she do to have him end up here, with her?

“You sure you don’t need any help?” he winked at her, throwing his long arms over the back of the sofa, and smiling widely.

And for a second, Elain hesitated.

Her mind ran wild with possibilities. And she hasn’t had sex for so long. Ages. Literal ages. Maybe since the Middle Ages! That’s what it felt like. And she hasn’t had good sex…well, ever. The sex that she read about in books–where everything was shaking and squeezing and throbbing (So. Much. Throbbing.) and trembling, and there was screaming and moaning–she’d never had that. With anyone. With Eris, it’s been adequate, but always with the lights off, and 2 positions only. He didn’t do oral and didn’t expect it from her, so that was a relief (she supposed). She would’ve liked to do more things, be more passionate, have him respond to her with warmth and excitement, but that wasn’t in Eris’s character.

“What’s that pause for, matchy?” Azriel asked. “Thinking so hard, I can almost hear it.”

“I am not,”

“Come on, baby, if you want to jump my bones, you only have to say it.”

Wiping her brow, Elain turned on her heels and wordlessly made her way upstairs.

Once she stepped under the shower, she almost expired from mortification. Surely after her wild and unexpected breakdown, Azriel would pack up and leave. She acted like a complete nut. And why? Because what Azriel said cut her so deep and so open with its honesty. Her life has been on pause for years now, and while she had hoped that Eris would be ‘the one’ it was becoming clearer every day that he wasn't going to be what she hoped he’d be. And what’s more, she knew that she’d be settling anyway. Not only was he not in any hurry to propose, but deep down, she didn't even want him to. She dreaded the thought of spending the rest of her days with Eris. It would be fine. It would be okay. But Elain didn’t want ‘fine’ or ‘okay’. Perhaps it was naive of her, but she wanted passion. She wanted excitement. She wanted all that throbbing. She wanted what her great-great-grandmother Elain had, when the Duke of Velaris fell in love with her. She wanted what Azriel could give her.

Gah! Why was she thinking of him, again?

But he could. He’d love her the way she dreamt of being loved, because he already cared for her and for Piglet more than Eris ever did. And Azriel would probably be monstrously good in bed. She didn’t even know exactly what it would entail, but she could feel it. She knew that Azriel knew how to give pleasure. And she’d be taken places she never even imagined if she was with him.

When she was alone tonight, she might just have to do some serious self-servicing. Because this man was driving her completely nuts. Also she’d have to apologise to him and maybe send him a fruit basket or something, if he even wanted to hear from her ever again. Because she behaved like a loon tonight, and it wouldn’t surprise her if he began pulling away. Why would this fine, calm, clear-headed man need someone who fell into complete hysterics in front of him and word-vomited every single insecurity she had.

Elain took a long shower, enjoying the scalding water and letting her mind settle. She didn’t even know why she was feeling so insecure, and so fragile. Was it the most extreme manifestation of her utmost relief over his failed date with Mor? Elain hated to think of herself as being so petty, but she needed to be honest with herself too. Mor frightened the bejeezus out of her with her confidence, her striking beauty, her swagger, her…everything. Mor was everything that Elain wasn’t. And was Elain climbing the walls today, knowing that Azriel was going for a drink with Mor? Yes, yes she was.

Piglet was incredibly confused about what was happening, because Elain was so scattered, she fed him breakfast twice (he didn’t mind it), then she forgot to take him for his afternoon walk, so he had to run to her and make it known that he was about to crap on the floor, then she forgot to give him afternoon snack, she rudely woke him up from his naps, and needlessly dressed him in five different outfits back to back, ending up with none in the end. Also, there was no dinner today at all. Not at 6 pm. Not at 7 pm. Piglet ran to his bowl numerous times, checking on whether it was finally filled with something, and no dice. Nuthin’.

Elain got out of the shower thirty minutes later, and spent some time on her hair, before realising that she hadn’t eaten almost anything today and hadn’t fed Piglet. She froze, shocked with herself and her absent-mindness. She forgot to feed her dog, because she was spiralling in her head over Ariel’s date! Jesus.

She grabbed the first thing she saw–a t-shirt and a pair of worn out shorts–and ran downstairs only to be stopped in her tracks when she reached the first floor.

“…Listen, it’s not like I am against VAR. It’s needed. I get it,” Azriel’s deep voice, which Elain compared to ‘midnight silk’ in her head, though she had no idea what that even meant, filled the space with gorgeous masculine presence. God she loved that voice. She loved that he was here.

He was here! He didn’t leave!

“But it just kills so many good goals. Like, goals that could go down in history, you know? Which I think is fucking bollocks,” he continued.

Elain quietly stepped onto the carpeted floor and tiptoed to the lounge.

There he was.

Sprawled on the sofa, his suit jacket off, the sleeves of his button down rolled up, exposing his muscular, spectacular forearms, Azriel was watching a football game, while Piglet lay on his thigh, watching and listening with great interest.

“I get it if it’s offside, but VAR literally measures millimetres of grass. And I think it’s bullshit. Like how are we even supposed to consider pre-VAR goals now? Maybe half of them don’t even count? Ergh…”

Bark-bark. Waaawaya-wahha.

“See, you get it!” Azriel decided.

Elain smiled. And then she fought back tears of happiness, watching the two of them together. She was so unbelievably weepy, she had no idea as to what was happening with her. So, against her better judgement, she sidled over to the sofa and then planted a long, deep kiss on the back of Azriel’s neck. She couldn’t resist. He pulled her like a magnet, and Elain couldn’t find one thing about him that she didn’t find appealing or attractive. And yes, she wanted to kiss him. In every place and in every way. But for now, she settled on just this easy, playful kiss.

“Whoa, beautiful!” he laughed, catching the back of her own neck and holding her in an awkward position, half draped over the back of the sofa, “good shower? You are in a better mood!”

“You stayed,” she murmured and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, nestling her face into the space between the two.

“Where am I gonna go?” he shrugged, like it was so obvious. “Of course I stayed, because I am not going back to Canary Wharf from here!”

“I’ve never been to your flat, by the way,” she told him, while he stroked her arms.

“No you haven’t,” he agreed. “But I have some ideas about that.”

“Ohh?”

“More to come.”

“Always with the secrets!”

“I am a secretive bloke, what can I say?” Azriel smiled at her and then said, “come here, and sit with your men, while we wait for pizza.”

“Pizza?!”

God, pizza sounded amazing right now!

“I didn’t have dinner, and it seems like neither did Pinky, because I gave him some turkey from the fridge and I thought he was gonna take off my arm.”

Elain chuckled and skirted the sofa, sitting down. Azriel smacked his lips and immediately made himself comfortable, arranging her against the cushions in a semi-seated position, and laying his head on her belly.

“Love the shorts,” he complimented her.

“Even these shorts?”

“Any shorts,” he gently drew his knuckles from her knee down her leg, before nudging her leg closer and kissing the inside of her knee. Elain softly sucked in her breath and he smiled.

“Here,” he handed her a beer bottle, while taking a sip of his own.

“Is this how life with you would be? You lounging on the sofa, watching footie, doing nothing,” she asked, taking a grateful swig of the lager.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he confirmed. “I’d be porking you as well though. Don’t forget the porking.”

“Oh yes, how can I?”

Azriel lay in the darkness of the bedroom, in silence. Well, silence was a relative term, because the door was slightly ajar and he could hear Pinky’s robust snoring even from here. Pink had a very active and loud sleeping patterns, where he snored, whimpered, gasped, licked his face so loudly it sounded like slapping, grunted, groaned and exclaimed with excitement. It was a cornucopia of sounds. And it made Azriel smile.

Azriel wouldn’t have minded falling asleep himself, but he was somehow too excited.

He was in Elain’s bedroom after all. Not what he expected exactly–it was luxurious, but lacked in pinks and gauze. The walls were a calming, if unexpected, maroon-burgundy colour, the bed was incredibly comfortable, the furnishings were in line with the age of the house, though modernised. Of course there was a whole marble fireplace here–7th, per Azriel’s latest count–where they lit a fire, which glimmered softly now.

Elain's bedroom, where the magic doesn't happen

After the pizza was delivered (two pizzas, to be precise, because Azriel ordered a child’s size plain pizza for Pinky, though the pug wasn’t aware of that), they ate, drank a bottle of white wine, Pink went into what amounted a food coma, collapsing in the middle of the room with a satisfied gurgle. Azriel noticed that after cheese, sausage and dough, as well as alcohol, his girl was feeling much better too. He was guessing that she was PMSing, but he wasn’t foolish enough to suggest that.

Elain had fallen asleep in his lap, while he was watching replays of recent games on the telly through his phone. What he loved about Elain–in addition to many other things–was that she never moaned about football. She knew that this was his career, a huge part of his life, in addition to being something that he genuinely loved, and therefore, she never whinged about him being preoccupied by the games. He was totally okay discussing things related to football with Pinky. When it was time for bed, he turned the television off and then picked Elain up in his arms. She woke up and looked up at him, adorably confused.

“Sleep, beautiful,” he murmured to her, pressing her close to his chest. She was soft and warm, and he probably shouldn't have been lifting, let alone carrying a grown woman up the stairs, considering the state of his leg, but he was prone to making illogical decisions when it came to Elain.

“You are here,” she muttered.

“I am here. And I am taking you to your bedroom,” he told her. “And,” he quickly warned, “if you fucking mention any kind of boyfriend who is not me, I will fuck you within an inch of your life!”

Elain pouted, but wrapped her arms around his neck and groused,

“You know, you can’t threaten me with fucking!”

“No?” he asked, amused.

“No! It’s not fair. Also, it’s not really a threat, you know…” she concluded.

At that, Azriel snorted a laugh,

“You want me to fuck you then?”

“No comment,” she turned her head away from him and he laughed out loud.

“No, no. I would like for you to comment. In great detail too. Don’t be shy.”

“Hard pass.”

He laughed again, and then pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, barging into the bedroom like he was about to unleash on her.

“Neanderthal,” she muttered under her breath.

“Sure am, baby. So…this is where the magic doesn’t happen, huh?”

“Yeah it does happen!” she argued.

“Self-help doesn’t count,” he parried before dumping her onto the bed.

“It’s not…” she began saying, but quickly fell silent.

Then he looked around and whistled softly, “This is nice. I can get used to this!”

“Well, don’t!” she scowled at him.

“Oh, I think I will. This is a very nice bedroom. Well done, matchy!”

“However did I survive without your approval,” she rolled her eyes. “You can go to your bedroom now,” she pointed to the door.

Azriel pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Once I am inside, you ain’t getting rid of me that easily. I am sleeping here.”

“No. Way!” she tried.

Instead of responding, Azriel began to slowly unbutton his shirt, effectively shutting her up.

It was so easy. This girl went all pink-faced and pant-y and wide-eyed from zero to one hundred in about a second, as soon as she got a glimpse of man flesh. Not to be immodest of anything, but his man flesh was pretty nice. He might have been afflicted with a slew of other insecurities, but when it came to his body, he was rather conceited, knowing that it was a work of art.

“You can’t just do…this,” she waved her hand, “every time you want to get something…”

“No? You mean you don’t want me to use sex to get you to do stuff?”

“No!”

Well, lo and behold, now, Azriel was in Elain’s bed, though she childishly kept to her side of the bed, acting like they were at a sleepaway camp or something. Azriel was amused by her antics, but he was going to help her settle and wait until she was deep asleep, before parking her sweet ass right by his cock.

He closed his eyes and threw his arm back, sinking deeper into the comfortable bed. Suddenly, Elain’s phone lit up and vibrated on her nightstand.

Azriel frowned, wondering who the hell would be messaging her at almost 1 a.m. Could be a wrong number, of course, but he glanced at the phone and saw ‘Eris’. He didn’t even have time to consider his next move, when he reached across Elain and snatched the phone. Turning on his side, to block the light from the screen and not wake her, he looked at the message.

Eris: Care to explain this?

There was an attachment with the message–that of the Daily Mail headline, and the photo of Azriel carrying Elain.

Shit.

Azriel typed, trying to adopt Elain’s way of speaking.

“Elain”: There is not much to explain

Eris: Really? Who is this mongrel, carrying you around?

Mongrel?

Azriel’s been called many things, but this was a first. It was so funny, he couldn’t even get mad.

“Elain”: Mongrel? I am not sure if it’s prudent for you to call my clients ‘mongrels’

Oh yeah, this was good. This was very Elain!

Eris: Your client? That’s what you stooped down to with your clientele? Footballers?? I should’ve guessed, though I thought you had more class than that.

“Elain”: What’s wrong with footballers?

Eris: Do you know that I received a call from Morrigan today? She was hysterical!

Morrigan? What the fuck did Mor have anything to do with this? Azriel was confused at the turn of events. He was ready to defend Elain being carried bridal style on London’s streets, but that didn’t seem to be Eris’s main concern.

Eris: I can’t believe that you opted to set her up with this…specimen!! Are you out of your mind? She is a Lady! He is some bastard, no-name footballer!

Oh, fuck no!

“Elain”: Technically, Morrigan isn’t a Lady. She is a baron’s daughter.

Oh yeah! Throwing Elain’s words back at Eris. Azriel was enjoying himself. So he wrote:

“Elain”: And if we are talking titles, Azriel is the nephew of Lord Darling, as in Duke Darling, and Rhysand Darling’s first cousin. Don’t you play polo with him?

This tidbit of info Azriel picked up from Rhys just days ago.

And then it came to him–Morrigan and Vincent Eris Autumn were engaged at some point. That’s why the connection sounded familiar. These nobles were so incestuous, it blew Azriel’s mind. And he was the mongrel?

Eris: Being related to Rhys doesn’t give this Azriel any more credibility. He is still a mongrel from a council estate. And you dared to set him up with Morrigan, and then he GHOSTED HER!!! Do you even understand what happened there?!!? That POS ghosted Mor! He just left her at the bar.

“Elain”: I am sure he had a good reason for that.

Eris: Good reason?!?! What possible good reason could it have been?

“Elain”: Why was she telling you all this anyway? She reached out to you, but not to me? I am the matchmaker.

Because this bloke seemed entirely too concerned about Morrigan, and not so much about Elain. And that made Azriel curious. So he picked up his own phone and quickly texted Rhys.

Rhys: This better be good.

Azriel: Why? You busy in the middle of the night?

Rhys: I am entertaining.

Azriel: Oh, forgive me brother. Why did you pick up then?”

Rhys: Wondering if you needed bail money or something. I never know with you.

Azriel: Nah, baby bro. I am an upstanding member of society now. With a woman and a dog. My wild days are behind me.

Rhys: Just like that?

Azriel: Just like that. Once you meet your woman, the one that was created especially for you and who fulfils your every dream and desire, you don’t need to look anymore.

Rhys: My. God. Who are you? Is this a prank text? Azriel, blink once if you’ve been kidnapped!!!!!

Azriel laughed quietly at that.

Azriel: No. My girl kidnapped my heart, but otherwise, all is well.

Rhys: I am going to vomit. Please stop.

Azriel: There was an actual reason for my message. What happened between Eris Autumn and Mor Hewn? Why did they break up the engagement?

Rhys: You serious?

Azriel: Just tell me and then you can go back to your entertaining.

Rhys: As far as I remember, she cheated on him with a footballer. Cassius something…

Azriel: Cassius…Cassius Syphon? From Luton Town?

Rhys: Yeah, I think it was him. Rumour has it that she was pregnant and had an abortion. I don’t know if it’s true, and whose baby it was. But that’s why they broke up.

Azriel: Okay, thanks. I don’t think that they ever broke up in Eris’s mind.

Rhys: Oh darling. You’ll have to spill!

Azriel: It’s convoluted. Thanks. Have a good night. Don’t forget to wrap it up.

Rhys: Oh, brother. I never do.

When Azriel glanced back at Elain’s phone, there were a slew of messages.

Eris: Elain! Elain! Where are you?

Elain!

Do not be petulant! Mor and I have a vast history and you know that.

Elain! You are being childish and immature.

Elain, you know Morrigan is a friend.

Sure she is. Azriel rolled his eyes and then typed:

“Elain”: Sorry, Piglet woke up and I needed to check on him.

Eris: Oh, naturally you’d run to your idiotic dog when we are in the middle of an important conversation. Your dog obsession needs to stop!!

“Elain”: Well, I’ll consider it when we are married.

And that caused a lengthy, LENGTHY pause in this ‘important conversation’.

Azriel giggled nastily.

At last, Eris typed back:

This isn’t the time to discuss this.

“Elain”: It seems like it never is.

Another lengthy pause.

Then Azriel wrote:

Eris, why did you wake me up in the middle of the night? Were you really concerned about me and the article in the Mail, considering that it’s weeks old now? Or was it because Morrigan ran to you to cry into your lapel?

Eris: I only now was made aware of the article!

“Elain”: And yet, here we are discussing Mor for most of the conversation.

Eris: Is this a jealousy thing?

“Elain”: No. More of a curiosity thing. Wondering why you’d be so alarmed about Morrigan’s bad date, and not as much about seeing a photo of me being carried by a man?

Eris: So it is a jealousy thing. Don’t be daft. You and I are quite together.

“Elain”: Are we?

Eris: I don’t have time for this right now. Do me a favour, and don’t set this Azriel up with anyone of value anymore. Better yet, remove him from your list of clients. I am sure he can find some slag in the men’s loo to marry.

Wow.

Well, Eris was a cunt.

“Elain”: I’ll take it under consideration.

With that, Azriel hung up. Then he went into the contacts, and blocked Eris’s number on Elain’s phone. He then deleted the entire conversation, went onto her Insta and blocked him there too, and lastly quietly returned the phone to her nightstand.

There was not going to be any more of this ‘I have a boyfriend’ bullshit anymore. It was time to kick this dating thing up a notch, and close the deal. And he had some ideas brewing in his head about all that.

At that moment, Elain’s arm fell towards him and she blindly searched for him across the bed. He smiled and instantly felt better. So he reached, thankfully his long, strong arms perfect for the task, and looped his hand over and under Elain’s thigh. Did his hand brush over the damp warmth of her pussy? Well, yes, yes it did and he liked it. He pulled Elain closer, yanking her to himself, until she was almost on top of him. He pushed this thigh between hers, so she landed right on it and that made her open her eyes groggily.

“What are you doing?” she murmured.

“Just getting my favourite weighted blanket on top of me,” he said. Elain’s arm fell over his chest, and she tucked her face into his neck.

“And if you need to ride my thigh,” he added, banding his arms around then, “you go ahead, pretty girl.”

“Ohhh, you and your sex talk,” she sighed.

“Well, sweetness, if I am getting on your nerves with my sex talk, I’ll tell you what,”

“What?”

“A clit has 8,000 nerves. I want to make sure that I get to every one of them.”

“Ohmygod.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep.”

Dev arrived early in the morning. Elain was still asleep, when she heard the doorbell ring. She heard Ariel get up rather early, and she felt him place a juicy kiss on her ass cheek, which jolted her quite a bit, but then he laughed and sashayed to the bathroom. At that moment, Piglet squeezed into the bedroom and promptly followed Azriel, which made Elain laugh.

…Yeah, nothing feels as good first thing in the morning is when you are taking your morning piss and someone stares earnestly into your eyes

…Seriously? You are just going to stand there?

Bark.

…And watch me shower?

Growl.

…Any privacy? No. Apparently not.

With a smile on her lips, listening to Azriel’s grumbling, Elain fell back asleep. Well, he wanted a dog. Having a dog like Piglet, meant never having a moment of privacy, unless Piglet allowed it.

Azriel was making coffee downstairs, music playing on his phone, while Piglet sat on his ass like a weird baby and wiggled to the beat, bobbing his head and all.

That’s how Dev found him, jamming to the tunes, unconcerned. Clearly because Azriel was here, Piglet trusted the process.

“‘Mornin’ you mega posh pug Piglet!” Dev greeted him, smiling. “Look at you and your cute pyjamas!” When his eyes travelled to Azriel, he noted, “Well, you are makin’ yourself right at home here, mate. Aren’t you?”

He handed Azriel a couple of bags, and Azriel found a pair of sweats inside, which he fished out and then pulled on with a satisfied sigh.

“Fucking finally! Now, yeah. I’d say I am settled in,” he agreed.

“Does the missus know you’ve all but moved in?” Dev chuckled, while Piglet circled him, and then beckoned him to follow. As was the case with everyone. Dev immediately began babbling in a baby voice, “what do you want to show me, good boy? What do you have for me?” and walked behind Piglet, who was wearing his onesie with yellow ducks on it. Azriel walked after Dev, holding Piglet’s ‘baby’.

Piglet led them to a huntboard, where his new Advent Calendar stood, and nodded to it pointedly, indicating that now was a good time for treat of the day.

“Ohhh, you like your Advent Calendar!” Dev understood, scratching Piglet’s neck.

“We can’t open it,” Azriel said, “not until mama wakes up. She has to be here.”

“Mama, is it?” Dev chuckled.

“Yes, we do this as a family,” Azriel confirmed seriously.

“Oh boy…Ball and chained yourself just like that, huh?”

“With pleasure,” Azriel nodded.

“Never thought it’d take someone like Miss Elain to tame you,” Dev was shaking his head with incomprehension.

“Didn’t take very long either.”

“No. Not at all.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Piglet, who was suffering from the disappointment of not having his treat. So he zoomed on Azriel, glaring at him and looking at Azriel holding the ‘baby’. Suddenly, with a threatening growl he lunged and tore the toy out of Azriel’s hand, tossed it away and then stood up on his one hind leg and looked up.

“Whoa!” Dev laughed. “Look at the attitude on him.”

Azriel compliantly scooped Piglet into his arms and kissed him.

“Yeah…” he drawled. “It’s mostly about him. Sometimes about Elain and him. But mostly about him. If he is not getting attention, we are all in trouble.”

Dev looked at his lifelong friend and really didn’t know what to think. But whatever was happening between Az and his lady love, was making the broody footballer wildly happy.

“Sorry little matey, my fault. I love you.” Azriel stroked Piglet’s back.

…”Baby! Wake up,” Azriel barged into the bedroom, Piglet hanging limply in the circle of his arm. “It’s 8 am!”

“Ugh, already? Why?” Elain whined.

“If you don’t want to get up, that’s fine by me. I can just fuck you,” he proposed.

“I don’t really understand the logic of this tradeoff,” Elain noted dryly, but then Azriel dumped Piglet onto the bed and it became a whirlwind of hugs and kisses.

“Did you know that Pink likes rock-n-roll?” Azriel queried, plopping down in an armchair and stretching his long legs in front of him.

“Obviously,” he exclaimed indignantly. “He is my son!”

“Oh yeah…He was rocking to Who Do You Love,”

“George Thoroughgood?” Elain asked quickly, stroking Piglet’s head.

“Yeah…He IS your son, I guess,” Azriel laughed. “He was bumpin’ and grinding.”

“Oh yes. He is all about that.”

She sat up and asked, “Who was at the door? And why didn’t you call me?”

“That was Dev. Delivering some clothes for me,” Azriel explained, making a wide gesture down his body, showing her his t-shirt and his sweats.

“So…yeah, he brought a bag,”

“Is that so?” Elain raised her brow at him. “Are you moving in?”

“Funny how he asked me the same,” Azriel snapped his fingers.

“Hilarious,” she deadpanned.

“Listen, get your arse ready and we are gonna go do couple shit!”

“Oh wow. Be still my beating heart,” Elain dramatically pressed her hands to her chest. “Couple shit. You really know how to sell it.”

“Yeah, I am an expert.”

“Do tell, what kind of ‘couple shit’ we are doing?”

“We are getting brekkie first, and then we’ll see.”

He got up, but before he left the room, Elain said quietly, licking her lower lip, “about the other thing…”

He turned his head and gave her a quizzical look.

“What thing?” he asked.

“The other thing,” she repeated. “The one…you know…”

“No, I don’t. Why are you speaking in riddles?”

“The thing you want to do with me. To me.”

“Sex?” it finally dawned on him. He gawked at her like she grew a horn.

“Yeah,” she confirmed lamely.

“What about it, beautiful? Don’t keep me in suspense here!”

“Well, maybe I want it,” she finally managed to whisper.

Azriel made a move to drop his joggers and Elain screamed, “No!!!! NOT NOW!!!”

He burst out laughing and shook his head like a dog, “scared you, huh?!”

“You are a damn nutter!” she huffed.

Crossing his arms on his chest, he asked then, “Okay, so what’s our timeline on the sex then?”

“I dunno.”

“Okay, my timeline is very flexible,” he assured her quickly. “Like…any day. Any time.”

“Oh, I am very shocked!”

“You should be. I am hard to get. Kind of a big deal, if you know what I mean.”

“Very…very big deal,” she agreed.

“Hey matchy, you ought to know that after we have our couple breakfast, I have to go and shoot an advert! You got yourself a proper celebrity boyfriend.”

Azriel spent a good twenty minutes chasing after Pinky, trying to dress him. While Elain was showering and dressing, he was running after a very portly three-legged pug, who had short legs to boot, but who perfected his evasion techniques like he was trained with SAS. At last, Azriel resorted to trickery, and ambushed Pinky by throwing a towel over him, blinding and tripping him for a few seconds, which allowed him to swarm and grab him. In retaliation, he dressed Pink in the most ridiculous outfit he could find–some knit cream dungarees, and a pink hat with two fluffy things (Azriel wasn’t sure what they were called). Problem was that not only did the pug make it work, but when Elain came down, she was in cream jeans, a pink jumper, and then she put on a cute pink jacket and a beanie with one fluffy thing on top. God dammit. Pinky always won.

“Beautiful,” Azriel whispered, taking her by the hand, “you make my dick hard and my heart soft. You are my perfect little girl.”

Azriel just threw on a jacket that Dev brought with him and pulled a flat cap on, attempting to avoid scrutiny. He already knew that the pug would be attracting a ton of attention, because no matter where they went, in any location, someone always pointed and cried out ‘look it’s a pug!’

Piglet, in his ugly outfit

Elain readily threaded her fingers with his, and it made him smile.

“Is this couple shit?” she asked, as they walked down the street.

“Totally. Love couple shit. Love this little hand in mine!” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Piglet was leading them, walking confidently, like he knew where he was going. Elain took Azriel’s by the elbow like a proper lady and he commented,

“We look interesting together.”

“How’s so?”

“I look like Death. And you…” he looked her over and then decided, “you look like a lovely fawn.”

“Death and the lovely fawn,” she repeated. “Good. I like it.”

Elain led them further away from the British Museum, towards University College London where there were fewer tourists and since many students were away for the winter break, it was quiet around here as well.

She ducked into an unassuming but historic building and they entered a spacious, well-lit eatery. Piglet immediately made the beeline to the bar, and stood up on his hind leg, waiting.

“Piglet! It’s you, mate!” the barman greeted her like they were old friends. “Hey Miss Elain, good morning to you!”

“Morning Archie!”

“You having breakfast?”

“Yes, please.”

“Sit yourself down, and we’ll get you sorted. Okay to give Piglet a treat?”

“Sure. Why do you think he is at the bar?”

While Azriel and Elain found a table, seemed like half the attendees were snapping photos of Piglet, who was being fed crisps over the bar. A cook and a couple of waitresses came out and gave Piglet hugs, while one offered him a biscuit, and the other, filled a tea cup with whipped cream.

“Remind me to come back as Pinky in my next life,” Azriel said, watching the spectacle.

“You and me both,” Elain said.

“No, baby,” he shook his head, “every life, you’ll be coming back as my wife. Sorry not sorry.”

Elain blushed at his words and the expression of unflinching desire on his face, and quiet admiration in his eyes.

“I love how everyone knows you,” he commented. “I love how you are part of the neighbourhood and you are woven into the fabric of this life, of this part of London. Like your grandmother. And great-grandmother. And the ones before that…It’s unique and beautiful.”

And it seemed to Elain that Azriel wished to be part of this life as well. What he wasn’t saying with words, he was conveying with his eager words, the eyes that were darting around the place.

“This place has been around since 1902,” Elain explained. “My great-great-grandmother Elain had two servants…maids, who worked for the Duke of Velaris. They were twins–Nuala and Cerridwen,”

“Nuala, like the Nuala I went out with?”

“Yep. Same name. Anyway, for their service and at my gran’s insistence, the Duke bought this house for them–they opened this canteen and it’s been in operation ever since. Used to service all the domestics who worked around here. Men who delivered coal, sellers, cooks–the working class. Nuala lived upstairs with her husband and their four children. Cerridwen lived across the street, in that house,” she pointed towards the window, “with her husband who was the Duke’s personal valet, Balthazar. They also had four children. And the canteen has been in their families ever since. The barman, Archie, and his sister Prue–they are like me, the sixth generation of those who lived or served at the Duke’s household.

“So yes, in a way, we’ve been woven into the fabric of this town, of this neighbourhood for over 125 years. It’s important for me to preserve these threads. They are what makes London the unique city that it is. I love it. I could never leave here.”

“Hey Miss Elain,” a woman, who Azriel assumed was Prue, came over to their table. “How are you? Thanks for popping in. Who is your lad?” and she levelled Azriel with an assessing gaze. Then she frowned, a look of recognition slowly, but surely spilling over her features.

“Azriel Night then?” she asked.

Azriel nodded.

“Well, now, welcome then Mr. Arsenal himself. We here support Tottenham of course,” she added firmly.

“I would imagine,” Azriel nodded, seeing that they were literally a block away from Tottenham Road.

“So, what’s the story with you two? Did I spy you two walking hand in hand?” Prue tapped a pencil on her order book.

“I’ll have a full English,” Azriel told her. “What do you want, beautiful?”

The waitress kept looking between the two of them, waiting for the answer.

“I’ll have the same, and coffee. We are...Mr. Night is my…”

Both Azriel and Prue peered at Elain so hard, it was like they were trying to set her on fire with her gazes.

“Miss Elain!” Archie called from the bar. “I’ll take Piglet to the kitchen!”

“He might never leave!” Elain answered and everyone in the restaurant laughed.

“It’s alright. We’ll keep him then! We have chicken and rice soup for lunch.”

Azriel recalled how Piglet roared like a bear over chicken and rice previously, so he said, “Bye Piglet. It’s been nice knowing you! Don’t forget to write.”

“Azriel is my boyfriend,” Elain suddenly announced, all in one breath.

Azriel exhaled loudly and muttered, “finally!”

Prue threw him a bemused glance and asked, “What, you weren’t sure?”

Elain smiled. She placed a hand on his and stroked it.

“Sorry Miss Elain,” Prue said, “and this might not be my place to say it, but I am glad that you got yourself a proper fella, and not that Lord Autumn. He wouldn’t even step inside this place let alone eat here.”

“Sorry Prue,” Elain blushed at the words. “But we are in a new place now.”

“It’s about time!” came the stern answer.

Once the waitress left them, and went back to cooing over Piglet, saying how much she loved his outfit and therefore, making Azriel die a little bit internally, he mentioned,

“No one likes your ginger lord, it seems like.”

“They don't like you either, because you play for Arsenal.”

“I can live with that. At least I was called a ‘proper fella’.”

Once they got their drinks, Azriel gave Elain a look that had her rolling her eyes and muttering, “What? What now?”

“Oh nothing…” he answered breezily.

“Right…”

“So, I am your boyfriend, huh?”

“Seems like it. You keep sleeping in my bed,” she reminded him, while sipping her coffee.

“Yeah, true. Though I feel like there is one, rather big and important part missing in the boyfriend experience.”

“Hmmm…How would you know? You’ve never been a boyfriend before,” she reminded him.

And Azriel grinned, thinking that this girl blew his mind all the damn time.

“May I have your phone?” Azriel asked then, extending his hand.

“Why?”

“Your phone, madame. If you will.”

“Ugh,” she handed him the phone. “No dick pics.”

“You could use a dick pic or two,” he told her, but then promised, “no, I’m not running to the loo to snap a couple for you.”

He messed with something for a few moments and then gave it back. She eyed it suspiciously but didn’t find anything new.

Azriel followed all this finagling with a text. It came on Elain’s phone under Sexy Boyfriend Azriel as in the new contact, replacing the previous Mr. Azriel Night.

“I’ll be monitoring this, darlin’, to make sure you don’t change it back,” he warned. “The fuck you are keeping me under Mr. Azriel Night for? I sound like your dentist.”

The breakfast was absolutely delicious. Azriel wasn’t surprised that the place has been in business for 120 years. If they served food like this, they deserved another 400 years in business.

At some point, Archie came out, cradling Piglet to his chest.

“Ummm, he fell asleep,” he chuckled.

“Oh my god, how much chicken and rice did he eat?!” Elain gasped. Azriel was laughing. Piglet looked like he was in a food coma.

“Not as much as you’d think, but enough.”

…The crisis struck when they finished breakfast, Azriel paid and Piglet finally woke up, looking groggy. Azriel glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost 11 am. He did have a photo shoot to get to, and while he didn’t want to leave Elain, he needed to get going.

Elain got up from her chair, reaching for her jacket that hang on the back of chair, and Azriel immediately hissed,

“Sit down!”

Alarmed, she turned to him, and then followed his gaze, which was planted on her ass. Before she could make a snarky comment about him staring at her butt, she noticed a huge blood stain spread all over her light jeans and the chair.

How…

What?

How did she not notice?!!?

“Oh my god,” she gasped, horrified.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he assured her quickly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!?!”

“It’s just period blood,” Azriel tried lamely, knowing that he wasn’t coming up with decent comforting words.

She collapsed back in the chair, and they both knew that she just made it worse, probably smearing even more blood on her jeans and at this point, destroying the chair entirely. Not only that, there was a squelching sound that accompanied her move.

“Oh Jesus…” she moaned pathetically, tears gathering in her eyes.

Azriel understood.

Elain was a proper lady, and this wasn’t something that she could just ‘rock’ or brush off. Elain wasn’t going to ‘own it’. She was a modest, decorous, reserved, pearl-wearing noble Lady. An actual noble lady. And it didn’t escape his notice that on her mantle, Elain had a photo of herself, in some kind of heavy velvet robe edged with silver, a diamond and sapphire tiara, with her sisters dressed in a similar manner, at the coronation of the king. Azriel understood perfectly well that in many ways, he was way out of her league, but he also understood that her upbringing and her position limited her.

He considered things quickly, got up and told her, “sit here. Don’t cry.”

She sat, unmoving, while he went and sought out Prue. Quickly explaining the situation, he handed her 200 quid for the chair and her promise to remove the chair as soon as they left. When he returned to the table, he handed Elain his jacket.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, while he zipped her up. The jacket was long enough to cover her bottom half down to mid thigh. “You’ll freeze to death!”

Azriel shrugged, “Sweetness, I run around the pitch for 90 minutes in December under pouring rain. I’ll be alright. Let’s go.”

“I can’t! Azriel. It’s December. You are wearing a long-sleeve shirt.”

“Ahhh,” he smiled, “but I have a secret weapon!” He picked up Pinky from the floor and pressed him to his chest. “This is a chubby, warm furnace of my own. Portable too.”

Elain smiled weakly, stroking Piglet’s head, and then Azriel’s face.

“Thank you. Are you sure?”

“I am,” he assured her. She wrapped her scarf around his neck and then went outside.

It was brisk.

Azriel fought the urge to shiver, but he knew that she’d freak out if he did. Truth be told, the dog did provide a decent amount of heat.

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

“Why? Ellie, I deal with various menstruation crises every other week. I am quite adept,”

“What? How?” she looked at him.

“I train 10-12 year old girls. We have someone bleeding out, forgetting their pads or tampons, not knowing what to do, crying, running away on the reg. So this is really sort of normal for me. The number of times I had to ring their parents, sometimes getting the dads, who are even more confused than their daughters about what to do…Those are funny conversations.

“Dev frequently does pad and tampon runs, so we can keep them in the locker room. It’s really quite cute, actually.”

Elain looked up at Azriel. He was walking next to her, barely dressed, carrying her dog. He did it all only for one reason–her comfort. Whether it was her losing her cool yesterday, crying and spilling her guts to him, or her bleeding out today, it seemed that nothing could shake this man. He was a mountain. A pillar of complete trust and support. One who stood by her no matter what. One who had her back, and never asked for anything in return.

And it was then, in that moment of absolute clarity, that Elain realised that she was in love.

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elain #acotar #elriel fanfic #my writing #A Match Baked In Heaven #new chapter #azriel #fic update #my fanfiction #Elriel fanfiction

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writtenonreceipts · 1 year ago

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a/n: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays @howlingcaptaincommando! It’s been a delight getting to know you these few weeks, thanks for putting up with my insanity and I hope you enjoy this messy, slightly chaotic thing…I'm sorry you got stuck with me. Considering all the bangers being released already and then there's this...

thank you to @acotargiftexchange for organizing this event again! <3<3<3

Warnings: none (except it’s me so you’ve gotta put up with that) ~10k words

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

We’re All Waiting On A Dream

Elain Archeron had never done well with winter.

It was an unfortunate truth that no matter what she did—it never changed.

She could fill her house with plants and flowers, she could open all the blinds of the small coffee shop where she worked, she could bake her favorite bread and dessert every day of the week. But nothing could replace the sunlight of a new spring day or the deep unyielding warmth of the summer sun.

It was only mid-November and she was already craving when the sun would return. Already, she’d planned just how she would spend those first few warm days of the season and none of them involved being indoors, cold, or sitting around at home. She was going to travel and make the best of summer.

She just had to wait six months.

The lingering light of afternoon spilled through the front windows of the shop, splashing across the worn hardwood floors. It was barely four-thirty and already the sun was sneaking lower into the horizon. In just a few more minutes, it would sink behind the nearest buildings and shadows would replace those gentle strips of light.

It was unavoidable, so Elain made the best of it as she swept around the shop and adjusted the lamps that would soon do a majority of the lighting for the night. The dark oak flooring was nicked and scuffed from the wear and tear over the years. If Elain wasn’t mistaken it was the same flooring from when the shop was first built. One of these days she would try and restore the shabby wood, knowing that with a bit of sanding and new stain, the floors would gleam with new life. The project, with as much work as it would be, sounded fun. Another activity to wait to complete though.

For now, she continued her usual tasks as she straightened the small reading couch in one corner and collected a bit of trash that someone left behind. There usually wasn’t much cleaning to do even as a coffee shop. They were tucked down a small alleyway on main street, nestled beside the antiques boutique, only the locals ever really knew where to find them. And on nights like this, things usually remained relaxed and slow.

Really, though—she didn’t mind. These were the nights she enjoyed most. The quiet ones. The easy ones. The shop had long been her solace, even back in school when she’d just been a patron. Even when the winter months dragged on and on, she’d found that this place with its shelves of books and the homey atmosphere were welcoming and helped lighten her mind. It was the kind of the shop where nothing chaotic ever—

The front door jangled open with a frenzy that nearly toppled the bell along the top rail. A gust of winter air swept through the shop, nibbling at Elain’s exposed ankles. She spun around just in time to see a tall man dressed in a pair of neat, black pants and deep green sweater enter the shop. His long red hair hung loose down his shoulders; his warm tanned skin complimented by the colors of his sweater. He was too handsome for his own good, looking far too confident and sure of himself. None of which was helped by the smirk that curled his full lips.

“Elain.” he greeted as soon as he saw her.

Lucien Vanserra.

Even after all this time of knowing him, she never quite knew what to think of him. He had a way of taking the peaceable moments and turning them right on their head. No matter what happened, whenever or wherever Lucien was—there was certainly a bit of mischief to follow.

He was by himself tonight which wasn’t too much of an anomaly. Often, he was with one of his old college friends, Jurian. The two of them were well known for rambunctious energy and very little restraint. Elain had shared several classes with the two of them all through university, ended up in the same study groups, and now was subject to them coming into the shop just about every day.

She supposed she shouldn’t complain too much. Between college and the two of them were how she met one of her closest friends, Vassa, who was also currently dating Jurian. Or they were just sleeping together. Elain wasn’t too sure of the details but knew better than to ask else she face Vassa’s wrath and own probing questions.

Lucien himself was impossible to know, Elain had long ago decided. He could be an arrogant smartass while all at the same time—an idiot. The fact that he was the most attractive man Elain had ever seen didn’t help much either.

“Lucien.” Much to her chagrin she often was at a loss for words when they came face to face. She’d always been flustered by him, not that she’d ever admit it. It was that disarming smile of his she was sure.

Lucien glanced around the empty shop. “Slow night?”

“It was,” Elain said, arching a brow. Just because he flustered her didn’t mean she had to like him.

Lucien only grinned as he approached the register. He was too comfortable here, Elain decided. Especially with that confidence he always seemed to walk with. She shouldn’t judge him for that. He was always here at the shop these days, mostly because it was the only quiet space on the downtown strip. Though, Elain had no idea what he was doing, only that it kept him busy. He almost always had a computer before him taking care of some sort of work. If he wasn’t going over documents, he was on the phone in quiet but urgent conversations. She hadn’t worked up the courage to ask him what it was he did for work, worried that it would open some unknown door that she couldn’t shut if she got in too deep.

She left off cleaning and went behind the counter already putting his usual order in. He always got the same thing no matter the time of day, no matter the time of year. She hadn’t meant to memorize it, but when she was always here working and he was always coming in—it was impossible not to do.

“Do you want your usual order?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She only realized her mistake upon looking up to find Lucien cocking an eyebrow.

“Keeping tabs on my habits, Elain?” He looked far too pleased at that fact, that smile of his rising just a tick.

“Hard not to when you’re always here,” she said, drily. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Nope.” he replied cheerfully.

Lucien really was a hard person to get to know, to understand, really. Elain had decided that back at university. His personality was so charming that he often received more attention than most. His good looks certainly helped too. Elain didn’t know if calling him a flirt was right or not, but his silver tongue often made her wonder if she’d ever experienced the real Lucien Vanserra. Even worse was, she sometimes wanted to know the real him.

He only chuckled at her sardonic look. “The usual is great. With an extra bagel, if you could?”

Elain took his payment and handed back the thick black credit card. “I’ll bring it out to you in a few.”

As she moved to get started on his drink—an iced vanilla latte with caramel—he remained at the counter, leaning against the solid granite. He did this every so often, trying to strike up a conversation with her. It was usually the stuff of nonsense that ranged from what she thought about pineapple on pizza to who keeps breaking into local zoos and releasing animals from their cages in the middle of the night.

He was immediately offended when she told him pineapple was acceptable as a pizza topping. In fact, she didn’t see him for three days after that confession. Though she didn’t think it really had anything to do with her and more on the lines of the mysterious work he was always up to.

“You’re always here, Elain,” Lucien said. “Don’t you ever get a break?”

Elain scoffed at the question. “I can’t afford time off. I’ve got bills to pay.”

School hadn’t been cheap and she still was not working in her major. A fact she would rather not think about.

“Jurian and I are going to a basketball game next week,” he said, “you should come.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d endeavored to invite her out. Just a few weeks ago there’d been a party thrown by Lucien’s older brother. It was supposedly one of the best parties of the year, including New Years.

Though, Elain wasn’t sure what counted as best party of the year considering all the times Lucien and Jurian had thrown dorm parties involving ranking Mario Cart avatars and how best to optimize playing the game to goldfish racing.

Elain didn’t bother to learn about the second activity.

“Can’t,” she said. She pulled two toasted bagels from the toaster and wrapped them up with a tube of cream cheese. “Someone’s gotta run the shop.”

It was true. Alis had stopped trying to hire anyone new because Elain always insisted on picking up shifts. Sure there was Nuala or Ceridwen who also rotated on shifts, but Elain preferred to be working.

Lucien frowned, just barely, at her answer before he accepted the bagels and finished drink from her. “Alright, it’s an open invitation though.”

He continued to eye her curiously for a minute longer before finally turning and heading to his usual table in the back corner of the shop.

Elain couldn't help but watch as he settled into his seat before turning back to her workstation to clean up after herself. A small pang echoed in her chest but she didn’t quite know how to identify the emotion behind it.

It wasn’t as though she wanted to be a recluse. Ever since leaving school, things hadn’t gone her way. Jobs kept turning her down. Her student loans were piling up. Most of her friends had moved away. Not to mention her relationship with her sisters was rocky at best. Their mother’s death hadn’t helped matters either. In all honesty, the distraction of always being at work was nice. She was exhausted by the time she got home and almost always immediately fell asleep and didn’t have to think about anything else other than keeping herself (and plants) alive.

She used to be the going out type. Used to love the social scene. It got harder though when dad’s health was declining. And then the Grayson matter.

Something needed to change. She knew that. Just a small little switch to flick and then maybe she’d feel a little bit better about where she was in life. Every time she thought about what that change could be, however, her mind only let her consider all the disastrous and unfortunate outcomes that would inevitably occur.

Which was why Tinder had long since gone dormant on her phone.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Elain was startled to attention by the door of the shop thudding open again.

“Where on earth have you been!”

Elain froze at the voice. She’d just settled in to run an inventory of supplies on the computer when her sister chose that moment to enter the shop.

Nesta Archeron entered the shop like a whirlwind. A chaotic, well put together whirlwind that hardly, if ever, touched down. She was constantly involved with one event or another, specifically to please her fiancé, or she was trying to keep her own career afloat (made nearly impossible because Thomas was an ass). There was no easy way to describe Nesta. Especially not when she hardly offered anything of herself in return. Elain loved her sister, truly she did, but sometimes the woman could be rather intense.

Her blonde hair was swept back in half-do, tendrils of hair framing her sharp features and emphasizing the startling silver of her eyes. The neutral tones of her make-up only emphasized her striking beauty and highlighted the determined way she was looking at Elain.

“I’ve been here,” Elain said, slightly amused as she typed into the computer. “All day. My job is rather annoying like that.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, unamused and stalked the rest of the way to the register, her high heeled shoes clicked lightly on the floor, her black dress and sleek jacket indicating it had been a please the fiancé sort of day and not one to have to herself. She set her purse, some designer that Elain didn’t recognize, on the counter and leaned forward with a frown.

“You missed the dress fitting,” Nesta said.

Elain nodded. “Just like I told you I would. There was no one to take my shift and I wasn’t about to close shop in the middle of the day.”

Elain had tried explaining this to her sister before, but since it was an inconvenience for her, Nesta had forgotten it. Alright. That was unfair. Nesta did have quite a bit of stress as she was trying to plan a wedding with a useless fiancé. And said useless fiancé was having Nesta take over quite a bit of his own business duties.

Anytime Elain tried talking to her sister about it, Nesta shut down and changed the topic entirely.

“I know,” Nesta sighed, brushing stray strands of hair out of her face. A look of genuine apology flashed in her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, but it was the only time that worked and you know how important this is for Thomas. But I really needed you at the fitting, Elain. Everything has to go perfectly.”

Flinching inwardly, Elain held back a sigh. On Saturday, her soon to be brother-in-law was to be honored as the new vice-president of his company…doing something of some import. All because of the work Nesta herself had done.

In any case, Elain would be expected to attend because the more people there in support of Thomas the better he came off to his boss. Though, if he were being promoted his boss must already think highly of him. (It was all very convoluted to Elain.)

Then came the fact that Thomas did not like her. And she didn’t like him, so really it all worked out that way. But Elain liked her sister. She wanted to support her sister. And now she was roped into a hoity toity gala. She’d have to shave. Everywhere.

“Nesta,” Elain said patiently, “I am more than happy to support Thomas,” who knew she was an excellent liar? – “and I will be there. Buy the dress as is and I can have Vassa alter it for me. She’s good like that.”

Vassa would laugh her ass off is what she would do, but Elain wouldn’t tell Nesta that.

Nesta blinked, a mild look of panic seizing her face. “Does Vassa know anything about sewing?”

“Sure,” Elain shrugged. “How hard could it be?”

“Elain.”

“Nesta.” Elain reached out and patted her sister’s hand. “The dress fit perfectly the first time I tried it on, three weeks isn’t going to make much of a difference.”

“Alright. You’re right.” Nesta sighed, slouching even further into the counter. Elain had no doubt her sister was counting down the moment to when she could kick her heels off into a corner and not look at them for at least twenty-four hours. “I won’t worry about the dress. But, I do need to know who you’re bringing.”

“Bringing?” Elain repeated. An icy feeling started spreading through her. Oh no. Oh no. She hadn’t prepared for this.

“Yes bringing, you can't come alone Elain,” Nesta said. She gave Elain a look as this was the most obvious thing. “There will be cameras and Thomas’s boss will be there too.”

Why Elain should care about Thomas’s boss, she had no idea. Why anyone would care about her being there, she had no idea. And she said as much.

“Who cares if I have a date?” She demanded. “I am a grown woman. I don't have to bring anyone. I don’t think anyone will want to stamp my picture on whatever new pamphlet the company puts out next year.”

Nesta’s own panic spread across her face. “Please, Elain. I know it’s a little ridiculous, but it has to go perfectly. I know someone I can ask for you, Thomas has a friend—”

Elain blanched.

“No, no I have someone. I have someone…a boy. A boyfriend. I have one.” Elain spoke before she even knew what she was saying. She was digging her own grave but her brain hadn't caught up to that fact.

“You have a boyfriend?” Nesta snapped to attention at the words. Her blue eyes narrowed in on Elain. “Why haven't I heard about him? What's his name, where did he study? Family?”

She really had to think before she spoke. This was not going to end well. Elain gaped at her sister trying hard to think of an answer. How much could she make up before Nesta caught on? Could she fabricate the perfect gentleman only to have him break her heart on the night of the event? Or would that be too dramatic and detract from Thomas?

Elain pulled herself together as best she could. “This is why I didn't say anything because I knew you would do this, Nesta.”

“Honestly Elain, if you’re just going to make up a story--” Nesta was already pulling out her phone and selecting a number in her contacts.

“Lucien.” Elain blurted out the first name that came to mind. “Lucien Vanserra. That’s who he is. And he's right here. Lucein!”

At the very direct sound of his name, Lucien looked up from his coffee and laptop with a bite of bagel making its way to his mouth. It was the first time she had ever seen him caught off guard. It was rather unfortunate that she didn't have time to appreciate it properly.

Lucien recovered from whatever shock he was facing or he was just that good at reading a situation because he set down his bagel and in a few loping steps he was back out the counter, his grin back in place.

“Elain.” As always, he appeared perfectly agreeable, his casual business wear only emphasizing how put together he was. Whether he’d overheard what Elain and her sister had been talking about, she couldn’t tell. She just hoped he was as good an actor as he always seemed to be.

Especially given the fact that Nesta was scrutinizing him in overtime.

“This is the boyfriend?” Nesta asked, her words slow as if she herself needed to make sense of them too.

Lucien glanced at Elain with a rather bemused expression. She gave him as pleading a look as she could while Nesta continued her assessment.

When Lucien nodded discreetly at her, Elain felt a small bit of relief. She wouldn’t trust it for long though.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said. He extended a hand to Nesta who paused for a moment before accepting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Elain talks about you all the time.”

Nesta didn’t answer immediately. As with everything, she took great care in analyzing everything about a situation.

“Vanserra,” Nesta repeated. She had a thing about names and people and appearances. Vanserra must have been a decent enough name because Nesta raised her chin slightly, a slow smile working at one corner of her mouth. “She hasn’t mentioned you before.”

Unperturbed, Lucien adopted his casual ease and laughed. “Considering how long it took for her to pay me any attention, I’m not surprised.”

His words sent an unbidden flush over Elain’s skin even as she glared at him. She didn’t exactly know what to make of his words either. Either he was very good at lying on the spot (concerning) or there was a pinch of truth to his words (also concerning).

“Well,” Nesta said. She turned back to Elain abruptly. “Saturday. The event starts at seven, I expect you to be there at six-thirty. Six-thirty, Elain.”

“I will be there,” Elain said, Nesta gave her a look. “We will be there.”

The only thing that saved Elain from further humiliation by her own doing was Nesta’s phone buzzing with an incoming call.

Nesta only ignored it long enough to raise a single brow to Lucien. “Black tie.”

It wasn’t until the door of the shop clicked shut that Elain let out a rather unfeminine groan and nearly collapsed across the work counter. What had she just gotten herself into?

“So,” Lucien said, his voice growing closer as he filled the space Nesta vacated. Elain looked up to him leaning across the space to get closer to her. “When did we start dating?”

Elain felt her cheeks flush deeper. Oh hell, what had she done?

Huffing out a breath she straightened and ran her hands through her hair. She fixed Lucien with as menacing a look as she could while he kept grinning.

“What was I supposed to do? She was going to set me up with someone from her fiancé’s work. I’ve seen a majority of those men, no good options.” Elain knew she was rambling in desperation, but she couldn’t help it. Thankfully the embarrassment of the past ten minutes hadn’t set in yet. That was one miracle she’d accept.

“Hm,” Lucien hummed, “I do see your dilemma. This is a rather interesting choice of action though, all the same.”

Groaning, Elain started pacing behind the counter. “It’s fine. I can make up a dramatic break-up story within the next three days. That’ll fix this. Oh, no. It won’t because she knows your name, she’ll find you. I could fake an illness? Except I used that the last time there was one of these events.”

This was turning out to be not very good.

Elain stopped and looked at him. “I am so sorry. This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Ah, Elain, what you don’t know about me is that I was born for mischief and mayhem. Just ask my mother, she has an entire photo album dedicated to the destruction I caused as a child.”

“I don’t think this is helping,” she said, slightly horrified.

He flashed her a smile. “Oh but it will help. I can promise a night full of fun, you’ll hardly even realize you’re at a…where are we going?”

“A work party for her fiancé’s marketing company,” Elain explained, crinkling her nose as she remembered the rather mundane and boring job Thomas had. “He just landed an account for drills and is being promoted.”

“Why the hell would anyone—” Lucien cut himself off with a wave of his hand— “doesn’t matter. The point still stands that I can guarantee a fun night.”

“Can you hold a conversation about drills?”

“No but I do know magic.”

“Absolutely not.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment.

Lucien spoke first. “It’d be hilarious. Get you out of any more of these events.”

A startled laugh escaped her. She couldn’t help it. There was just something in the way he spoke and the sincerity that he held that just seemed funny. At her first bubble of laughter, Lucien joined in.

“C’mon, Elain, consider it a practice run,” he said.

“Practice run?” Elain repeated.

“Sure,” Lucien shrugged. “When you come to the basketball game with Jurian and I. Vassa can come.”

His eyes sparked with a mix of humor and…hope?

Elain approached the counter again, still not believing that he was agreeing to this. Even with a little bit of insistence to his own favor. In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why he was so interested in her. In school she’d been a bit intense in her studies and hadn’t left much room from friendships or other relationships for that matter. But he’d always been there on the edge of her sights. A nuisance sure, but there all the same. And there weren’t a lot of people she could say the same of.

“You have a suit and tie?” she asked. He nodded. “You’re okay with pretending to be my boyfriend?” Another nod. “You won’t let this be a thing that you hold over my head?”

“Elain,” Lucien said. A bit of the humor left his voice and he straightened. “Consider it a favor among friends. You don’t even have to go watch basketball. I want to help you out.”

She worried her lip, still not completely convinced. But she knew what would happen if she showed up alone and knew that Nesta would laud it over her for the rest of their lives.

“Alright,” she agreed. “Lucien Vanserra, would you please be my fake boyfriend?”

His russet eyes sparked. “Elain Archeron, it would be my pleasure.”

…

On Saturday evening, Elain found herself trying to control her sanity. It was not going very well.

“Would you hold still?” Vassa muttered for yet another time. She stabbed Elain’s shoulder with a bobby pin. “We’re almost done.”

Elain squirmed again. Usually, she didn’t mind sitting still and being pampered. Hell, she loved it. Getting dressed up and looking her best was something she missed being able to do. It had been the one thing she was looking forward to about the night. After so long of being so shut in, having a night to just be and have fun? If it weren’t for the mess of dealing with Thomas (and now a forced fake relationship) she wouldn’t have given her sister such a hard time.

As it was, she was still nervous.

Maybe it was being out among people again? No, she’d always loved people and making new friends. It had to be Lucien. It had to be the idea of getting closer to him even for a night. She had no idea why. It was just Lucien.

But the closer the clock ticked to six, the more her stomach flopped.

Vassa tugged hard on Elain’s hair.

“Ow!”

“Oops.”

Elain glared through the mirror at her friend who ignored her. It hadn’t taken very much pleading to enlist her friends help in preparing for this stupid party. Mostly just a promised girl’s night out. Though, after Elain had explained what had happened and who she would be going with and the entirety of the fake boyfriend situation—Vassa had found no issue in helping Elain out.

Once she’d stopped laughing of course.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Elain muttered. She wrung her hands together as she stared at their reflections. “I should have just put my foot down and told Nesta no.”

“Since when has telling Nesta no ever worked out, Elain?” Vassa replied. She shoved another bobby pin into place causing Elain to wince. “Besides, Lucien is fun. Do you remember in school when he hired a mariachi band to follow the dean around?”

That, admittedly, had been hilarious. There was also the time Lucien and Jurian had built a giant outdoor water slide on the hottest day of the year. Complete with a water balloon fight afterwards. If there was one thing to say about Lucien it was that he enjoyed having a good time.

“And he’s good looking,” Vassa added.

“Vassa,” Elain sighed.

“He comes into your shop a lot too,” Vassa said. She cocked her head to one side through the mirror, a small smile on her lips.

Elain’s glare went ignored. Again.

After another few minutes, Vassa hummed happily and patted Elain’s head.

“There,” she said. “I think that looks good.”

It really did.

While Elain could often manage on her own to make herself look flawless and put together—she’d needed a bit more confidence for that night. And who else could she ask for help than Vassa?

Most of her hair still flowed down her back in loose curls, but the rest was pulled up in a twisting braid. It all came together with the carefully applied make-up Elain had done.

“Thanks,” Elain said. She touched a few places in her hair out of habit. Everything was perfect though.

“You’re gonna look great,” Vassa said. Her smile was infectious as she leaned in for a quick hug. “Let's get you in your dress. He’ll be here any minute.”

Elain’s stomach flopped again. She really wasn’t going to get out of this was she? And yet there was a small part of her that asked if she really wanted to.

It had been ages since she’d had a fun night out. Even if it was to go to an event for Thomas of all people—Elain was just eager for fun. And she was going with Lucien. Lucien who actually made Elain smile. And he’d never pressured her in all the little flirtations he’d thrown her way. He’d remained respectful and even kept his distance when she’d silently begged for it. Not that he’d known what was going in in her life, but her relationship with Grayson had been a joke. It’s what had led to her slipping away from her usual outgoing self…

Elain banished the thoughts away. She couldn’t be thinking about this.

She hurried after Vassa and down the hall to her room.

She hadn’t been able to get any help with making extra modifications to the gown, but she wasn’t worried. She’d never had an issue with finding things that fit easily. Both Nesta and Feyre hated her for it, but Elain had never been more grateful than she was that night.

Vassa was already pulling the dress from its coverings, revealing the floor length fabric. If there was one thing Elain could trust Nesta in, it was her fashion sense.

The dress was a pale purple made of a light chiffon fabric. There was a little bit of rouching at the sides with a draped neckline. Elian’s favorite part about the dress though were the sheer flutter sleeves. It might be a little impractical with the chill weather, but she didn’t care.

She couldn’t help the small smile as she examined the dress. Yes. She was more than a little excited to wear it. She hurried and stripped from her leggings and tank top before shimming into the dress. The other good thing was that she didn’t have to mess with a strapless bra and could get away with what she usually wore.

She waited as Vassa zipped her in and brushed out any wrinkles or funny lines in the fabric.

Vassa hummed in amusement as she circled Elain once. “Your breasts look amazing.”

Hell.

Elain smacked her friend on the arm and turned to the full-length mirror propped up in the corner of her room. Indeed, her breasts looked amazing. The dress was of a silky material that clung to Elain’s usually nonexistent curves. The sweetheart neckline dipped a bit lower than she expected, showing off more of her neck and collarbones. The soft purple color complimented her lighter complexion and the rich brown undertones of her hair. She didn’t look washed out or haunted—she looked like herself. Happy.

“Damn,” Elain sighed. “I was hoping I’d look terrible. Nesta wouldn’t blame me for not showing up if I looked like a cow.”

Vassa snorted a laugh. “Please, Elain. You’d look good in anything.”

Elain bit her lip and gave a half spin, watching the fabric twist with her movements. “I don’t know if I have a jacket that will match. It’s too cold to go without something.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” Vassa said before disappearing to her own room.

As soon as she vanished, there was a knock at the front door and Elain froze. Hell. It was already time, wasn’t it?

She took a long breath, flattening her hands over her stomach. She could do this. It was going to be fun and easy. Lucien after all had agreed to no pressure, they were simply friends. She stared into her own eyes, gave a sharp nod and hurried down the hall to the small entry way of the apartment. She took one more steadying breath as she pulled the door open.

There, looking impeccable in a neat, black suit and perfectly knotted tie was Lucien. His hair was unfortunately pulled back into a low hanging tail, Elain always liked seeing it loose. The suit fit him well, emphasizing his muscular build well. He looked good. He’d always been handsome with his tall figure and strong jaw, but tonight felt different.

Elain knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help it. The only solace she took in that was the way Lucien was taking her in. His gaze flicked from her dress to her face and she swore his mouth parted just a bit. Now he was just putting on a show.

“Lucien,” she said, trying desperately to untangle her tongue. “You clean up well.”

That had to be the stupidest thing she could have said. Hell in handbasket, what was wrong with her?

Still, that familiar smile of his returned and a glint sparked in his rich russet eyes. “I could say the same about you, Elain.”

The way he said her name sent a shiver racing down her spine. Another thing she didn’t know how to reconcile. Because if she were being honest, she was surprised he’d shown up at all. He easily could have text a brief can’t make it text and really, could she have blamed him? She cleared her throat, hands wringing together nervously. She had no idea what was wrong with her—she didn’t get nervous, especially not around Lucien Vanserra of all people.

“I almost thought you didn’t own a tie,” she added, falling back to what she knew--sarcasm. “You always say they’re too restricting.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “Until I started working for my brother. Apparently, I have to be professional nowadays.”

“Poor Lucien,” Elain sighed, “has to join the real world with the rest of us.”

“It’s terrible,” he agreed.

Before either of them could say anything else, Vassa gave a shout of triumph from down the hall.

“I found it!” With the rapid pattering of bare feet, Vassa careened from her room and down to the entryway of the apartment. Her red hair pitched violently to one side from the confines of her bun. She waved a stylish jacket at Elain as she approached. “It will match perfectly, Nesta won’t have to gouge your eyes out.”

Elain accepted the jacket. “Thanks, Vassa.”

“Of course,” Vassa said. She then flashed Lucien an appraising look. “Hello Vanserra.”

Lucien accepted Vassa’s scrutiny with grace, only continuing to smile with that charming grin of his. “Vassa, nice to see you again.”

Despite her earlier words of approval of him--Vassa continued to eye him suspiciously.

“I have a list of rules that should be adhered to,” she began.

“No you do not,” Elain said. She brushed past Vassa and gave her a quick hug. “We’re late. Thank-you for your help.”

She grabbed Lucien’s arm and ushered him out the door as quickly as possible.

“Don’t do anything illegal, I don’t have bail money!” Vassa shouted after them.

Elain let the door click shut without calling back a response. It was easier that way. Especially when there was no guarantee what Vassa would say next. Sometimes her filter was a hit and miss.

“She’s always such a delight,” Lucien commented as they got on the elevator.

Elain snorted a laugh. “Oh, yeah. She teeters on the edge of unsuspecting sweetheart to raging terror real quick.”

Once you got to know Vassa, to understand her nuances and her habits--she maintained the questionable reputation but with a bit more trust and care on your part. Truly, Elain didn’t know where she would be without her friend.

“Didn’t she stage a revolution of frogs from the Biology Department on campus?” Lucien asked.

“It was very well organized,” Elain admitted. She did not, however, remind Lucien that she had been right beside Vassa in running said revolution.

Despite Lucien’s protests, Elain insisted she drive. Mostly for that semblance of control that she felt was slipping away from her. She was far too nervous that she needed to be for the night. Which was ridiculous considering this would turn out to be the most boring night imaginable. No matter what Nesta insisted.

“Isn’t this the car you had back in school?” Lucien asked as Elain pulled out onto the highway. “How is it still running?”

True, Elain’s small two-door car had quite a few years on her and the air conditioning didn’t work, but it was a good car. She said as much.

“She’s reliable and all of her issues are easily fixed,” Elain said. She paused. “Well, that’s mostly because the stereo is really good and the speakers drown out any annoying sound.”

“Right, so what you’re telling me is that I could possibly die tonight?”

“You’re the one who insisted on helping me out,” Elain replied. She smiled then, allowing the small levity of the moment to potentially ease her nerves. When she glanced at Lucien, she found him watching her, a look of amusement in his eyes.

She turned back to the road and tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered at just having him here. It was stupid really. Just a response to being grateful he’d volunteered to this hairbrained idea.

“So,” Lucien began after a few minutes of silence, “how long have we been dating?”

“Is this really necessary?” she asked, the flutters picking up pace at his words.

“We’ve got to have a background Elain,” Lucien insisted, “can’t have anyone poking holes in this plot. What would your sister say?”

Elain paused only a beat. “That I could have tried harder.”

“Exactly, now. How long have we been dating?” he asked.

Elain wondered if she should be concerned by his enthusiasm about this. “Just a few months. Nothing elaborate.”

“A few months and already willing to send me to the throes of your family? You must really like me then.”

Elain glared while Lucien laughed. It continued from there with them establishing details of how best they could pull this off. Mostly, they leaned on their college days to fill in any details of how they met and things like that. There wouldn’t be much lying involved since they’d shared so many classes right up until the division into their specific degrees. But Elain couldn’t help but laugh as he insisted it would work out fine.

“Please, Lucien,” she said as she pulled into the event center, where there was a line waiting for the valet. “You hated me back then, how’s anyone going to believe this?”

“You think I hated you?” Lucien asked, genuine concern flashing in his eyes.

Elain’s lips parted, though she didn’t know how to reply. She started to speak when a soft knock on her window indicated the valet was ready for them.

Glad for the interruption, she scrambled out of the car. The young man dressed in a starched red vest was kind enough to help her out of the dinky little car. And he didn’t even give her a side-eyed glance at the pathetic nature of her car. That was nice.

She was still smoothing out her dress when Lucien came around the car and offered up his arm for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the offer. If she were being honest, she needed the support of someone beside her for this. It had been a while since she’d come out to an event like this. Ever since her messy break-up with Grayson, she just hadn’t been up to going out.

And she loved parties. Truly, before Grayson, this would have been the highlight of her night, her week. But after everything the man had put her through, Elain felt more than a bit of unease run through her. Insecurities she’s felt throughout her relationship resurfaced. She needed this night to prove to herself, and Nesta, that she was fine. She was more than fine. She was back to her usual self. She was moving on. She was—

“Elain,” Lucien said from beside her, his finger squeezing her arm just enough to be reassuring, “I can hear you overthinking this.”

She made a non-committal noise and let Lucien lead them up to the entrance doors behind another couple.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Really it is, all Nesta needs is to see me, then we can go find the caterer and beg for free food while hiding in the kitchen.”

“We can do that?” he asked, sounding intrigued by the idea. “I thought you’d jump at the opportunity to be at an event like this.”

“Usually I would,” Elain admitted, she shrugged delicately. “I just can’t help but think something will go wrong with the night. Or the dress. Nesta wanted me to get it professionally altered but I didn’t have time, or money. But Nesta likes being in control of things like this, I guess.” She paused. “I have cash stuffed in my bra; I am not beneath offering bribes. We could be out of here in five minutes if we wanted.”

“Elain,” Lucien said softly as a woman offered to take their coats, “you’re freaking out.”

“If I were freaking out, you’d know it,” Elain replied. “I am merely over explaining everything to give me less time to worry about everything else.”

They entered the main hall of the center that had been completely transformed from the last time Elain had been here for a coffee expo for work. Instead of standard tables and plain rugs, there was open space intermixed with tall glass tables and softly glowing lights. It actually looked like an important event and some hoax.

“Here she comes,” Elain said, spotting her sister immediately.

Nesta strode toward them with purposeful steps. The dress clung to her curves from the chest to her waist before billowing out around her hips. The dark blue fabric was inlaid with beads that caught in the light, offering a little softness to the otherwise intimidating dress. Though, there was no one else who could have pulled it off then Nesta. She’d twisted her hair into a coronet of braids with beaded pins to match the dress.

Elain couldn’t help but fidget with her dress. Nesta had always been strikingly beautiful not only with her looks, but she was tall and well portioned in all the right places she should have been. Elain had never felt the same about herself. Oh, she’d been called lovely and pretty on many occasions, but here and now she felt like nothing in comparison to her sister.

A hand rested at the small of her back and Lucien leaned in to her side. “You look beautiful, Elain. And if your sister doesn’t think so, she’s insane.”

The simple words caused heat to rise in Elain’s cheeks and she found herself staring into Lucien’s eyes. Bright, russet eyes that had flecks of gold spinning amid the darker shades. The certainty with which he spoke surprised her more than anything.

“Elain!” Nesta called out in a cheery voice that belied how stressed out she actually was. Nesta was never cheerful. Elain could swear she could see the whites of her sister’s eyes even from ten feet away. “There you are.”

“Nesta,” Elain greeted as her sister approached.

Nesta pulled Elain into a tight hug, shocking considering how touch averse the eldest Archeron could be. Elain accepted it for the good will gesture it was.

When she pulled back, Nesta smiled softly. “You do look lovely. The dress turned out perfect.”

“Thank-you,” Elain murmured.

Nesta gave her arm another squeeze before turning to look Lucien over. She nodded once tightly. “Well. I’m glad you’re both here. It’s going to be a good night. Thomas’ boss is over there with the red tie, don’t look! Red tie, silver hair. Do not talk to him unless you promise to behave.”

“I’m twenty-five, Nesta,” Elain said, “I know how to behave in social situations.”

Nesta fixed her with a signature unamused glare just as Lucien spoke up.

“Does that mean no magic tricks?” He leaned in into Elain. “I practiced and everything.”

“Absolutely not.” Nesta gaped at him.

Elain barely managed to hold back her grin. “Oh, but he’s actually really good, Nesta. Doesn’t even need an assistant or anything.”

That got a warning finger waggled in both of their faces.

“Absolutely no shenanigans,” she said, “do I made myself clear?”

A spare glance at Lucien told Elain he was trying, and failing to appear chastened.

“We’ll go occupy ourselves,” Elain said, “don’t worry so much.”

That was probably the last thing Nesta wanted to hear. But Elain only smiled brightly and grabbed Lucien’s hand, pulling him with her.

“We’ll be over here!”

“Not doing magic.”

Elain smacked Lucien on the chest. He didn’t even bother to hide his laugh.

“Behave!” Nesta hissed. She spun on her heel to return to Thomas’ side where he was regaling his boss with what must have been a truly miserable story about the lint stuck to his tie.

“C’mon,” Elain said, one hand still gripping Lucien’s. “I think there’s an open bar.”

Together, they slipped through the throngs of people that continued to arrive. Elain recognized a few from various parties she’d been forced to attend on other occasions. How she’d gained such notoriety for herself was a bit concerning. Both for her sake and Nesta’s, seeing as how Nesta would insist on determining a contingency plan to explain Elain’s antics to whoever may listen.

The plan would have to explain away Lucien now too as Elain was forced to introduce her boyfriend over and over.

After nearly fifteen minutes of socializing with people Elain barely even knew--they managed to break free to the tables standing at the ready for a casual setting of drinks and hor-d'oeuvres brought around by waitstaff in black and white uniforms.

“Why don’t you get a table,” Lucien suggested, “I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Sure,” Elain agreed.

She watched him as he disappeared into the small crowd near the bar. It was strange being here with him. Having him as her date and acting like this was the most normal thing to occur. She didn’t really understand why he’d agreed to this plan—helping her. Well, if only to swindle another date out of her. But this certainly was an elaborate way to get what he wanted.

She managed to find a few open chairs at a back table, not that she minded. To have a little bit of isolation away from the awkward small talk of Thomas’ company was preferable.

Though, just as she moved to go claim the seats, a hand grabbed her elbow. Elain spun around to come face to face with the one person she’d been hoping to avoid.

“Grayson,” Elain said, trying her best not to appear utterly taken aback by his appearance. She’d known he was going to be here. Had planned for it really, she’d just hoped he wouldn’t have actually tried to talk to her.

They’d dated for a year, the relationship ending only a few months ago now. Nesta had introduced them at an event just like this. Grayson worked in just one department over from Thomas. It was the perfect situation, Nesta had insisted, and Grayson had always been a respectable prospect.

But everything promptly fell apart when Elain had suggested going back to get her master’s and maybe even doctorate. The news hadn’t settled well with Grayson who only wanted a perfect nuclear family and a perfect wife to be waiting for him at home.

She drew away from him even as he tried stepping in closer.

“Elain, it’s good to see you.” Grayson had a standard profile, nothing truly remarkable in his looks, though he did have a good nose. His brown hair was neatly styled back, cut in a perfect standard haircut. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

“I’m supporting my sister and her fiance,” Elain said.

She’d spent the better part of the last few months not necessarily getting over him—rather the way he made her feel. She hadn’t been happy with the thought of simply coming home and doing nothing with her life. While she wanted a family and wanted kids, she knew there was more she wanted to do with her life first. Grayson had tried to make her regret all those things. He’d stifled her, guilted her, done all the things that made her question who she really was.

There had been enough time wasted over him that she wasn’t interested in wasting even more.

She tried slipping past him. “I should go, I have—”

Grayson was too quick for her. He stepped in front of her again, hand already reaching for her.

“We should talk, get caught up,” he insisted.

Elain could only stare. He’d been so insistent about a clean break that he hadn’t even bothered to return any of the things she’d left at his apartment. Only to pop up in her DMs a few months later to “check-up.” She didn’t need this. Or want this.

“No,” she said. “You don’t actually want that, Gray. And I certainly don’t.”

The grip on her arm tightened as a dark look flashed in his pale eyes. He’d never liked being told no. Some would say that was what made him good at his job. Elain would say that was the real reason why she was happy with their break-up.

“Everything alright, Elain?”

Never had that voice sent so much relief spiraling through her. Behind Grayson, Lucien had returned, drinks in hand. But he wasn’t looking at Elain. His attention rested solely on Grayson who slowly turned to assess the new arrival.

To Grayson’s credit, he didn’t balk at the sight of Lucien. Even though Lucien was several inches taller with a stronger build. Grayson had always been on the leaner side. But with the dark look in his eyes and the way he stood, nearly towering over the bother of them—Lucien was not someone to be easily ignored.

“She’s fine,” Grayson answered before Elain had the chance.

Lucien quirked a single eyebrow and finally looked at Elain. He still had that hard look in his eyes, but Elain knew that razor thin line between anger and control had nothing to do with her.

“Is everything alright, Elain?” he asked again.

“Fine,” Elain replied, rather proud that she was able to keep her voice even. “I was just telling Grayson that you were waiting for me.”

This time as Elain pulled away, Grayson let her go. She was able to skirt around him and to Lucien without any fanfare. As it was, they’d drawn a few eyes of other attendees.

“Elain,” Grayson began. But Elain had no desire to hear what else he had to say.

“My boyfriend and I were leaving,” she said promptly.

Then with a bit more force than she intended, she managed to drag Lucien away from the growing scene. It was a shame, she really wanted to dance at least a little bit.

She didn’t stop until they were through a small side door that led out into an empty hallway. It was blissfully quiet and several degrees cooler than in the event room.

“That,’ she said, “was just what I wanted to avoid.”

Lucien said nothing, only handing her a glass of champagne. Elain accepted it gratefully. While she’d never much cared for the taste, she needed something that would maybe settle her nerves. Because everything inside of her was feeling spun on its head.

After she drowned the first glass, Lucien held out the second which she took too.

“Are you sure you're alright?” he asked again. He didn’t try to reach out to her or comfort her in any other way. Which Elain was grateful for. The adrenaline still snapping through her would likely have made her do something stupid.

“Yeah,” she said. She took another sip of champagne before shaking her head. “He’s just an ass and I should have done a better job at avoiding him.”

“Ex?” he confirmed.

“I didn’t even like him that much,” Elain admitted.

She took a step down the blackened hallway that had only one emergency light burning in the distance. A sheer glass wall looked out into a small garden walkway between two different parts of the center. Most of the foliage was beginning to bloom with bright green leaves dancing in a small breeze that rustled outside.

Elain turned back to Lucien and smiled softly. “Sorry. I promised an easy night out, not stacked with drama. Thank-you though, for showing up when you did.”

“What are fake boyfriends for?” Lucien joked, returning her smile. “Did you know he’d be here?”

“I figured,” Elain said, “Nesta had Thomas introduce us. And It was fine for a while…until it wasn’t. I think she was going to try and set me up with him again tonight, just so I wouldn’t show up alone.”

Elain smiled softly. She didn’t blame her sister, not really. She hadn’t told anyone except Vassa the real reason behind her and Gray’s break-up. She just didn’t think Nesta would understand. Her sister had always had so much control over her own life that Elain felt if she admitted to her own insecurities…it would almost be a failure in and of itself.

“And I didn’t want that,” Elain said. She set the second champagne glass down on a side table that had been left out in the hall. And then because it seemed like the best thing to do, she apologized again. “I’m sorry.”

“Elain,” Lucien said, stepping towards her. “You have nothing to apologize for. Hell, you got roped into this whole night against your will.”

“Sometimes it’s just easier to go along with Nesta,” Elain said with a wane smile. “I know she just wants this to be a good night for Thomas and she’s doing her best but…”

Lucien didn’t let her finish her sentence. He took her hand in one of his large ones, immediately engulfing her in warmth.

“C’mon.”

He began pulling her down the hall, away from the party.

“What? Where are we going?” Elain asked.

Lucien only flashed a mischievous smile, the overhead lights catching in the deep umber of his eyes. He led them to an emergency exit that took them outside to the cool night air. After the stress of running into Grayson, the fresh air felt wonderful to Elain. Even if the overhead clouds threatened rain, she loved the feeling of being outside.

After a few yards they reached the valet stand once again. The same workers as before eyed them with a mix of amusement and wariness.

“We’ll need our car back,” Lucien informed them, passing a tip over as he spoke. He then turned to Elain. “Wait here, I’ll get your coat. I’d rather not have Vassa plot my murder.”

He shucked off his own jacket in the meantime and draped it over her shoulders before dashing off back to the event center. Elain could only stare after him. Was he seriously suggesting they leave early? Elain could already picture the face Nesta would be making once she realized they were gone. And the texts she’d receive.

But she knew even if she’d tried to object to Lucien, he would ignore her and insist playing a little hooky never hurt anyone. It wasn’t long at all when he returned with her coat.

“What are we doing?” Elain asked as they swapped coats back.

“There’s an ice cream place just down the street,” Lucien said, “best pecan praline in the city. None of the food in there was interesting anyways, no bacon and no shrimp. I checked.”

Elain’s sad little car puttered into view, coming to a stop just before them. The valet got out, holding the door open.

“Ah-ah,” Lucien said, blocking Elain before she could get in. “You had two glasses of champagne.”

“One and a half,” she argued.

“Close enough.” He had the gall to wink at her before escorting her around to the passenger side. “Relax, Elain.”

She scowled at him, but ultimately knew he was right. She shouldn’t be driving even if she thought she was fine. Instead, she glared at him the entire time that he got into the driver’s seat and made a big show of adjusting just about everything he could think of.

“Damn, Elain, you’re short.”

“Vassa’s not the only one who can plot a murder you know,” she grumbled.

Not at all concerned by the mild threat, Lucien drove them the short distance to the small ice cream shop he’d mentioned. Two oversized cups later they were back sitting in the parking lot with the car heater running while they watched the traffic in the distance.

“Nesta’s going to kill me,” Elain mused as she tasted her helping of pecan praline. Which admittedly was the best she’d ever had.

“Just tell her it’s part of my famous magic act,” Lucien said, “the Now you see me, Now you don’t addition.”

Elain snorted. “Hm, I do always love a good disappearing act.”

“See? Magic’s not all bad.”

Elain shook her head, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. He must have sensed her straining efforts because he nudged her with his elbow.

“It’s alright admitting you were wrong, natural even.” He took a spoonful of his own ice cream--rocky road—and nodded to her. “Though, perfectionist that you are, I know how hard that is for you.”

“I’m not a perfectionist!”

“Several hours’ worth of arguing in study rooms suggest otherwise.”

“Saying you’re going to wing it on an assignment worth thirty percent or our grade is irresponsible and ridiculous,” she told him. A few of their shared assignments had been rather difficult to get through considering both of their different study approaches.

“I still scored as well as you did,” he reminded her.

Rolling her eyes, Elain ate more ice cream. “But you never hated me?”

The words from earlier still lingered in the back of her mind and with everything else that had happened that night, she hadn’t really been able to puzzle them out.

“No,” Lucien said, “you were never someone I could hate.”

Elain watched him for a moment, considering her words. She’d never really imagined herself here, eating ice cream while dressed in formal wear with someone she’d once rivaled with. Someone she hadn’t seen completely.

“I know nothing about basketball,” she informed him, “so that game you’re planning on taking me to could turn into a disaster. You’ll have to keep me well stocked with garlic fries and lemonade.”

“Whatever you say, Elain.”

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Thanks for reading y’all I hope you enjoyed it! I have the vaguest of vague ideas for a nessian spin off, but who knows… anyways, love y’all and Merry Christmas <3

Tumblr is still throwing fits about my tag lists and I can’t do an extended tag list of people. So, if you’d reblog I would really appreciate it!

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar gift exchange #acotar fic #fanfiction #acotar fanfic

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animezinglife · 10 months ago

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More Elucien Concepts

I might have accidentally developed a minor obsession I never asked for. Have some lovely Elucien headcanons, concepts, scenarios, and what-ifs to think about.

It's a beautiful spring, autumn, or summer day, the windows are open, and Lucien is reading. He's aware of Elain--he always is aware of her--entering the room. He smiles slightly but doesn't turn as she makes her way over, tilts his head gently away from his book, and kisses him. Her skin is still warm from being out in her garden; her scent jasmine and honey and everything he's come to call home. He sets his book down and pulls her over him, running a hand through the waves of golden-brown that fall on either side of his face. He tucks one strand behind her ear and stares up at her, the longing never fading but the former sadness replaced by an easy warmth (and just a hint of mischief).

Elain has a quiet insistence on doing things herself, which Lucien fully respects. Sometimes, though, it amuses him when that independence takes a turn for stubbornness towards the littlest things. One such instance is reaching some pot or pan or baking utensil that's ended up on too high on a shelf, and he smirks as she climbs up onto the counter to reach it. He has a glimmer of suspicion it's on purpose though when she turns and asks that he help her down--an act that too often seems to end in a heated countertop makeout session or more and him carrying her to their room.

She's not subtle about playing coy, though, and puts a great deal of time into actions she knows catches and holds his attention. Slowly letting her hair all the way down, pin by pin. Lacing or loosening her corset or bodice. Letting the sleeve or strap of her dress or nightgown fall off her shoulder as she brushes the strands over her shoulder and gently detangles her golden-brown waves. She loves the fire that gleams in his eyes, though she still blushes when she catches him staring (even if it's her goal).

While she continues to grow her skills and self-control of her reaction to them, he never quite stops being protective of her where they're concerned. He always stays close when she has her visions, sometimes taking her hand to remind her they're still here, together, if one seems to be troubling her.

He fully embraces her eccentricities, and not just the ones that come with her odd riddles as a Seer. She seems to fully bloom in the sunlight just as her flowers do; full of life and light and sunlight. He swears the land itself loves her, and all the animals that frequent their garden and their home. Lucien has never seen anything quite like it, but he doesn't question it, either. It's like she unknowingly communicates to the earth itself.

While she still sometimes gets flustered with Lucien, she becomes increasingly confident and bold in letting him know what she wants from him. Yet she doesn't quite get over the occasional mortification she feels when she wants him badly and others--especially Feyre and Nesta--are around. She still prefers details about their relationship stay private. Or, at least, as private as possible. That lack of privacy is the one part of being Fae she never fully gets used to, but it's better when it's around other Fae who didn't know her before.