#actoar
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Solstice Gifts
Baby's first Feysand! | Ao3
[Feyre loves buying Solstice gifts for her family, but this year she might have been outdone.]
Eternal thank yous and forehead kisses to @tunaababee @cauldronblssd and @witch-and-her-witcher for just being the most wonderful humans and beta reading and encouraging me to post this.
Solstice in Velaris was the most lovely time of year, and no matter how much time Feyre spent here, she doubted she’d ever grow tired of it.
The snowy streets were covered in faelights, all twisted into beautiful shapes and hanging from the signs and light posts. There were long strings of them criss-crossing over The Rainbow and casting all the snow and shops in an ethereal glow. Complex smells of cinnamon, clove, freshly baked breads, rosemary, and mulled ciders cascaded from the storefronts, their windows decked in boughs of holly and fir and their doors hung with mistletoe.
Feyre was hurrying back to the River House, late as usual, with the last of her gifts.
She’d been mostly organized this year, but Nesta’s gift had ended up taking longer than expected, and of course today was the first time she’d been able to sneak off to grab the little Illyrian leathers with space for wings that would fit an almost-four year old.
She’d gone a little overboard on gifts this year, but it was hard to not spoil those she loved now that she had the means. Old habits die hard, and she too-vividly remembered the years that she and her sisters had stoically ignored the Solstice happening at all, not even a candle lit in the windows to be spared. So now, when things had changed so vastly in the last seven years, she would fully use every bit of means at her disposal to shower everyone with gifts they would love.
Nyx was six now, somehow, the years flying by in a rush that she tried and failed to stop like grabbing whitewater in her hands. Rhysand reassured her constantly, a laugh on his lips, that though time was flying, they still had centuries together, and there was no need to beg for more. Another thing she had trouble letting go of in her immortality–the idea that things were good now, and there was no time limit on it. Things could be happy and productive and peaceful like this for centuries more. But Feyre still had trouble allowing hope for good things to bloom in her heart, despite feeling beyond blessed in all ways.
She shuffled the bags in her arms–she’d had to stop for some last-minute pastries, too. What good was a solstice birthday if she couldn’t eat whatever she wanted? The smells on the way to the leather-smith had been too good to resist, and she was crazed for the pistachio croissants with the bergamot filling that the bakery beside Rita’s had this time of year.
She quietly snuck the front door open, hoping to slip in quietly and unnoticed by her houseguests. Mor, draped in her normal gorgeous finery, strode through the foyer, lifting a brow that surely must be genetic, and before tipping her head back to laugh at Feyre.
“You’re just as bad as Rhys, you know? I saw him coming back not twenty minutes ago.”
Rhys, that weasel.
Feyre wondered what he’d been off plundering after amusedly lecturing her this morning about sneaking out last minute for more presents. She ran the bags upstairs, ditched her coat, and wrapped the leathers quickly in the celebratory packaging she’d picked up last month in their guest bedroom before scurrying back down the stairs. She’d arrived just in time, everyone present in the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen announced the dinner was ready. Luckily, she’d had the foresight to prepare before going to grab the gifts, her long midnight-blue dress swaying luxuriously around her feet, the gossamer sleeves like a soft embrace along her arms. She’d definitely gotten used to wearing pretty clothes in the time she’d spent in Velaris, though most days, she still dressed for comfort. She’d left her hair down and lightly curled, compulsively tucking a strand behind her ear as she entered the dining room. Elain had helped prepare the Solstice meal and cake, as she insisted she do every year, and Feyre had to admit it all looked mouthwatering, as always.
Rhys pulled her seat out for her as she walked up, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head as he pushed her in.
“Last minute shopping go well?” He murmured against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine and goosebumps down her arms. He knew it, too, and she turned to scrunch her nose at him as he laughed.
“I hear you’re one to talk, hypocrite.” He held his hand to his chest feigning offense, then sent her an absolutely world-shattering smile as he moved to take his place.
A crash in the hall sent Feyre’s eyes to the doors, followed by Nesta’s bellowing.
“Hey! Wings closed indoors! You know the rules.” Giggles abound as Nyx and Aife came into the room, leaning into each other and cackling as they took their seats. They were only two years apart and thick as thieves. Though Nesta and Feyre would never admit it aloud, seeing their children close as they’d never had the opportunity to be as children had healed something between the two of them that had once felt depthless.
Nyx pushed midnight-black hair from his eyes as he looked to Feyre.
“Mom, can we go play with our presents after we open them tonight? I promise I’ll go straight to bed after.”
“I don’t see why not. Nesta, are you all staying the night tonight?” Nesta looked to Cassian and nodded.
“I think so. Aife and Nyx are going to be here all day tomorrow anyway during the snowball fight. We might as well.” She gave a pointed look to Cassian, who grinned wolfishly. Feyre could hear Aife whispering to Nyx.
“Who’s going to win this year?”
“Uncle Az. It’s always Uncle Az. He says our dads are old now.” They both giggled and Feyre cracked a smile, shooting the conversation down the bond to Rhys, whose eyebrows lifted as he shot her an amused smile as if to say we’ll see.
They tucked into the great feast, a large roast the centerpiece, surrounded by offerings of ham and turkey and too many sides to reasonably name. Feyre loaded her plate with the most buttery mashed potatoes she’d ever tasted, one of Elain’s specialities that Feyre always requested for special occasions, as well as a basil and tomato tart, baked to crisp perfection by Nuala.
She remembered a time when she’d hated her birthday, and while she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with all the attention, she surely would celebrate now if only for the delicious foods she got to have. She couldn’t beat the company either, her blood and chosen family all seated around the table, laughing and loving and enjoying themselves in her home. A decade ago, she would have laughed in the face of anyone who’d tried to describe this possibility, and it wasn’t lost on her how much luck and fate had stepped in to make things as they were.
++
Stuffed to the brim and with the gift exchange behind them, Feyre slumped onto the couch. The kids had been spoiled beyond reason, the piles of gifts higher than the chairs surrounding them.
Nyx and Aife had begged Az, Cass, and Lucien to bring them outside to practice with the new bow and arrow sets, courtesy of Elain and Lucien’s recent trip to the Day Court. As the official “Uncle Troupe”, as they’d so ridiculously named themselves, they felt it would have been in poor taste to decline. Feyre pulled her feet up onto the couch and laid her head back. It had been a busy few months, though things were finally, blessedly beginning to smooth out. They’d been able to delegate a bit more recently, and it certainly helped their workload.
Elain had gone back to the kitchens to help clean up and exchange gifts with the twins before they took off for the evening, leaving Feyre to relax for a bit while Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor sat at the table with sweets and coffees chatting. Amren and Varian had skipped the party this year in favor of a trip to Summer, as they now alternated holidays between courts. While she’d never taunt Amren to her face about it, Feyre secretly loved how domesticated she’d become in the time she’d known her, settling down while still claiming that ancient power hummed through her veins.
She felt Rhys sit down by her feet, his presence always noted by her magic immediately twining with his. At any given time, she could feel where he was, the power soaring back and forth between them like a current. The depth of love between them was fathomless and deep, and she’d never quite get over the fact that she had him all to herself, hers and hers alone, for the rest of her life.
He picked her feet up in his hands, shuffling them over to his lap and giving them a squeeze.
“Tired, darling?” His voice was a low rumble as he leaned against the back of the couch, settling in.
“Exhausted. I love the holidays, but I would also love a solid two days of sleep.” He laughed, his smile lighting up the room as she lifted her head to peek at him. “Did you enjoy your Solstice gifts?”
She’d bought him a device she’d found at one of the shops in Day Court on a summer visit to Elain and Lucien months ago. Duty had them back and forth between courts now, and Feyre couldn’t deny the love she had for any excuse to get to the shimmering beaches of Day. She’d found it nestled in the back of a tinkerer’s store–a handheld device that rolled over clothes, enchanted to remain sticky, and pulled any lint or fuzz from them.
“It’s only my favorite thing I’ve ever owned,” Rhys quipped immediately. She laughed, closing her eyes again and poking him in the side with her toe. He gripped it in his hands and threatened to tickle her. “How about you, love? Get everything you wanted?” Feyre paused, but didn’t open her eyes. She should say yes. She should feel like she had everything she wanted, but there was just one thing missing, and unfortunately it was something she couldn’t have.
“Hey lovebirds, we’re heading out!” Mor called across the room, her arm around Emerie’s.
Feyre sat up to say goodbye. “So early?”
Mor chuckled and Emerie elbowed her in the ribs. “Solstice plans of our own,” Mor said, waggling her brows at Rhys and giggling as he rubbed his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh.
“Alright, then.” He slapped his palms on his thighs, laughing and ending the conversation as Emerie blushed about ten shades of red, still not quite used to the way this family spoke so openly about things. Feyre stood to hug them both.
“We’re so glad you came. Feel free to drop in any time tomorrow. We’ll be here all day.”
Gwyn and Nesta had gone to join their mates and the children out on the illuminated training ring in the yard, leaving Feyre to slip back down onto the couch, this time scooting closer to Rhys and leaning her body against his. He was always so warm and solid, her touchstone in times both trying and lovely. He always smelled like oranges and the sea–the smell of Velaris, of home, tied intrinsically with his. She nuzzled closer, his arm finding its way around her waist as he settled too.
“Everything okay, darling?”
She hummed noncommittally. She hated that even with all this joy, all these gifts, all this family, she still couldn't shake the thought that something was missing, incomplete.
“Can you believe this is Nyx’s sixth Solstice?” She felt Rhys soften beneath her, realization creeping down the bond from his end, followed by a burst of soothing love and affection.
“He's incredible, isn't he? What are we going to do when he learns how to use that bow accurately?” She laughed.
“Truly, it's the inaccurate use I'm more worried about.” His breath ghosted her ear as he chuckled, sending those light shivers scurrying back along her spine.
Things got quiet, then. She knew it would take very little for Rhys to understand what she was thinking, if he didn't already intrinsically know. Even without the bond, even without the daemati powers, there was really a moment he wasn't able to read her like a wide open book.
“He's so big now…” she let her voice drift off, trying to hide the hurt in it and failing miserably. As always Rhys filled in the gaps.
“He’s wonderful. We made a really wonderful child, Feyre. He’s everything I never even dared to hope for for myself. I never thought such joy was possible for someone like me. You know that he’s the greatest gift you ever could have given me, right?” She felt the tears burning behind her eyes, and she took in a deep breath as she felt him press a kiss to her temple.
“I know.” Her voice was just a wobbly whisper, quiet in the room.
“And if he’s the only one we ever have, it’s more than enough for me. I need to know you know that, Feyre.” She nodded furiously, the big tears slipping down her cheeks now, burning hot tracks as they descended.
“I can’t even explain it. It just feels like someone else should be here.” He pulled her tightly against him, resting his chin on her shoulder and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.
“And maybe, someday, they will be. But if the three of us are all we ever have, it’s more than enough. It’s everything to me.” She couldn’t hold back the sobs then, turning to bury her face in his chest as she cried.
It had been two years since they’d decided things had evened out enough that another child was even an option for them. They’d been casual about it at first, enjoying themselves and giggling in the dark under covers as they talked about the possibilities of the future. She missed Nyx’s tufts of baby curls, that new infant smell that seemed to cling to him always then faded abruptly away after he hit one year. She missed the snuggles and the closeness, and her heart ached to watch how wonderful he was with his cousin without knowing if she’d ever be able to give him that gift as a big brother.
Realistically, she knew all the logic. It could take fae decades to have a child. It wasn’t always going to be as quick as it had been with Nyx. He’d come quickly, but the consequences, as everyone remembered, had been disastrous and near-fatal. She’d never even considered the possibility of it being a problem again when Nesta informed her she’d changed their anatomy, but she’d never considered that she might be the one having the problem. Part of her wondered if the absolute massacre of her body bringing Nyx into the world was responsible–her tissue mangled and her blood spilt and her spirit eking into the ether, only to be yanked back and mended together at the last possible second. Could it have damaged her irreparably, the anatomy be damned?
“Nothing is your fault, love. Not one bit of it.” He held her to his chest as her cries subsided. “And it’s okay to be upset about this. You don’t have to hold everything in all the time. There are no prizes for stoicism.” She snorted at him, and he huffed amusedly at her.
“Pot, meet kettle,” she shot back wetly. He smiled softly as she sat back to look at him, a little of the life returning to her as well.
“You’re a lovely mother, and our boy thinks you’ve hung the stars and moon above Velaris, even if he is getting old enough to wield a weapon. A little sibling won’t ever change that. Plus, I get the impression Aife isn’t going to be his only cousin.” She sighed, nodding, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“It’s just hard not to feel like I’ve done something wrong. I know how badly you want another, how badly I do. It’s hard not to wonder.” He took his hands in hers.
“I meant it when I told you that you and Nyx, you are the gifts. Our family is absolutely lovely the way it is now. If we’re meant to grow it one day, we will, and if we aren’t, believe me when I tell you I am absolutely over the moon for the way things are now.” She couldn’t help but kiss him then, the stars reflecting in his violet eyes taking her breath away, as they always did. “Plus, I never mind practicing with you.” She smacked him across the chest as he grinned broadly and wickedly at her, hauling her into his lap in response as she yelped.
If anything, Rhys knew how to chase away her tears better than anyone else ever had or would.
Just then, the parlor doors opened and Elain stepped through.
“Oh, just the two I was looking for! I’ve got one last gift for you both, but I wanted to wait until the right moment.” She ducked back through the doors momentarily, reappearing with a small, neatly wrapped parcel as they stood. She flounced lightly up to them, setting the little bundle wrapped in delicate yellow paper in Rhys’s hands.
“Elain, you didn’t need to get us anything else. You already gave us such lovely gifts and you made dinner.” Elain blushed, still the demure lady after all this time.
“Consider it a double gift.” She whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially. Rhys pulled back the paper and pulled out the tiniest, knitted pink blanket.
One beat, two. The silence hung in the room as Elain smiled wide.
“I just saw last week, but I wanted to make you something to let you know in a way that was special.”
Feyre’s hands shot to her stomach, and Rhys began to cry, turning to her and holding her close while still looking at Elain.
“Now?” Feyre asked, incredulously.
“Probably only about a month along.” Elain smiled again. “I knew with the wings and everything last time, you’d want to get in to see Madja as early as possible.”
Feyre was sobbing into Rhys’s chest again, his tears dripping down into her hair. Feyre felt him reach out to Elain and pull her into the embrace.
“Thank you, Elain. Thank you so much.” She pulled back, laughing lightly again.
“I’ll leave you both to it then. I gotta get little lady’s cousin and uncle home safely.” She put a hand to her own stomach, winked, and went towards the back to grab Lucien before Feyre and Rhys could even register her news. He grabbed her face in his hands, pressing kisses to every inch of her face.
“I love you, more than anything.” Feyre laughed, the sound breathless and airy. She couldn’t take her hands off her stomach, the joy pulsing through her veins with every beat of her heart.
A daughter.
“I have one more gift for you, too, actually.” He reached into his back pocket to withdraw a small, navy velvet box, pressing it gently into her hands.
Her eyes shot to his. “You didn’t need to get me something else.”
“Open it.” His smile was wide open, his entire heart spelled across his face like stars across the night sky.
Feyre cracked open the box and couldn’t help the flood of tears that began anew. Nestled in the soft velvet was a silver necklace, a charm of a large crescent moon with two small stars dangling down off of it.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.” He smiled. “You’ve been getting those pistachio pastries all week that you liked so much last time. I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared with one more last minute gift.” She took it out, turning to let him put it on her. He let his hands graze across her neck as he dropped them while she turned in his arms.
“Beautiful.” He murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear.
“Thank you, Rhys. I love it. It’s been the best Solstice ever.” Her smile was broad and teary, but she felt the joy all the way down to the very fibers of her immortal heart.
“Thank you, Feyre. For all of it.”
And nothing in all of Velaris could hold a candle to the joy radiating back and forth down the bond between them in that moment as their lips met quietly again this Solstice.
#feysand#feysand fic#actoar#solstice gifts#rhys x feyre archeron#fever-induced writing#tooth rottingly sweet fluff
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Unreal Unearth has been unleashed and I dont know what else to do about it
#hozier#unreal unearth#do you know i could break beneath the weight#unknown#dantes inferno#actoar#this song reminds me of rhys tell me why?#lockscreen#phonewallpaper#lyrics
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Kinktober Day 1: Breeding & Creampie [Rhysand]
DAY ONE LETS GO!!!! Honestly, I've been super super behind on writing for Kinktober and this is probably going to be the longest piece I'm going to write. Between work, and my ADHD meds on backorder, my attention has been GONE every time I try and sit down to write, so hopefully I can at least get a few things going on my days off so I don't have to scramble together and fall behind on prompts.
warnings: breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk, inappropriate use of daemati powers (idk the word for this lol)
Kinktober masterlist | askbox | main masterlist
18+ ONLY
“Cauldron, you looked absolutely ravishing tonight, my love,” Rhysand purrs, teasing the tip of his cock along your drenched folds. You whined, wiggling your hips back to get some friction, but your mate tuts, holding you still with a hand on your hip.
“Patience, my dear Y/N.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, the damn male knowing how weak his teasing made you.
“Rhys,” you whined, voice catching in your throat when he started to tap his cock against your clit. “Please!”
“Please, what?” Your mind was spinning, and it took your energy to respond to him.
“P-please, I need your cock so badly. ‘M so empty it hurts!” And with that, he slides into you, one glorious inch at a time, moaning at your slick walls clenching.
The world is holding its breath, anxiously awaiting for the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to make their move, show Pyrthian the power they have over their court. Your hands clench at the quilt, nails digging in to restrain yourself from wiggling your hips.
“Oh, my darling,” Rhysand breathes as he places feather-light kisses up your spine before gently biting the crook where your neck and shoulder meet. “I cannot wait to fuck a child into you, have you practically dripping at the end of the night with my seed.”
You clenched at his filthy words and could feel his claws tap at your mental shield. You let it down briefly, only to be shown what he was thinking: You, your arms holding a small bundle of joy as Rhysand chases another child around the House of Wind. Your heart swelled at the sight of your mate scooping the child up with a laugh and placing a kiss on their head. The two turn towards you, and Rhysand takes your child’s small hand in your direction.
You groan at the sight as your mate retreats from your mind, hips slowly thrusting in and out of you. “Rhysie, please. I need your cum. I need to cum on your cock.” You could practically feel yourself start to shake the longer he kept his leisurely pace. It would be a matter of moments before you grew frustrated and would take matters into your own hands.
Teeth grazed your neck, the dragging of his cock against your sensitive walls was driving you more and more out of your mind, and you didn’t know how much longer you could take. “Hold on tight, darling.”
You practically exploded when his pace increased tenfold, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and groans filled the air, and you were thankful to have a place of your own. You wouldn’t hear the last of Cassian’s teasing if he walked in.
You could feel the telltale signs of your orgasm, your hands digging into the blankets beneath you, walls clenching around your mate’s cock that was hitting the right spot over and over again. But it all came crashing down the moment you felt Rhysand bring his fingers down to swipe over your clit once before rubbing it in harsh circles.
“Come, Y/N. I want you to come for me. Let me fill you up,” Rhys groans, and you let out a particularly loud moan at his words. “Let me put a baby in you.” The world comes crashing down around you, waves of pleasure flying through your veins as you come undone. Your mind was racing, unable to comprehend your mate reaching his own peak and shooting his load deep inside you.
The room was silent for a moment. Only your collective pants filled the air as you both took time to come down from your highs. Placing a kiss on your bare shoulder, your mate pulls back, and you whimper as his cock slips from your sore pussy.
“Shh, it’s ok, my darling.” You hear him coo behind you before you feel calloused hands grip your cheeks and pull them apart, watching a mixture of your releases slowly drip down your thighs. He sucks in a breath before slowly inserting two fingers back into you, making sure to press as deep as he could.
“Can’t let anything escape,” Rhys purrs, and you shiver.
#actoar#acotar x reader#acotar x reader smut#rhysand smut#rhysand acotar#rhysand x reader#julia.writes#julia.kinktober
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Bounded by blood and shadow (23)
azriel x magic!fem!reader
You take him in from the distance. You just finished helping Semaj’s mom with the dishes. Of course Azriel and Semaj escaped dish duty because they had better things to do. Flying. Azriel takes Semaj for a flight around the village most days. Today is no different. Well, today is no different for them. It’s different for you because of the very important need to try something.
It’s been days of lingering touches and longing stares. But the two of you have not kissed. You’ve talked about your feelings at length with each other. About how uncertain almost everything in the world is , but you two are each other’s constants.
But you haven’t kissed. Yet.
“You poor thing.”
You turn around from your place in the backyard. There in the archway of their family home is Semaj’s mother. She used to work in the palace, when you were little. She left as you grew into an adult and Cyril had to promise you that she wouldn’t be far from you. And he did his best, the house is one of the few at the very beginning of the village. But you grew fond of her in the short amount of time.
“What are you talking about?” You ask.
“You look like you’re just about ready to throw yourself off a cliff if he isn’t near you for longer than ten minutes.” She answers.
You chuckle, “Well, I don’t know—I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect him.”
“Love is hardly something you can expect.”
“You told him about Madrugada.” You say.
She smiles, “And by the way you two act I’m guess you felt it.”
You nod your head.
“Take your time. Being in love is a great experience between those who share it.” She says carefully.
“If Cyril were alive he would ask if I was thinking of baby names already.” You joke.
She laughs at that, “Cyril was a love sick fool at best. He would have wanted to see you like this.”
“I’m happy.”
“I can see it. We all can.”
-
Azriel shrugs off his leathers and throws them onto the corner chair of the room. You watch as he toes off his shoes and walks to the bathroom. Trying very hard to be respectful you just continue to read over the scroll in your hands. You’re trying to find out which—yeah you stopped thinking about it as soon as he walked into the room. Can’t even remember what it is you’re supposed to be doing right now.
He comes out of the bathroom, his hair bit wet and a towel around his neck. There is no way he just took a shower so quickly.
“I need your help with something.” He says.
You perk up a bit, “As the empress or your wife?”
He looks at you with a dashing smile. He saunters over to where you are on the bed. He takes the scroll out of your hand and takes your hand into his. With that he’s pulling you off the bed and walking you over to the bathroom. Your mind starts to race with all the possibilities. And nerves. You haven’t even kissed yet.
“I’m a bit dirty and could use your help.” He speaks.
You pass him an incredulous look.
“You want me to…wash you?”
He chuckles, “Turn around.”
You do as your told. Which is weird now that you think about it. If Cyril could see you now. If Cyril knew all he had to do was get Azriel to ask you to do something, you would have met the shadow singer years ago. Huh. The two of them would probably get along too.
At the sound of him clearing his throat you turn back around. He’s in the tub. His back and his wings are facing you. He’s in the tub. He’s not wearing clothes, because his undershirt and pants are in a puddle on the floor. He’s not wearing clothes. He’s sitting in the tub, he wants you to wash him.
“There are certain places I can’t reach.” He explains.
His wings twitch at the answer.
“Oh, I can help with that. Just tell me what to do.” You answer.
Then you’re moving. You sit on the floor, your dress gathering into a mess. And you reach for the sponge. Before you can reach, Azriel takes it and dunks it into the water. He then lathers it in soap and passes it back to you. You take it without another word.
Just as you’re about to start, you stop. How do you wash wings? It’s not like you’ve done it before. And you haven’t see him do it himself. You gather it’s probably hard to do it alone.
“You’ll have to be gentle. My wings are sensitive. Start towards the middle.” He says.
You nods your head, “This isn’t going to hurt you, right?”
Azriel shakes his head.
You slowly place the sponge on the middle part of his left wing. Softly you rub on the soap.
“Okay you can go a little higher.” He says, his voice a few notches softer than before.
You follow his instruction and start to suds up the upper part of his wings. You notice that he told you higher and not the top. You think to yourself maybe he doesn’t need to wash those parts. You reach over and repeat the same step on the right wing.
“Do I—the top part. Can I do that?” You ask.
Azriel looks over his shoulder at you, “Yes, but those parts are the most sensitive.”
“Like I should use my hands?” You ask him.
Azriel gets this look on his face. You’ve seen it before. Nervous. He’s nervous. Why would he be nervous when he’s the one that asked you to wash his wings? Maybe there’s something else you don’t know here.
“You’re the first.” He says.
It catches you off guard. His words aren’t an answer to your previous question. So at first you don’t quite understand them. Until you sit with it for another moment. You’re the first. You’re the first person to wash his wings. You can’t believe how nonchalant he was in asking you to do this before.
“I just wanted you to know. I didn’t want it to be weird. It’s something intimate.” He explains bit more.
“As intimate as drinking someone’s blood?” You question him rhetorically.
He faces forward again. “I trust you.”
You take in a deep breath. You decide in the moment that you’ll use your hands to wash the top of his wings. Silently you lather your hands in the suds. And you place the sponge on the rim of the tub. As soon as your finger makes contact with him, you see him physically shiver. You want to stop. You want to ask him if you’ve hurt him. You should ask him if he’s okay.
“Did I do something wrong?” You blurt out.
“No, it’s just sensitive. Like an itch. Kind of.” He not so clearly sums it up.
“Show me.” You say.
“What?” He asks.
Azriel turns around in the tub. And you make sure to keep your eyes up. Not that you would see anything. The tub is murky with soap. But for his sake you keep your eyes on his face.
“Show me how it feels.” You say again.
Azriel looks at you for a moment. Then he holds out his wet hand. You place your hand in his. But he pulls your arm out fully. Then he takes his other hand and runs his finger from the middle of your arm down to your palm. It elicits a bit of a shiver from you. But you don’t find it harmful or uncomfortable. In fact you wish he would do it again.
“Like that.” He whispers.
You lean forward, personal space cut into shreds. “That does feel very intimate.”
He hums in approval. He leans in closer to you now. His forehead just a few spaces shy of brushing yours.
“Should I, should we, be doing this when we haven’t even kissed yet?” You ask him in a hushed tone.
“Do you want to kiss me, blood bender?”
“I’ve been trying not to show it.”
“You did a very good job.”
“Really?”
He nods, “If only I didn’t have heighten sense of smell.”
Your eyes go wide at that. You watch as a smile grows wide on his lips. He’s loving this. He’s eating this up. How far the two of you have come from where you started. Granted it’s not like you hated the male. But you feel so guilty for that. And the way that he still has a hold on your arm too.
You shut your eyes, “That’s a lot to take in.”
“I like it. Would you like to kiss me now?”
You shake your head, “You’re being a menace.”
“Let make it up to you.” He says.
You feel him let go of your arm first. Then you feel his damp hand come up to cup the side of your face. You don’t flinch or shy away from his touch. Instead you lean into it a bit. All of a sudden you feel something else.
His breath. It’s fanning across your face. He’s that close. You can’t help the small smile that breaks out on your face.
“I’m trying to kiss you woman, stop smiling.” He jokes.
“I can’t.”
“I’ll have to kiss you senseless then.”
You let out a squeal. The noise echoes in the bathroom. But you don’t move away.
His lips brush against yours for the slightest of moments. And then again. And again. Until you can’t take his teasing and you’re crashing onto him. He accepts it like he was waiting for you to do it. His mouth opens just a bit and so does yours. His hand that is on the side of your face moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer.
It’s like nothing you could ever expect and everything you’ve come to want. It’s warm and gentle. It’s passionate and still appropriate. Or as appropriate as it can get with him being naked and you being on the floor. It’s the feeling of Madrugada. It’s everything.
#acotar x reader#acotar imagine#acotar fic#actoar#azriel x reader#azriel imagine#azriel fic#blood and shadow
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Dancing? Dancing.
Even if one's partner is barely tolerable. Meet me at Rita's if you dare...
Excerpt from Chapter 23
“Running away again are we?”
“Oh!”
The smug reflection of Cerridwen glanced at Elain as she brushed the curls of her hair into an intricate updo, suitable for an evening of reels and jigs across the dance floor at Rita’s.
“She’s not running away, she’s running straight into his arms,” teased Nuala as she appeared next to her sister.
“I used to think it was my family who were busybodies. Seems it's a Fae trait,” scowled Elain, slamming the top of her jewelry box while the twins giggled.
“Oh, we’re just having some fun,” snorted Nuala.
“If you really must know,” she began, head tilted to consider earring options, “he is my good friend. And unlike my family, or you two, he does not pry.”
“Oh, I’ve heard he can pry alright,” Cerridwen murmured with a thrust of her hips before the twins burst into laughter.
“Well, when you decide to come clean, Cerridwen and I will be waiting for the details,” Nuala laughed before the twins bid their goodbyes and winnowed away.
“Busybodies… good for nothing…” she mumbled under her breath as she grabbed her shawl and smoothed her skirts.
In her mortal years, the village’s Samhain celebrations were often a mild, uneventful affair, usually more of a gathering to give thanks for the harvest instead of a festival to honor the more tenebrous and occult energies of the Earth. The courage, whether inherent or liquid, of villagers who snuck off into the woods to conjure spirits for amusement delighted and fascinated a placid, polite Elain. But cowardice always seemed to win when she watched young girls clad in nightdresses run barefoot into the forest to dance naked beneath the yellow moon.
Oh, how close the moon was to bear witness to her bare breasts tonight.
Samhain was Azriel’s birthday, and its carnality hung in the air as a promise to those who partook would be rewarded with such pleasures, mainly the joys of imbibing in the flesh. Of course, the Prince of Hewn City would be born on such a night. Perhaps, if she were lucky, she’d get to see him at work.
Each night, the Seer and Spymaster found themselves in dance halls across Velaris, more often in each other arms than other willing and amiable Fae partners. A few weeks ago, Az took her into the skies of Velaris, and since then, the two could barely dance without liquid courage and a dip into dangerous territory.
She had two birthday gifts for Azriel: a salve for his wings, and what lay underneath her cobalt skirts.
The suspense of poorly concealed affections tortured her mercilessly, and she decided to offer herself to him because the want had bloomed into something too strong to ignore. There was always some sort of pull to Azriel, but now, she needed to know if he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
As her cobalt-slippered feet rehearsed jigs and reels on the cobblestone streets of Velaris, a voice from the shadows caused her heart to leap in terror and titillation.
“Found you,” Azriel whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist and neck.
The marriage of a heady cedar and honey scent caused a small moan to escape from her lips, her arousal slightly intensifying when to her delight, she discovered he was already drunk.
Very drunk.
“One of these days, you won’t be able to find me,” she teased as he lifted and spun her around. When he sat her down, she finally turned to face him.
She doubted she could ever forget his face. Tonight, he was just as handsome as ever, and perhaps a bit more devilish given Cassian and Rhys celebrated all last night, and apparently, this morning, too.
“You underestimate how easy you are to find,” he taunted as he tucked a curl over her ear.
“For you,” she whispered and reached into her pocket to present his gift in her open palm. His eyes fluttered from her lips to the salve and gifted her a smile while he examined the tin.
“Happy birthday, Azriel.”
A blush crept over his cheeks while her lips faithfully formed his name, as they did so often alone under her bedsheets, and had only once before in his presence. Perhaps, if she were lucky, her throat would scream it tonight.
“For that wingspan I hear everyone talk about,” she teased.
“Careful Lain. That’s not something to joke about with an Illyrian,” his eyes darkened as a low laugh colored his warning.
“So you confess?”
“What?” he teased as he played with the ribbon that fluttered over her shoulder.
“That it's only a joke, not fact? Tsk, tsk.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Her heart raced, and suddenly she didn’t care for dancing.
“Show me then.”
In one movement she was slung over his shoulder while the two shot up into the sky.
“Big enough for you, Lady Lain?” he cried over the wind and her screams of delight.
“I guess it’ll do- AHHHH!” He shrugged as she fell from the skies, dropped for her cheekiness.
“Sorry, my wingspan wasn’t big enough for you to ride,” he sighed as he flew next to her while she fell.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! You have the biggest wingspan!”
“Who has the biggest wingspan?” he questioned.
“You! You!” she screamed reaching for him, but he only gave her an evil grin.
“Azriel has the biggest wingspan!” As her hand skimmed the water of the Sidra, strong arms broke her fall, and they glided upward into the skies.
“You look very pretty by the way.” Her scowl softened for only a moment before she turned her head away.
“You’re not getting my first dance.”
“Many apologies, Lady Archeron. May I have the second?”
“Hmph.”
“What if I promise you all my dances, and I buy a bottle of whiskey?”
“Maybe.”
“What if I told you this is my favorite color on you?” he whispered into her ear.
“Two bottles of whiskey.”
“Deal.”
The crispness of the late autumn air was replaced by the smell of liquor and sweat as Elain trailed behind a towering Azriel, guided by their interlocked fingers through the crowd.
“First dance, Miss Archeron?” he asked over his shoulder as the fiddle started to play, and in response, her touch lingered on the silken skin of his wing, innocently tracing its veins as she passed.
“Only if you promise not to drop me,” she murmured. After a blissful shudder, scarred hands grabbed her waist, and her eyes were greeted by lush lips before her lashes raised to meet the Shadowsinger’s ravenous face.
“When? Dancing? Or something else?” he asked as the two started to spin fast around the room to the lively music.
“How much have you had to drink, Shadowsinger?” she teased as he lifted her into the air.
“Not nearly enough to get what I really want for my birthday.” Lids heavy and scent heady, the whiskey and cedar merged to cause the pulsing need in her belly.
“Is my present not enough?”
“Oh, Lain, I didn’t say that.” Not a drop of alcohol on her tongue but one taste, and she could be drunk.
“Maybe you just need someone to put it on you,” she drawled as she spun into him, and let her ass lewdly roll against his hips.
“Switch partners!” cried the fiddle player.
She extended a polite hand to a handsome Fae male, and shot a coy look over her shoulder, only to find she had won. Brown eyes faithfully watched the wide pupils and parted lips of her previous partner while he slowly stalked the skirts of the room to follow each spin and step she took with a new male.
“What’s your name?” cried the Fae as he spun her out.
“I’m E-”
A scarred hand grabbed her outstretched arm to pull her into his embrace, the two now still in a vast sea of dancers, and the tip of their noses touched as he leaned forward to let his lips brush the shell of her ear.
“Careful, lovely fawn. There are fanged beasts who would love nothing more than to devour you," he whispered. The gentle pull of his fingers coiled around her curls and pulled to expose her neck. Absolutely wild and ready to devour.
Her eyes fluttered shut. Offer and permission.
“Az!” The two snapped their heads to see a flash of red and blonde hair push through the crowd.
“Mor!” The warmth of his body vanished as he strode to greet the blonde.
Suddenly, the heat of the dance hall merged with a jealous fury she pushed down before joining a vibrant Azriel and bubbly Mor.
“Oh, Elain! How sweet you look tonight!” Her cheeks turned as red as Mor’s revealing dress, and suddenly the decision to wear a long-sleeved silk gown and weave bluebells into her hair seemed like the silliest idea in the world.
“Happy birthday, Az,” Mor beamed.
“Thanks, Morrigan,” he replied with an arrogant grin. She was two things: a fool and an idiot. From one glance at the cockiness that radiated off his wide wings, Elain and her stomach sunk into the floor.
“I’ll go get us some drinks,” Elain offered, desperate to shake the shame from her earlier actions, and turned from the pair.
“Wait! Here.” Mor grabbed her shoulder to place several gold coins in her palm.
“Thanks, Mor, just wine?”
“You know me so well! Thanks, El.”
“Just wine, Mor? If I seem to remember correctly, there was a time you liked something a little harder,” he smirked.
Azriel was a vicious, licentious, rakish flirt who was going to feel wrath like no other if he dared to-
“Whoops!”
The push of another dancing couple sent a flustered Elain tumbling onto the floor.
“Careful, Lady Lain,” Az laughed and dove to help her, but another hand reached for the fawn.
“Come here often?” Oh great, giant fiddlesticks.
“Hello, Lucien,” she gulped. The candlelight glittered off of her mate’s golden eye, his handsome smile wide as she apprehensively raised her hand to accept his help, but, the fox’s grin faded as a strong arm tightened around her too-tightly corsetted waist to lift her off the floor.
“Lucien!” Mor’s tense smile did nothing while Lucien growled at the Shadowsinger. The three stood between waltzing couples, Azriel’s arm tight around a nervous Elain and stare lethal at an infuriated Lucien.
“May I join you?” Lucien blurted out.
“It’s Azriel’s birthday,” she replied dumbly.
“It’s my birthday,” Azriel echoed with a murderous expression.
“Happy birthday,” Lucien spat at the Spymaster.
Foxes hunted fawns, but fanged beasts devoured any threats, perceived or confirmed.
On lapping lake waves in warmer months, feelings about the bond were finally unearthed when an outstretched wing drew a wince after a brush against sore ribs.
“Oh Gods, I’m sorry,” Az said quickly.
“No, no. It isn’t your fault,” she murmured between a few deep breaths.
“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly. Her only response was a sad nod.
“Do you know who your mate is?” Dusk lulled over the lake’s horizon as ribbons of pink hues fluttered into deep purple hazes.
“I don’t have one,” he replied after a long while.
“You’re lucky. It’s a curse,” she admitted.
She waited for him to tout Lucien’s good character, but rather, that brave confession saved her from countless unfortunate circumstances. Whispered messages would announce unprompted visits moments before a knock rapped on the door, or the tendril of a shadow would save her from tea services set with an extra saucer beside her seat. As the summer faded into fall, the Autumn Court male spent more time with the Band of Exiles than in Velaris, and her ribs softened into a welcomed silence.
But now they screamed.
This is beyond fiddlesticks, she thought.
“Elain was just getting us some drinks. She could use a hand?” Mor wondered aloud with a wink at Elain.
“Oh yes, do you like ale?” asked the fox.
“I like whiskey-”
“She likes whiskey,” Azriel interrupted. Somehow his chest was broader, height taller, and bravado even more spine-chilling in its understated delivery compared to a fiery Lucien’s blazing eyes.
“You two go ahead, we’ll wait here,” gritted Mor and pushed him away from the mates.
“Shall we go?”
Ribs weren’t supposed to ache, were they?
~
“What in the hells was that?” Mor chastised a brooding Azriel in the corner of the dance hall.
“Elain doesn’t like him.”
“Elain is his mate.”
Two years ago, the thought of those rich brown eyes and blonde tresses within arm’s reach at a dance hall would have been his only birthday wish. Now to welcome another year of immortality, he yearned for a pair of gentle brown eyes and honey-kissed hair. Mor was his friend, and the flame he kept alive for almost five centuries was easy to kindle when conversations skirted around awkward silences with Cassian tempering the two. He idolized her, but he never knew her, truly. Now, he realized how little his infatuation was rooted in what sort of love he ached to hold.
“I said, she doesn’t like him.”
“Well, Elain’s got some growing to do and-”
“She’s not a child, Mor. We all need to ask Elain what she wants.”
Mor’s red lips parted in surprise and annoyance at the rude quip, but a ferocious hazel stare led her to find Lucien and Elain at the bar. After a tense laugh, Elain’s gaze drifted over to Azriel, who did not hesitate to step forward.
The truth was revealed.
“Azriel. You cannot be serious.” Her red skirts swished to stop the leather-clad Spymaster.
He gave no reply.
“Cauldron, Az. She’s a mated female.”
“And?” he sneered.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Perhaps I am,” he admitted as he pushed past her.
“Azriel-” After 541 years, Mor’s hand held his, and nothing more than the heat of her warm skin sat on his scars. It did not soothe, it did not sear, it was not the touch of something very precious. It was not Elain.
“He’s a good male, Az. You and I both know that. She’s so, so young. It’s been only two years into her immortality. She might not want him in this century, or even the next, but with a bond as strong as that, it's only a matter of time.”
“And what about what she wants?”
“What about you, Az? Huh? What are you going to do if your mate shows up ten, twenty, or even two hundred years from now? Would that be fair to her?” Az looked at her hand wrapped around his wrist, the red nail polish so bright against his golden skin.
“Don’t you want to be with someone who is your equal? You deserve that-” Azriel stilled.
“You think Elain is beneath me?” came his terrifying reply.
“You need someone who will challenge you. Hells, she barely could handle being on the battlefield, she’s… she’s too soft Az.” He leaned into Mor so close her eyes widened in fear.
“I used to think there was no one else for me, but you. The battles we fought side by side, the trials we endured throughout the centuries, I was in love with you. And then, I met Elain. And in two years, I’ve felt more than I’ve ever felt in five hundred.” He dropped her hand.
“But, you aren’t Elain’s mate. Lucien is.”
Upon a look at the fox and the fawn, it dawned on him.
Azriel always loved the light, whether it was the sun’s prideful rays or the soft wicks of candles. Light cast on flesh conjured shadows, or banished blindness. It was a gift. Lucien’s aura blazed with that flame Autumn Court males warmed rooms with, their natural ease and quick wit entertaining and charming all those who basked in its glory. The two stood at the bar, the glow of their bodies bright against the crowds of Fae. Despite all the restless nights and curses at the stars, he understood. The Cauldron gave Elain to Lucien because she was the light, and Lucien could ignite. Like called to like.
They were mates, and who was he to steal her from that happiness?
Elain held his gaze, desperation in her eyes as she begged him to save her from Lucien, but he decided to save her from himself. Mor was right, they were not equals. She deserved better.
“Good night, Mor.”
“Happy birthday, Az.”
When the music of the dance hall faded into the eerie air of Samhain, Azriel took to the skies.
Another year into immortality, another year losing to fate.
A03
~ A Court of Bones in Bloom
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Y'ALL I FOUND IT
MY FAVORITE ACOTAR MEME
#actoar#acotar memes#incorrect acotar quotes#morrigan#rhysand#azriel#cassian#cassian was a sock#and azriel doesn't sleep#it's funny because it's true#at leas the azriel not sleeping part idk about cassian being a sock
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The duality of Nesta for Day 7 of @nestaarcheronweek 🖤 Nesta is someone who will die for you AND kill for you. Be everything you want to be and don't let any Rhysands keep you down.
I seriously loved seeing all the Nesta content this week! The abundance of writing was a delight and I hope the authors know how much their work is appreciated. There are several super talented writers in this community that I wish would take over writing the whole series.
I loved waking up to read new chapters, snippets/drabbles and of course, seeing all the Nesta art! A true treat.
I got some really sweet anon messages this week too, and please know (whoever you anons are) they are very, very much appreciated. I don't have many friends in my time zone and I'm far too shy, introverted and Nesta-y to change that easily, so kind words are always treasured.
#nesta archeron#nestaarcheronweek#nesta#actoar#a court of thorns and roses#acomaf#acowar#acosf#lady death#queen nesta#pro nesta archeron#acotar art#acotar fanart#pro nesta#nesta supremacy#nesta deserves better
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can i pretty please get an angsty/fluff with Azriel using 37. "You are worth everything and so much more" and 49. "I love you, every single thing about you" please and thank you!
A/N: I like this request! Thank you anon!
Worth
Summary: Your mating bound with Azriel makes you doubt your worth as a potential mate. Azriel, however, doesn't see it that way
Warnings: A mix of fluff and angst
"So....you and Azriel are mates then?"
"....yeah"
Mor gave you a sweet smile, you sitting nervously in your chair as you were fiddling with your fingers and grasping some of the material in your dress. This recent discovery was a huge slap across your face, making your nerves stand on end with that tug of the bound strumming hard and deep.
Strumming towards Azriel. The Spymaster of Night Court.
How could you have a mating bound with him? Of all beings there in Velaris, your bound was singing and screaming out for Azriel. You two were such opposites, his cool and almost scary demeanor to your shy and meekness. His tough fighting style to your pacifist nature. But there was something about Azriel that did draw you into him, something deep inside of himself that made you see his heart was in the right place and he fought for good and for the weak.
When you felt the bound hum, you were working in the garden at the Townhouse with Elain, it was strumming so loud in your chest that you paused in your weed pulling and you sat back on your legs. It felt like the dull heartbeat tuner your wrist that was pounding against the muscles, the aching and yearning to be near Azriel and to have his company close by to be satisfied.
You were beyond scared, and you had to talk to Mor.
"You make it sound like you're being punished for having a mate," Mor explained calmly as you two were sitting in the parlor at the Townhouse. You shook your head, reaching over to clutch your glass of water as Mor was nursing a glass of red wine, "I think it's a great match, you and Az,"
"But," You paused, Mor raising an eyebrow for you to continue, "It's Azriel!"
"That much we know thus far," Mor commented in a joking tone, but she saw the scared look on your face as she cocked her head gently at you, "Do you...not wish to mate with Azriel?"
"I'm thinking of the other way around," You muttered, then chugging some of the water as Mor looked at you with wide eyes.
"You think he won't want you?" She asked, reading your mind as you were clutching the glass in a death grip, "Honey, Azriel wouldn't think like that about you. He thinks nothing but the best of you,"
"But what am I to him when it comes to being a fae?" You countered, Mor going quiet as you sighed and leaned your head back in frustration, "I'm no fighter or warrior, or one for delegations and politics. I'm not even High Fae...just a seamstress with barely a family name,"
"If I know one thing about Azriel, and I have known him for centuries on end, he doesnt care for titles or rank. He sees past that, which I find admirable because of how rare you find that in a man," Mor explained as she played her glass on the table and rubbed your arm soothingly, "And I see how he watched and interacts with you. Azriel is enraptured with you,"
You looked at her, almost dumfounded with the notion that the Spymaster would find interest in you. He seemed like someone who was too powerful and too intimidating to find love and interest in someone like you. You were always so sure of yourself when it came to your worth, but it felt like Azriel was on a different pillar and level.
"Talk to him," Mor urged you, her voice calming and gentle, "It doesn't hurt to talk to him and see what he thinks. But I know deep down, he would be honored to call you his mate,"
So after you two spoke, you decided to be brave and talk with Azriel with what was on your heart and what was making you hesitant. He deserved the truth, not wishing to play with his heart or your own. He met you at the House of Wind, the rest of the home was deserted since it seemed as though Mor warned them all. But as you stood at the balcony, overseeing the beauty and peacefulness of Velaris in the deep evening, Azriel made his presence known when he walked out on the balcony from behind you. Instantly, you felt his presence that was thrumming in your chest, not screaming out for you to recognize what was meant to be.
Why was your head getting in the way though?
"Mor told me what was bothering you about....about our bond," Azriel said calmly, sounding very certain and yet hesitant at the same time while he stood behind you. You stayed quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say or how to say it. Part of you wished to be honest and open with Azriel, but the other side of afraid of hurting his feelings in the process. From what you heard from Mor and what she has confessed to you, Azriel had feelings for you and has had them for some time. It wasn't that you didn't reciprocate the feelings, you were in the same boat and your feelings for him grew over time. But you felt your value would be less than what Azriel desired or deserved.
"I don't find myself worthy of you," You explained simply, clutching the balcony railing as your eyes were trained on the city below you and the bickering lights that made the night a bit brighter, "I wish to be honest with you, Azriel. You are a high ranking soldier here, a Spymaster, admired by everyone you meet. I'm....I'm just a dressmaker with no title or no rank,"
It sounded so pathetic when you said it, but since it was out in the open there was no need to hide it or make it simpler. Azriel had the right or know what you were thinking about and what was holding you back in wishing to accept the Bond. You thought of how others would think of the pair of you together, how the judgement would come. Not to mention how you felt as though you couldn't be up to par with all that Azriel was.
But Azriel took a few more steps over in your discretion, you could feel his presence behind you as you were attempting to stay still and not show him how scared you were in your stance and in your eyes.
"I have to disagree with you," He said simply, you pausing on your feet as he sounded very sure and determined, "I feel as though I am the one not worthy of you,"
That made you slowly turn around, seeing how he was 10 feet away and watched you with vulnerability in his eyes and looseness in his stance. You looked in shock, thinking you heard something else and your mind was playing tricks on you.
"Don't say that to make me feel better," You pleaded gently, but Azriel shook his head.
"I'm telling the truth," He explained, "Ever since I met you...you have always been on my mind. Whether it was the way you spoke about your craft and how much you love making dresses, or the softness of your soul that you would bear to me consistently. You make it seem so easy to be open and vulnerable, and I envy that."
You were watching him in silence as he took another step closer, the mating bond was thumping louder now in your ears and under your skin.
"Your kindness and need to have peace is something I wish to have and cherish, and I fell in love with that first. Then it was how you could make my day lighter and brighter with your words and jokes, even the sillier ones," He went on, you lightly smiling and feeling a few tears about to come out from your eyes from hearing all of this, "And lastly, whenever I was in your presence and your beauty....I couldn't breathe for a moment or two. Far before I felt our bond...I felt a tug towards you that I never wanted to let go. I don't wish to....and I'll do anything you ask to have you believe that I fell in love with you. I love you, every single thing about you."
"You....you love me?" You asked sheepishly, Azriel took another few steps to be right in front of you and gaze down at you with his hazel eyes. It seemed like it was too good to be true, maybe a sick dream. To hear the very Spymaster that you've pinned for and felt unworthy of, pour his heart to you and made it sound so heavenly and simple at the same time.
"I would be honored to call you my mate, because you make me wish to better. I can't picture my life without you in it, and I don't have the courage to do so," he said softly, being so close to you as he reached up to cradle your jaw with his scarred hands. You were silent, eyes wide as Azriel showed his love in his eyes and in his hold along your face, "I'll change all of me to have you as my mate. You are worth everything and so much more, and I only hope you feel the same,"
Nothing could prepare you for how your own heart was exploding with the notion of being loved by Azriel. To know that he loved you, that the feeling was mutual, and your bond was no mistake or no chance. It was real, the bonding tug was feeling so strong and yet so warm. The warm almost being a sign that you two were content in this bond and you accepted it.
All you could do was lean up to kiss him, taking the first step you were so hesitant to take. Within a moment, Azriel moved his hands to your waist and held you close in his arm, so possessively and protectively like you two were the last being in Velaris. It felt that way, the softness and intimate feeling of his lips on yours and his fingers along your hips and waist made your head spin and your bond expand.
That night was the first of your new life together, the best night of your life.
The End.
#azriel x oc#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#actoar#azriel acotar#acotar fandom#acotar fanfiction#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#fanfiction#writing
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I really don’t understand how Feyre’s Stans can turn a blind-eye to the way she handled Nesta’s intervention. Feyre overstepped. Period.
She had no right to take down Nesta’s house and give it away. That was not a decision she should have even entertained considering her own upbringing. If anyone could understand what its like to lose a home, it’s her. And to give it to the fae who were displaced because of the war? As if Nesta herself doesn’t fall into that category too. Huge slap in the face and Nesta was right to be angry.
Feyre only saw the apartment for what it was and not for what it meant to her sister. It was really disappointing watching Feyre evict Nesta for the 4th time in her life.
#anti feyre#feyre archeron#anti feyre archeron#anti acosf#acosf#actoar#nesta#nesta archeron#Nesta deserved better
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 3
I'm alone at the bottom of the turret now, all the candidates having made their way up the stairs in the last few hours. I’m walking so fast I might as well be running, but I have to find somewhere to piece myself back together.
There’s a small alcove at the back of the Healers Quadrant, and I throw myself into it before anyone else can witness the panic that’s radiating off of my body.
I throw up a wall of shadows and shrug out of my jacket, letting it drop to the stone floor.
My whole body feels tight with adrenaline.
I don’t do this. I don’t lose control.
I can’t afford to lose control.
I can’t afford to lose 107 lives.
I twine my fingers around the back of my neck, and my thumb brushes over one of the scars on my shoulder.
For them, I’ll keep it together.
I’m so close to getting back so many things.
I can’t let anything get in the way of that.
I won’t let anything get in the way.
Not even Brennan’s sister.
I care for Brennan, and the sacrifices he’s made, but that does not mean Violet is worthy of my care.
I press the pads of my fingers into my eyelids until I’m seeing spots.
Two breaths.
I blow out the last, shaky breath, pick up my rain soaked jacket, and step out of the shadows into a suddenly sunny day.
…
I make it up to the Rider’s Quadrant long before the parapet trial is over.
Leadership is supposed to meet in the courtyard once the last of the candidates' finish, but if I go now Panchek will wonder why I left my post early.
Instead I wind my way up the spiral staircase to the third-year dorms, letting my shadows unravel behind me.
My signet doesn’t actually create shadows. It pulls from the shadows that exist in the world around me, anchoring them to me so that I have control over them. Keeping them contained is often more exhausting than allowing them to roam.
I open the door to my room.
I’ve tried to make it mine. I was taught meticulously to respect the space I occupy my entire life.
My father reminded me often,
“Xaden, your room is yours, and yours alone. Treat it with care, keep it safe, sanctimonious. Your mind is the same.” He taps his temple with his pointer finger, “You will need it when you become a rider. Practice now and you will find your feet firmly planted when you’re ready.”
I hear his voice so often when my control begins to slip.
A reminder of what I lost, of what I have to do to regain the scraps that are left. Of why I read in the wide seated armchair by the bed the way my mother used to.
Three deep breaths.
I smooth out my hair and straighten my flight leathers before walking to the door and twisting the knob.
Sgaeyl, always passively present, says quietly, “Remember who you are now. Let go of the girl, of Brennan. It is done. And it is not important.”
I swallow the lump in my throat.
For all of her ferocity, and endless desire for perfection in battle, she knows when to use a gentle hand.
And I appreciate her even more when she doesn’t wait for me to respond.
•••
The day has warmed considerably since I made my way to the quadrant an hour ago. I find Bodhi leaning against one of the stone archways at the edge of the courtyard.
“Garrick still at the parapet?”
He nods, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, “I just got here, he got stuck ushering the first-years.”
I manage a small smile, and I mean it as I picture the tall, imposing rider stuck with all the babies.
Bodhi softly clears his throat before shifting his body to the right and staring at something over to the side.
Rather, someone.
Fucking Bodhi.
At the front of the Healers Tents is Violet, standing next to Dain Aetos.
Her skin is concerningly pale, and she looks weary as hell on her feet, but she’s still standing.
It’s not a secret that Aetos’ father and General Sorrengail have been close friends for almost two decades now.
Aetos is a good Squad leader. An absolute shit, with no nuance when it comes to the rules, but I respect his drive. Though his conviction would be more respectable if it was channeled to the right side of the rebellion.
Bodhi clears his throat again and I cut a sideways look at him.
“I heard your new friend made quite the display after she crossed the parapet.”
“I’m sure you’ll continue to tell me about it.” I scowl.
“She stuck a knife in between Jack Barlowe’s balls and essentially told the little shit to fuck off.”
I feel the corner of my mouth tip up, “That spells a bit of trouble, doesn’t it.”
I do a quick scan of the crowd of new first years and then glance down at the floor, toeing the stone beneath my feet. The only indication of the anxiety that’s coursing through my body.
“Is Liam…?” I trail off.
“Yes,” his breath snags and I know he’s as relieved as I am,“ Yea, he’s here. It’s part of the reason I left early. I didn’t want you to have to wait to find out.”
I smile at him.
Fucking Bodhi.
Before relief can set in, the clock tower bell rings a clear, echoing note, and Bodhi and I begin moving.
We stick to the shadows, and I pull just a touch of them around our bodies to go unnoticed as we make our way to the back of the group.
Garrick is standing behind the line of cadets.
He hits us both with an annoyed look. “Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes.” He mutters.
Bodhi breaks off to join the other second-years throwing a cocky grin over his shoulder.
Garrick narrows his eyes at Bodhi's retreating form, "You let him get away with too much Xaden. Someone might think you're being nepotistic."
"Oh, I absolutely am." I say with a grin.
Garrick and I continue walking over to the side of the dais. We sidle up to the rest of the wingleaders and stand in formation. Chin up, spine straight, and hands behind our backs. We symbolize a "unified front" according to Panchek.
These are the moments where I sink into myself. I stand firmly in who I am, and who I aim to be.
I am a leader. And I am good at what I do.
Panchek begins speaking, a near identical speech to the one he gave our first year, “Three hundred and one of you have survived the parapet to become cadets today.” He pauses, scanning the crowd, “Good job. Sixty-seven did not.”
Pancheck raises both hands towards the crowd in a dramatic gesture and says, his voice booming, “As the Codex says, now you begin the true crucible! You will be tested by your superiors, hunted by your peers, and guided by your instincts. If you survive to Threshing, and if you are chosen, you will be riders. Then we’ll see how many of you make it to graduation.”
Three hundred and sixty-eight people attempted to make it to the Rider’s Quadrant this morning. Almost twenty percent more than my first year.
“Your instructors will teach you. It’s up to you how well you learn. Discipline falls to your units, and your wingleader is the last word.” I smile, just a bit.
It’s not that I desire power, but I know how to harness it. How to use it effectively.
Power is a weapon just like anything else.
“If I get involved…You don’t want me involved.” He threatens with a smile. “With that said, I’ll leave you to your wingleaders. My best advice? Don't die.”
Then it’s just us on the stage and we’re all sizing up the newest cadets.
Nyra, our senior wingleader introduces herself, “I’m Nyra, the senior wingleader of the quadrant and the head of the First Wing. Section leaders and squad leaders, take your positions now.”
The Wingleaders divvy up the cadets until everyone is in their proper squads.
I’m not paying attention to the squads though.
I find myself watching Violet again.
Her gaze drifts up to mine like she can feel my stare. She lifts her chin, just the smallest display of defiance.
I just want to see what might happen. What she could make happen, if she harnesses all of that potential.
If she has enough of Brennan in her.
It’s a dangerous gamble. I can’t shake the hate that roiled between us earlier. But Brennan’s description of his youngest sister painted her as empathetic, someone who seems morally aligned with us. “She’s a skeptic as any scribe should be.” he said during one of the late nights we spent on the hills of Aretia, trying to reconcile the lives we left behind.
I can work with that.
But first I need her in my quadrant.
I want it bad enough that I’ll put up with Dain.
It’s a simple ask, and I have enough pull among the Wingleaders that there’s only the briefest of objections before everyone agrees that there’s no point in arguing with me.
We all turn and I can’t help the small, triumphant smile that’s now on my face.
Nyra inclines her head towards Flame Sections Second Squad, “Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s.”
A minute later, Violet Sorrengail is standing in the Fourth Wing.
My wing.
Nyra’s done giving orders and I step forward to the front of the stage.
“Take a look at your squad.” I don’t have to try to keep my voice clear and steady anymore. I know every syllable needs to portray my authority to each one of these cadets.
“These are the only people guaranteed by the Codex not to kill you. But just because they can’t end your life doesn’t mean others won’t. You want a dragon?” A few of them nod.
“Earn one.”
There’s a smattering of cheers that grow louder as I say, “And I bet you feel pretty badass right now, don’t you first-years? You feel invincible after the parapet, don’t you?” I’m shouting now, drowning out every arrogant cheer.
“You think you’re untouchable! You’re on the way to become the elite! The few! The chosen!” They cheer like they’ve won something.
I can’t help but feel a little smug at their naivety as the thunder of wings grows louder.
The dragons fly overhead and bank, a great gust of wind pushing through the crowd.
A few screams pierce the air and I feel just a little pity at those who will die in the coming minutes. There’s always a few.
Saegyl is easy to pick out as she lands in front of Violet and the rest of the Fourth wing.
The dragons all sit atop the walls.
I know the names of each one, have seen them everyday for almost 3 years, and it still never fails to steal the breath from me.
My eyes snap forward as a cadet breaks formation and races toward the keep.
And I can’t help but sigh inwardly as one of the dragons opens its mouth and reduces the recently awarded cadet into barely there ash.
“It’s better he goes now rather than later,” Sgaeyl exhales with the same sigh.
There are more deserters, and a few more piles of ash before everyone has learned their lesson.
“She is hurt all over.” Sgaeyl huffs.
I sneak a small glance to where Sgaeyl is perched, assessing Violet.
“Wh- where?” There’s an involuntary edge to my voice, making my thoughts stutter.
“Her stance would suggest everywhere.”
“Do you wish to be her healer, wingleader?” Tairn chortles.
I close my eyes, biting down on an exasperated groan. I direct my thoughts toward Tairn, “Are you contented to mock me today?”
“Yes.”
I sense surprise, and…delight? From Sgaeyl.
My dragon is playing with Violet. Or trying to scare her. Whatever Sgaeyl has seen on Violet’s face has impressed her.
A rare occurrence.
“She will be interesting indeed.” And I have to stifle another groan at my meddling dragon.
I block out both of them before addressing the crowd again, “Anyone else feeling like changing their mind? No? Excellent. Roughly half of you will be dead by this time next summer.” The formation grows quiet. “A third of you again the year after that, and the same your last year. No one cares who your mommy or daddy is here. Even King Tauri’s second son died during his Threshing.”
A few have started outright crying.
“So tell me again: Do you feel invincible now that you’ve made it into the Riders Quadrant? Untouchable? Elite? Because you’re not untouchable or special to them.” I lean forward and point at Sgaeyl for emphasis, “To them, you’re just the prey.”
•••
I’m getting antsy.
I managed to catch Imogen in time to have her give Liam my room number, but it always takes a while to get the first-years settled.
I haven’t stopped pacing, and I’m starting to get light headed as my breaths become shallower and shallower.
I need to breathe. I clench and unclench my fists, letting small tendrils of shadow pull away from me before walking over to the armchair by the bed.
I force myself to sit down. Counting my breaths in an effort to regain a scrap of control after the events of today.
My shadows have started edging their way down the hall when there’s a single rap on the wood. I’m practically sprinting toward the door.
I snatch at the handle and open it a fraction.
All I can see is blonde hair and bright blue eyes as Liam Mairi slips through the door, closing it softly behind him.
He turns towards me and I stand rooted to the spot, taking him in.
He’s gained muscle.
He took my advice and kept training, and while he looks exhausted, and a little older, he looks strong and healthy.
His presence still feels the way it did when I left.
We both stand frozen for another heartbeat, taking in the changes.
Before I get a chance to move, Liam has me in a tight, back breaking hug. I wrap my arms around him, and my eyes start to sting. Only Liam could reduce me to tears like this.
“I missed you, bud.” I say, ruffling the hair on the back of his head.
“I missed you, too.” He says, before pulling out of my grip.
He’s got a broad smile on his face and it takes me a minute to work past the crushing joy I feel at seeing him in front of me.
“You look like shit brother.” He says it with a smirk, but I can see the worry in the slant of his brow.
Before I can respond he walks over to the armchair by the bed and sits, giving me a few more seconds to be frozen in the moment before he gestures to the foot of the bed, “Tell me everything.”
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet and xaden#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#rebecca yarros#fantasy fanfic#actoar#throne of glass
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why was chapter 4 of acotar bad? some short craft lessons
CH 4
DISCLAIMER: not an exhaustive list, etc etc
click here for the full comparison between the original chapter and my revision.
all caps dialogue = amateur hour
tamlin has never felt less threatening than when he bellows, "MURDERERS!" if you ever feel the impulse to all-caps your dialogue (especially when its already tagged with an appropriate descriptor, e.g., "bellow," and italicized), don't. it's distracting and never gives what you think it's giving.
inconsequential micro action = bad pacing
a scene doesn't have to be a catalogue of every action. if I made note of every time one of sjm's characters looked at another character, or took a step, or otherwise moved in a way that had no bearing on the scene on either a physical or emotional level—we'd be here all day.
99% of the time, describing where your character is looking is a waste of words. the human brain can't imagine fine detail very well, so visualizing where a character's gaze is directed can be hard, especially as it changes over the course of a scene. it's also usually unnecessary: if two characters are talking, we can assume they're looking at each other in various ways.
it also isn't dramatic action. 'dramatic' in the literary sense, rather than the theatrical: it doesn't do anything. it doesn't increase tension. unless it's extremely well-placed, it doesn't underline the emotion of a scene in any significant way. all it does is become gristle that the reader has to chew through to get to the meat of the scene.
passive protagonist = deflated stakes
this was the chapter that originally convinced me to do a rewrite. it's such a textbook missed opportunity, I can't believe sjm's agent or editor didn't ask her to change it (it's totally possible that they did, and sjm chose not to).
it's sjm's first real opportunity to show us feyre's character: she's gotten herself into a situation that feels impossible to escape. she's killed a faerie, a crime punishable by death, and we feel the jaws closing in.
but instead of outsmarting or outrunning it, feyre doesn't have to do anything. tamlin (for reasons I guess make sense later? but are ultimately unsatisfying) rescues her from a situation that he put her in by suggesting she come live in prythian. we're told that feyre is good at surviving, but we don't get to see her put that skill to use. we're not shown her thinking on her feet; we're shown her saying 'yes' to a false choice.
tamlin handing feyre a way out makes no sense on a narrative or character level. it also undermines the apparent danger for the rest of the book. tamlin represents how dangerous faeries are: he's literally about to kill her to avenge one of his own. but then he decides not to—not because of her quick-thinking, but just because.
it seems like a small moment, but moving forward, it's hard to take any of the faeries as legitimate threats. not just because we've seen our first example completely undermined, but because it happened seemingly for no reason.
feyre hates her family = unbelievable motivation
purely on a character level, I find feyre's resentment of her family annoying. but who cares? one person's subjective judgement doesn't have any bearing over what should be done at a narrative level.
the problem is that feyre's primary motivation is keeping her family alive. once she's in prythian, all she wants is to return home so she can make sure they're taken care of. but that's hard to believe when we're constantly shown how little she actually cares for them.
time and time again, we're shown her resentment—her sisters are entitled, her father is useless—and yet we're supposed to believe that all she wants is for them to be safe.
in this chapter, sjm doesn't even give her a goodbye with each of her family members. she just has papa archeron tell her:
"You were always too good for here, Feyre. Too good for us, too good for everyone."
???
even a single moment of connection between her and her family would make her motivation feel more real, which would, in turn, propel the plot. it's a massive missed opportunity not to see her saying goodbye to each of her family members.
so that's why I included an extended goodbye in my rewrite. even a small moment of tenderness between each of them helps me understand and believe feyre's motivation as we move into the next sequence.
#a little craft lesson as a treat#ch 4#actoar#sjm critical#acotar critical#anti acotar#writing advice#writing
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Such a compelling argument it is, that a relationship isn't about mutual choice and love, but about the capacity of a woman (female? because it's the fae?) to birth kids for the guy. Bravo!
I'm a very moderate, ship and let ship type of person, but when I see this argument pop up on my dash, with the op claiming that this is why gwynriel will be canonTM and not elriel, I cannot contain my annoyance. Way to go... to minimize someone to their capacity to bear children.
ALSO: The whole thing about the pliant bones was about Gwyn's body having adapted to the training so well, so quickly. Not about birthing children. The whole thing is just so stupid and illogical. (A normal pelvic girdle shifts during birth anyway, you know. It's not about the bones. It's about the birth canal.)
So please stop reducing these two characters to their 'baby popping' capacity just to justify your ship and hope that it'll be canon. You can do that without the misogyny.
(I'm annoyed at SJM too, for putting this thing about wings and uterus and birthing canal in the books. With no safe c-section available in the ACOTAR world (but shredded wings and spilled guts can be healed within a day? WHAT?) It's ridiculous. It's why we're getting such lovely misogynistic takes in the fandom.)
#acotar#I made a meme instead of getting annoyed#both gwyn and elain are not here to be baby making machines#azriel#elain#elriel#pro elriel#elain archeron#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#elain acotar#actoar#acomaf#acosf#acofas#a court of thorns and roses#a court of silver flames#a court of wings and ruin#a court of mist and fury#acowar#illyrians#bat boys#illyrian wings#the bat boys#acotar fandom#gwyneth berdara#gwyn berdara
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Meeting Eve (The Seventh Time)
Summary: Rhysand intervenes and Azriel is not pleased.
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: cussing, angst, bit of our mans az going crazy
Next: The Eighth Time
ACOPAP Masterlist
---
The seventh, eighth time, I didn’t know. I began to lose track of the times I actually saw her with how often she occupied my thoughts.
I tried, I did. I tried to stay away, keep my distance. But damn her, she wanted to be friends. And sometimes… Sometimes I let myself think she wanted more than that.
I had left her standing unceremoniously in her bedroom because if I had stood there one more moment, with her looking up at me with those eyes, I would have done something I couldn’t take back.
So I seethed my way up to the training ring, needing to hit something, anything. And I did. I lost myself in it until I could feel the burn in my muscles and the ache in my knuckles. With every punch and exhale, I tried to let go of every thought that plagued my mind. This impending war with Hybern. The complete failure in the throne room. Feyre in the Spring Court. Evelyn.
Azriel.
Rhys’s voice in my mind caused me to pause. What? I snapped.
Peace, brother. I could sense his smirk. My office, half an hour.
I sighed. Fine.
Unwrapping my hands, I began the descent to my room.
Despite my annoyance with Rhys, I figured the least I could do is tidy myself up a bit - especially if he was sending me out somewhere. I entered my room, fully focused on bathing and meeting Rhysand but froze.
It still smelled like her. I sighed and ran my hands through my hair.
A shower. I was here for a shower.
From there it was almost automatic, taking my clothes off and slipping under the warm water. This was always the one place where I could just… think. Unfortunately, that meant all the time in the world to wonder what I was supposed to do about Evelyn.
Or rather, do with Evelyn.
I ground my teeth in frustration and did my best to ignore the way my entire body warmed up at just the thought of her. It hadn’t been like this with anyone in the past. Even with Mor, there was a sense of familiarity in the longing when I was with her.
With Evelyn, I needed her. I needed her in the way misery needed company - where one only thrived with the other.
I let my head rest on the wall as water dripped from my wet hair and onto the ground below. I willed my thoughts away from that and onto this meeting with Rhys. I have been controlling and hiding my emotions for 500 years, there’s no reason I couldn’t do it around a female I had only just met and focus on what my High Lord required of me. Gods only knew what he wanted from me this time.
Finally, I removed myself from the water and dried my hair. What if I just told Rhys to go fuck himself? I shook my head, sending droplets of water spraying. It wouldn’t be the first time and likely not the last, but it would mean an earful from him later.
I resigned myself to my inevitable meeting with the High Lord. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I let the steam from the bathing room waft into my bedroom as I exited. Pulling open the top drawer of my dresser, I stared at the clothes, likely a little too hard and a little too long. My focus was long gone - instead replaced with a thoughtless battle between my emotions and my logic.
I snapped out of the daze as my bedroom door was flung open.
Evelyn stood there, cheeks slightly flushed and eyes determined… until she saw me.
I felt my shadows around me, informing me that she had been wandering the hallways trying to find her way to her room.
Her mouth dropped open and I restrained myself from moving toward her.
Master yourself, Azriel. Don’t let it phase you.
“You’re in my room,” her voice came out the slightest bit breathy and it took every ounce of control not to grab her and have my way with her as her scent of arousal filled the room. She was so newly Fae, I doubted she could tell the difference or that I could sense it.
I chuckled lowly, letting it break the tension building inside of me. “I believe you’re the one in my room.”
I turned my back to her, knowing if I had to see her standing in my doorway for another second I would lose all my resolve. I feigned digging through my dresser in hopes she would walk away before she could piece together that the smell of her arousal now mingled with my own.
I felt her gaze on my back as surely as I would have felt her touch. “Isn’t this the room I was in earlier?”
Damn. Shit. Fuck.
I turned around, looking anywhere but her as I muttered, “Oh, uh, when I found out what happened… Well, I mean when…”
I was met with her silence. I cursed myself, the almighty Spymaster of the Night Court, brought to stutters by a female barely half his size. It was laughable. I had killed and maimed and tortured without so much as blinking an eye but here I was feeling a blush crawl up my neck.
I gathered myself enough to explain, “Once Madja helped bandage me up, you were still unconscious and there wasn’t another conjoining room with Nesta and Elain and I don’t always stay here so I figured it would be fine if they just kept you in here and…”
She paused for long enough that my shadows began swirling around my feet impatiently. I looked up at her then, seeing the thoughts connecting in her mind.
Eventually, she crossed her arms, shifting her weight so one of her hips jutted out to the side. I let my eyes track the way the muscles in her thighs flexed at the movement, clenching my jaw in response.
“Well, where exactly am I supposed to sleep then?” Gods, I was so far gone.
“Rhys had one of the extra rooms cleaned out for you down the hall.”
When she didn’t leave, I realized she didn’t know where the room was. The words left my lips before I could think better of it, “I’ll get dressed and show you the way?”
She remained in the doorway, wings splayed behind her. When did that happen? How had I not noticed?
I couldn’t read the expression on her face as she stood, unmoving.
“I’ll need some privacy for that.” Don’t go.
I had never seen anything as heartwarming as the way she stumbled backward at my voice, mumbling, “Right, yes, of course. So sorry,” before finding her way into the hall.
I dressed quickly, wanting to get her to her room so that I could reorient myself before my meeting with Rhys.
I opened the door, though she didn’t notice. Her wings drooped behind her as she stared blankly at the wall ahead, clearly thinking hard about something.
“You really shouldn’t let those drag on the ground, you know?” I teased, hoping it would make the frown lines on her face disappear.
She responded before shutting her eyes in concentration and, much like Rhys, willing the wings away.
“That’s… one way to do it,” I said as I began walking down the hall, putting some distance between us. We stopped at her door and I waited for her to enter, hoping to be chivalrous but also making sure she was safe.
As we stood for a few moments I slowly drank in the details of her face. I wanted to memorize every freckle, kiss each worry line at the corners of her eyes away, and be the one responsible for her dimples showing when she smiled.
Her soft voice interrupted my thinking, “I appreciate it, you know.”
“What?” I asked, unsure what she was thanking me for.
She considered me for a moment before saying, “Well, everything. I appreciate you letting me meet your shadows when you first visited. And then swearing your allegiance to me and my sisters. But mostly, I appreciated your comfort earlier when I woke up. I just assumed… that wasn’t something you’re necessarily accustomed to doing and it meant a lot to me…”
In over 500 years of existence, I hadn’t been surprised often. But hearing her thanks and the genuine appreciation pouring out in her words, I was caught more than off guard. My hand at my side twitched in restraint to prevent itself from holding her perfect cheek in my palm.
I tried to think of what to say, how to remain neutral, but she cut me off before I could, “You don’t have to say anything. I get it. I just wanted to say thank you and that’s it. I, um, definitely hope to see more of you around. For now, I hope you have a good night.”
She was in her room quicker than I could exhale to respond. I stared at the door she had disappeared through, blinking to myself a few times. I heard her sigh against the closed door and her movement as she got into bed.
What if I just… Fuck it.
I reached out a hand and just as it touched the doorknob I heard Rhysand’s commanding tone in my mind. You’re late, brother.
I snarled low enough that I hoped Evelyn wouldn’t hear, stepping into my shadows and appearing a moment later in Rhysand’s office.
“What?” I bit out, echoing my tone from earlier.
Rhys sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair with both hands behind his head. “Now, is that any way to speak to your High Lord?”
“Out with it, Rhys.”
“Oh, I don’t actually need anything. I simply wanted to see how the timing worked out between Evelyn returning to your room after dinner and you getting ready to come down here.” He smirked, leaning forward so his forearms were braced against his desk.
“You-” The question caught in my throat as I fully processed his words. The prick had known I would shower after training. And he purposefully didn’t tell Evelyn that she had a new room next to her sisters.
“What the fuck, Rhys?”
He put his hands up in defense as I stalked closer to his desk. “I meant it when I said you deserve happiness, Azriel. And if you’re not going to take it for yourself, I supposed there was no harm in helping it along.”
I stood, shaking. He had interfered and therefore interrupted any and all plans I had to stay away from Evelyn for her own good. I appreciated his effort, though, knowing my brother had only done what the thought best, but wished he could stay out of my business, especially where it concerned Evelyn.
The look on his face was so earnest though and it had been so difficult to battle myself internally with this. Normally, I had no problem working through issues myself. In fact, I preferred it. Too many opinions only made matters more complicated. But Rhysand knew how this felt. He knew because he kept himself away from Feyre. It was that alone that compelled me to reply, “She’s too good for me.”
His eyebrows raised in surprise that my anger had dissipated so quickly. He asked, with a gentleness that made me want to punch that concerned look off his face, “Shouldn’t you let her make that decision on her own?”
Yes.
But I couldn’t handle it if she didn’t pick me. So it was far easier to save her the trouble and stay away in the first place. I’d rather have Cassian throw me into the prison than admit that to Rhysand though.
“If you don’t need me for anything, I’m going to bed.” I left before he could say anything else.
Once I was in my room, I stripped the clothes from my body, hating the way they had started to constrict my breathing. Left only in a pair of cotton shorts, I relaxed myself on the bed.
I sent my shadows away with a flick of my wrist, watching them take refuge in the corners of the room. Their constant reminders of what was going on, of what Evelyn was doing, were not necessarily something I needed right now.
Rhysand’s meddling needed to stop yesterday. I didn’t want him getting involved, even if the chance meeting this evening would be replaying in my mind for the next several years of my life.
She had looked so determined to find the right room, her delicate eyebrows pinched together from when she retraced her steps. And the brief look of triumph as she recognized the space - my space.
Then there was the delicious way her eyes had unabashedly roamed my chest upon seeing me. The desire that flooded her eyes and her scent. And the blush that spattered her face as she realized the situation. Then that attitude that returned instantaneously. That attitude was going to be the death of me. The crossed arms, a cocky smile on her face, and her sinful hips cocked to one side.
Years of a sedentary lifestyle had left her with more curves and dips than her sisters, not that I minded. If anything it just gave me more to love, more to wrap my hands around and crush against me.
I growled realizing that my wandering mind had done more than get my heart racing and was just about to relieve the tightening in my pants when I heard it.
It was quiet at first, sniffles and sobs, but then screams. Screams that reverberated into whatever shred of my soul had not been corrupted. I felt part of it crack at the heartbreak echoing throughout the halls.
Arousal and daydreams forgotten, I ran throughout the House of Wind faster than I had moved in my entire life. My mind was still hazy but my body knew exactly where to go.
I was in front of her door within seconds, feeling my brothers appear on my flanks not a moment later. Despite my intrusion into Rhys’s usual position in the lead, we worked together naturally, flawlessly.
Rhys grabbed my shoulder as I leaned back to kick open the door, not thinking straight enough to even see if it was unlocked. He gestured to the light shining from underneath the door and I looked expectantly at him.
He sighed and shook his head, letting his power push back whatever was happening inside Evelyn’s room. The entire time, those screams ripped pieces from my sanity and Cassian had replaced Rhys’s hand on my shoulder, serving as an anchor for my mind and holding me back from doing anything stupid.
The second that light dimmed as a result of Rhysand’s intervention, Cassian removed his hand and I threw open the door.
Evelyn lay on her bed, thrashing wildly as light and power poured from her. Rhys held me in the doorway as I roared Evelyn’s name. Over and over until her eyes snapped open and the room went dark.
Her soft voice rang out, “Um. Hi?”
On either side of me, Cassian lowered the sword he had raised and Rhys let his power balk. I just stood staring, my chest rising and falling heavily.
Evelyn’s eyes traced over us hastily and I held the growl in my throat as I realized what my brothers were wearing. Or rather, weren’t wearing.
I took a step forward at the fear and confusion in her eyes, fully intending to scoop her into my arms and comfort her. Who knows if I’d ever let go?
But she cowered from me. Looking for all the world like she wished the pillows would swallow her up so I couldn’t get any closer.
That one movement broke whatever piece of me the screaming hadn’t quite reached. I turned on my heel and roughly shoved past Cassian and Rhys, silently making my way back to my room.
I paused only to shut the door before shoving all the papers and books off my desk. The next victim was the dresser which was thrown to the ground, the drawers spilling their content haphazardly. I lost track of what was next on my path of destruction until the entire room was trashed beyond repair. Holes littered the walls and all of my belongings - of which there were few - were scattered and broken.
Only once I had stopped did I feel the tears streaming down my face and the gasping sobs that had my chest convulsing.
I sunk to the ground, tearing at my hair as I fought for control of my emotions.
She didn’t want me.
She was terrified of me.
And why wouldn’t she be? I had killed and tortured enough that I had lost count. I had repeatedly pushed her away and shut down any attempts at friendship she had offered me. I wasn’t what she wanted and I never would be.
It took hours but I fell into a fitful sleep on the floor, nightmare after nightmare of Evelyn telling me how much she despised me, what a monster I was, or dying while I couldn’t do anything to prevent it.
-
The next morning, I groaned as the sunlight filled my room. A pounding headache had formed from the crying and fitful sleep from the prior evening. I moved sluggishly to pick up clothes from the floor before getting dressed and stalking downstairs.
After breakfast and a glass of water, my head had stopped throbbing and I almost felt relaxed enough to go train on the roof. Until I felt Rhysand pushing at my mental shields.
Yes, High Lord? I asked, after lowering them enough to let him in.
I need a favor, came his drawling reply.
I waited in silence.
Evelyn requested to go running this morning. I took her to that field in the north by the creek. Something came up and I need you to go pick her up.
No.
His reply was no longer as my brother but as the High Lord, That wasn’t a request.
I slammed a fist on the counter. Godsdamn it, Rhys. She doesn’t want me anywhere near her.
I have it on good authority that’s not necessarily true.
My heart swelled in my chest. Maybe I hadn’t completely ruined everything.
Fine, I told Rhys.
When he didn’t respond, I took that as my cue to go out onto the balcony and begin my flight to Evelyn. I spent the whole time debating what to say to her and how to approach her.
I settled on doing what I did best - taking cues from her and seeing what exactly she wanted from me. I had spent my life learning how to read someone and this was the most important time to use that.
I landed in the field and looked around expectantly. Only she wasn’t there.
I took a deep breath, taking in the smell of grass and trees, the crisp clean air rolling down from the mountains, and there - that scent like the first snow in Velaris that was indescribable with a hint of lavender from either her time spent outside or whatever soap she had used.
I followed it all the way to the creek, miles away from the clearing. I held in my amazed smile at the fact that she had presumably run all this way. I caught a hint of the joy she had felt in that spot in my chest reserved only for her. I approached slowly, seeing her shoes beside her where she lay on the bank of the creek and kicked her feet through the water. My shadows hummed to me in contentment as she giggled up at the clouds and I almost did the same.
I walked the last few steps to stand next to her and drank in her peaceful face.
Her mouth quirked to the side as she said with no small amount of sass, “Go away, High Lord. Your loyal subject is enjoying herself.”
I snickered at the mistaken identity. Apparently, she still hadn’t learned to differentiate scents.
She scrambled into a sitting position and looked up at me. My breath caught a bit as she blinked and looked through her lashes, my brain going to a far less innocent place at her nearly on her knees in front of me.
“Hi, Azriel,” she whispered.
I smiled down at her and responded, “Hi, Evelyn.”
I held out a hand to help her to her feet and shoved down my surprise when she accepted. As I hoisted her up, I may have stepped closer, hoping she would mistake it as a coincidence. But as she froze, I realized my mistake. I quickly schooled my face into disinterest, realizing she had no desire to be closer to me than necessary.
She yanked herself away from my hold and retreated a few steps away. I exhaled in frustration. Why couldn’t I read her?
“Evelyn,” I started.
Her arms were crossed as she demanded, “Where’s Rhysand? He was supposed to winnow me home.”
“He was called away on urgent business. I’m meant to fly you to the House of Wind,” I responded flatly.
I could sense her nervousness as her eyes looked at the ground, “Fly me… all the way home?”
I flexed my wings. Of course, she hated flying. I explained as gently as possible, “The House has wards on it to prevent anyone from winnowing in. And since I can’t winnow, not in the way Mor or Rhys can, the only way I can get you there is by flying.”
She nodded. I would kill Rhysand for this. Especially if he knew how uncomfortable she would be with flying home. I wanted to distract her from wherever her thoughts were spiraling.
“You know, I’m much better at flying than Rhys. It might have something to do with having to learn much later than him and Cassian,” I smiled awkwardly.
She laughed and my shadows danced in response, even if it sounded like it was more for her benefit than mine. “If that’s your idea of a joke, we have a lot of work to do.”
I raised my eyebrows in mock offense and reached a hand out to her again. She grabbed my hand but didn’t move closer. I didn’t force her to, wondering what she had taken such an interest in as she looked at my hand. I noted the way her eyebrows met and tried to resist pulling my hand away from her, realizing just how poorly the scarred skin contrasted with her soft hand.
“What are these for?” She asked, turning my hand and tapping on my siphon with one finger.
My mouth tightened in relief. “They’re siphons. Illyrians have a raw killing power. Siphons help them focus it. The more siphons, the stronger the power.”
I scowled as she asked, “Am I going to need one?” I could only hope the power she had wasn’t vile enough to warrant an Illyrian siphon.
Not wanting to upset her, I said, “I’m not sure. We’ll have to determine the extent of your power and see if siphons can help direct it.”
I remained quiet as I saw her mind racing in thought. The way her mouth turned down on one side as she became absorbed in her own world rather than the outside one filled my stomach with something suspiciously like fluttering.
“You and Cassian are going to be jealous when I need more than both of you,” she teased, stepping closer.
I couldn’t say anything as a result of the new lack of distance between us. Instead, I let my eyes slowly roam her face. I wasn’t even sure I was thinking about anything other than how beautiful she was. I couldn’t keep track of the time we stood there even as she raised a hand but stopped herself. She breathed out my name and instinctively I grabbed her hand in my own. I gently guided it to where she had originally intended for it to go, covering it with my own as I pressed her palm to my cheek.
My eyes closed of their own accord as I let go of her hand and moved to spread mine across her back, pulling her closer until she was pressed against me. My body sang everywhere it touched hers. Realizing she hadn't said anything, I opened my eyes and searched her face for any hint of hesitation.
Her darkened pupils had me groaning internally. Her head tilted up, her beautiful neck elongating as she offered herself to me.
Kiss her, my mind chanted. Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.
I moved slowly, giving her time to change her mind, as I inched forward to meet her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed and I was close enough I could have counted each eyelash.
At the exact moment I closed my eyes, I felt hands shoving me backward as her voice came out harshly, “Take me home.”
I stood, staring lamely, trying to think of what to say. She didn’t give me the chance. “Take me home. Now.”
Of course. I knew that this would happen and I was a fool for thinking I had left her with any reason not to reject me.
I nodded and gently picked her up, wanting to account for any soreness from her earlier running. I kept my mind carefully blank as I took off and began my flight toward the House of Wind.
Azriel, Feyre’s in trouble. Meet Cassian at the border to the Autumn Court. Now. Rhysand’s command came in through the nothingness in my head.
I have Evelyn. I shot back, hating myself for having to postpone rescuing Feyre.
I heard his desperation as he replied, It doesn’t matter. Mor is waiting at the treeline on the opposite border. Leave Evelyn with her then get Feyre.
I banked to the right, heading for the Winter Court.
“Where are you going? I told you I wanted to go home,” Evelyn’s voice came out so shaky, I almost apologized for having to fly further than originally planned.
I didn’t look at her as I said, “Feyre’s in trouble. Rhysand told Cassian and me to meet her on the border of the Winter Court and I don’t have time to drop you off.”
“What kind of trouble? What can I do?”
I admired how quickly her attitude changed, fear forgotten for determination to save her sister. I responded disdainfully, “The kind caused by the heirs to the Autumn Court. The kind you are getting nowhere near. So what you can do, Eve, is wait with Mor on the shore while Cassian and I get Feyre the hell out of there.”
“Like hell I am,” she grabbed my chin and my pace stumbled at the feeling of her thumb and forefinger on my face, “Azriel, you take me to my sister or you drop me here and I will walk to her.”
“Only you, Evelyn Archeron, would speak to the Spymaster of the Night Court in such a tone,” I said once I got over the initial shock of her touch, shaking my head slightly.
“I’m not scared of you.”
She said it so confidently I almost believed her. Until I remembered the way she had backed away from me last night.
I didn’t respond, instead reaching across the bargain bond between Cassian and me. We’re a few paces out.
I see you.
Seconds later I saw Cassian flying toward us.
Evelyn perked up in my arms and my heart dropped as she yelled in pure joy, “Cassian!”
“Enjoying your flight, kid?” He yelled back to her.
I stifled a smile as she responded, “Not as much as I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass for that, you dusty old male!”
Figures appeared below us on the frozen lake between the Autumn Court and the Winter Court. I saw Feyre, and four Autumn Court males, judging by the hair.
Two for you, two for me, I said to Cassian. I’m leaving Evelyn with Mor and then I’ll meet you there.
He nodded and I began descending, keeping Evelyn close to my chest and searching the woods for Mor.
Evelyn’s hands clenched my collar as she yelled, “Let me go!”
“Absolutely not!” I yelled, giving her a look that told her she was crazy if she thought I was going to drop her.
“Azriel, just drop me, I’ll be fine. We’re close enough to the ground.”
I clutched her to me as tight as I could without hurting her. “No.”
The last thing I heard was her saying, “You stubborn male,” before she pushed against me with all of her strength and forced her way out of my hold.
I watched in horror as my heart plummeted to the ground and I could do nothing to stop it.
-
Taglist: @mis-lil-red @ambivertedcroissant @reareaikea @biblophilefox82 @in-some-fandoms @hollyismentallyillhelp @donttellmehowtowrite @issybee0611 @vera0124 @juulle987 @bankerfrog @pricklepearbloom @sevikas-whore @strawberyseas
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What Doesn’t Kill Me Makes Me Want You More
@elainarcheronweek Day 5: Travel & Adventure
An infinitely massive thank yous to @tired-potter for beta reading
Summary: Something’s calling Elain out of the night court. On Calanmai, she finds what she’s been looking for.
Pairing: Elucien
Word Count: 2.6k
Content Warning: Dubious Consent, Monster Penis
Something was calling Elain away from the Night Court.
She knew she should be happy in Valaris. Knew she should enjoy life with her sisters and their friends, her new family. But no matter how much she tried, no matter how much she worked in the garden or the kitchen, she always felt like she was missing something.
She was probably just lonely, Elain told herself, when she watched her sisters wrapped up with their mates. She wanted what they have, wanted to know if the cauldron had dared give her a mate.
But then she would wake up in the middle of the night, clothes sticking to her with sweat from the nightmares, and she knew it was something else.
The flashes of red hair that seemed to taunt her, the glimpse of a golden eye, a scar cutting through an auburn brow. She didn’t know who the man was, only that he seemed to be calling to her, seemed to be a part of that pull that tugged her away.
It was that tug that led her up to the house of wind. Helion was coming to visit from Day, and Elain longed to actually talk to someone who lived outside the Night Court. She climbed up those 10 thousand stairs, unwilling to ask anyone to fly her up there. Going herself seemed important somehow, like staking a claim.
Dinner had already been served when she arrived, flushed and out of breath.
“So this is the famed Elain Archeron,” Helion said, rising to his feet the second he saw her.
Elain took him in, the dark skin and golden crown, and took an unconscious step forward. She knew that nose, that smile, just in a slightly lighter hue. Saw it in her dreams.
“Elain, Helion,” Feyre introduced from her seat at the head of the table. “Unfortunately, his son was too preoccupied to join us.” Feyre aimed that line at Helion, a pointed dig.
“Lucien’s been holed up in the library trying to find a way to break Vassa’s curse,” Helion replied easily.
Lucien, Helion’s mysterious son. Elain had never met him, had only heard of him from Feyre’s brief mentions. He’d been staying with Tamlin while Amarantah ruled, had worked to break the curse before returning to Day.
“Tell him that I miss him,” Feyre said. “And that he works too hard.”
Helion’s laugh was a deep, rich sound. “You’ll get no complaints from me, cursebreaker. Why do you think I’m taking Calanmai off this year?”
“You, giving up a chance at an orgy, I’m shocked,” Feyre teased.
“I have to let Lucien have his fun. Besides, sometimes it’s better to partake when you’re not a ravenous beast.” He sent a wink Feyre’s way and Elain’s face heated. She had no desire to know of her sister’s plans for tomorrow night.
Feyre smirked. “The Court of Nightmares is always open to you, if you get bored.”
Helion winked. “I’m sure the Lady of Day will keep me occupied, but I thank you for the offer.”
Calanmai saw Elain dressed in a tight fitting black dress, the skirts spilling out around her even as a slit in the front ran from the floor up to where her leg met her hips. She felt exposed, practically naked in front of so many eyes. Feyre had assured her she looked fine, was dressed for the occasion.
Elain hadn’t been sure how to tell her she had no interest in watching Rhys fuck her on the throne.
Her feeling of discomfort only seemed to be amplified when the drums started. She felt like she was going to come out of her skin, something seemed to be pulling, tugging her out of that dark mountain.
She looked over at Feyre, already grinding in Rhys’ lap, and made a decision. No one would miss her if she left for the night, she doubted they wouldn’t even notice she was gone.
So Elain took off down the long corridors, practically running until she felt the cold night air on her skin. There was a cord wrapped around her ribs that seemed to be leading her, taking her into the woods.
Elain didn’t know where she was going, didn’t know where she would end up. But the idea of stopping made her physically ill. She could still hear the drums pounding away in her head, but as she walked, she was half convinced they were a heartbeat instead.
The forest itself seemed to change, the dark overhang lightening, the trees themselves looking more golden in the moonlight.
Elain was half tempted to turn around, to go back and ignore that pull, when she saw it. Or rather him, if what was dangling between the beast’s hind legs was any indication.
She could’ve convinced herself he was just a fox, if foxes were the size of small horses, had it not been for the eagle claws sprouting from his front legs and ginormous, feathered wings pinned tightly to his side.
The beast turned to look at her, his eyes, one russet and one golden, staring her down. Elain stared back, taking in the blood stained teeth and claws. A dead stag lay at his feet, savagely ripped apart.
The fae, for it must’ve been some fae creature, cocked his head to the side. That small movement seemed to break Elain out of her trace and she ran, slippered feet sliding on the soft ground.
She could hear the beast racing behind her, the sound of rustling leaves as his large frame brushed against low hanging branches.
In the distance, she could just make out the border, the point where the forest became distinctly darker, soaked in starlight. If she could just make it there, she could get help, would be free.
Claws dug into her back and Elain went sprawling, her face landing in the leaves. Elain twisted, trying to escape the clutch of the talons currently cutting into her shoulder. She kicked out wildly, hoping against all odds she could beat the beast off.
By some miracle, Elain’s foot hit something solid. The talons loosened their grip, the creature reeling back. Elain rolled onto her back, looking up at the white fur of the fae’s underbelly.
She tried to scamper back, to get out from between those muscular forelimbs.
The monster shook his great head, snarling down at her.
“Please,” Elain begged, knowing there was no way he could understand her. “Let me go.”
In response, the beast placed one of those eagle talons on her waist, pinning her down. The pressure was enough that Elain knew if she tried to escape, he could snap ribs, but not so much as to be overly painful.
His nose pressed down, in the space between her breasts and he sniffed down the length of her body. Elain glanced down, swallowing thickly when she realized her struggle had caused her skirts to bunch up around her hips, leaving her legs bare.
He had made it to that cursed slit, the cold wet of his nose causing goosebumps to prick along her skin.
Unconsciously, Elain tried to squirm away, to stop him from finding what lay just above that spot.
The pressure of the claw increased, the tallons pressing uncomfortably against her skin. Elain forced herself to settle, lying back against the forest floor and squeezing her eyes closed.
And then the beast found it, nudged against the bundle of nerves at the apex of Elain’s thighs. And Cauldron damn her, but Elain lifted her hips, pressed up against that sensation. She couldn’t help it, was too shocked at the unfamiliar feeling.
From between her legs, those mismatched eyes met her, understanding seeming to flash in them.
“Please,” Elain begged, not quite sure if she was asking to be released, or for him to do it again.
A low whine escaped from the monster, and then he was licking a long stripe up her cunt. His tongue was rough, the friction bordering on painful.
Elain screamed, her cries only seeming to spur him on as the beast continued to lick and nuzzle her folds. Elain could feel herself growing wet, her body’s reaction to such thorough attention.
Throughout it all, the wild creature above her continued to whine, almost pitiful sounds emerging from deep in his throat.
At some point, Elain gave up fighting it, let her body lie limp, wrung out with pleasure. Whatever type of fae was currently licking her clearly was in no hurry, was seemingly content to eat her out like his life depended on it.
It was only when Elain was practically sobbing, unable to take any more of that steady pressure, that his rough tongue finally found her entrance, entered her for the first time.
And Elain broke, pleasure crashing through her. She withered against him, trying in vain to drive him deeper, to feel more.
“Please,” Elain begged again. And again, she was ignored. The beast rode her through her high, licking until she couldn’t take it any more, was actually sobbing.
It was only then that he relented, lifting that taloned leg off her chest.
Elain managed to sit up, muscles weak and shaky. The monster was standing several feet away, staring at her. He didn’t move, holding himself with unnatural stillness and Elain slowly rose to her feet. Elain took half a step back, towards that border between the courts.
The beast snarled in response, baring sharp white teeth, now freed of blood. Elain didn’t want to think about what had cleaned them off, how she’d helped.
Still, she took another half step back. The monster lunged, its head aiming for the space between her thighs.
Elain shrieked as he used his momentum to throw her over his back, her head landing by his long tail. Those great wings were flapping, lifting them off the ground. They flew away from the forest floor, high over the trees. Elain squeezed her eyes shut, wrapping her arms tightly around the beast’s torso, ignoring how close her hands were to his swollen member.
She didn’t know how long they were in the air, how far away he was taking her from Valaris. Well, you wanted to leave, Elain told herself, close to hysterics.
And then they were touching down, landing on solid ground. Elain slid off the beast’s body, hitting the sandy ground with a soft thump.
She peered around, realized they were on a cliff ledge somewhere, perched on a narrow ledge between the sheer rock face and the edge.
The beast started walking, sliding his body between a narrow crack in the rock wall. Elain glanced down, swallowing thickly when she saw that the trees below were nothing but a green canopy, too far below to make out any details.
She stood and followed the beast.
He was waiting for her, pacing back and forth in front of a lit fire. His head turned to stare at her, and Elain could’ve sworn he looked nervous. It was an expression so human, so indicative of intelligence that it startled her.
Slowly, she inched closer, one hand outstretched. The beast held still, letting her approach at her own pace. Her fingers lightly brushed over his head, and the stillness was broken, the beast bumping against her hand.
His fur was soft, surprisingly silky, and Elain buried her fingers in it. The beast seemed to be purring, a deep rumbling in his chest Elain could feel in her bones, even as his cock seemed to grow harder.
A sickening realization struck her, as she looked at the fire. She’d seen this set up, had just left a party for the same purpose.
“Lucien?” she asked.
The beast—no Lucien—pressed his head harder against her hand, his eyelids fluttering.
“Oh,” Elain whispered. “Am I the maiden?”
In response, Lucien’s nose returned to that damned slit in her dress. Elain spread her legs, letting him snuff her dripping pussy, still slick from her orgasm.
Elain thought he would return to that licking, was almost looking forward to it. But instead, Lucien pressed his head against her hips, forcing her down to the ground. He climbed back on top of her, and Elain realized a second too late what he was planning.
“Wait,” Elain pleaded, even as he lined up the head of his cock with her slick folds. She was sure it wasn’t going to fit, he dwarfed Graysen’s and that had already been painful at first.
Lucien didn’t listen, entered her with one mighty thrust. Elain screamed, sure she was going to split in two. Lucien rutted into her, sliding in and out of her body, aided by her slick. Elain lay on the ground, panting, unable to move. Whether she wanted to get away or to meet his hips, she didn’t know.
The soft fur of Lucien’s underbelly brushed against her clit, and she felt pressure start to build. The pain was fading, giving way to pleasure and she managed to lift her hips slightly, allowing Lucien to enter deeper.
The tip of his cock grazed a spot on her inner walls that had her seeing stars, and Elain cried out, any discomfort forgotten.
Lucien moved faster, pounding into her with a messy rhythm, hitting that spot again and again.
Elain came apart, ecstasy washing over her. Lucien followed her with a howl, pumped thick ropes of cum into her eager pussy, some of it spilling out onto the cave floor.
Lucien held himself over her, tongue lolling out as he panted. It was only after he was spent that he removed his softening cock and, with a flash of light, transformed into a high fae.
Here was the male Elain saw in her dreams, that long red hair and strong jawline.
He collapsed on his side next to her, breathing heavily.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, russet eye wide with panic. “I shouldn’t have done that, I had just killed the stag and I saw you and the magic wouldn’t let me transform and…” he trailed of weakly, even as he scanned her face, looking for any sign of discomfort.
And then Elain felt it, that golden thread wrapped around her heart that reached out to him.
“You’re my mate,” Elain whispered, sitting up.
Lucien recoiled in shock, and Elain heard his heart’s rapid pounding in his chest.
“We may need to come up with a better story to tell our families how we met,” Lucien said after a minute.
Despite the situation, Elain laughed, earning her a dazzling smile from Lucien.
“We should probably find a better place to get to know each other,” he said.
Elain shrugged, lying back on the sandy ground, spreading her legs slightly. “Or I could just offer you something to eat.”
Lucien raised one eyebrow. “You do know that doesn’t count, right?”
“Maybe I want to see how you compare to your beast form.”
Lucien’s smirk was predatory as he crawled between her legs, lowering his mouth to her clit and sucking.
“So does this mean you’ll accept the bond?” Lucien asked between licks.
“Are you complaining about my offering?” Elain demanded.
Lucien shook his head. “Never.” He inserted one finger in her cunt, curling it inside her. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”
Elain gasped, legs tightening on his head. “I know where to find you,” she said. “Somewhere in the woods.”
“I think I was the one who found you,” Lucien said. Elain opened her mouth to argue, but he bit her clit lightly, her cry interrupting whatever she was going to say. “My little fawn waiting to be caught.”
#consider this my application to join monsterfuckers anonymous#this fic was the only thing that got me through this week#I'd cry over math#and then write a little monster peen as a treat#elucien#actoar#elucien fanfiction#elucien fanfic#elain x lucien#acotar fanfic#elainarcheronweek2022
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Something Much More than Love
Excerpt from Chapter 20
“And I think that the daises next to the- ?” The light bells of the clock chimed, causing Elain to blush as she realized the hour.
“Oh Gods! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to babble about garden plans for… three hours ?” The copious amounts of liquor caught up with her as she let out a deep infectious laugh, drunk and dizzy with delight until she fell onto a chuckling Azriel's shoulder.
Had there ever been a happier Solstice? He didn’t know. On top of the blue embroidered towels from Mor lay the headache powder, perhaps the funniest and most endearing gift he received throughout his five centuries on Earth. When he saw Mor’s gift, the old familiarity of his affection seemed duller than usual, even a pang at the memory of a male who enjoyed love from far away, so if it left, it would not hurt.
But this? This was pure. No pain, no confusion, just ease and laughter. He had pined for Elain since he met her, but two nights ago, something shifted. When she fixed his plate at dinner, it transformed his inhibitions into vulnerabilities. He didn’t want to admire from afar, he wanted to listen to any word that could pass through her lips, worried if he spoke he’d miss something important.
He had loved Mor, for centuries. But perhaps he did not know how happy love could be until he met Elain. Perhaps love did not require sacrifice and pain. Perhaps real love was the eagerness to learn anything about another soul simply because of its existence. Unconditional love was foreign to Azriel. His mother was a rare spirit, he received that undying affection from Jophiel, but he never considered that sort of love could exist romantically.
Now he knew.
But he still was a coward. He couldn’t admit what he felt for Elain, but he knew it would bloom into something very, very pure.
“No! No, keep going, I think you were getting to the oak trees by the irises-” They were laughing too hard, their noses touching, liquor on their breath, and happiness on their tongues.
Honey. Jasmine. Happiness. Peace. That’s what love was like now.
He was so happy she decided to stay.
Her head rolled slightly, sleepiness and alcohol causing the lids of her lovely brown eyes to become heavy, in a so very endearing way. Elain was a beautiful woman, but a divine Fae. Did she know how often he thought of her upon waking? That he wondered how she looked in the morning light as she breathed away her dreams? What did she look like when she brushed her curls, or when she bathed her smooth skin? Did she like warm or cold bathwater, and did she know the ways she could touch herself to bring a blush to those cheeks? Could he ever help her find out?
“You deserve more,” she said and pointed to his empty whiskey glass. How true her statement rang. He glanced at the packet of thistles that lay next to the garden plans, a gift given away from the eyes of his family. With glee, Elain exclaimed thistle was the flower she unsuccessfully searched all of Velaris for in the fall, and couldn't believe he got his hands on the seeds. He neglected to tell her he went to the continent that fall when he noted she looked for it on market stall shelves for months. It seemed so small a gift, though, she seemed not to mind, but rather, touched. If he ever got over his cowardice, he'd make sure the following Solstices were filled with gifts fit for a Lady.
The Lady in question stumbled over to the cabinet, stopped to pick her poison, and decided on a bottle of port.
“Ha!” she squealed with delight and took a large swing.
“Keep that up, and Cas and I will have to take the blame. No one will believe it was you.” She held up her hand to silence him as her gulps continued. He got up to take it from her, but she backed away, her eyes never leaving his.
“Elain, you really want to get me in trouble?” He already was in trouble.
“Mmmmh!” she kept going until he glanced up in shock.
“Oh Gods! Rhys, we’re so sorry,” She turned beet red and instantly let the bottle drop to hide it behind her skirts, and in one quick swipe, Az had the port at his lips.
“You!” she screeched in delight and beat her fists on his arms as he walked away, the bottle going down smoothly.
“Oh, sorry?” With one eye closed, he looked down the neck of the bottle. “You wanted some?” Elain raised it to her lips, and he burst out laughing when only a drop remained.
“Fine. For having to listen to me drawl about begonias for four hours.”
“I didn’t mind,” he answered truthfully.
“No male is that patient, you're just polite.”
“Well, your very thoughtful present remains unused. So you know I tell the truth,” he said. With a wide smile, she sat down on the floor against the couch.
“Good, because we all know that you’ll be using double whenever I’m around,” she replied, and he plopped next to her, very happy she let him lean into her body.
“Triple for everyone else,” he remarked and tapped her foot with his boot. After a moment's pause, she reached out to squeeze his hand.
“Thank you.” He blushed bright red.
“What for?”
“Everything.” He simply nodded.
For months, Azriel sought out Elain to make sure she was still in Velaris, in the hopes his friendship would convince her to stay. He was ashamed his family assumed she would adjust to Fae life with no resistance, that their not-so-subtle teas with Lucien wouldn’t encourage her to run back to the human lands. They underestimated her fighting spirit, and wrote off her silence for acceptance, relegating her to a pitiful damsel. She was anything but.
That clever girl visited any library in Velaris and figured out in less than two months what Amren took centuries to plan. When he glanced at her notes, he was not just impressed, he was terrified. Through her detailed and thorough cursive musings, he came to realize Elain was nothing short of a genius.
While she so easily tricked each family member into thinking she was content to bake and garden, he caught the Seer studying notes under the table or saw candles aglow from her bedroom window at midnight while the shadows of a furiously scribbling quill danced on the walls. And no one was the wiser until tonight’s dinner. Even then, did they know how much she knew?
He only agreed to help because he knew what it was like to be a stranger in a strange land in an even stranger body.
“What’s your home like?” she asked.
“My home?”
“Illyria.” When she said it, his home sounded real. She had been once before, very briefly, in the haze of her early days as Fae, but by the wonder she wore upon her face, she wanted to hear about his home. Not the land itself.
“It’s-” Shouts and fists from his father and generals filled his ears, images of his mother as a starved servant flashed through his mind. But they dissipated when he saw the mountains.
“I come from a place where its people are like the mountains.” He raised her soft hand and drew several peaks into her palm.
“We bow to no God, for the mountains bow to no one, not even the wind.” He gently whistled a low ancient tune and she mimicked him.
“Ramiel is the heart of our land.” Her skin was so soft, and he relished drawing a circle over a faded cut from a thorn.
“And in the spring for one week, there are three stars above, Arktos.” How would her skin feel against his?
“Carynth.” Did she taste like honey too?
“And Oristes.” He pressed each star onto the tops of her fingers.
“That is the symbol of Night Court, the mountain with the stars.” What unknown thoughts lay inside that brilliant mind?
“Beautiful,” she said, mapping the steppes and stars on his palm. He nodded when she remembered each valley and peak.
“Illyrians are warriors. When we are very young, males are put into training camps across the land. I trained at a camp called Windhaven, which is how I met Rhys and Cas.” He took a breath to say more, but Elain started to trace the tattoos that traveled up his arm.
“What do they mean?” she asked, her large brown eyes filled with such a pure curiosity. He tried to suppress his proud smile when he rolled up his sleeve to show her more.
“They are given to warriors for luck and glory on the battlefield. I got them in honor of my mother,” he said as her finger traced an intricate swirl. No touch had ever been so divine. “I, uh, do not come from a noble background, so I wanted her to have a son that bore the marks of a Lord’s son. To know her hard work was worth something.”
“She must be very proud of you.”
“I would like to think so,” he said sheepishly. It was easier to say one’s son was a warrior than to admit they were an executioner.
“You know, Azriel,” his head jerked up in shock. She had never called him by his name. But to hear it from her lips was nothing short of life itself.
“I don’t remember much when I first came to Night Court, but I do remember your scars. And I used to think they reminded me of the bark of trees. But now,” she raised to examine them, “I see they are like the stone that forms mountains. You wear your lineage on your hands very, very well.”
“Oh, no, that’s- I um, I-” his breath came fast, and the tears of shock started to well.
“Yes, I see raises and ridges, stars, and rivers. What do you see?”
“I see,” he bit back tears but kept a stoic face, “I see a young boy whose hands were set on fire by his half-brothers, and I hear the word bastard on their lips and I feel my father’s anger and I search- I search for,” he turned toward a wide-eyed Elain, eyes full of sympathy. Not pity, but sympathy.
“I search for light,” he finished. She glanced over her shoulder as pink and orange hues filled the room, dawn around them.
“Seems like you found it,” she said.
This was something much, much more than love.
~ A Court of Bones in Bloom A03
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first comfort character vs second vs most recent. *images are not mine*
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