An Eluzriel (but mostly Azris pining) drabble for @polysjmweek
I took a bit of liberty with this prompt. It's technically "Why Choose" for Elain, but also "Why Choose What You Really Crave" for Azriel 🤭 they are a mess but they all care for each other 💕
read on ao3 or under the cut :)
~*~
This is what I want, Azriel reminded himself. His scarred hands felt like blasphemy on Elain's soft curves.
Then Lucien was kissing her, and Azriel's fingers tangled in red hair just a shade too light, but still good, still like dancing flames. He pressed his lips to a muscled shoulder, closed his eyes to imagine a constellation of freckles there. He basked in the fire burning under the male's skin.
When Lucien turned to him, he was shocked to meet gold and russet instead of amber.
I want this, he thought stubbornly. This was safe.
It had to be enough.
~*~*~*~
ACOTAR taglist (lmk if you'd like on or off, or if you don't want to be tagged for certain characters/pairings 💕)
Lucien feels like he was designed in a lab specifically to pull Azriel
anon u are correct and azriel hates it he haaates the way his body reacts to lucien’s presence, that dominant note in his voice. he hates it when the thoughts of elain he pleasures himself to warp into her mate. he hates it sooo much it’s not his fault it’s the only way he can get off
Triggers: Abuse, Age Gap (if you can watch the movie you can read this)
Chapters: 2 (WIP)
Length: 1701 words
Read on AO3 or below the cut
[For @climbthemountain2020 who is a friend to all in this fandom. 💙]
Nesta stared up at the Titanic with ill-disguised contempt.
“Beautiful isn’t she?” Her fiancé exclaimed, oblivious to her inner turmoil as usual. She wanted to scream, but settled for looking bored.
“I suppose,” she drawled. “It doesn’t look nearly as big as the Mauritania.”
Tomas scoffed as he held out a hand to Nesta’s mother. “Your daughter is impossible to impress my dear.”
“She just knows she deserves the best,” she said, stepping down from the car and giving Nesta a look that silently indicated just how poorly she thought of her eldest child’s behavior.
Nesta knew exactly what her mother planned to say to her later, when they were alone. ‘You’re supposed to charm him, not deride his every opinion. Do you want your poor sisters to starve?’
As if Nesta needed reminding of their dire financial circumstances. She was all too aware of what was at stake.
It was why she was here after all.
She watched on as Elain and Feyre were helped out of the other car and stared up in wonder at the behemoth of a ship, ready to ferry them all back to America. Back to society. To fortune.
To bondage.
Behind her, she heard Tomas and his valet direct the porters on where to send their luggage.
“Come along girls,” their mother commanded in that quiet, lady-like way of hers. Elain and the maids followed obediently with Feyre trailing after, head in the clouds as always.
Nesta sighed and stared up at the ship once more.
I hope it sinks. She thought darkly as her fiancé offered his arm to her.
It was a petty thought. Vicious. A desperate cry for help from a woman who felt more like a trapped animal than a human being.
She couldn’t have known how prophetic it would prove to be.
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“Lord Noct?”
Officer Beddor—a stout man in his forties—studied Rhys’s ticket and then his face with a puzzled expression. The man in question smiled back placidly.
“Yes?”
“There must be a mistake.”
“Oh?” Rhys raised his brows. Behind him, Azriel looked on, far less congenial.
“Is Mister Noct running late?” The officer asked, glancing past the two as if this mysterious man was hiding behind them.
Ah, he thought. So it’s like that then.
“Lord.” Azriel corrected, eyes narrowed. “And he’s standing right in front of you.”
Mr. Beddor blinked at Rhys again, eyeing him up and down skeptically.
“You ain’t English.”
“Ah,” Rhys sighed dramatically. “I confess, I am not.”
The man looked a strange mixture of vindicated and confused. “Then—”
“I’m actually Scottish.”
“But you’re so…” Mr. Beddor trailed off as he eyed Rhys and Azriel’s swarthy complexion—several shades darker than his own.
“Rich?” Rhys said as he reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. “I get that a lot.”
He handed the man a five pound note, hoping a tip would help him see reason. In his experience, money usually did. Mr. Beddor, however, only seemed intent on doubling down on his bigotry.
“This can’t be right—”
“Oh I assure you, it’s quite right. I purchased the Millionaire Suite. The best rooms on the ship, I was told. Unless, of course, I was misinformed…?”
“Rhys,” a familiar voice drawled. “What’s taking so long?”
At his elbow, a beautiful blonde appeared, dressed in a daring red frock.
“I’m dreadfully sorry Miss,” Mr. Beddor said, demeanor changing instantly at the sight of the pale beauty at his side. “I’ll get you into your room as soon as I’m done dealing with these gentlemen.”
He said the word gentlemen with no small amount of incredulity.
“Oh?” She said, all innocence. “Is there a problem with my cousin’s ticket?”
At the word ‘cousin’ all of the blood seemed to drain from the man’s face. He looked between the two and suddenly seemed to notice the faint similarities between them. The same pointed chin. The same cat-like eyes.
“Cousin, Miss?”
“Yes,” she said sweetly. Rhys knew better though. Mor was a viper if he’d ever met one. “My cousin, Rhysand Noct.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, all girlish flirtation. “He’s a Lord you know!”
The man suddenly looked quite faint. “Is he…?”
“Oh yes! Lord of Velaris Castle! He owns half of Edinburgh. Or is it three quarters? I forget.”
“I…yes. Of course. Lord Noct. I see. So sorry for the confusion my lord. I’d be happy to show you to your rooms.”
“Would you?” Rhys said, his grin shark-like. “How kind of you.”
As the man stumbled away, Rhys leaned in towards his cousin.
“My hero.”
“Mm,” she agreed. “You can thank me by buying me lunch. I hear there’s a restaurant on board.”
“You wish is my command.”
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“Champagne Miss?”
A waiter offered Feyre and Elain a pair of delicate crystal flutes as the former stared down at her treasure trove of paintings like a dragon inspecting her hoard of gold.
“Such a waste of money,” Tomas murmured dismissively from the doorway of the sitting room, glancing at a beautiful landscape with disdain. “I don’t see why you felt the need to bring these with us. They would’ve been just fine in the cargo hold.”
The words ‘where they belong’ went unsaid but heavily implied.
Feyre squinted at her future brother-in-law like a particularly annoying insect. Her smoky eyes—so much like Nesta’s—narrowed in barely-disguised dislike.
“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand,” she replied cooly.
“Hmm,” Tomas lifted one of the canvases to stare at it with disinterest. “At least they were cheap.”
As if sensing her younger sister’s outrage from the other side of the suite, Nesta suddenly appeared in the doorway, laying a hand on her fiancé’s elbow.
“There you are dear,” she exclaimed, half pulling, half leading him towards the exit. “I heard there’s a library aboard. Won’t you escort me? I’d like to catch up on my reading.”
And Tomas, ever the condescending ass that he was, smiled down at her indulgently. “You women and your fanciful pursuits.”
“Oh, you know me my love,” Nesta said with an icy smile that seemed to sail right over the man’s head. “I do love my books.”
Feyre waited for the two to disappear around the corner before she turned to Elain.
“I hate him.”
“Oh he’s not all bad!” Her sister insisted gently. “He bought you all these paintings didn’t he?”
“To buy my loyalty,” Feyre said, unconvinced.
“He means well.”
She gave Elain an unimpressed look. “Does he?”
“At least be nice for Nesta’s sake,” she urged. “It’s been hard for her.”
And why do you think that is? Feyre wanted to say, but bit her tongue. She knew her words would only fall on deaf ears. Elain had been nothing but welcoming toward their would-be brother-in-law, falling so easily into step with their mother’s scheming.
After Father had died, their mother had been ruthless in her quest to regain the wealth and status lost to them. Like an enterprising teapot she had poured all her hopes and ambitions into her two most marriageable daughters and dangled them before every rich gentleman they came across.
It had sickened Feyre to the core.
After one particularly dreadful night—one where Nesta had been forced to play the pretty, glittering bauble for a man older than their father—she had confronted her mother over her horrid strategy.
“This isn’t right!” She had cried indignantly.
“Neither was your father leaving us penniless,” her mother had retorted, unrepentant.
“There are more important things Mama!”
But her mother wouldn’t be swayed.
“Do you want to be a seamstress?” She had asked her youngest child coldly. “Would you have us begging on the streets like paupers? Is that what you want?”
But Feyre, the free-spirited wild child of the family who spent more time climbing trees than attending her etiquette lessons, couldn’t understand her mother’s fears.
“What’s so wrong with being a seamstress?” She had replied stubbornly.
Her mother’s response was to pack her daughter off to boarding school. Months later, when Feyre had finally returned home during her summer holiday…she found Nesta engaged to one Tomas Mandray—heir to a railroad fortune.
All it had taken was a single evening in the man’s company, watching him leer at her sister like a thing he owned, for her to decide then and there that she hated him. And no gentle cajoling from Elain, no beautiful paintings from her favorite artists, and no quiet fury from her mother would ever change that.
“Hmm,” she hummed noncommittally, turning back to her paintings.
Perhaps, if she was lucky, Tomas would trip and fall overboard on the journey home.
One could only hope.
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Fuck, Cassian thought as he raced across the docks.
It would be just his luck, winning a ticket onto the Titanic only to just miss her as she sailed off into the horizon without him.
“Excuse me!” He yelled, dodging a cart and several unsuspecting porters as they sputtered obscenities at him. “Sorry!”
He spied the doors at the top of the gangway begin to close and thundered up the ramp noisily, shouting as he went.
“Wait!” He waved his hands wildly, catching the eye of one of the men. “I’m a passenger!”
At the top of the ramp, one of the officers—a man who looked to be barely older than Cassian himself—peered at him suspiciously. Cassian held his ticket up cheerfully, hopefully, like a peace offering.
“Have you been through the inspection?” The man demanded hurriedly.
“Of course I have!” He lied breezily, “You think I would be here if I hadn’t?”
The officer’s eyes darted from the ticket to the man who held it aloft.
“Anyway,” Cassian continued, seeing he needed more convincing. “It doesn’t matter because I’m an American. Can’t you tell by my charming Yankee accent?”
The man hesitated, clearly thinking it over as he eyed Cassian’s ambiguous Mediterranean looks. But Lady Luck, as always, was on his side.
“Of course,” the officer conceded, backing up and sweeping his arm out in a familiar gesture. “Welcome aboard.”
With a grin Cassian leapt across the gap.
I really am one lucky son of a bitch, he thought.
Next Chapter
Enjoy this fic? Looking for another like it? Try reading my other Nessian fic The Hungry House.
Or, alternatively, check out my ACOTAR Fic Masterlists.
Thanks for reading! 💙
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Tag List: (If you would like to be added/removed to/from this or future tag lists for this fic please let me know 🙂)
Every week, we’ll use this space to recognize the amazing individuals in our fandom who kindly use so much of their free time and creative energy to share their work with us and bring our imaginations to life via writing, art, visuals, and many other creative mediums.
This week we want to highlight @witch-and-her-witcher, the funniest, sweetest, most supportive person with an absolutely limitless knack for writing multiship and rarepair fics. While she is a staple within the fandom for many different and incredibly well-written pairings (check out her Elucien, Nessian, and Feysand works too!), she really lets her talent shine through in her more unique pairings!
In addition to her impeccable writing and amazing ideas, she’s always the first to offer support to others in their creativity. She’s always quick to reblog, comment sweetly, or offer a beta read to friends!
Thank you for sharing your works with us and for always being such a kind, creative, and supportive mutual!
Below are some of our favorite creations.
The Fawn of Prythian | Elain/Lucien/Azriel
this is me trying | Nesta/Azriel/Cassian
Embers and Mist | Nesta/Eris
Silver Lining and Decode This Case and tell them i’m the worst | Azris
The Wind Whispers | Mor/Merrill
Lay Me On the Cold Dark Earth | Tamlin/Rhysand
You can find more of @witch-and-her-witcher 's works on Ao3 and Masterlist!
If you have someone you'd like to add to the Creator Highlight submission list, drop it in our ask box!
Why are we filling the Lucien Vanserra tag with hate? I just wanted to find some cute shit and I’m bombarded by ELRIEL??!! I wasn’t even looking for elucien, hell, not even Luzriel😢 How do I get it to leave me be 😕
Summary: Elain doesn't need a pack bond to be satisfied as an omega. She's perfectly content being mated to Azriel alone and their solo bond had never been a problem. That is until Elain's heat cycle arrives ahead of schedule and her alpha is half way around the world with no way home.
Luckily for them, their very good friend and roommate, Lucien, is willing to step in until Azriel can get home to help her.
AN: I was hoping this would be longer and better quality, but I’ve been a little stuck. Sorry guys. Anywhoville, hope you still enjoy it! 💕
Chapter II
Lucien
”How's she doing?"
Lucien smiled, putting his phone on speaker so he could continue working on breakfast. It had been two days since Elain's heat had kicked in unexpectedly and he wasn't afraid to admit he was enjoying every moment of it. "She's fine, Az. Still sleeping at the moment. I'm just working on breakfast."
"She's been eating enough?"
"Not nearly, but that's going to stop today. She'll be fine, Az. What are we looking at when it comes to flights?"
Lucien heard his friend sigh on the other side of the line. "If all goes to plan I'll be home tomorrow night."
He nodded. "She'll be excited. You want to talk to her?"
"Not if she's resting. She'll need it to get through the next wave of her heat, I'm sure. I need to start getting ready anyways."
"Right. Good luck, man."
"Make sure she eats someth—" Lucien had already ended the call, rolling his eyes.
"He doesn't think you're incompetent. He just worries.”
Lucien turned, waving Elain into the kitchen space, unable to resist sweeping his gaze down the bare skin her skimpy robe failed to cover. She was still flushed, pupils dilated. Another glance and she leaned into the counter, her slick-damp thighs pressed tightly together. “How are you feeling, little one?” he asked out of courtesy.
”A little tired. Achy again. I’m okay.”
She pressed in close, her blush creeping down her chest even as she nuzzled into his scent gland. “Careful, sweetheart. Stove’s hot. Everything’s almost ready. Once you’ve eaten we’ll see if we can help that ache again.”
”Breakfast later,” she pouted, one hand slipping under his shirt. He ground his teeth, trying to think of anything but fucking her into her newly repaired nest as she nibbled over the spot she’d previously had her nose buried in.
Taking a deep breath, he eased her off of his chest, nearly flinching at the wounded look it put in those soft brown eyes. “You need to eat, Elain. I’m not letting you go hungry through your heat.”
“I’m not hungry,” she huffed. “I don’t need food, I need you to knot me.”
His lips twitched. Brat. And how quickly her tune had changed on that front. One sharp look had her biting her tongue, shuffling over to the table when he gave her rear a soft swat. “If you want me to knot you anytime soon,” he began, plating breakfast for them both, “you’ll eat.”
She frowned again, eyeing the plate he set in front of her even as her stomach growled. “Eat, little dove.”
“Yes, Alpha,” she mocked, cutting into a sausage link.
He chuckled, but didn’t say a word, simply watching to make sure she kept eating. The poor thing was squirming in her seat by the time she cleaned her plate. “Good girl.”
”Lucien, please.” Pushing back his chair, he curled a finger in summons. Elain hurried over, perching on his lap and tucking back into his neck. “Please.”
”Such lovely manners, little one. They might just make up for all that backtalk a moment ago.” She huffed against his collar and he reached around to squeeze her hip in reprimand. “Hm, petulant, aren’t you? Tell me,” he purred. “Does Azriel let you get away with talking to him like that? Or would he put you over his knee for trying to make eating such a low priority?”
She whimpered, going stiff in his lap even as he watched her drop one shaky hand between her legs. “Ah, ah.”
“Lucien.”
He turned her in his lap. Leaning back into his chest, she was small enough to fit her head beneath his chin, riling the sort of protective instinct he couldn’t afford to entertain. He rolled his neck, trying to steady himself with the scent of her heat back in full force. Ignore the slick already soaking through her thin robe and onto his sweats. “Perhaps, sweet girl,” he murmured, “we can keep your secret this once. See what we can do to fix our problem here.”
”Wait, I-”
“Elain.” She shivered, neck bared to him the moment his teeth grazed her earlobe. “Spread your legs.”
~~~~~
Azriel
The scent of her heat hit him the moment he stepped into the apartment. He knew Lucien had been taking care of her, of course. But it didn’t change the fact he was concerned about the situation as her mate. He was just shrugging out of his hoodie when he heard a muffled moan from the bedroom he shared with Elain.
He couldn’t help but smirk at that, dropping the rest of his things in a heap before aiming to join them. “Having fun, I see.”
Elain was a panting mess, eyes glazed over, her nest half ruined beneath her. As for Lucien…
Just as he’d told Elain, a pack bond had always appealed to him. Who better to complete it than their friend and roommate?
”We are,” Lucien growled, not bothering to withdraw the two fingers buried to the knuckle.
”Az,” Elain whimpered.
”How you doing, angel?” He kicked off his shoes, sinking into the nest and hunching over her to stroke her tangled hair back.
“Want you,” she begged.
”Me?” he asked, lips grazing her brow. “Or both of us?” Lucien went still, starting to pull back from where he was braced over her, hand drenched in slick by then. “Don’t,” Az told him. “Keep going.” He needed an honest answer, inhibitions down. Devious as it sounded, she was more likely to be honest about her feelings when she was riding out her heat than trying to clear her head enough to find an answer that sounded polished and loyal.
”B-both,” she squeaked. “Both of you.” Her hips jolted when Lucien twisted his wrist so he was able to stimulate her clit with his thumb. A broken, desperate sound left her before she called for Az again. He leaned down to kiss her, his hand wrapping around her throat. “Please,” she whined against his mouth.
“Sweet, needy omega,” he purred. Elain swallowed hard beneath his palm. “All wound up again.”
“Been like this from the start,” Lucien told him. “Insatiable.”
He clicked his tongue, loosening his grip and letting himself map the freckled skin exposed to them both. “Poor little thing. Just need kept full, is that it? I think that can be fixed easily enough. Can’t it, Lucien?”
Smirking slightly, Lucien withdrew his hand, muffling Elain’s soft pleading by pushing those two fingers down over her tongue. Always one to please, she suckled there as long as he let her, licking his fingers clean. “Good girl,” he praised. Keeping one braced by her head, he lined up against her, easing in slow and steady. “Good girl.”
There was nothing Az wanted more than to be inside his mate right then, but this would be the nail in the coffin. Elain needed to see there was truly room for all of them here.
So he watched. Waited. Sat back, pleased to see Lucien was confident in his handling of their omega, even with ties unestablished. She detonated, trembling from head to toe as Lucien worked her through the aftershocks. Sniffled when Az told him to take her again. To fill her up how she needed.
Az stepped out of the nest just long enough to strip his clothes before coming to the top of the bed and bending down to kiss her, fingers rubbing soothing circles wherever he could to ease her distress. She was already overstimulated.
“Easy,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead before starting to tease her breasts. “You’re doing so well, angel.”
He slid his fingers through hers, pressing down on her belly. “Oh, God.”
“How does it feel,” he asked, “to have Lucien fuck you while I hold you in my arms?” Lucien smirked, dipping his head to graze his teeth across her scent gland, right beneath the place Az had already marked her.
There was an unspoken agreement that everything would need to be further negotiated when Elain was in a clear state of mind. Planting the roots now was as far as they could go without breaking her trust. Marking was too big a step to address with her head so clouded, considering all that had changed in the past few days.
Soft little pants met his ears and he didn’t bother trying to hide his groan of pleasure—nor the raw need coursing through him the moment he watched Lucien knot his mate. She cried out, scrabbling to secure a grip on something solid. “That’s my girl,” Az praised the next time she came down, Lucien easing out of her with a deep groan of his own. “That’s it. My sweet little mate. Back with me?” he asked when her breathing had leveled again.
Elain nodded, her sweat-slick brow flush against his chest. “Missed you,” she mumbled.
“I know, angel. I hated being away, even knowing you were in such good hands.” She withdrew, chewing at her lip. The moment of truth, then. “Elain?”
She dropped her eyes, a dark blush that had nothing to do with her heat staining her pale face. “I’ve… enjoyed it.” He coughed sharply, unwilling to laugh when Elain still felt so vulnerable in her confession. “I just felt I should at least be honest—”
“Elain, angel, you haven’t done anything wrong. You were given a solution to the problem you found yourself in.” He could feel Lucien staring him down with every word, but Elain deserved his full attention when it came to this. “You’re allowed to change your mind, you know. I won’t push anything you’re against. Neither will Lucien. But I won’t let you see any shame in it either.”
“This would be okay, then?”
He smiled. “It would be perfect.”
~~~~~
Elain
“I told you.”
Elain smiled, sharing a glance with her brother in-law who was already shaking his head at Feyre’s smug tone. There were many ways Feyre had grown up before Elain and Nesta, but at the end of the day she wasn’t entirely free of the common allegations against youngest siblings.
“I’m not discussing it, Feyre,” she said, bending to check the twin loaves she was baking for the five of them to share that evening.
“I’m sure what you’re after is the last thing your mate cares to hear about at the moment.”
Rhys smirked again, but was smart enough to pretend his focus was entirely on feeding his son and not the antics Feyre had started. “Elain,” her sister said, the lack of teasing in her tone making Elain pause. “You’re happier for it, aren’t you? It isn’t just about Az bringing up pack bonds?”
Elain smiled once more, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all I want and more.”
