#lay fanfction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {18}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: "The one where Nesta explodes.” Sorry, friends.

“How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall? ― Ellen Hopkins, Crank

“To Feyre and Rhys!” Mor called, lifting her glass to the middle of the table, where it met Feyre’s, Elain’s, and Amren’s. “I can’t believe you’re getting married to my cousin. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

She sighed, and Elain beamed from beside her.

“We’re so happy for you both,” she promised.

Feyre grinned. It had been a week since Rhysand proposed, and now, on Saturday night, the girls had all decided to go out to celebrate, leaving the boys at home.

“Speaking of happiness, I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time at Azriel’s,” Feyre said, eyeing Elain. “At night.”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink as she rolled her eyes.

“Every night but one,” Mor muttered, and when Amren’s brows rose, she clarified, “Azriel stayed at her townhouse last Saturday night and came home Sunday looking very, very happy.”

Feyre slammed her glass down on the table. “You had sex?”

Elain groaned, hiding her face. “We’re supposed to be talking about you, not me.”

“Definitely had sex,” Amren muttered, grinning, as she took a sip from her glass.

“Yes,” Elain breathed, face as red as a tomato. “We did. Now, let’s move on.”

“How is he?” Mor asked. “I mean, I’ve heard rumors over the years, but he’s, you know, never clarified.”

“Is it big?” Feyre asked, brows wiggling.

“I vote there’s more in girth than in length,” Amren followed.

Mor howled. “True.”

All eyes shot to Mor.

She blinked. “What? I’ve lived with the guy on and off for years, and if his morning wood is any indication, Amren’s not wrong.”

Elain shook her head, unable to control her laughter. “As much as I love this discussion, I vote we move on.”

“Okay, okay, moving on,” Feyre said, laying her palms flat on the table. “As soon as you tell us if we’re right or not.”

Elain took a deep breath. “Fine…...Yes to girth, now, moving on.”

Feyre fell into Amren, tears coming out of her eyes at her sister’s embarrassment - her sweet, gentle sister.

“Be glad I’m not asking you the same questions,” Elain said, downing her glass.

“Oh, I’ll happily answer,” Feyre chuckled. “Hell, Rhys will happily answer. He likes to brag.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Yes, but every word that comes out of his mouth while he brags is complete bullshit. Besides, talking about my cousin’s penis physically makes me ill.”

Once their laughter died down, and Feyre promised not to mention anything about Rhysand’s dick, she looked to Amren.

“How’s Cass?”

Amren’s brows furrowed. “Oh, you mean after he spent the night in jail for beating up a bar full of people?” She shrugged. “He’s been decent. Goes to work, comes home, drowns himself in whiskey, and does it all again the next day. At least Bryaxis is there. Cassian keeps his cool with Ax next to him.”

“Because of Nesta?” Elain asked, surprised.

Amren shrugged. “He won’t talk about it, but she hasn’t been around and he lies awake at night cursing her name, so I assume so.”

“You’d think he was in love with her,” Feyre said, then stilled. “Holy fuck, he’s in love with her. Nesta. Of all people.”

“I don’t understand what the fascination is, myself,” Mor muttered.

Elain nodded, slowly. “I love Nesta, but she insists on making herself miserable at every opportunity. It’s been that way since we were in high school. Self destruction without a cure.”

Feyre knew that Elain was thinking of her own issues with depression, with thoughts of suicide lingering in the back of her mind. Feyre had been there, too. So had Mor. And Amren. But Nesta was a different breed...it never went away. And she wanted it to remain, that depression. She held onto it, craved destruction.

Nesta was so much like their mother.

Feyre couldn’t help but be pissed off, though. She had led Cassian on, had let him feel something - Cassian, who never felt anything serious about a woman. Cassian, with his uncontrollable anger living alongside his will to bring joy to everyone around him. Nesta had taken advantage of him, and Cassian was living through the aftermath.

“I saw that guy the other day, too,” Amren went on. “Tomas.”

Elain stilled as Feyre’s eyes snapped to Amren. “What?”

“Yeah, he’s back, I guess,” she said, shrugging. “Basically lives there now.”

Feyre was already grabbing her purse and scooting out of the booth. Elain wasn’t moving, was staring at the table, hands shaking.

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, hesitantly.

“To Nesta’s. Come on.”

~~~~~

Nesta was sitting on her couch, staring at the blank t.v. when a pounding came on her door. She opened it a minute later and her sisters rushed in, Feyre first, Elain trailing after.

She sighed. “And what do I owe to this unexpected surprise?”

“Where is he?” Feyre asked, eyes narrowed. “Tomas.”

“Not here,” Nesta mumbled, shutting her door behind her. Her head was light, mind blurry. She was having trouble keeping herself upright. “Came to say hello?”

“Amren said he’s been around,” Elain said, quietly.

Nesta knew they would find out, eventually, but she hadn’t thought they would come storming into her apartment on a Saturday night.

“Why do you care?” Nesta asked. “I’m busy-”

“Cut the shit,” Feyre snapped, and met her sister’s eyes.

Nesta figured it was her fault, she was the one who had told Feyre, who had told Elain. The night Rhysand had been taken to the hospital, when Nesta had driven her youngest sister to the place where their mother had taken her final breath. She had found Feyre, while they were all waiting for Rhysand to wake up, and tried to bring her a little bit of comfort.

“You’re lucky to have Rhysand,” Nesta had said, sitting next to her sister in the hospital’s cafeteria, as she sipped on a cup of coffee. “I know you love him. He loves you, too.”

“Speaking of love...this whole thing with Cassian…” Feyre had started, avoiding having to talk about Rhysand, no doubt. “What’s really going on? What happened with Tomas?”

Nesta had shrugged. “Don’t know. He just left. It was for the best, anyways. He was who I got my drugs from, and nothing more.”

Feyre had stilled. “I thought you were done with that shit.”

“I’m trying,” Nesta had promised, hoping to bring her sister comfort. “It’s easier now that he’s gone. When Tomas is around, he gives it to me and I can’t say no.”

Feyre nodded, reaching across the table to grab her sister’s hand. It was the first conversation they’d had in a long, long time. “And when Cassian is around?”

Nesta snorted. “Cassian is….When Cassian is around, he makes me want to live. And I haven’t felt the want to live for as long as I can remember.”

“Where are they?” Feyre asked, voice hard, bringing Nesta back to the present.

“Where are what?” she asked, innocently.

Elain didn’t speak.

She simply watched, tears in her eyes.

Fear in her eyes.

“The drugs,” Feyre hissed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nesta snapped.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Feyre said, shaking her head. She walked into the kitchen and started digging through drawers, throwing shit around. “I can tell you’re high off your ass right now!”

When Feyre found nothing there, she went into Nesta’s bedroom.

Nesta was close behind. “Get out of my fucking apartment.”

But Feyre had already dug around, was already pushing Nesta out of the way and strutting into the bathroom.

She opened the top drawer.

Nesta was standing in the doorway, hands shaking.

Feyre pulled out everything. Bottles upon bottles of pain pills, and a packet of fine, light brown powder.

“Fucking heroin?” Feyre breathed, looking slowly at Nesta. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Nesta tried to snatch it from her sister’s hand, but Feyre was sober, and much, much faster. She took everything into her hands and shoved it into her bag before brushing past Nesta.

Nesta quickly followed her back into the living room. “Fuck you!”

“Did mom’s death mean nothing?” Feyre yelled, and Elain was crying, and the fact that Elain was crying made Nesta feel like shit. “How could you do this after mom fucking died from it!”

Silence enveloped the apartment, the only sound coming from Elain’s quiet sobs.

Nesta took a step toward her sister. It took everything in her to keep her voice steady as she said, “Maybe I wanna die, too.”

Feyre stilled and she closed her eyes, jaw locked. Then, she started shaking her head. “Don’t say that shit.”

“You wanna know the truth?” Nesta asked, arms outstretched. “You wanna know the fucking truth, Feyre? Well, here I am! So shut the fuck up and listen if you wanna know the fucking truth!” Her hands were shaking, her head pounding. She took another step toward her youngest sister, “I envy mom for taking too much shit that day. She got to leave this shitty world that day, and me? I’m still stuck here! No matter what I do! I’m here, living in this endless hell!”

Feyre said nothing. She stared at her sister, jaw hard, eyes lined with tears.

Nesta was breathing hard. She felt like shit. Felt like shit that her sisters were crying, felt like shit that she was never there for them. She felt like shit because the only thing keeping her from feeling like shit, all the fucking time, was the drugs. She felt like shit because she relied on them, felt like shit because it was the only reason she kept Tomas Mandray around. She felt like shit because her mom left them all, because she loved the drug too much, so much that she couldn’t stop, so much that it killed her, took her away from her husband, her daughters.

Nesta felt like shit because Cassian didn’t make her feel like shit.

But he deserved better.

At least she had done right by him.

“You don’t have to live like this,” Feyre whispered, and took her oldest sister’s face into her hands. “You don’t deserve this.”

Lie.

It was a lie.

A lie that had been told to Nesta many times, one she wasn’t sure she could ever believe to be true.

“I deserve worse,” Nesta countered, feeling nothing.

Feyre’s forehead fell into Nesta’s. “You deserve the world, if only you’d let yourself have it.”

~~~~~

“You’re fucking drunk.”

Cassian chuckled as Azriel shook his head. Yes, Rhysand was undoubtedly drunk and loving every minute of it. It was getting late, though, and Azriel, as the guardian of a four-year-old who would be up at the crack of dawn, needed to get some sleep.

“Alright,” Cassian laughed, slipping on his shoes before throwing Rhysand’s shoes at him. “I’ll walk you home before I head home.”

Rhysand let his shoes hit him in the abdomen before frowning. “Is Feyre home yet? I love Feyre.”

“I know,” Cassian muttered. “Put on your shoes and we’ll go see.”

“But shoes make my feet feel trapped,” Rhysand said, staring at his shoes. “Why would I want that for my toes?”

Azriel was laughing as Cassian picked up Rhysand’s shoes. “Then I’ll carry them and you can go in your socks.

“Good,” Rhysand slurred, stumbling toward the door.

“Text me when he’s safe inside of his apartment, please,” Azriel begged.

Cassian promised he would as the two went out into the cool, Summer night. Rhysand jumped as his phone began to ring. He searched his body helplessly before Cassian, laughing, pulled it out Rhysand’s pocket and answered.

“Hello? Rhysand’s phone.”

“Your hand touched my dick, asshole!” Rhysand yelled.

And Feyre laughed on the other end. “Sounds like a good time over there.”

“Your future husband and the father of your children is a drunken mess, but don’t worry, I’m walking him home.”

“Thank you,” Feyre said, voice quiet. “Can you tell him I won’t be home tonight?”

“Sure,” Cassian said, dragging Rhysand by the arm, down the sidewalk, as he stared up at the moon with wide, violet eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just at Nesta’s-” As if remembering who she was talking to, her words trailed off. “I’ll be home in the morning though...if you could let him know.”

“I will,” Cassian said, clearing his throat. “Um, is Nesta alright?”

The line went quiet. Then, Feyre said, “She will be.”

“Did Tomas hurt her?” he asked, unable to stop the question from coming out of his mouth.

“Tomas isn’t here,” was all she said. “Make sure my fiance gets safely inside of our house, will you?”

Cassian chuckled, although the light never reached his eyes. “You just like any excuse to call him your fiance.”

“True,” Feyre said. “But I mean it. My fiance is a sloppy drunk.”

“Oh, I know,” Cassian said. “I’m walking him up the stairs, literally having to hold his hand.”

Feyre laughed. “You’re a saint. Thanks Cass.”

“Yep,” he said. “Bye.”

He hung up and shoved the phone back into Rhysand’s pocket.

Once he made sure Rhysand was safely inside of his apartment, Cassian left, and before he even walked out of the front door, Rhysand was snoring on the couch.

Cassian climbed into his truck and sat in the silence for a minute.

Feyre and Nesta didn’t get along. Something must have happened, something must have been wrong. Something must have happened.

As Cassian started his truck, his mind began to wander. Then, he just got mad, reminding himself that he shouldn’t care. Nesta had made it very clear that she didn’t want him in her life. And he had told her the same.

Although, when he said it, it had been a lie.

When he pulled up in front of his own building, he had grown tired. Nothing sounded better than making his way up the stairs, closing himself inside of his apartment, and going to sleep.

But when he made it to the second floor landing, Feyre was standing in the middle of Cassian and Nesta’s apartments, holding a bag of-

“What the fuck?” he asked, and when the girls shushed him, he grabbed it out of her hand. “What are you doing with this shit? You can’t just wave it around in the open, shit, Feyre.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was giving it to Mor to flush, idiot.”

“Why do you even have this?” Cassian snapped.

And then it dawned on him.

He looked at Nesta’s closed door and sighed.

Cassian’s hand fell to his side, grabbing the little plastic bag tightly in his hand.

“She’s fine,” Feyre whispered, knowing full well the string of thoughts that were running through his mind. “Me and Elain are going to make sure this shit stays out of her apartment.”

“And Tomas?” Cassian asked, voice low. “Did she get this shit from him?”

When Feyre didn’t answer, Cassian was turning around, to storm off, to beat Tomas’s ass, but Feyre caught him by the wrist and pulled him back. She took his face into her hands, and even though he was a head taller than she was, she made him look down at her.

“You’re going to take that inside and get rid of it,” she whispered. “Then, you’re going to get your ass in bed. Beron’s already pissed he had to pick you for a bar fight this month, don’t make him take you to prison for killing some useless dealer.”

That anger was simmering, was beckoning to be released, but Cassian saw the fear, the exhaustion, in Feyre’s eyes.

He nodded.

Feyre sighed, and kissed his bearded cheek before telling them all goodnight.

“Cass,” Mor whispered, after a moment of him staring at the closed, apartment door across from his. “Come on.”

Amren took his hand, and when he looked at her, she was wearing a small, sad smile. “Time for bed.”

Cassian nodded and, every step he took feeling heavier than the last, he followed Mor and Amren into his apartment.

He sent the drugs down the toilet and threw the bag away, just like Feyre had asked.

But he didn’t go to bed.

Instead, he went to the couch and sat down, Amren on one side of him, Mor on the other.

He should have seen it as a sign. Should have known something was wrong with Nesta, that something wasn’t right. But he had pushed her away, let his anger in and allowed it to cloud his judgement.

Mor and Amren stayed with him. They each laid their heads on his broad shoulders and comforted him, as the night passed him by in utter silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @iliketoasterstrudels

@6255igntm @moondancer-204

@littlehoneyybee @acourtofbookworms

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s @nightcourtcinnamonroll

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn @bamchickawowow

@julemmaes @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta @nickjgoodsell

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nessian #feysand #elriel #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #tacmc aita #modern au

226 notes · View notes

undercoverwizardninjaturtle · 5 years

Text

Windows: A ROTTMNT Fanfiction

Summary: Some of us are born different, sometimes it takes a special family member to understand you. Some of us are just that lucky. A Leo and Donnie centered Fanfction

Word Count: 4100

Pairings: None

Rating: Its just a family story, don’t worry

Windows

“MUMMY ATTACK!!”

The large lair immediately filled with the squeals of young children. The source of the chaos was the five-year-old with red stripes over his eyes, and a large blue t-shirt now charging after a laughing four-year-old who was waving his arms excitedly as he ran away, “NO one can escape a mummy attack!” Leo shouted grabbing at Mikey who only laughed louder and ran faster, even for a four-year-old.

A six-year-old, far larger than either of the two boys, leapt out from behind the recliner, scooping up the four-year-old and turning to Leo in a blur of red, “I’ll save you Mikey!!!” Raph pointed at Leo,” Get the mummy!!!!”

Leo threw his arms over his face as the giant mass suddenly fell on him, knocking all wind, life, and sense out of his body. Even if he had loss, he made sure to let out a over dramatic cough, “Foiled again!!!! Curse you Lou Jitsu!” before letting out a loud ‘bleh’ and letting his head roll off to the side with his eyes closed

“‘eo’s dead!” Mikey shrieked, Leo could feel his small hands shaking him in panic,” ‘e killed him!”

“Leo’s not dead.” Raph always ruined his fun,” He’s playing dead.”

“‘he is?” Leo could feel Mikey peer closer at his face, he had played dead long enough he still waited till Mikey was poking him in the face before bolting upright, his hands brought up like claws with a snarl, “I’m alive!!!” he declared

Mikey shrieked again, diving behind Raph’s legs. Before his light blue eyes peered around their oldest brother. Though Leo was laughing loudly Raph was giving him a frown, figures, “Leo don’t scare Mikey! He’s the baby!” Raph never knew how to play right

“Yeah! I’m da baby!” Mikey declared from his hiding location.

Despite his young age, Leo was more then adept at rolling his eyes, “it’s a game! You’re the one who wanted me to be the mummy. Next time ask Donnie.”

Raph frowned, not yet capable of a glare, “you know he doesn’t like that. He wanted to be alone.”

“He ALWAYS wants to be alone.” Sass was another one of Leo’s natural talents. But despite himself he looked over to the far side of the lair where a curtain lay over a doorway. A designated ‘quiet area’ that Dad had set up a few months ago. Raph was already walking over, his constant shadow Mikey was waddling after him. Raph poked his head past the curtain, “Donnie do you want to play with us?” as Leo expected, he didn’t get a response, “Ok but if you want to let us know” Raph ducked back out. Looking at Leo before smiling, “Come on! Let’s go play Jupiter Jim!”

Raph was already running off with Mikey. Mikey would have no problem playing whatever Raph wanted. But Leo found himself glaring at the curtain and sticking out his tongue before running after his brothers

(#)(#)(#)(#)

They played for a while after that, but eventually Mikey wanted to play with paint. Not in the mood for being painted pink, but as usual Raph was, he went and read through some of his Jupiter Jim comics. Until the smoke wafting from the kitchen signified dinner was ready. Thankfully Dad had only managed to burn the salad, somehow, and left the grilled cheese sandwich mostly undamaged. Leo had only ever known one dad, his Dad, so he often wondered if another Dads were as round or tired looking as his. Whenever their Dad wasn’t watching movies or playing with them, he was pouring over several books he had gotten from the ‘internet’. Most of the titles didn’t make sense to Leo, but he recognized one as a cooking book. Which had helped Dad’s food to go from, ‘tolerable’ to ‘tasty’ as he tore into his grilled cheese. Raph, of course, was into his third already. Mikey was savoring each bite with a wide grin on his face. Splinter’s sandwich was untouched mostly because he was too busy using it as a pillow. His black hair had started to resemble salt more then anything, and no amount of poking from Mikey could wake him up. Eventually Raph got sick of it, “Pop’s sleepy let him go!”

“Food is for eating not for sleeping,” Mikey said,

“Daddy’s tired Mikey, he’ll be ok.” But it was hard not to hear the pride in Raph’s’ voice. Leo knew Raph well enough to know he craved moments like this, since it meant he could be in charge for a bit. But Leo glared across the table towards a second occupant who wasn’t eating, “Why isn’t’ HE is eating then, he’s not sleeping”

The object of scrutiny didn’t look up from his book. Or look to the plate of plain bread by his hand. Donnie, unlike the others who liked to wear t-shirts and shorts, wore a giant purple hoodie that hung around his knees, the hood brought up over his head and eyes fixated on the pages of a book with words too complicated for Leo to understand.

“He’s not hungry.” Raph said, “he’s fine.”

“He’s boring.” Leo clarified. Sinking back into his seat and crossing his arms

With a giant snort Dad sat straight up, “It-wasn’t-my-donut!’” before blinking, seeming to recognize he wasn’t in a situation with a guilty pastry, “Um, right.” Picking up his sanwich and, despite the fur that must have been caught in it, devoured it in one bite, before looking t his sons., “Finally! I knew I could cook something edible.” With a proud look on his face, “WE will just not eat salad ever again.” Before looking over his sons,” did you all enjoy your dinner?””

“It was really good Pop!” Raph said happily, “It was really good!”

“Tasty!” Mikey agreed,

Despite how tired he looked, Splinter beamed happily,’ Ha! Take that Rupert Swaggart! There’s a new chef in town!” he looked around tile his eyes fell on the quiet son at the table. It was hard to see Dad’s face fall, “Purple, you didn’t eat breakfast. Are you really that unhungry?”

But, like when Leo had said something, Don didn’t look up from his book. Instead he slid off his chair and walked away from the table. Leo frowned and crossed his arms again. It was one thing to ignore him, and he REALLY hated being ignored, but Dad had made a good dinner!

Splinter, to celebrate not burning down the kitchen, gave each of his remaining sons a small bowl of vanilla ice cream. Missing out on ice-cream might have seemed like a punishment to Leo, but he had never seen Donnie even look at a bowl. So instead he ate his treat greedily, and watched Splinter scrub the ice-cream off Mikey’s’ face.

When dinner and desert was all cleaned up, Mikey and Raph went to watch some tv with Dad. Which seemed fine except that Leo wasn’t in the mood to hold still. Instead he thought of his comics. He hurried up to their shared bedroom to retrieve the next issue.

Their room was a usual mess, except for the bed for Don’s corner, so its surprised Leo to see Donnie sitting on the floor fiddling with something in his hands. IT surprised him more to see his Jupiter Jim comics strewed on the floor around him. One of the comics on his lap, “What are you doing?!” he asked

Don stared at him before looking back to his hand. Leo reached forward and snatched the comic off his lap,” These aren’t yours stupid!” he snapped, he quickly flipped through the pages to check for tears, “you can’t just take stuff that doesn’t belong to you Donnie!”

“Leo?” figured mother Raph would come to investigate, “What’s going on?”

“Donnie was touching my stuff!” Leo pointed, “Its my stuff! Not his!”

Raph looked over the scene, before looking back to Leo, “He’s just looking at its Leo. He’s not doing anything bad- “

“No! You always stand up for him but its’ my comics! He never plays with us, he refuses to do anything other then sit alone by himself.” He turned, looking to look at said brother, whose unreadable gaze was fixated on him, “You’re stupid, and I hate you.”

Donnie blinked at him, for the first time in his life Leo could see that Donnie’s eyes were light brown, and even if his face was still silent and stoic, his eyes had begun to tremble with tears. In a dash, Donnie darted out of the room, ducking underneath Raphie’s arms. “Donnie!” Raph shouted after him, before turning and glaring at Leo, “Y-You’re a bully Leo!” before running after their brother.

Leo squeezed his eyes shut before kneeling. Picking up his comics off the ground. It wasn’t his fault, Donnie shouldn’t have been touching his stuff! It wasn’t’ his fault.

He was picking up “Jupiter Jim #192 The Never-ending Tale” when he saw something where Donnie had been sitting. Seeing as he had been messing with his comics, he didn’t have a problem messing with Don’s stuff. But when he picked it up, he recognized a small stacking of Lego bricks This one was only a few bricks tall with a blue brick. He had taken some cloth, probably from some sparse clothing and made it into a blue strip around the brick. There were two block dots where the eyes should have been.

Leo sat down hard on the ground for a moment. Before shifting around the comics some more to find a second brick figure, clearly made to resemble Jupiter Jim, he even had found a plastic piece to use as a helmet….

(#)(#)(#)(#)

Donnie didn’t come out of his ‘quiet place’ for the rest of the night. And neither Raph or Mikey talked to him either not that he was really trying to either. Instead, after sitting alone thinking to himself, he wondered upstairs. His father was, surprisingly, still awake, and sitting at his desk. Even though their bedroom wasn’t’ the cleanest, it was nothing compared to the disaster of their fathers’ room, clothes strewn over the floor and stacks of boxes in the corner, there was even a sword sticking out of the wall, for some reason a sword sticking out of the wall. His father was sitting at his desk, piles of thick books by his desk. Some of them, most of them, had Lou Jitsu on the cover. But there were also a few extra thick books with children on the cover ‘one reading parenting for idiot’s and you’. It was some sort of weird textbook like Donnie was already reading. Leo was having a hard time reading the cover. But the book in Dad’s hands was a little bit easier to read. “A-Auti-sim?” He read out loud, “What’s that? Why are you reading that?”

Dad gave a small sigh, one sadder then Leo had ever heard from him,” I’m hoping it will help understand your brother.’ He set the book aside and turned in his seat, ‘You had a bad day Blue. You were very cruel to your brother today.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Did you apologize to Purple?”

“I-I.” he couldn’t lie. But his eyes started to burn, “He doesn’t talk, he doesn’t’ play he sits in that stupid room all day. He doesn’t even act like he feels anything. But=But he was messing with my comics…and and he made these” Leo stood on his tip toes and set them on Splinters desk. Splinter picked up the Jupiter Jim figurine, then the Little Leo, “I don’t get it Dad.”

“Some children, like Donnie, have difficulty communicating. They have sensory problems, and don’t know how to connect to others. But if they want to connect with someone…...sometimes they try to communicate in anyway they can.” He held the figurines out to him,

(#)(#)(#)(#)

Leo had never actually been in Donnie’s Quiet Area, but it was made for Donnie. It was covered in boxes of weird old electronic items that Splinter had collected for him over time. There was also a set of headphones lying by a fully purple blanket. Which is, of course, where he found his brother. Donnie was curled up on the blanket, headphones over his head. Even in the low light he could see his blood shot eyes and wondered how long he had spent crying. Probably all night since Donnie didn’t come to sleep in their room last night. The thought made his gut twist in guilt. Don took one look at him before rolling over onto his side, shell to him and hoodie over his head.

The five-year-old didn’t move closer, but sat down on the ground, if it wasn’t for his sweat pants the ground would have been a lot colder, “Hey Donnie.” He started, keeping his voice low. Now out of fear of their brothers hearing him. But it was called Donnie’s ‘Quiet Area’ for a reason, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean what I said earlier….” He fiddled his thumbs together. He wasn’t’ sure if Donnie was even listening to him, “I don’t always understand what you need. Only what I want…” he reached into his pants pocket. He saw Don’s head tilt over his shoulder for a moment, probably fighting curiosity. Leo set the little Jupiter Jim figure on the ground, and the Little Leo besides it, “I think these are really cool. Did you make them?” Don was now looking at him fully before sitting up sliding the headphones off his head, “ I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t know you were making anything so cool. “Leo reached back into his pants pocket, it wasn’t as clean as his, actually it was mostly just green and purple and marker marking where he had tried to replicate the detail Donnie had made, he set it by the little Leo, “See? Now Little Me won’t be lonely.”

Even though his expression is still unreadable something in him lights up. He immediately scoots closer and picks up the Little Donnie and looks over it, Leo took the opportunity to look around again, he didn’t realize before that the wires and electronics are organized. But in what way he didn’t know, “What else do you like to do in here?”

Don looks at him again, but nothing more. Leo almost thought for a moment that Donnie was asking him to leave but wondered if Donnie was asking something…. Leo got up and looked around the room before seeing a box shoved between two disassembled stereos. He moves closer and makes sure to look at Donnie before pulling it out. In it are more bricks of multiple colors, but scrubbed so clean Leo can smell the disinfect, he sits down again in front of his brother, “Show me how you play, and we’ll go from there alright?”

Its’ obvious Don is still wary of him, but he sorts out all the pieces by shape and color and slowly starts to build. At first Leo isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do but adjusts to Donnie’s subtle gestures and glances on what to put what piece where. Out of the corner of his eyes, Leo can see where Don has put up strange pictures on the walls, not in the typical sense of art, but it looked like he had drawn family members as cars. With Raph being a semi-truck and Splinter being a bug. Mikey was an airplane and Leo was, to his enjoyment, a racecar. He couldn’t help but wonder how many hours Donnie spent staring at the drawings…did he put them up because he missed them? Did it have something to do with what Splinter said about not being able to communicate even though they were less than a few feet away? But it wasn’t’ too long before a strange noise comes from Donnie, one that Raph always got when it got close to meal time. “are you hungry?” Don gives him a blank look again, “You haven’t eaten since last night, “Even then it had been just a few oyster crackers, “can I go get you a snack?” Donnie glances at his hands for a moment. It took Leo a little bit to catch on, “Oh you don’t want to get your hands dirty. I get that.” Not really, but he didn’t want to say that, “What if I go find a food that won’t make your hands dirty? Is that ok?”

Don sits up more, as though in trigged. Leo stood up and walked out of the room. But immediately realized his task was futile, a word he had heard in Lou Jitsu’s Child Development Movie called “Lou Jitsu vs Child Illiteracy”. He really couldn’t cook on his own, the Ice Cream bomb of Mikey’s’ third birthday party banned everyone from cooking till they were Atleast ten. But the long yellow fruit on the counter caught his attention, he was sure Donnie love bananas but wasn’t sure on how to make them…clean.

After a few mints of deep though he peeled the bananas and uses the back of a spoon to cut them into pieces into bowl. After that he grabbed a new spoon and hurried back to the Quiet Area, “Blue?” he stopped and turned to see his Dad looking at him from his recliner, ‘What are you doing?”

“Donnie’s hungry, he wants clean food.” He held the bowl up for his father to see.

“You- “Splinter looks surprised, not that Leo can blame him, “You got him to speak?”

“No, but I can tell he’s really hungry,”

“Oh, well um I’m very glad you figured out what he wanted to eat.” Splinter turned back to the tv. But again, Leo can feel something is off. There was a sadness coming off his father that he wasn’t sued to, it was the same sadness Leo had felt before when Dad had been reading that book. Was he sad he wasn’t able to help? Leo walked over to the chair, lowering his cheek onto the arm rest, “Donnie loves you Daddy.” He said, “Donnie loves all of us. He just doesn’t know how to tell us yet.”

Splinter looked back to him, again there’s something about him that makes Leo sad. But slowly his father smiles and gently rubs his scalp, “I know, and I love all you.”

Leo hurries back to don’s quiet area where Donnie is still waiting of him, sitting o up on his knees eagerly and looking at the bowl in Leos’ hands, “Clean food!” he sat down Nd held the bowl out, how’s this?” he asked

That time. Leo almost gets a full smile

(#)(#)(#)(#)

Ten years later

What a freaking Day.

Donnie glared at his broken self-cleaning-toothpick. Of course, Raph would use an experiment he knew nothing about. What part of personal space did no one understand?! He didn’t even use it as a toothpick, honestly, he didn’t want to know what he had used it for only that it had come back to him with the same consistency of molasses.

Knowing Raph, he had probably used it in a microwave to see what would happen.

“Back tot eh dork cave I see?”

The purple masked ninja groaned under his breath and glanced towards his door to see a familiar snarky Leo leaning against his circular doorway, grinning his usual grin,” find out what Raph did to your toothpick yet?”

“No and I don’t think I want to know.” It was a lost cause anyway, it was better just to start over. He pushed the destroyed device aside and laid his head on his desk with a loud moan. He could have flipped Leo off for chuckling like that but couldn’t find the energy to lift his head up

“Come on D, you were going to start over anyway. We both know it. Now get out here so we can watch a movie.”

Unfortunately, Leo was right, if only because every time he tried to use the tooth pick it tried to gain consciousness. He had never told Leo about ah problem, but like every other moment it seems like Leo can read him.

Another thing he had never told Leo was how grateful he was for that. His brothers didn’t have the memory he did, so his childhood wasn’t as clear to them as it was to them. But he could still remember when his bed rom was his ‘quiet place’ hiding back here for hours and working on whatever he wanted. His brothers, though eh had loved them, were often too loud and messy for him to handle. Now that he was older he understood what the problem had been, what was still the problem, but it had been like looking at his family through a window with them waving over occasionally to acknowledge him. He could see everything they were doing. But no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t reach them.

But one day, after being so cruel Donnie almost cried himself sick. Leo had approached the window. He had taken time to finally understand what he needed. For a while after that, Leo was his protector, his translator for the world. A way for his brothers to understand him and for him to understand them. They had become unofficial twins. A nickname he had hated as much as he loved it.

He truly believed Leo reaching out helped him learn to communicate better, how to deal with his sensory issues. Though those problems still lurked in the back of his mind, every once in an awhile, he still couldn’t handle loud noises and he still had problems talking to his brothers…

But that window had been opened.

Donnie looked at his desk, at the three brick figures that had been built so long ago and stood up, “Atta boy!” Leo cheered, turning to leave, “Now hurry- “Before he could stop himself, Donnie hugged his brother tight around the chest. Burying his face into his brother’s shoulder rand squeezing him for all dear life. He could feel his brothers shock by the fact he lost his footing for a few seconds before freezing up, even so his brothers’ arms came up around him back, cautiously returning the brace, “You ok? If it’s the tooth pick, I swear Raph didn’t drop it in the toilet- “

“Thank you.” He mumbled. Donnie felt Leo tilt his head more in his direction, probably unable to hear him. So, despite his already waning pride, he spoke louder, with a tighter hug, “Thank you for everything Leo.”

He half expected a sarcastic comment. Or maybe a bad joke. But instead Leo squeezed him back just as tightly, somehow a link that had existed since their childhood told Leo exactly what Donnie was talking about, “You’re my favorite twin Donnie.” He nuzzled his cheek against Don’s, “I’d do anything for you.”

“I know.” For a few moments the two just stood there, even when Raph walked by, gave off an emotional ‘aw’ and slunk away to not disturb them. Donnie finally drew away, but before he could fully release Leo, his brothers’ arms caught him around the chest again and squeezed tighter then before, “then its time for a movie!” eh declared, Hugging Donnie off his feet lifting him out of the room as Don squawked loudly,” LEO YOU NEANDERTHAL- “

“MOVIE MOVIE MOVIE!!!’ he chanted loudly, using his free arm to pump the air. Despite his embarrassment, and despite his brothers all collapsing in near laughter, he couldn’t hate Leo for embarrassing him. He got his revenge later by kicking Leo off the bean bag they had shared, before reluctantly letting Leo join him again.

He was his official twin

He could never stay mad at him

(#)(#)(#)(#)

I haven’t written anything here in a while, but this was a prompt from another website I thought would be fund to you, course it became personal for me for many reasons. But I hope you found it enjoyable 😊

#Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #leo #donnie #leo and donnie #leo and donnie centered fanfiction #brotherly fluff #nothing gross #just family #serioulsy #seriously #there that's how you spell it #ha!

225 notes · View notes

avenger-nerd-mom · 5 years

Text

WIP tag game

I’ve been tagged by @jaywrites101. Thanks for the tag, I really appreciate it!

1: When starting something new, how much do you know about the story before you start writing?

I am a pantser. I usually start from just a verbal exchange I hear in my head. It might be something that would be halfway through the story, and then I have to figure out what to write to get to that point.

2: What draws you to your WIP(s)? Why did you choose to write that/those over anything else?

In general, I try to write what I want to read. And if I have to keep reading “plus size” stories where the OFC is a size 12, I might scream.

3: Favorite writing spot? Why?

On the far left of the couch, with my feet propped up on the coffee table. Usually with my cat laying OVER my wrist, making it difficult to type and use the computer mouse.

4: Share your favorite line of what you’ve written so far!

This is a sneak peek at my unnamed WIP, a novel based on my fanfction stories for Sunshine.

“Sunshine, when you got up from the table, all heads turned to watch you.” Nate makes a tsking sound when she scoffs at his words. “Not for the reason you think, babe…. The sway of your hips? Drives a man crazy… The front view; the bounce? The deep cleavage? A man wants to get lost in there for days. You’re everything those women aren’t and they were jealous.”

“You sweet man. I love that you are so blind, but they said everything I think.”

“Then tell yourself to ‘shut up.’” He cracks. “I see an amazing, talented, funny, charismatic business woman, with great taste in fashion and men.” Nate smiles, pointing at himself. “Trust me. I don’t make up stories; I just retell them on television. You’ve known me for months. Do I waste my time on things that aren’t worth it?”

5: If you had to choose one OC to bring to life as an actual person, which one would it be and why?

Out of all my OC’s?? Oh boy, that’s… a question…

I really… I really can’t answer that. I love all my girls. How about a dinner where I can sit and bullshit with them all for three hours?!

6: Are you looking to get published? If so, do you hope to make it a career?

I’m already published and a best-selling author on Amazon! I’ve been working on a story to take the character Sunshine out of fan fiction, and finish her book. I love my career. I work with kids every day, and it’s great. As an actual career? I don’t know that I have the drive to devote every day to writing. I went through a dry spell where it killed me to write. If I had to depend on my writing to eat, I don’t know if I could deal with that pressure.

7: What’s something you’d read but you’d never write? (Or the other way around?) Any reason?

I try to read a lot of different things. Fan fiction allows me the chance to read new genres. And considering I once said I could never write smut and to know where I am now? I’m never gonna say never...

8: What’s something you’re most proud of about your work so far?

I’m a published author! My novel Chasing Winter was a best seller last fall in the holiday romance category! I’m really proud of that story because it’s so real to me, actually based on some real events in my life.

9: Badly describe your WIP(s) in one sentence.

All WIPs: There will be laughs at inappropriate times, good sex and cheesecake.

10: Why did you want to be a writer?

My author blurb pretty much says it all. I would steal my mother’s romance books or watch a sappy love story on THAT channel, and think “I can do that!” I’m all about proving myself RIGHT, so I did it! I didn’t get here alone. I owe a great thanks to @thewife101 and @devikafernando for always pushing me to keep writing, (BTW girls, TAG- now it’s your turn to answer these questions!) and to my amazing beta @deathbyukmen. She makes every story better. And to @fay-1994, who is such a loyal reader! I couldn’t be doing it without their support.

#Tag game #WIP #author stuff #anm #cass michaels

5 notes · View notes

feudalfairytrash · 7 years

Text

Tiger Lilies and Firewood

For a brief moment, my muses sang to me and so I wrote a brief drabble of a fanfction about Miroku and Sango based around the events of Episode 19 of The Final Act. I do not currently have time to post it elsewhere, so if anyone would like to read it here, here it is! It’s only about 800 words and is completely safe for work. Enjoy!

Sango could feel the heat rush to her pale face as she asked Kaede and the others to allow her to be alone with Miroku for a moment, as he lay unconscious. She knew Kaede would understand, but she could still hear Jaken and, to some extent, Shippo grumbling about having to leave the hut. She hated feeling like a bother, but some things were more important than her own shame.

Her embarrassment vanished as she directed her thoughts (and her gaze) to Miroku, whose wounds were invisible beneath his robes, but that were etched in Sango’s mind. She felt a pang of guilt coursing through her chest as she blamed herself for his near fatal injury.

My good monk. She thought as she brushed her fingertips through his hair, her eyes brimming with hot tears of anguish and frustration, that she could do nothing to save him. He had always been so willing to risk his own safety to save Kohaku and herself, or more often, to save her from saving Kohaku.

You're so much more than that lecherous character you play for everyone else. She clenched the wrist of his right hand with her left, the tears dropping from her eyes and shattering upon the clear blue surface of the beads that sealed the hole in his hand.

Miroku… You can't die on me. She mentally willed him to live, touching his face softly with her right hand. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his for the first time. They were soft and warm, tasting bitter from the potion Kaede had given him to numb his pain and help him sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miroku had been resting soundly in the hut, but was brought into slight consciousness as he heard the door to the hut slide open. He could hear voices, but they were muffled by his own grogginess and the paralytic effects of the medicine. Then, suddenly, the room felt emptier.

He felt the presence of the body sitting next to him, and knew it was Sango. He could tell from the way she would breath evenly for several minutes, but would then hold her breath and have to release it more forcefully when she did so. She often did this when she was upset. He could also tell from her pattern of movements, from the tremble in her muscles as she sat down beside him. Most of all, he knew from her scent. He was no demon like Inuyasha, and had no such enhanced olfactory sense, but Sango’s scent had become ingrained in him. It was a mixture of tiger lilies and firewood, and it was intoxicating.

Then, rousing him more from his stupor, he felt her hand in his hair, and her teardrops on his wrist. Was she crying over him? He hated to see her upset, but he felt he deserved none of her tears. He was weak, he was perverse, and he was-

His thoughts left him as he felt a new sensation. Her lips against his, so soft, yet firm in their intent. He was not sure if he was dreaming, or if this was actually happening.

Sango. He thought her name, wanting more than anything to say it out loud, but not having the strength to produce a sound. His lips still tingled with the sensation from hers as she pulled away and peered down at him lovingly, a way no one else ever had, but then her expression shifted from that of sadness and love to one of shock. Miroku realized his eyes were open.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“M-Miroku,” she stated apprehensively, “Have you been conscious this whole time?”

He managed to nod in affirmation, which caused the young slayer to apologize profusely for her forward behavior as she buried her face in her hands, attempting to stand up and exit the hut to escape the torture of her own shame. However, the monk refused to let that happen, and mustered all of his failing strength to grab her wrist. He could feel her clench her fist, and then relax as she turned to face him again. He felt his senses coming back to him and he knew he'd be able to speak.

“San..go,” he said in a raspy near-whisper.

“What is it Miroku?” The concern resonated with every word. Here eyes were still full of tears that streaked down her face whenever she blinked.

“Please don't go, just yet,” he urged, his throat burning with held-back tears, “Stay here with me for a bit longer.”

“Hmm, “ the woman responded with a a nod, and she lay down next to him, her head on his chest and one arm across his torso. He draped his left arm over her and kissed her forehead.

There was something unspoken between the two of them, more than just love. It was completeness. They might die tomorrow, but for now, this was the most alive either of them had felt in a long time.

#mirsan #mirsan fanfiction #romance #fluff #angst #hurt and comfort #inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha the final act

9 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {12}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Isn’t it uncomfortable being in that weird awkward angsty fluff phase of the story

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“Angry people are not always wise.” ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Rhysand walked through the front door of their apartment, Feyre right behind.

“Get in bed,” she said, shutting the door behind him. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Rhysand didn’t have the energy to protest. Instead, he slumped through the hall until he reached his bedroom and slowly lowered himself onto his mattress.

Every movement brought a stabbing pain, dominantly in his ribs. In his shoes and all, wearing everything he had been taken to the hospital in the night before, Rhysand laid back against his pillows.

He could hear Feyre poking about in the kitchen. She hadn’t been the same after what she had confessed the night before. Now he’s using you to prove that even though I left him...he can still control me. It’s all my fault. No matter how much he tried to convince her otherwise, she wouldn’t budge.

She came into his room a minute later with a sandwich and a glass of water. She saw him lying pathetically on his bed, dressed in his filthy clothes, and smiled softly.

He loved that smile.

“Maybe you should get yourself cleaned up,” she said, setting the plate on his nightstand. “After you eat, so you can take your pain meds.”

“I don’t need them,” Rhysand said, grabbing his sandwich off the plate and taking a bite, still laying down.

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Stubborn ass. They’ll help.”

Shaking his head, Rhysand said, “I’m fine, really.”

“I could hear you cringing while you laid down from all the way in the kitchen,” Feyre shot back.

Rhysand said nothing.

He took another bite of his sandwich.

“Listen to your woman,” Feyre said, stalking out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. He could hear the water running, filling up the tub, as he finished off his pb&j. When Feyre came back, Rhysand was drifting into sleep. “No, no. Bathe first. You stink and you’ve got blood everywhere.”

With a groan, Rhysand sat up and lifted his shirt over his head. Feyre must’ve seen the pain in his expression, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, because she was sitting on his bed, helping him take off his shoes, then his socks. Rhysand stood and unbuttoned his jeans as he walked toward the bathroom.

“You going to give me a sponge bath, Nurse Feyre?” he asked.

Feyre laughed from behind him. “Maybe. I even put bubbles in it for you.”

Rhysand grinned. “Now you’re just spoiling me.”

Kicking off his jeans, Rhysand slid into the bath, down into the steaming, bubbly water. He sighed, leaning back.

Feyre sat next to the bath as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Come in with me,” he muttered.

“You’re in no condition for that,” Feyre mumbled, but he could tell she was smiling.

Rhysand opened one eye and looked at her. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

With a look that said he was full of shit, Feyre slid off her dirty clothes and stepped into the tub. She sat on his lap, cautiously straddling his waist. Her fingers, softly and slowly, slid down his chest. With his eyes closed, and his hands resting on her ass, Feyre took a cloth and soaked it in soap and warm water before bringing it to his face. She dabbed above his split lip, erasing the dried blood, then moved to his neck, around his scratch, where Eris had pressed the blade into his skin. Once free of blood, she ran the cloth over his chest, his arms, his abdomen, being extra cautious around his broken ribs.

“Lower,” Rhysand begged, and Feyre’s body shook above him.

“You said you’d be good,” she laughed, quietly, dropping the rag in the water.

Rhysand sighed. “I lied.”

She was shaking her head when he opened his eyes. Beautiful, with her hair hanging around her shoulders, her lips parted, eyes watching her own slender fingers draw circles against Rhysand’s chest.

“I love you,” he breathed.

Feyre’s head shook, slowly, gray-blue eyes growing weary. “You love me too much.”

“Not possible,” he said, taking her hands from his chest and interlacing his fingers in hers. “I am so in love with you, Feyre.”

She smiled, but her eyes welled up with tears. “Rhys-”

“I love you,” he repeated, holding onto her hands. “I love you.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I love you, too.”

With a heavy heart, he wiped that tear away, unable to say anything more. He knew she felt guilty, and he also knew that no matter what he said or did, she would continue to feel guilty. It was who she was. She couldn’t help it.

He pulled her into him, even though she protested, at first. Eventually, she reluctantly obeyed, but the moment her head was lying on his shoulder, her hand lying on his chest, she melted into him.

They laid like that for a long while, and they had remained silent for so long that Rhysand didn’t realize that Feyre had fallen asleep until the water started to get cold. He shook her body, gently, and when her eyes opened, he suggested, “Bed?”

She nodded, pulled the plug, and got out. He followed, and she wrapped a towel around his waist before drying herself off and following him back to his room, where they laid together, naked, beneath the sheets, clinging to one another as they fell asleep.

~~~~~

Azriel woke up to the early morning sun peeking in through his blinds. He stayed perfectly still, though, because Elain was sound asleep, cheek resting against his chest.

But he really had to piss.

Slowly, he thought to himself, as he pulled himself out from under her. He let her down, almost as smoothly as he had hoped, but either way, she stayed asleep as Azriel scooted off the edge of his bed and tip-toed quietly to the door. He begged it not to creak as he opened it, slipped out, and shut it with a soft click behind him.

In the hallway, he finally let out a breath as he closed himself inside of the bathroom. In the mirror, his hair was a mess, his eyes still blurred, trying to wake up.

While relieving himself, a loud knock came on the door, making him jump.

“I HAVE TO PEEEEEEE!”

Azriel snorted. “Almost done, Mila.”

“Hurry up!” she cried. “Uuuuuuuuuugh.”

He opened the door and was met with a tiny human, eyes narrowed, hands on her hips, auburn hair in absolute chaos.

She pushed her uncle out of the way and hurried to the toilet. Azriel cracked the door, giving her privacy.

“Hungry?” he asked, through the crack.

“Yes,” she said, sighing. “I want pancakes.”

“Of course,” Azriel muttered, heading back down the hallway, toward the kitchen, where Mor was sitting at the table, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Her brows rose. “My back is killing me. There’s a reason I sleep on the couch. Which, I noticed this morning, my dear Azriel, is empty.”

Azriel gave her a look before opening the pantry and pulling out a box of pancake mix.

“Not to pry,” Mor went on, “but when I went to sleep last night, I had offered the couch to Elain, where I know, for a fact, she fell asleep.”

Azriel didn’t give into her interrogation. “Talk to Rhys this morning?”

“Yes,” Mor sighed, “he called on his way home from the hospital a little while ago. He claims he’s perfectly fine.”

“Of course he does,” Azriel murmured, making a note to call Feyre later to see how he’s really doing.

“Are you really going to make me ask if Elain is in your bed?” Mor asked, setting down her mug, forcibly, on the table.

Silently, Azriel opened the cabinet and pulled out a bowl. “I would never.”

“Azriel,” she begged.

Azriel laughed. “You can’t stand not knowing shit, can you?”

When he looked over his shoulder, it was written all over her face: no, she couldn’t.

Shaking his head, Azriel turned back around and found a measuring cup. “Yes, she’s in my bed. No, nothing...happened.”

Mor was instantly on her feet. “You hesitated. You definitely hesitated.”

She threw open the fridge, grabbed the milk, and met him at the counter.

“I hesitate a lot,” Azriel said, opening the box of pancake mix. “People typically don’t read into it.”

“I’m not people,” Mor said, opening the milk and measuring it out before pouring it into the bowl. “I’m your best friend.”

Azriel glanced at her through his side eye before shaking his head. “I don’t know. We kissed, and we…..cuddled, and it was nice.”

Mor’s smile widened. “Azriel just said cuddle. How sweet.”

Azriel jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow before pouring the mix into the bowl.

Looking his direction, Mor’s smile softened. “Jokes aside, I do think it’s sweet. I like Elain. She’s kind and gentle. The complete opposite of you, and opposites attract.”

Azriel lifted a brow as he pulled out a whisk and pointed it at Mor. “Are you saying that I’m not gentle?”

Mor cackled. “Have you met you? Gentler than Cassian, maybe, but that’s not saying much. No, Az, my love, you are not what I consider to be gentle. Unless it’s with Mila, but everyone’s gentle with that little princess.”

“Speaking of,” Azriel mumbled, hearing her run down the hall.

Mila came around the corner, bouncing up and down. “Pancakes! And chocolate milk, please.”

“Ah, getting sugared up first thing in the morning,” Azriel laughed, and caught his niece as she jumped into his arms. She climbed onto his back and held him around his neck. “I suppose since it’s Saturday, it’s okay.”

“Yay!” she yelled, right into his ear.

Azriel mixed what was in the bowl together as Mila jumped from Azriel’s back into Mor’s arms, who carried her to the couch to watch cartoons, just as Azriel’s bedroom door opened.

As Elain came around the corner, her cheeks were pink.

Even having just awoken, Azriel was blown away by her beauty.

“Hi,” she said, quietly.

“Hi,” Azriel replied, biting down on his lip to suppress his smile. “You like pancakes?”

Elain hesitated. “Everyone likes pancakes.”

“Well, you’re in luck, then, because I make phenomenal pancakes….that come from a box.”

Elain laughed, and Azriel noticed Mor peeking over her shoulder at the two of them.

Mila, just now realizing there was another person in the room, jumped up on the couch. “Lain!”

Elain smiled, brightly. “Good morning.”

“Why are you here?” she asked, still excited, but slightly confused.

A soft laugh tumbled out of Elain as she hesitated. “I...couldn’t wait until later to come see you, so I came a little early.”

“Yay!” Mila yelled, sitting back down beside Mor. “Come on, Lain, we’re watching Looney Tunes.”

“Looney Tunes still comes on?” Azriel muttered.

“Of course,” Mor called, as Elain joined the girls on the couch. “It’s a classic, Saturday mornings wouldn’t be the same without it.”

Shaking his head, every woman in the house abandoning him, Azriel made pancakes.

And then the four of them sat down at the table and ate, together, laughing over the sugary breakfast of pancakes with syrup and whipped cream, and chocolate milk.

Azriel kept catching Elain’s eyes, and all he could think about was the sweet taste of her lips the night before, and how he couldn’t wait to taste them, again.

~~~~~

The deep blue waters of the Sidra were sparkling as Cassian ran along it in the early morning heat, Bryaxis beside him on his leash, tongue hanging out as he jogged alongside his master.

He didn’t sleep at all, between what happened to Rhys and how he left things with Nesta.

Rhysand could take care of himself, Cassian knew that, but he couldn’t stop his anger. He knew it was a problem, that anger, knew it had often gotten him in trouble in the past, but it was stuck, simmering in the pit of his stomach, making his mind wander and, agonizingly enough, be alert at all times.

As for Nesta, he walked her up to her apartment after Azriel had dropped them off in the middle of the night. They walked in silence until they stood in the space between their doors. Hours before, they were fucking in his office, but before they parted, they just stared at each other awkwardly before saying goodnight.

Maybe it was because they were exhausted.

Or, maybe it was because she regretted it.

Or, even worse, maybe he was overthinking it, which was always a possibility.

He almost texted her before he left for his run, but he decided against it, assuming he would run into her at some point during the day.

Hoping to take his mind off everything, he leashed Bryaxis up and took to the riverwalk. It didn’t work, it only made him a little more tired and way more sweaty.

By the time they reached the little park along the river, in front of the heart of the city, Cassian was exhausted. He must have run at least four miles without even realizing it, although the moment he started to slow down, he was definitely feeling it.

He walked a little bit before sitting in the grass with Bryaxis and stretching out his long legs.

“Good boy, Ax,” he mumbled, as the golden retriever laid down next to him.

And then Cassian caught him, bright red hair, tall frame, jogging toward him.

Eris Vanserra.

Cassian’s blood turned cold.

He was instantly rising to his feet, whistling for Bryaxis to follow. He did, the good boy he was. Cassian stormed in Eris’ direction, and by the time Eris saw him coming, it was too late for him to turn around. Cassian dropped Bryaxis’ leash, demanding he sit as he came upon Eris and tackled him against the sidewalk. Their skin scraped, blood instantly drawn.

Eris’ eyes blazed as his back hit the pavement. “What the fuck, Nazari?”

But Cassian had his hand against Eris’ throat as he pinned him to the ground. “Stay away from my family.”

Eris pushed back, not the scrawny kid he’d been in high school, anymore. He rolled Cassian over into the grass, his fist hitting Cassian in the jaw. Cassian spat up at him, saliva and blood tainting Eris’ light tanktop.

To Eris’ surprise, Cassian grinned. Little did Eris know that Cassian thrived on confrontation, thrived on steady competition, thrived on the idea of giving Eris what he gave to Rhys.

They tumbled around in the grass, fists flying, ignoring the cries and glares they got from the few early morning riders that were around.

“Fuck you, Nazari,” Eris spat, elbowing Cassian in the jaw.

Cassian was quick though. He’d been in enough fights throughout his lifetime to make split decisions amidst the chaos. All the anger he had been feeling flooded him, ignited him. He pinned Eris to the ground, pinning him down with his knees as he landed a blow to his eye, another to his cheek, another, another, another, until someone was pulling him off- two someones.

Eris laid in the grass, hands covering his bloodied face.

“Stay away,” Cassian warned again, spitting in the grass. He shook the joggers, who had pulled him away, off of him and whistled for Bryaxis.

The pup came running.

Eris was on his feet, blood flowing from his nose. “You just made a huge mistake.”

“Fuck off, Vanserra,” he spat, taking Bryaxis’ leash.

The runners who had pulled Cassian off of Eris were standing between them now, but Cassian stayed, staring Eris down until his message was clear.

Stay away from my family.

Eris shook his head and turned away, walking back the way he had come.

Cassian waited until he was further down the walk until he turned around, too, heading back toward his apartment.

Bryaxis whined, looking up at Cassian.

“I’m okay,” Cassian reassured him, patting him on the head as they walked, along the Sidra.

By the time they reached the apartment complex, Cassian was about to fall over. Blood trickled down to the collar of his t-shirt.

He stomped up the concrete stairs, Bryaxis at his heels, worrying about his dad.

When Cassian reached the second floor landing, Nesta had just stepped out of her door.

She took one look at Cassian and cursed. “What the hell happened to you?”

Cassian shook his head, but Nesta stepped in front of him, blocking him from going into his apartment.

Reluctantly, Cassian stopped.

“I asked you a question,” Nesta hissed.

Cassian met her gaze. “Ran into Eris Vanserra.”

Nesta stilled, then took him by the elbow and pulled him into her apartment.

“Sit,” she demanded.

Cassian didn’t see a point in fighting it.

He sat on her couch, Bryaxis lying at his feet.

She stomped into the kitchen and soaked a rag with cool water before meeting him on the couch. She sat beside him and pulled his chin toward her. Gently, Nesta wiped the blood from his face.

“He got you good,” she muttered.

“He looks worse,” Cassian muttered back.

“Not that point,” she said, adding more pressure as she wiped the blood from his lip.

Cassian hissed.

Nesta didn’t care.

“Be still,” she ordered.

“Then be gentle,” he snapped.

Nesta rolled her eyes as she continued to clean him up. Once she wiped him off, she pulled out some ointment and rubbed it on the parts of him that were split open.

“Violence often makes things worse, you know,” Nesta said, screwing the top back on the tube of the ointment.

Cassian grunted, watching her walk back into the kitchen to wash her hands. “Going to scold me?”

“No,” Nesta said, drying off her hands, “but I’ll tell you it was stupid, because even you know it was.”

He did, he was grateful that no cops were around, but he couldn’t help it, not after what Eris and Tamlin had done.

“They can’t just get away with doing bad shit,” Cassian mumbled.

Nesta sat on the couch next to him, dressed in her running clothes. He assumed he caught her just before she left, herself, for the walk along the Sidra.

Nesta didn’t disagree, but she said, “Just don’t do anything stupid.” Then, she added, “Again.”

Cassian looked at her, leaning his head back against the couch. “Holy shit. Nesta Archeron cares about me.”

Nesta stilled. “No, I don’t.”

But Cassian was grinning. “Yes, you do.”

With narrowed eyes, she jabbed him beneath his eye, where a blue bruise was forming.

“Ow,” he laughed, pushing her back.

Even Nesta couldn’t help but smile as he crawled on top of her and pinned her down.

“Mean,” he muttered, and her eyes lit up. “Cruel.”

“I was going to go for a run,” she said, but her legs wrapped around his waist.

“It can wait,” he said, voice muffled against the warm skin of her neck.

Nesta didn’t protest as her eyes fell shut.

~~~~~

Rhysand was fast asleep as Feyre scribbled a note and put it on his nightstand.

Running to the store. Be back soon. Stay in bed. Love you.

She hurried out of the apartment, careful to keep quiet, careful not to wake him.

As she got in her car and headed for the grocery store, Feyre decided to take the long way around. She stopped short at an apartment complex she was all too familiar with.

Before she could convince herself otherwise, Feyre hopped out of her car and walked up the stairs, down the landing, until she was standing in front of her old front door.

She pounded her first against the thick wood.

He opened it, a minute later, looking like he just woke up. His golden eyebrows rose. “Feyre?”

She shook her head, fists shaking at her sides as she looked at Tamlin. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, but only one word came out, full of anger and hostility and judgment.

“Why?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile

@booksbooksbooksworld

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit

@6255igntm

@littlehoneyybee

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn

@julemmaes

@regular-nessian-trash

@ugh-avila

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #fanfic #fanfiction #tacmc #nessian #tacmc AITA #feysand #elriel #sjm

242 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {15}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Sorry it took a few extra hours - the chapter was too short so I had to decide what I wanted to add in from chapter 16! Enjoy~

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“We accept the love we think we deserve.” - Stephen Chbosky, the Perks of Being a Wallflower

Cassian couldn't think straight.

That anger, that motherfucking anger, was creeping up on him.

Tomas.

The bastard that sure as hell wasn't good enough for Nesta, was staring at her like she was a piece of meat, a prize to be won. Cassian wanted to hit that look right off his face.

“Aren’t you the guy that moved in across the hall from her?”

He was drinking a beer and had been ignoring Cassian until now.

Cassian gave him a short nod.

“What, you two friends now?” Tomas asked, looking back at Nesta. “I thought you hated him. Said he was annoying as fuck.”

Nesta ignored his question, his comment. She asked, quietly, “Where the hell have you been?”

Cassian stilled. The fact that she still cared made him nauseous. Maybe he was in the wrong, but he thought Nesta had forgotten about Tomas long ago. Thought he had helped her forget about Tomas a long time ago.

“Adriata,” he said, shrugging. “Went along the Coast. Surfed.”

“You just fucking left,” Nesta gritted out. “Without saying anything because I hurt your fucking pride.”

Cassian had taken her home that night, when Tomas had abandoned her at the nightclub.

“Needed some time away,” he said, simply, and smiled.

Nesta wouldn't look at Cassian.

He had yet to touch his whiskey.

“Did you miss me?” Tomas asked.

Nesta looked at Cassian, then she turned her back to them both.

He couldn’t tell what was going through her mind, didn't want to know what was going through her mind. If he knew, his anger would only grow.

He kept watching Tomas.

“What time do you get off?” Tomas asked, continuing his interrogation.

“Late,” Nesta answered.

“I’ll wait,” he said, grinning.

Nesta looked over her shoulder at him, then at Cassian. Her eyes were hard, unreadable. She didn’t tell him to fuck off, didn’t tell him to go to hell. Instead, she said, “I’m on break. Be back in five.”

She left, leaving Cassian to stare, dumbfounded, after her. Before Tomas could say anything more, Cassian tossed some cash next to his untouched drink and made his way into the alley, where Nesta was standing, leaning against the wall, lighting a cigarette.

Unsurprised by him storming in, Nesta didn’t bother to look up at him as he stopped in front of her.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, voice monotone.

Cassian shook his head. Maybe he’d gotten everything all wrong, read the signs all wrong. All the time they had spent together the last few weeks - maybe it was just for sex, something to fill the void for her after Tomas left.

Maybe now that he was back, she had no need for Cassian anymore.

He raked a hand through his hair, calming himself. “Are you coming over when you get off?”

Nesta looked tired. “I don’t know.”

“Because Tomas will be waiting for you?” he asked, before he could think twice about it.

Her eyes narrowed. “Fuck off, Cass.”

He shook his head, laughing, humorlessly. “What am I to you?”

She didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question,” he said, voice low.

Nesta blew smoke into his face. “I don’t owe you an answer, so fuck off.”

Cassian took a step back, feeling as if he’d just been slapped. “Alright. Fine.”

He started walking away, back toward the sidewalk, where he stopped. “I’ll leave my door open, when you get off. If you don’t show up, I’ll take the hint.”

Nesta said nothing.

Cassian walked away.

He found his bike, the one he’d finished that morning, near the other side of the building before strapping on his helmet and speeding away.

That anger, that fucking anger, crept into his mind, into his soul, and he couldn’t control it. They were doing so well, getting along so perfectly, until that fucker waltzed in, pretending like nothing ever happened. Cassian remembered the first day he’d met Nesta, when Tomas was there, and she was a fucking mess. High on Mother-knows-what, hungover, depressed. Now he was back, and Nesta shut down, pretended like Cassian no longer existed. And he had thought that things had changed, that she and him were starting to…

Unimportant.

It was unimportant, didn’t matter anymore.

Maybe she was just surprised, thrown off by Tomas’s unexpected presence.

Cassian tried to push the anger away.

He would go home and do what he said he would - leave the door unlocked, wait like a pathetic jackass who felt too strongly for a woman like Nesta Archeron.

So that’s what he did.

And just after midnight, he heard low voices outside of his apartment. Drunk on whiskey, he opened his door, and found Tomas stumbling into Nesta’s apartment.

He met Nesta’s gaze, but it was like looking into a never ending abyss. Empty. Dead. An endless void.

She watched him, though. Watched his eyes go wide, then harden. Watched his jaw lock as he shook his head. “Hint taken,” he slurred. “Fuck you, N-Nesta.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, didn’t act like the words affected her at all. But she watched him, those empty, stormy blue eyes - watched as he took a step back and slammed his door shut.

That anger returned, rising at an uncontrollable speed.

He threw his glass, still holding a thin layer of whiskey, against the wall in his living room, where it exploded into shards of glass, dark, caramel colored liquid raining down the ivory wall.

“Fuck!” he yelled, and Bryaxis was instantly up from his bed, following his master down the hall.

Cassian stomped into his bedroom and tossed himself onto his mattress where Bryaxis instantly was, knowing his father was having an episode, knowing he couldn’t control the anger, that hated anger.

The pup pulled himself over Cassian’s abdomen, laying his chin on Cassian’s chest, paws outstretched. Cassian closed his eyes, told himself to breathe.

That anger lingered, even as he calmed, but Cassian told himself that it was all his fault.

He had started to fall in love with her.

And no good ever came from falling for a woman like Nesta Archeron.

~~~~~

Rhysand awoke to his bed creaking, just after midnight.

Feyre had hurried out of the room, down the hall. He heard the bathroom door shut.

He picked up his phone off the nightstand and opened his messages, where he had missed five texts after falling asleep early.

Three were from Cassian.

Feyre’s sister is a bitch.

Whiskey is good. I like whiskey.

Where the fuck are you and Az you little lovesick fuckers.

Rhys made a mental, uncertain note to give Cassian a call in the morning.

The next text was from Azriel. It was a picture of Mila, who was wearing the new pink Batman pajamas Rhysand had ordered her online. Beneath the picture read, Mila has been jumping across all the furniture all night, pretending to be Batgirl. At one point, she body slammed me. It was all fun and games until I got kneed in the balls.

Rhysand huffed a laugh, pulling up the last text that was from an unsaved number. Your ring is in. You can pick it up at your earliest convenience.

He quickly deleted the message as Feyre swept back into the room, bare body outlined in the dark, starlit room.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, watching her climb across the bed to him. “Cassian was having a drunken, mental breakdown, it seems.”

He put his phone back on the nightstand as she asked, “Because of Nesta?”

“Seems so,” Rhysand muttered, as Feyre fell back against the pillows. He climbed over her body, and her arms wrapped around his waist. “Who knows.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “I won’t be getting in the middle of that mess.”

Rhysand chuckled, kissing her, softly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, hands wandering down to his ass. “Sleep.”

“You’re going to be tired for work in the morning,” he murmured.

Feyre huffed a laugh, pushing his wild hair off of his forehead. “I’m okay with that.”

With a grin, Rhysand pressed his mouth to Feyre’s, his tongue sliding between her lips to brush alongside her own.

One last night of peace, one last night before Rhysand woke up the next morning, kissed Feyre goodbye, and got ready for himself to leave the house. Because after Feyre left in the morning, he would be going to see Tamlin.

And, it seems, he had a ring to pick up.

~~~~~

“It’s getting late,” Elain whispered, glancing at the clock.

“Yeah,” Azriel agreed, quietly.

They had been lying awake for hours, talking about everything and nothing and all things in between. Now, he could see the exhaustion sweeping over her.

“Get some sleep,” he said, smiling.

But Elain didn’t smile back. Her palm rested against his cheek, her thumb brushing over his open lips. Azriel’s own smile faded at her touch.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

Azriel didn’t have to be told twice. He leaned in closer, pulled her to him by her waist, and pressed his lips against hers. Elain fell back against his bed, and he hovered over her, careful not to put too much of his weight on her.

Her delicate hands swept down his back, under the hem of his shirt. Her hands were warm against his skin as they crept up. Chills swept down his spine.

Elain tugged at the fabric, and Azriel leaned back, pulled his shirt over his head, and tossed it onto the floor.

Elain pushed against his chest, a silent plea for him to lay down, and when he did, she straddled his waist. Those delicate fingers trailed over his chest, his abdomen. Her brown eyes were bright as slipped off her sweatshirt, and her tanktop.

“Elain,” Azriel hesitated, his entire body reacting beneath her. “We don’t have to-”

“I want to,” she said, laughing quietly. She took his hands and put them against her body. Azriel’s hands swept up her stomach, to her breasts. His fingers brushed over the outline of her bra, careful not to catch the lace on his rough, calloused fingertips. She leaned down into him, lips crashing into lips.

Azriel had been so patient. Had taken things slow.

It was easy to take things slow with Elain. She was easy to talk to, easy to be gentle with. But in that moment, Azriel was done being gentle. His body ached for anything but gentleness.

He unhooked her bra, and she let him slide it down her arms and palm her breasts. Azriel flipped her onto her back, smile bright as she looked up at him. Azriel pressed his lips, softly, against her abdomen, and she held onto the back of his head as those feather-like kisses trailed up, tongue sweeping over her nipples, lips finding the base of her neck.

Elain’s eyes fluttered shut as she breathed, heavily, as she inched down Azriel’s shorts with her fingertips.

A soft growl escaped him as his lips found hers, once again.

“Elain.” He whispered her name between the whirlwind of kisses, but was unable to say anything more, because a loud knock came to his bedroom door.

“Uncle Az!” Mila’s little voice came through the door.

Azriel froze, then sighed, his head falling against her chest, between her breasts. Elain, unable to help herself, laughed quietly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

With a groan, Azriel pulled himself off of her and hopped off the bed, pulling his shorts back up to his hips. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, smiling fondly as she pulled his blanket up over her body.

Azriel stopped at the door, trying to collect himself as Mila knocked, again.

“Okay,” he breathed, and opened his bedroom door to find a teary-eyed four year old, clutching her blanket.

He frowned, shutting his door quietly behind him. “What’s wrong?”

She reached her arms up, and Azriel gathered her into his arms as he carried her back into her room.

She laid her messy-haired head against his shoulder.

“Bad dream,” she said, yawning, as Azriel sat on the edge of her bed with her on his lap. “Those men took mama away and she was crying.”

Azriel blew out a long, slow breath. It was impossible, trying to find a way to tell Mila what was happening without telling her that her mom was a horrible woman. Yes, he hated Amarantha, but he wouldn’t let his view of Amarantha cloud Mila’s.

“It was just a dream,” he said, quietly. “Your mama is okay in there. And she loves you and she misses you, okay?”

Mila yawned, nodding, slowly.

“Let’s get you back to sleep,” Azriel murmured, laying Mila down and tucking her in tight. “Don’t want to be tired for preschool in the morning. I love you.”

“Love you,” Mila said, eyes already closed. He patted her back, gently, until her breathing evened out; then, he backed out of her room, slowly and quietly, until he was back across the hall, sneaking into his own bedroom.

Where Elain was sound asleep.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, laying down on the other side of his bed.

It took him a longass time to fall asleep.

And when morning came, and he stumbled into the kitchen, Mor was already sitting at the table, grinning with a cup of coffee.

“May I help you?” he mumbled, pulling open the fridge for some orange juice.

“Took you a long time to open your door for Mila in the middle of the night,” she said, sipping from her mug.

Azriel shut the door and spun around, exasperated. “You were awake? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Mor shrugged. “She wanted you, not me. Now, what did she interrupt?”

“Nothing,” Azriel muttered. “Didn’t have a chance to….nevermind. I’ve got to run to the store to get a few things before I head to Elain’s dad’s to finish up. Mind taking Mila to school for me?”

“I’d be honored,” she said, winking.

Azriel took the orange juice into his bedroom and got dressed. He had pulled on a hat over his messy hair when Elain woke up.

She smiled sleepily at him.

“Good morning,” he said, quietly.

“Good morning,” she repeated. “Sorry about last night.”

Azriel smiled. “Don’t be. It was late. I’ll be done around noon. Can I come get you for your lunch?”

“Please do,” she smiled, and he kissed her forehead before walking out.

Mor’s grin followed him until he was out the door.

~~~~~

After Feyre left, Rhysand had run to Tamlin’s office, but he wasn’t in, yet, and wouldn’t be until ten. So, he drove down the strip until he came upon a little, local jewelry shop.

He was welcomed by the owner, an elderly man, who was smiling broadly behind the counter.

“I see you got my message.”

Rhysand smiled. “Couldn’t wait. Can I see it?”

The owner went to the back of the shop and came back with a little black velvet box. He handed it to Rhysand, who opened it with shaking fingers.

It was perfect.

Simple, he couldn’t afford too much, but he knew she would like it. A thin, rose gold band with a small, pear-shaped diamond.

“I can make the first payment today,” Rhysand said, closing the lid. “I can take it with me today, though, right? Even if it’s not paid in full?”

“Of course,” the man smiled.

Rhysand slipped the ring into his pocket before making his payment, thanking the owner, and leaving. He wasn’t sure when he’d ask, but he figured he would know when the moment felt right.

All he knew was that he was in love with Feyre. He had always been in love with Feyre. There was no one else he would want to ask to spend the rest of his life with him.

As he got into his car, he pushed the idea into the back of his mind and put the ring into his glove box.

At nearly ten, he was driving back down the strip, until he was parked in front of Tamlin’s father’s building, where Tamlin got a job for simply being his father’s son.

Rhysand didn’t wait. He got out of his car and walked into the building, heading straight for the elevators.

He rode up to the twelfth floor, where the receptionist greeted him with a smile. “I told Mr. Lewis you stopped by. He said to send you in when you come back.”

Rhysand nodded his thanks and went through the winding halls until he was in front of Tamlin’s office door. He didn’t bother knocking.

Tamlin looked up, one brow raised, as Rhysand entered and sat in one of the armchairs on the other side of his desk.

For a moment, neither of them talked.

“Gad to see you’re healing,” Tamlin said, with a small, snarky smile. “Not surprised to see you coming to my office. Can’t get your ass kicked here.”

Rhysand shook his head. “I came here to talk to you like a fucking man. We’re not in high school, Tamlin. I’m not like you. I don’t go around looking for trouble like a fucked up teenager.”

Tamlin’s pride wasn’t hurt. That smile remained as he cocked his head. “I liked when Feyre came to my apartment the other day. How very chivalrous of her. Reminded me of simpler times, when she warmed my bed, not yours.”

“Don’t talk to me about Feyre,” Rhysand said, trying not to let the words bother him. “It’s sad, really, how your need to make her miserable has come this far.”

Tamlin’s smile faded. “I love her. All I do is for her.”

“That’s bullshit,” Rhysand said, shaking his head. “Feyre loves me, and you cannot stand that you lost her. When, in reality, it’s all your fault. You pushed her away with your pride, your incessant need to be in charge of everything, her included. And now that she’s finally happy, you can’t stand it. Because it’s me, the person you hate the most, who is making her happy.”

Tamlin didn’t move. He watched Rhysand with a deadly calm, one that Rhys matched as he propped his elbows on the armrests and leaned forward.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Rhysand went on. “I never was, and I never will be, but Feyre doesn’t deserve to live with you constantly looming over her shoulder, so you will back the fuck off.”

Tamlin, to Rhysand’s surprise, grinned. “She’ll come back to me, no matter what I do. She was with me for almost a decade. She’s with you now because you were around, and she was lonely.”

The words struck a nerve as Rhysand’s worst nightmare was voiced by his greatest foe.

But he didn’t let it show. “Will you still be saying that when Feyre becomes my wife? Because she will. Soon. I’ve got a ring, I plan to propose, and you’ll be the first person I tell when she says yes.”

Tamlin was up from his desk and storming around the corner where Rhysand met him, on his feet.

“Ask her to marry you and you’ll be looking worse on your wedding day than you do right now,” Tamlin spat.

He jabbed Rhysand in his broken ribs, and the pain was excruciating, but Rhysand was ready, this time. Rhysand elbowed Tamlin in the jaw before pushing him back onto his desk and holding him down by his throat. His laptop fell off, along with a giant stack of - what Rhysand assumed - important documents.

“You’ll leave us alone,” Rhysand said, gritting through the pain that shot through his body. “You forget that I know you, Tamlin, that I’ve known you for your entire life. If you want to keep the glamorous life you have, your dad’s money, you’ll leave us the fuck alone. If you ever cared for Feyre, you’ll leave us the fuck alone. And, if you don’t, I will personally destroy you. So leave us. The fuck. Alone.”

Rhysand slammed Tamlin’s head back into his desk one last time, for good measure, before storming out.

Tamlin didn’t come after him.

~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit

@6255igntm

@littlehoneyybee

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn

@julemmaes

@regular-nessian-trash

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #nessian #feysand #elriel #modern au

214 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {4}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 4.0k

A/N: Sexual tension, anyone?

Also, shoutout to John Hughes for making some kickass movies in the 80s.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you that you forget you ever met that asshole.”

Feyre’s eyes flared, her fingers slowly running down Rhysand’s chest. His skin was warm, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. He’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Is that so?” she crooned, those slim, delicate fingers trailing down his abdomen, until they were looped in the waistband of his jeans.

A strangled noise fell out of his mouth, his head tilted back, his eyes closed.

“I love exploring you,” Feyre whispered, her lips pressing tenderly against his neck, just below his jaw, down to his collarbone. “Your neck, your shoulders…” Her tongue slid down his chest, lips pressed against his stomach, praising each defined muscle.

His jeans came undone.

Her lips wrapped around his-

A loud crash came from the kitchen and Rhysand shot up in his bed, sheets wrapped around his body. The crash came again, and Rhysand was on his feet. Between his bed and the end of the hallway, Rhysand thought of as many horrible, miserable things as possible to help his heart stop racing, and his cock not be so painfully erect.

“Feyre?” he called, rounding the corner into the kitchen.

She was standing on the countertop, one of Rhysand’s shoes in her hand, concentrating on a corner above the cabinets.

Rhysand let out a long, slow breath. “What the hell are you doing? It’s seven in the morning.”

“Yes it is, and I’m getting ready for work,” Feyre said, keeping her concentration.

Rhysand’s eyes lingered on her legs, her black boyshorts, for a second too long. “I think we need to set a rule of wearing robes in the house when we aren’t wearing pants.”

Feyre did look over her shoulder at this, brow raised. “Don’t act like you’ve never seen a woman in her underwear before. Just because you didn’t get any last night doesn’t mean you’ve never gotten any.”

An image popped into his mind from the dream he was so horribly awoken from with her obnoxious banging. He looked to the floor where a pan and a cookie sheet had landed. She must have knocked them down when she was climbing across the countertop.

“If you’re done mocking me, would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re finding such fascination in the tops of the cabinets?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Yeah, well,” Feyre sighed, leaning up on her tiptoes. “I was about to make myself some eggs, right? Then a bigass spider came out of nowhere, and I panicked, so I started trying to kill it - obviously - and...well, it climbed up, and now it went somewhere up here, but I lost it.”

“So, maybe you should come down, then,” Rhysand laughed, coming up behind her. “Come on.”

He grabbed her waist and pulled her down. With a yelp, Feyre fell into his arms.

She looked at him, eyes narrowed, and Rhysand couldn’t convince himself to put her down. Her hair was a mess, her face clear, eyes bright. She was smiling, brightly, as she looked up at him, her arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” she said, laughing. “Now, if you could find Harold, it’s time for him to meet his death.”

Rhysand grinned. “Harold?”

“The spider, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Rhysand repeated.

They stood like that for a moment, the early morning light pouring into the kitchen, Feyre cradled in Rhysand’s arms.

Feyre’s smile had grown soft. She was still looking up at him as he cleared his throat, and set her down on the tile.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Feyre began, quietly. “I have to get ready to go.”

“No eggs?” Rhysand asked, taking a step back.

“No time! Spent it all hunting a spider,” she said, disappearing down the hallway. “Have to be in the office at eight.”

She closed herself in the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Rhysand couldn’t move from the middle of the kitchen.

He wanted her.

His body ached for her, it was all he could think about it. All he could dream about. Just now, holding her in his arms, against his chest, smiling up at him...He was in love with her.

Being in love with someone who didn’t love you back was an odd sensation. A personal hell, one that he never wanted to leave, because if he left, he would lose her, and having her as his friend was better than not having her at all.

Then again, what if he did tell her? What if he risked it, and pulled her aside, and poured out his heart and his soul? Even if she pushed him away, wouldn’t it be better to get everything out, lay everything out on the table?

But it was that chance, that risk, that part of him that knew that if he told her, she would have him. She would control him. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to be controlled by her. Being controlled by Feyre was not what scared him.

But having his heart broken by her terrified him.

If he told Feyre how he felt, and she didn’t feel the same, and he lost her...the thought was unbearable.

He was still standing in the kitchen when she got out of the bathroom, and by the time she had gotten dressed and left her bedroom, he had at least moved to the table and was sipping a cup of coffee.

In a set of deep purple scrubs, she pulled a cup out of the cabinet and poured the rest of the coffee in it before securing it with a lid.

“Wanna do take-out tonight?” she asked. “Maybe watch a movie?”

“Sure,” Rhysand said. “I’ll be home just after seven.”

She nodded, ruffled his hair, and left.

Rhysand stayed at the table for an hour, his coffee cup empty for the majority of it, before finally getting off his lovesick ass and getting ready for work.

~~~~~

“Uncle Az,” Mila called from where she sat on the garage steps, playing a game on his phone. “I’m hungry.”

Azriel had the garage door up and his tape-measure out. The Archerons had cleaned all the bins out the day before, thankfully, because it had been full of clutter.

“Look in the backpack,” he said. “There’s some crackers.”

“I want chicken nuggets.”

“Maybe for lunch.”

“When’s lunch?”

“A few hours.”

Mila groaned. “I’m so bored.”

“We’ve only been here for twenty minutes.” It was going to be a long day, Azriel was sure of it. Bringing a four year old to work wasn’t ideal, but he had to do what he had to do.

He got another hour and a half in before she had to use the restroom. He sighed, setting down his water bottle, and knocked on the door that went from the garage to the kitchen.

Elain opened it a second later, as if she’d been sitting just inside.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” Azriel began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have my niece with me.. Can she use your bathroom?”

Elain blinked. “Of course. Come in.”

Azriel stepped inside, Mila close behind, yelling, “I have to pee!”

Elain laughed, quietly. “Just around the corner.”

With a mumbled thanks, Azriel walked her to the bathroom. Mila closed the door after ordering Azriel to stay put, right outside.

“Can I get you anything?” Elain asked, from the end of the hall. “While you work?”

“No, Azriel said. “Thank you.”

“I have a few board games,” Elain began, nodding toward the door. “I have nowhere to go. She can play with me while you work.”

Azriel hesitated. He was protective of Mila, but then again, Elain was Feyre’s sister, she couldn’t be that bad. She seemed a little too into herself, if Azriel had any say in it, but harmless. “I don’t wanna be a burden. I’ll try to find a sitter after toda-”

“I really don’t mind,” she said, smiling.

Azriel nodded, curtly, as Mila opened the door.

Azriel narrowed his eyes. “Wash your hands?”

Mila nodded.

“Alright, this is Elain, she says she has some games you can play together while I work for a while,” he said, head tilted. “Cool?”

“Cool,” Mila repeated. “I like games.”

“Come get me if you need anything,” he said.

Mila nodded, and clapped, excitedly. “Yay! Games!”

With a chuckle, Azriel nodded his thanks to Elain and went back into the garage. There would be a lot to do, and in these big projects, Azriel always found himself overwhelmed at first. He had to remember not to look at the end product, but at each little project, individually.

By the end of the afternoon, he had the garage door out and had framed the replacement wall. After packing up his truck, he let himself inside, where Mila was sitting across the kitchen table with Elain playing Go Fish.

“Uncle Az!” Mila beamed. “Lain is so much fun. I want to play with her again tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Azriel asked, looking at Elain before looking back to Mila. “I’m sure she’s busy.”

“Oh, not at all,” Elain smiled. “I’ll be home for...the next few days. So, she’s more than welcome. I had fun, too.”

Mila jumped up and down, only stopping when Azriel picked her up.

“Well, thanks,” Azriel said, attempting a smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Elain said, clearing her throat. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Azriel nodded, slowly, unable to look away from her bright, brown eyes. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

They left, and the moment Azriel strapped Mila into her carseat, she was yawning.

Instead of driving home, they drove to a bar and grill close to Azriel’s apartment and met Cassian, who was already seated at a table near the bar.

Mila was still asleep on Azriel’s shoulder as they slid into the booth opposite of him.

“Get worn out working, did she?” Cassian asked, in way of greeting.

Azriel snorted. “Yeah, well - she played with Elain all morning, and all afternoon, so.”

“Yeah?” Cassian asked. “Feyre said she’s going through some shit. Her fiance cheated on her a few months ago.”

Azriel hadn’t known.

Although Azriel wasn’t sure what to think of Elain, no one deserved that.

“Do you remember her from high school?” Azriel asked, patting Mila on the back to keep her relaxed.

“She was in our class, right?” Cassian asked. Azriel nodded. “Cheerleader, if I remember, and smart. Too smart. The kind of girl that knew she was smart. Annoyingly smart.”

Azriel nodded. “Annoyingly smart.”

Cassian shrugged. “Oh, well. Still hot?”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “She’s pretty, yes.”

“Pretty and hot are not the same thing,” Cassian explained. “Ah, here he is.”

He waved his hand in the air and Rhysand came strolling over.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Well, I rebuilt a motor today, and Azriel here spent his day thinking Elain Archeron is pretty.” Cassian grinned, looking across the table. “Also, talked to Amren today. She’ll be back the same day as Mor. Looks like we’ll all be in town for the Summer.”

Azriel smiled, fondly. Having everyone back for the Summer made it sound like they were young again, out on Summer vacation. Back then, they all went to the beach and smoked pot all day, every day, until school started back up. Now, Azriel’s summer consisted of working and taking care of a four year old.

Which wasn’t a complaint.

Although he could use a tray of Cassian’s old famous brownies right about now.

“Nice,” Rhysand grinned. “Well, tell me what you want. You can have my discount if you pay before I leave.”

Mila woke up just before their oven-baked pizza arrived half an hour later. She cried for not having chicken nuggets; which, Rhysand wouldn’t have, and brought her a giant plate full.

And when they were done, they hopped in Azriel’s truck and drove home.

He didn’t get out of the truck right away, though.

He could see her standing on his doormat from the parking lot. He was going to put it in reverse, was going to get away, but it was too late, because Mila had already seen her.

“Mama!” she called, excitedly.

And with a sigh, Azriel got out of the car and carried Mila to the front door, where she wiggled down and ran toward her mother.

She wore big, dark sunglasses and a baggy jacket that drowned her frame. “Hello, little brother.”

Azriel watched Mila jump into her mother’s arms.

“Amarantha.”

~~~~~

Nesta stormed into her apartment and slammed the door behind her.

Fired.

She’d been fired.

Four years she spent slaving away to that man, giving into every wish and demand that he had so that she could get a shitty paycheck every two weeks.

And he had fired her.

She hadn’t even done anything to deserve it. Sure, she had been late a few times, had shown up high once or twice, but it never hurt her performance. He kicked her out the door, told her that she no longer fit the position, and that was it.

No longer a bartender.

Surely, there were plenty of other bartending jobs in the city, but it had been a miracle she’d gotten that job with her interviewing skills. The thought of going through another round of interviews was agonizing.

She threw open the fridge, grabbed a beer, and popped off the top before bringing it to her lips. She suddenly wished Tomas was still around, wished he could distract her with the slightest bit of fun and pleasure. Even though it was Tomas, and he was lacking in those two categories lately.

“Fuck!” she screamed, her voice echoing in the silence. She leaned back against her kitchen counter, her face falling into her hands.

She was hardly getting by as it was.

Living paycheck to paycheck.

Rent was due next week.

Her phone rang.

By the ringtone, she knew it was Elain. She couldn’t talk to her right now, couldn’t have a conversation with sweet, gentle Elain. Nesta would only bite her head off.

She let it go to voicemail.

After another sip from the bottle, Nesta lit a cigarette and took it out to the balcony. Summer had come, and the breeze coming off the Sidra was the only thing to keep her cool as she plopped down in an old lawn chair.

Maybe she should get a dog.

No - dogs were too energetic, too….friendly.

A cat.

She should get a cat.

A cat would be better company than Tomas. At least she would be able to hold an interesting conversation with a cat.

The door slid open at the apartment to her right, and Cassian stepped out. His chest was bare, jeans low on his hips. He didn’t see her, didn’t acknowledge her, as he sat on a wooden stood, a glass of what looked like whiskey in his hand. His golden-retriever laid at his bare feet.

He was handsome, and for someone who had only had Tomas for so long, the sight of him half-nude on his balcony made Nesta thirsty.

But he was cocky. Far too sure of himself. She could tell, but the way he spoke when he picked her up on the side of the road, from the way that he looked at her.

He thought he was better than she was.

Thought she was a trashy, low life woman with nothing going for her.

And maybe he was right. What did Nesta have going for her? She finished high school, barely, didn’t go to college. She knew how to mix drinks, thanks to all the parties she crashed through the years, which was how she landed her last job in the first place.

What the fuck was the purpose of it all, anyway?

Graduate. Get a job. Get married. Blah, blah, blah.

It was pointless.

Nesta glanced back at Cassian, who drained his glass and was scrolling through his phone. She wondered if that’s what he had done. Gone to school. Graduated. Got a job. Was there a woman? What kind of woman would he even want? What kind of woman would even want him?

Some whore, no doubt. She imagined he liked things a particular way in bed, liked to be dominant, liked to be in charge.

He probably liked to be in charge all the time. He radiated alpha male, dickwad energy.

Mother help the woman that ended up with him.

No matter how well he knew his way around the bedroom.

Or a kitchen table.

Nesta picked up her phone and listened to Elain’s voicemail. Hey, Nesta, it’s Elain. I assume you’re at work. Dinner, friday night! I’m cooking. Feyre’s coming, too. Don’t forget - bring Tomas! Love you, Nesta. Talk to you soon.

Bring Tomas. Ugh. Nesta would reflect on that later. She didn’t have the patience for it right now.

“You know, it’s more fun if we drink together. No point in drinking alone.”

Nesta looked over to Cassian, who was now leaning against the side railing, looking at her with a stupid grin on his face.

“Just because we’re neighbors doesn’t mean you have to try so hard to be friendly,” she said, setting her beer on the ledge and crossing her arms.

He nodded to her cigarette, “Smoking is bad for you, you know.”

Nesta snorted. “I have a feeling you’ve done a lot worse in your time.”

His grin widened. “Come over. Have a drink.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.”

“Are you always this welcoming?” he asked, head tilting to the side.

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re implying that I’m a bitch, you’re not the first one to do so.”

“I would never say such a thing to a lady,” he crooned.

Nesta shook her head, cigarette between her lips. “I’m no lady, but I’m sure you’re already thinking that.”

“Come over,” he said, again.

“No.”

“Alright,” Cassian sighed. “But if you change your mind-”

“Look, asshole, I’ve had a shitty day. Okay? The last thing I need is you bothering me, so if you don’t mind, shut the fuck up.”

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. “All the more reason for you to come have a drin-”

Nesta was shutting her sliding door before he had the chance to finish.

~~~~~

Feyre got home with a bag of tacos. It had been a long day. At one point, a tiny, angry chihuahua came in for its shots and Feyre, as the vet’s assistant, had to hold it down the entire time. The yapping never stopped, nor did the biting.

Chihuahua’s were not dogs. They were an entirely different creature of beastiness.

She took a quick shower and put on a sweatshirt and some shorts, not bothering with a bra. It was the end of Monday. Bras were irrelevant.

She was unloading the to-go bag when Rhysand came in, groaning.

“Bad day?” Feyre asked, holding out a taco.

Rhysand went to the kitchen island and sat on top of it, gladly taking the taco from her hand. “That’s the simple way of saying it,” he muttered, unwrapping the goodness before devouring it. “You?”

“Spent nearly an hour with an angry chihuahua,” she muttered, finishing off her taco and grabbing a second. “So.”

Rhysand chuckled. “Well, at least the work day is done. What’s our movie of the night?”

“You pick.”

“I’m too tired to pick.”

“Then it looks like we’ll be standing here all night, staring at each other while we eat these magnificent tacos.”

“They’re pretty good,” Rhysand laughed, unwrapping another. “Doesn’t sound like a bad night.”

Feyre watched him through the side of her eye. She couldn’t help but remember that morning, Rhysand’s arms around her, her face way too close to his. It hadn’t been horrible, either, the thoughts that had gone through her mind at his touch.

Her and Rhysand had been in more compromising positions before, but this time it was different. This time, a feeling sparked in the pit of her stomach, and she could imagine leaning in, tasting his mouth.

And the thought was nice.

But it was Rhysand.

The lanky little freshman who she was paired up with for a biology assignment, who she clicked with instantly...they were inseparable, the two of them, ever since. He was the boy her parents never worried about, had no reason to worry about, because they were only friends.

He was her closest friend.

He was her family.

He surely didn’t feel anything romantic, that she knew. Even before Feyre had started dating Tamlin all those years ago, he never tried anything. Feyre had been living with him for weeks, now, and he was the same Rhysand he had always been.

Is this what a rebound felt like? Gravitating toward someone after a long, horrid relationship. But it was Rhysand. Rhysand. She would never do that to him, would never put him in such a position.

As time went on, whatever she felt that morning would fade.

She knew it.

“Why do I feel like you’re in deep thought?” Rhysand muttered, tossing his trash in the garbage.

“Blame it on the chihuahua,” Feyre muttered.

Rhysand snorted. “Wanna drink?”

“Pour me something sweet,” she grinned.

She watched him as he opened up the cabinet above the dishwasher and pulled out two wine glasses. He took a bottle of peach moscato from the counter and stuck it in the freezer.

“The Breakfast Club,” Rhysand said, leaning against the counter by the fridge. “Or, Sixteen Candles.”

“Ah, so we’re going back to the eighties today, then,” Feyre chuckled. “Our two most watched movies in high school.”

“As someone who was a nerd in high school, I found any movie with Anthony Michael Hall to be highly relatable.” Rhysand grinned, noticing Feyre’s amused expression at his self-proclaimed nerd status. “And, Molly Ringwald always gets the guy. Happy ending, guaranteed.”

Feyre chuckled. “Must a woman get a man in the end to be happy?”

Rhysand’s eyes softened as he crossed his arms. The look, the gesture, made that same tingly sensation grow in the pit of Feyre’s stomach. “No, of course not. But it doesn’t hurt, either.”

Feyre nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip, her half eaten taco forgotten on the island behind her. “You were right. All those times you said that I shouldn’t have been with Tamlin. You were right,” she said.

Rhysand’s smile faded, completely, eyebrow arched. “I thought you said I pried too much. That I should keep my mouth shut.”

Feyre nodded. “When you’re with someone for a long time, you just start thinking that’s the way it has to be. I started dating Tamlin when I was seventeen, before I even knew who I was, and by the time I found out who I was….you were right. I shouldn’t have been with Tamlin. We weren’t right together.”

Rhysand kept quiet, but he nodded, slowly.

“Tamlin was right, too. You’re the reason I left him,” Feyre said. “But not because of what he thinks. Because you reminded me that there’s something more out there for me and I can’t spend my life being unhappy with someone just because I’m so damn used to being with them. I stayed with Tam because I had been with him for so long, but you gave me the courage to leave, Rhys.”

Rhysand cleared his throat and took a step closed to Feyre. “So, you’re thanking me for endlessly butting into your love life, then?”

“I suppose so,” Feyre said, huffing a laugh. “I’m grateful for you, Rhys. Grateful that you’ve always been there for me.”

He was close enough now to reach up, to brush the hair out of her face, the hair that had fallen out of her braid.

That damned sensation returned to the pit of her stomach.

His eyes flared, as if he felt it, too; but, surely, Feyre was just imagining it. It had been a long day.

“Wine,” she breathed.

Rhysand blinked, his hand falling back down to his side.

She swore his hands were shaking as he turned around, opened the freezer, and pulled out the bottle of wine.

“Chilled?” Feyre asked.

“Chilled enough,” Rhysand said, voice low.

He pulled the cork out and filled the two glasses on the countertop. He handed a glass to Feyre, and held up his own.

“To angry chihuahuas and middle aged men who leave shitty tips,” he said, smiling now.

Feyre laughed, clinking her glass against his before taking a sip. “I vote Sixteen Candles.”

Rhysand nodded, yanking on the end of her braid as he passed her. “Sixteen Candles, it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

@photofeesh

@mariamuses

@tswaney17

@amaranthas-whore

@awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr

@rachaels14

@hashtolanashoba

@poisonous00

@chemicha

@mynewdreamwasyou

@candid-confetti

@my-fan-side

@ifangirlninja

@sleeping-and-books

@burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls

@sannelovesreading

@halstudies

@amren-courtofdreams

@wifeofchrishemsworth

@goldr0ses

@humanexile

@booksbooksbooksworld

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit

@6255igntm

@littlehoneyybee

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn

@julemmaes

@regular-nessian-trash

@ugh-avila

@superspiritfestival

@the-dark-swan

@girlgotattitude448

@eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader

@lord-douglas-the-third

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #nessian #feysand #elriel #nesta #cassian #feyre #rhysand #elain #azriel #archeron #tacmc AITA #sjm

234 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {3}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Oh, the build up.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“What are the chances you’d ever meet someone like that? he wondered. Someone you could love forever, someone who would forever love you back? And what did you do when that person was born half a world away? The math seemed impossible.” ― Rainbow Rowell, Eleanor & Park

Feyre woke up with a pounding headache. It couldn’t have been too late, the sun was still rising. She groaned as she rolled over, searching for her phone, but finding nothing. When she sat up, and found herself in her black cotton bra and panties, her cheeks turned red.

The events of the night before flooded her mind - with a few blank spots.

She remembered Rhys being punched, remembered Tamlin being punched by Rhys, remembered getting pissed off, remembered dancing, remembered drinking…

A lot.

After that, things grew hazy, but she vaguely remembered puking on Rhysand’s crotch.

Rhysand.

After wrapping a blanket around her body, she stomped across the hall and threw open the door. Rhysand was sound asleep, his face in his pillow, a blanket wrapped around his waist.

The black winged tattoos on his back gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the thin curtains. It started at the lowest point of his back and trailed up, curling up over his shoulders.

She remembered when he was in high school. He had come a long way since being the lanky boy she met her freshman year. Now, his shoulders were broad, his arms thick, his tanned skin covered in black ink.

Feyre, completely aware of the admiration she was giving his body, stormed to his bed and threw off his comforter. Gray sweatpants hung low on his hips.

His head jerked up, his eyes still closed, his hair sticking up. “Fu-Wha..”

Those violet eyes fluttered open and caught sight of Feyre, blanket wrapped around her. “Good morning, asshole.”

He blinked, coming more to his senses. He rubbed at his eyes before propping himself on his elbows. “Would you like to elaborate?”

“Would you like to tell me why I woke up practically naked this morning?” she asked, voice rising.

Rhysand raised a brow as he looked at her, exasperated. “You’re fucking welcome.”

Feyre hesitated, and she knew he saw it, because he rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head, one knee drawn up. “You were a mess last night. Don’t you remember?”

“Some…” Feyre muttered, lifting up her chin.

“Where should I start filling you in?” Rhysand said, grinning. Oh, he was loving this. “When you hung your head out of the window on the way home, telling the city how much you love tequila, or when you stuck your tongue down my throat?”

A vision appeared in Feyre’s mind, her hands on his face, pulling him forward, her mouth against his.

Rhysand snorted, watching her expression. “Don’t worry. I broke it off quickly. Then, you puked all over the both of us, and all over the bathroom...so, apparently the kiss wasn’t all that great.”

“You cleaned me up,” Feyre said, quietly, her eyes softening.

Rhysand’s grin had softened, too, as he tilted his head. “Of course I did. What kind of friend would I be if I let you go to bed, covered in puke?”

Feyre sat on the edge of his mattress and cursed, before falling back onto his bed. “Did I at least make it out of the bar before I started embarrassing myself?”

Rhysand laughed. “Depends what you mean by embarrassing.”

She looked up at him. He was sitting up now, pushing his hair back. She could see the bruise, now black and blue, just below his eye. Tamlin hit him good.

And it was all her fault.

His grin faded as he watched the thoughts go through her head. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“And how do you know that’s what I’m thinking about?” she asked.

“Because I know you,” he said. “And because I can see where your eyes are directed.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Why?” he asked. “It’s not your fault he’s a prick.”

“I came here, with you,” she said. “And it didn’t make his suspicions lessen, that’s for sure. Now, he thinks you took me from him, and I assume last night will not be the only fight that breaks out because of it.”

Rhysand sighed, laying down on his stomach beside her. He looked down at her, eyes bright. “I don’t care about that, Feyre. All I care about is that you are away from him, out of that house, out of that relationship. You deserve better.”

He had always told her that, from the moment they started dating in high school. You shouldn’t be with Tam. You’re too good for him. He doesn’t treat you like you deserve to be treated.

“You don’t deserve to be bombarded in a bar,” she said.

Rhysand didn’t say anything else, but he watched her, and the gleam in his eyes made her remember that she was hardly wearing anything beneath the blanket she had burrito-ed herself in.

“I’m going to go put on pants,” she said.

Rhysand’s grin returned. “Probably a good idea. Apparently, you can’t control yourself around me.”

“Fuck you,” Feyre laughed, pushing against his shoulder.

He didn’t waiver. He just watched her, and laughed, and ruffled her hair, which earned him a scowl in return.

“Next time, you should knock,” he said, as she got up to leave his bedroom. “You have no idea what goes on in here at night.”

Feyre turned in the threshold, smiling wickedly. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caught you masturbating.”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed. “I was adjusting myself, for the last time! That was the year of overly-tight skinny jeans…”

“You can keep telling everybody that, but we all know the truth,” she winked, before going back across the hall and closing herself inside of her bedroom, ignoring Rhysand’s protests.

She found a bottle of Advil in her nightstand and took a few before pulling on some leggings and a t-shirt.

She still felt like shit, but Rhysand always had a knack for making her feel better, no matter her mood or the level of her hangover. When she walked into the kitchen, Rhysand was eating a bowl of cereal at their little table, his chest still bare.

“Wanna go for a run this morning?” he asked, mouth full.

“I would literally rather do anything else,” Feyre muttered, pulling a Gatorade out of the fridge and walking to the couch, where she collapsed.

Rhysand’s phone chimed on the side table next to her.

“Mind telling me who that is?” he asked, voice hardly comprehensible.

“If you stop talking with your mouth full,” she mumbled, reaching for his phone.

The number was unknown, but the message had her tensing.

Hey, Rhysand. My name is Clare. Your friend gave me your number last night. I was wondering if you wanted to go get a drink later?

Feyre read the message twice, and hesitated, then felt ridiculous for hesitating. Rhysand deserved to go out with a cute girl for a drink. Why wouldn’t he?

“Some girl,” she said. “Apparently Cassian was giving out your number again.”

“Hmm,” Rhysand said. His bowl and spoon clattered in the sink before he walked to the living room and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, pulling Feyre’s feet onto his lap. She handed him his phone, and he read the message before tossing it aside.

He turned on the t.v., as if nothing had happened.

“Well?” Feyre asked, as Rhysand leaned back against the couch cushions. “Are you going to reply?”

Rhysand shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You should,” Feyre said, eyeing him. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Rhysand looked her way, brows raised. “Why do I feel like I’m being attacked?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “I’m not attacking you, I just think it would be nice for you to go out. Meet someone.”

Rhysand snorted. “Yeah, well...we’ll see.”

“You should go.”

“Maybe.”

“I’m serious.”

“We’ll see.”

“Rhys.”

“Feyre.”

He wouldn’t look at her. His smile was not reaching his eyes. Maybe she was being too pushy, but it had been a long time since Rhysand’s last relationship. He dated, hooked up from time to time, but even that had been few.

Feyre opened her mouth to say something more, but their front door opened and Azriel appeared, little Mila in his arms.

She saw Rhysand and beamed. “Rhysie!”

Rhysand smiled, catching Mila once she ran to the couch and threw herself on top of him.

“Hi, Mila,” Feyre said, joyfully watching Rhysand kiss her cheek, and watching Mila wipe it off.

“Hi, Fey,” she said. “I’m glad you live with Rhysie now. It smells better in here.”

Feyre barked a laugh as Azriel slumped down in the armchair across from them.

He looked exhausted.

“Rhys has a date tonight,” Feyre said, in hopes of distracting Azriel.

He lifted his brows, glancing at Rhysand. “Yeah? Who?”

Rhysand was staring at Feyre, eyes narrowed.

“Some girl from the bar last night,” Feyre said, since Rhysand certainly wasn’t going to, it seemed. “And he’s going.”

“No, I’m not,” he said.

Azriel looked intrigued. He propped his chin on his fist. “And why wouldn’t you go?”

Rhysand tensed, looking at Azriel with his jaw locked. “Because I work tomorrow, dipshit.”

“When?” Azriel implied. “Ten? You can’t go on a date tonight because you work at ten tomorrow morning? That’s not very early, Rhys.”

Rhysand said nothing, but the look he was giving Azriel had Feyre glancing back and forth between the two of them.

“Just saying,” Azriel muttered.

“Me too,” Feyre added.

“Fine,” Rhysand breathed. “If I go, will everyone stay out of my dating life?”

“Yah,” Mila said, making even Rhysand smile.

“Good,” Rhys laughed, tickling Mila’s tummy. “Thank you.”

~~~~~

Nesta and Elain sat at the diner their mother used to take them to when they were young. It was family-owned, a tiny little building on the corner of Main Street and Second Avenue. They had already been seated for five minutes, and neither of them had said a word.

They didn’t have a lot in common. They hadn’t since they were children and, even then, they didn’t have a ton in common. But, at least back then, they played together, laughed together, kept each other company.

Now, sitting through lunch was agonizing.

“So, how’s work going?” Elain asked, at last.

Nesta looked up from her menu. “Well, I haven’t gotten fired yet, so that’s a perk. Other than that, it’s shit. Thanks for asking.”

Elain nodded. She still hadn’t touched her menu.

“What about you? Started looking yet?” Nesta asked.

Elain hadn’t had a job since everything had gone down with Graysen, but now that she was living at home with their dad, Nesta assumed she had to find a job again somewhere, doing something.

“Not yet,” she replied, quietly. “But I will.”

“Sure you will.” Nesta sighed, setting her menu down on the table. “Ready to order?”

Elain nodded. Nesta called over the waitress. She ordered a BLT and fries. Elain ordered a yogurt parfait, loaded with berries.

“How’s Tomas?” Elain asked, once the waitress walked away.

“Great,” Nesta lied. She hadn’t seen him or talked to him since he left her ass at the nightclub. “He’s out with his brothers today.”

“Doing what?”

Nesta shrugged, sipping her coffee. “How’s dear old dad?”

“He seems okay,” Elain said, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. “Not very social. Spends most of his time in his office or at the park, feeding the birds and talking to some old man named Phil.”

“Why Phil?” Nesta asked.

Elain shrugged. “He tells dad stories, I guess. Apparently he’s, like, ninety and has nothing better to do.”

“Neither does dad, apparently,” Nesta mumbled.

“Yeah,” Elain agreed. “I think he’s lonely.”

Nesta snorted. “Of course he is. Look how he’s spent the last decade, since mom died.”

Elain took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t speak of mom’s death like it’s nothing.”

Nesta tensed. “I’m not. I’m just saying, dad hasn’t really done a lot since then, has he?”

Elain didn’t protest. Instead, she took a sip of her water before slowly setting her cup back down on the coaster.

Nesta looked at her phone. No notifications. She supposed that would be the way it would be from now on, since Tomas was no longer in the picture. He was all that she’d had - a sad realization, not that it bothered her too much. Nesta preferred to be alone.

“Dad misses you,” Elain said, suddenly, voice quiet. “He misses Feyre, too.”

“Maybe he should put a little more effort into his relationship with us, then,” Nesta snapped. “He hasn’t done much of that in almost ten years.”

“It’s not that he didn’t want to-”

“Damn it, Elain,” Nesta growled. Elain froze. “Stop defending him! He’s useless. He doesn’t deserve my sympathy, or yours.”

“You should just-”

“I won’t do anything,” Nesta said, interrupting. “And you, Elain, should get a job and get your ass out of that house, or you’ll end up his babysitter like Feyre used to be.”

Elain kept quiet.

The waitress returned with their food, and the moment Nesta’s plate was in front of her, she started on her sandwich. Elain just stared at her plate.

“Eat, Elain,” Nesta whispered. “You need to eat.”

Elain did so, quietly and slowly.

Nesta felt a sudden pang of guilt settle in the pit of her stomach. Elain had gone through enough, and Nesta knew that. Her fiance had cheated on her, she was forced to move in with their useless father, and she had lost way too much weight. Nesta’s hostility wasn’t helping, as much as she meant every word that came out of her mouth.

“Alright, look,” Nesta sighed, setting her sandwich down. “I’ll come over for dinner. Alright? Later this week.”

Elain perked up, just a little bit. She popped a strawberry into her mouth. “Bring Tomas, too? Dad wants to meet him.”

Nesta just lifted her eyebrows and took another bite of her sandwich.

The rest of lunch went okay. In fact, most things went okay when Nesta stayed quiet and only answered questions with one or two words. In one or two words, it was much harder to disappoint Elain. Not impossible, but much more difficult.

When Nesta’s plate was clear, she paid for the bill, hugged Elain goodbye and promised she would be at dinner later in the week, before walking back to her apartment.

She didn’t have a car, not anymore. She had to sell it the year before to keep up with rent. Living in the city, there was always public transportation, so she decided, in the end, a car was not necessarily a necessity.

She missed having a car, though, especially on days like today. The sun was shining brightly, the air was warm but not too warm. It was a perfect day to drive outside of the city with the music blaring, the windows down.

But not for Nesta. Instead, she was walking down the sidewalk, pulling a cigarette and her lighter out of her jacket pocket.

She had three hours before she had to be at work, and no fun way to pass the time. She had no money, no friends, and two cigarettes left. Drinking was an obvious no - showing up to work drunk never did anyone any good. And Nesta couldn’t lose her job. She could barely make ends meet as it was.

By the time she made it back to her apartment, she was already exhausted, craving her bed. She unlocked the door and looked around. Complete silence. No sign of Tomas. He hadn’t called or texted since he left her at the night club, and it was looking like he wouldn’t.

It was for the best, though. He was a nuisance. Even the sex, which had been good at first, had turned into more of an annoyance than anything else. In the end, every time his hands roamed her body, she grew nauseous.

His stupid, little hands.

Just as she settled on her couch, a knock came on the front door.

Nesta sighed. “Go away!”

They knocked again.

“Fuck off!” she yelled, lighting her last cigarette. She should stop at the gas station on the way to work, would have to leave ten minutes early.

Another knock.

Nesta mumbled a long string of curses as she stomped to the door and threw open the door. Cassian stood there, wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt, sweating profusely, as if he’d just gone for a run.

“What the fuck?” she breathed. “You’ve lived in this shithole for two days, hardly, and you can’t seem to leave me alone.”

He held up an envelope. “Snuck into my mailbox. Addressed to you.”

When she didn’t reach up to grab it, he dropped it at her feet, and turned to cross the hall to his own apartment.

When he opened the door, a golden retriever jumped up on him. He greeted the pup with a smile and scratched its head before closing the door.

Nesta hated herself for watching.

~~~~~

Rhysand got out of the shower and dried off his hair, his body, before pulling on a pair of jeans. When he walked into the living room, Cassian and Feyre were playing candyland with Mila on the floor while Azriel was pacing on the phone out on the balcony.

“Did he hear something new?” Rhysand asked, opening up a water bottle.

Cassian looked from Azriel, to Mila, who was laughing with Feyre, then to Rhysand. “Talking with the police now. Before that, the hospital called.” Rhysand cursed. Azriel’s adopted sister had put him through hell, had put Mila through hell, had put everyone through hell.

But it always fell on Azriel’s shoulders. His parents, who had adopted him in his early teens, didn’t want anything to do with any of them - not anymore.

“I hear you’re going out on a date,” Cassian crooned, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Forced to,” Rhysand muttered. “Got to leave soon.”

“What shirt are you wearing?” Feyre asked, Mila pulled onto her lap. “Wear the blue one. Brings out your eyes.”

“Which blue one?” he asked, downing the water bottle and throwing it across the room in the trash. “I have a closet full of blue shirts.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Make Cassian suffer while I’m gone,” Feyre told Mila, before setting her on the floor next to the game board. “You,” she said, pointing at Rhysand. “Follow me.”

Rhysand groaned as he followed Feyre into his bedroom. She was already sorting through his closet.

“You really need to start branching out,” Feyre said, chuckling. “Everything in here looks the same. And most of it can’t be worn on a date. To the gym? Yes. On a date? No. What the hell do you find to wear to work?”

He looked down at the jeans he was wearing as he sat on the edge of his bed. “You’re looking at it.”

Feyre pulled a blue, plaid button down shirt out and yanked it off the hanger. “Put this on.”

Rhysand didn’t move as the shirt hit him in the chest. “You seem awfully pushy.”

“I should be pushy,” she said, smiling at him as he stood and pulled the shirt on. “You deserve to have fun. You can’t just ignore women forever because I’m living with you now.”

Rhysand hesitated, then he nodded.

He buttoned up the shirt and pushed his sleeves up. “Alright. Good?”

Feyre tilted her head and took him in. “The bare feet are throwing me off.”

Rhysand chuckled. His eyes softened as he watched her, leaning up against his wall in an oversized sweatshirt. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay in tonight? I can. I don’t-”

“Rhys,” she said, arms crossed. “Go. But text me first, please, if you bring her back. That’s the last thing I wanna walk in on.”

Rhysand wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t be bringing her back, but he hesitated. One, because it would’ve brought suspicion, and two, because he really couldn’t make that promise as much was he wanted to.

The reality of it was that Rhysand hadn’t been on a date in years. It had been a while since he’d had anything and, yes, a lot of that was because of Feyre. Hell, all of that was because of Feyre. But, she didn’t want him like that, shouldn’t want him like that. Not after just getting out of a long, shitty relationship.

Not after being friends, great friends, just friends, for over ten years.

“Alright,” he settled on, at last. He pulled a brown pair of boots out of the bottom of his closet and pulled them on. “Bare feet gone. Now?”

She looked at him, chuckled, then walked toward him, slowly. She pushed his hair back and patted him on the cheek. “Very handsome.”

“I know,” Rhysand whispered, but there wasn’t quite enough snark in it as he wanted there to be.

Rhysand went out. He met Clare at the bar. They ate, and talked, and drank, and laughed, and it was fun. Rhysand found that he was enjoying himself, which far preceded his earlier notions. Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder what Feyre was doing.

Then he thought himself creepy.

They had separate lives. They were roommates. Friends.

“Rhysand?”

He blinked, coming out of his thoughts. Clare was watching him with wide, pleading eyes from across the table.

“Sorry,” he smiled. He had already paid, and Clare had already shrugged on her jacket. “Ready?”

She nodded, smiling brightly. Clare was cute, in the obvious way. But it was all surface level beauty. She was a sweet girl, but there was no depth. They’d have nice conversation, fun conversation, but it was all small talk. He knew what she did for fun, that she liked her job, that summer was her favorite season. And he supposed that was what first dates were for - getting all the little facts out of the way. Maybe he was just over first dates. Maybe he just wanted something more.

Rhysand took Clare home, telling her to ignore another round of public transportation, and she invited him in, but he said no. He’d told her he’d had a good time and he would call her again, sometime, and maybe he would.

Then he drove home, and when he opened the door to their apartment, Feyre was sound asleep on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. He turned off the t.v. and covered her with a blanket before closing himself inside of his room.

Alone.

~~~~~

Elain wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t, once again.

Maybe she should stop taking the pills.

She couldn’t stop taking the pills.

She sat in her bed, scrolling through job posts on her laptop. At first, she had been inspired. Nesta was right that morning at their lunch. She needed a job, needed to make a life for herself, needing to get out of their dad’s house.

She was too old to be living with their father, to be relying on a man that couldn’t even take care of himself.

And yet, the longest she scrolled through the listings, the more depressed she felt.

She was qualified for nothing.

Elain had been valedictorian of her high school class, had gone to university with honors and held the top of her class, all four years, until she graduated. She was smart, had been smart. School had been easy for her, but it did not prepare her for the real world, one bit. Even with a degree in journalism.

A degree that never got her anywhere.

She went back to working in retail after college, until she met Graysen and fell in love with him. Along with his father, he was co-owner of their family business. For a guy in his late-twenties, he was very well off. Elain still worked, but not nearly as much, and once Elain had caught him cheating, she stopped going to work as she spiraled.

They fired her.

She hadn’t had a job in the months since.

But now, it was time.

The last thing she wanted to do was go back into retail, but with a degree in journalism and no jobs in that field, it wasn’t looking like she had that much of a choice.

Multiple boutiques were hiring on the strip downtown, a department store was hiring in the mall, and she could also apply for a job in the food industry, but being around food all day was the last thing that she wanted.

Retail it would be, then.

She applied to a few places with her extraordinarily sad resume before calling it a night.

A strong, summer wind blew outside of her window, howling in the silence of her bedroom, as Elain closed her laptop and fell back against her pillows.

She supposed she should at least try to sleep.

Azriel would be arriving in the morning to start on their garage.

It wouldn’t do her any good to wake up looking like a zombie.

But the sleep never came, and she laid awake staring at the ceiling until dawn came.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

@photofeesh

@mariamuses

@tswaney17

@amaranthas-whore

@awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr

@rachaels14

@hashtolanashoba

@poisonous00

@chemicha

@mynewdreamwasyou

@candid-confetti

@my-fan-side

@ifangirlninja

@sleeping-and-books

@burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls

@sannelovesreading

@halstudies

@amren-courtofdreams

@wifeofchrishemsworth

@goldr0ses

@humanexile

@booksbooksbooksworld

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit

@6255igntm

@littlehoneyybee

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn

@julemmaes

@regular-nessian-trash

@ugh-avila

@superspiritfestival

@the-dark-swan

@girlgotattitude448

@eversincebeirut

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #tacmc AITA #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #nessian #feysand #elriel #nesta #cassian #feyre #rhysand #elain #azriel

216 notes · View notes