#| always knew what to say. (aunt elaine) |

[asbealthgn]

Eddie loves funerals.

Despite what some may think, it has nothing to do with an interest in death or the supernatural—though he does have that—and it has nothing to do with loving seeing everyone dressed in black—though that is always a plus. It doesn’t even have anything to do with that phase he went through in elementary school where he got obsessed with learning about burial rituals from different cultures and recreating them with his stuffed animals (that eventually ended when his teacher called Wayne to say that Eddie really needed to stop trying to embalm his friends). 

No, Eddie’s affinity for funerals has everything to do with the fact that they’re a guaranteed source of free food. 

It’s become a bonafide pastime. He keeps an eye out in the paper for obituaries and makes note of when the funerals will be. He reads through the obituary and may do a little extra research if necessary so he has an answer ready if anyone asks him about the dearly departed. When in doubt, he can always fall back on “He was such a fixture in the community” or “She always reminded me of my grandma.” 

Of course, he only goes to funerals for old people. Anything else would be too depressing. But for old people he can show up and hang in the back while some priest or family member makes a few remarks and then hit up the buffet without raising too many eyebrows.

Eddie strikes metaphorical gold when he cracks open the obit section of the paper and sees the name Maureen Harrington—apparently, one of those Harringtons, someone’s great aunt or something. She’d been living in Chicago but she’s getting buried in Hawkins next to her parents. The name alone is a good sign; the Harringtons are rich as shit so they’re definitely gonna swing for a good spread at the memorial. Eddie’s not even worried that she was from Chicago so he shouldn’t have any reason to know who she was, because the obituary says she was a romance novelist. He’s just gotta skim one of her books so he can pass himself off as a fan.

The day of the funeral is nice and overcast. Those are the best funerals. So atmospheric. He rolls up to the funeral home with his best mourning outfit—dark button-down shirt tucked into black slacks under his most serious black coat that just so happens to have plenty of deep pockets that are great for stashing food in. He claims an empty seat at the back of the funeral home chapel so he can listen to the service. 

As memorials go, this one is remarkably formal. Guess the Harringtons are all about appearances even in death. Eddie’s favorite remarks are from Elaine Harrington, wife of infamous businessman James Harrington, who manages to both artfully brush away nonexistent tears and work in that Maureen was never married and has a bastard son. God, Eddie loves rich people.

After the service, Eddie lingers in the chapel for a few minutes so it doesn’t seem like he’s only interested in the food. Then he falls in behind a couple of old men as they head for the buffet. Decent spread—there’s some sandwiches on croissants, overly fancy crackers with spinach artichoke, a frankly bizarre amount of shrimp cocktail. The dessert is the real star of the show with multiple overflowing tables. Eddie dishes up a little of everything, surreptitiously slipping things into his coat when no one’s looking. 

“Munson,” a voice says. Shit, did someone see him shoving all those brownies into his pockets? He turns and finds himself looking into the disconcertingly beautiful honey eyes of Steve Harrington. He doesn’t actually know Steve that well—they went to high school together but they didn’t run in the same circles. He just knows of Steve because he was the most popular kid in school, the King. And Steve probably only knows of Eddie because he was the weird fucker who climbed on lunch tables to yell at people. They haven’t ever spoken.

Eddie’s not gonna pretend like he’s never lusted after the King though.

“There’s no way you knew my great aunt,” Steve says. There’s no suspicion in his voice, which is a good sign, just confusion. 

“On the contrary,” Eddie says, “I was a big fan of her work.” It’s actually not even that much of a lie anymore. He tracked down a few of Maureen Harrington’s novels and they were surprisingly good for pulpy romances with shirtless dudes riding horses on the cover. 

“You were a fan of her work,” Steve repeats, clearly disbelieving. “I’m pretty sure the target audience for those books was ‘middle-aged women in loveless marriages.’”

Eddie grins. “Okay, first of all, how dare you insult middle-aged women in loveless marriages. Second of all—” He reaches into one of his coat pockets and pulls out the book he brought. “See?” he says, tapping the cover. “I like this one because the guy looks like me.” 

He doesn’t. The only resemblance is that they both have long dark hair. But cracking half a smile, Steve nods. “It’s uncanny,” he says.

“And the girl looks like you,” Eddie says. Weirdly, she really does. She has the same slightly droopy brown eyes and pouty pink lips. Her hair’s even the same color, her bangs swooping like Steve’s do. 

“Nah, she looks like Maureen,” Steve says, “And Maureen looked like a Harrington.” He points over to where there’s a display of pictures of the deceased, including one where she’s probably in her thirties. Sure enough, she looks a lot like the woman on the book cover. Looking around the room, Eddie realizes that he’s able to pick out who the family is because they all have those same eyes. Weird.

Eddie turns back to Steve. “My point still stands.”

He shrugs. “Actually though, what are you doing here?” he asks, “Funerals are the worst.”

“I couldn’t disagree more,” Eddie says, tucking the book back into his coat pocket. “Funerals are a great place to meet people.”

Steve lifts his eyebrows. “Not sure I agree with that.”

“That hurts, Harrington,” Eddie says, clutching his hands to his heart.  “Here I thought we were really hitting it off.”

That makes Steve laugh. “You’re right,” he says, “I was just gearing up to ask if you wanted to come to my dad’s old business partner’s funeral next weekend.”

Whistling, Eddie takes a step closer, resting his hand lightly on Steve’s arm. “Second date already? You move fast.”

“What can I say?” Steve spreads his hands out to encompass the funeral around them. “Life is short.”

#idk what this is actually #i wrote this instead of the other two fics i'm supposed to be working on #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part eight (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of trauma and mistrust.

Part seven Part nine

Tag list: open

After arriving in Velaris, Y/N talks with Elain and finds out her brother hasn't told her everything yet...

(Sorry, this is a bit short but I didn't have a whole lot of time to get this out today)

Being back in Velaris was a dream I had never thought would come true.  The people were as happy as ever, even if the streets showed that the war hadn’t left even our hidden city unscathed.

Apparently Feyre has a little art studio, which warms my heart.  I had heard a little bit more about what she had gone through, and I knew she deserved to have happiness, wherever she may find it.

“So who made those wings?”  Rhys asked, studying the pair strapped to me.  “It had to be someone in the dawn court, if I’m not mistaken.”

I chuckled.  “No, you’re not.  It was Lucian’s friend actually.”  I say, trying to leave Eris out of it.

He didn’t need to know about that.

“Nuan?  Wow, she never fails to impress, does she?”  He says, and I can’t help but let out a chuckle.

I stop in my tracks as I see the new building we were heading for.  It was quite big.  “That’s new.”  I comment a little dumbly, not sure how I feel about it yet.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I forgot to tell you.  This, is the River House!  Big enough for all of us to live in comfortably.”  Rhysand was quick to say, grinning down at me.

I nod, smiling back up with him as I fidgeted with my sweater. I don’t know why I hadn’t expected some changes.  “It’s great.”

I hate it.

It’s not that it’s not beautiful, it’s just… I can’t stand open spaces like this.  It reminds me too much of the Asteri’s throne room, where…

I shake the thoughts from my head.  Not the time Y/N.  Find Elain, ask what she saw, if she knows why people are falling through the cracks in the fabric of the universe.

Because there is always a reason.

As we crowd in, and Rhys starts on a tangent I’m not listening too, I study the details of the place.

It feels well loved, and the more I look, it’s less like a throne room and more like a home.  There are paintings lining the walls.  Feyre’s I’m assuming.

“Hello!”  A little voice says, and I look down, freezing as I see blue tinted violet eyes looking up at me, giving me that sweet smiles only toddlers seem able to do.

Mother above.

“Oh, hello!”  I say, a friendly playfulness in my voice.  “You must be Nyx!  I’m your aunt, Y/N.”

Nyx’s face lit up.  “Auntie Y/N!”  He shouted with glee as he wrapped his little arms around my legs.

My heart warmed.  I always loved children, but seeing how much this little boy looked like my brother made me love him even more.

“He likes you.”  Feyre said, grinning at me before she came over, collecting her son.

I blushed, “I’ve always had a knack with children.”  I mutter, a little embarrassed.

Things were still awkward, it’s like no one knew what to do, whether to stay or leave, what to say.

I held back an eye roll, about to make some excuse to run off when the scent of baked goods and sugar shoved into my senses, overwhelming me.

I whip my head around to find the third sister.  Despite being older than Feyre, she seemed smaller, meeker than either of her other sisters.

But I catch the way she studies me, not unlike the way Lucian looks someone up and down when evaluating.

She was quick to look at the rest, her face molded into soft confusion.

I would have to keep an eye on this one.

“This is Y/N, Rhysand’s sister.”  Azriel tells her, and I’m shocked at how soft his voice is, the way he held her gaze.

Shit.

At least it was no longer Mor, but I couldn’t help the worry that started to churn in my gut.  I didn’t know this female, but everything in me screamed that there was something more to her.

Keep an eye on her indeed.

Things started to relax as conversations started up, and I noticed that Elain was staying at the fringes of the group.

I made my way over to her, bowing my head only slightly.

After I was forced to my knees and beheaded by Tamlin’s father.  I bowed to no one.  Not willingly, at least.

“Hello Elain.”  I said softly, almost a whisper.

She smiled sweetly, dipping her head to look away, mumbling a hello.

I smile down at her, knowing that under those pretty lashes she bats at me, her eyes are much more cunning.

“I was told you were the seer, that you were the one who said that there were three of us that would come back.”  I say, trying to keep my voice soft and saccharine.

She wasn’t the only one familiar with hiding under the guise of a naive girl.

She nodded, and I smiled, pushing more, “Do you have any idea why we are returning like this?”  I ask her, mirroring her curious face from earlier.

She seems to realize where I’m getting my inspiration from, because the corner of her lip twitches upwards before she presses her lips into a flat line.  “You should ask your brother.”

Turning around, she walked back into the kitchen, and I suddenly felt uneasy as I looked over at my brother.

Why hasn’t he already told me?

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acomaf #acotar #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #feyre cursebreaker #feyre acotar #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand #high lady feyre #rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #high lord rhysand #rhysand sister #elain archeron #elain acotar #azriel #velaris #high lord of the night court #night court #high lady of the night court #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra

[areyoudreaminof]

Sleepover House Rules

I was chatting with some friends and were talking about Nesta as an awesome aunt, so I wrote something real quick, specifically for @velidewrites, @xtaketwox, @thesistersarcheron, @popjunkie42-blog, @itsthedoodle, @the-lonelybarricade, and @c-e-d-dreamer

Update: you can read this on AO3 now!

Nesta swept into the river house without knocking. She didn’t need to anyways, she knew where she needed to go. Waving absently to the twins, she hiked her skirt up as she went up the stairs, following the carpeted hall to the little room where her nephew was playing. Nyx had his back turned while he played. A large tower of blocks and connecting parts stood in front of him as his wings twitched and flapped absently. Cassian’s wings did the same thing when he was bored. Nesta was going to rectify that.

She softly tapped on the door before Nyx turned around. Bright recognition melted his surprise away as he flung himself into Nesta’s arms. His feet rose off the floor as he flew to her.

“Aunt Nessa!” he hollered as he latched onto her with his arms and legs. Nesta held him back just as tight, softly rocking him back and forth before planting a kiss on his cheek. She loved his small little lisp and the way he couldn't quite say her name right. She secretly hoped he’d always call her Nessa. “What are you doing inside on this nice day?” she asked, as she set him down. 

“I’m playing with my new building set. Aunt Elain and Uncle Lucien sent it to me from the Day Court.” he said as he held the small toy brick in front of her. “Mama is at class and Papa’s meeting with someone in his office, so I’m playing up here for a little bit. We went to the park this morning.” Nesta sat down on the rug to join him as he slowly scooted his tower forward. Nyx began to add more bricks and poles to the tower, so she began to latch the bricks on, taking great care not to tip anything over. 

“Well, Uncle Cass had to go to Illyria tonight, and Uncle Az is going to be off doing whatever it is he does. So, I thought we could have a sleepover at the House.” she said, knowing his answer already. Nyx gasped as he shot to his feet, his tower wobbling dangerously. 

“Yes! Can we go now?” Nyx’s blue eyes were lit from within, as he began to bounce on his toes. Nesta laughed as she rose to her feet, “If you pack we can go when you’re ready.” she said as she crossed to Nyx’s closet. 

Nesta and Nyx descended down the stairs hand in hand while she carried his small overnight bag. As they stepped down into the foyer, Feyre entered through the front door with a surprised look on her face. Nyx rushed over, hugging his mother around her waist, “Mama! I’m gonna have a sleepover with Aunt Nessa at the House, she said it was okay.” Nyx was breathless with excitement as Feyre threw her head back and laughed. “Well then, if Aunt Nesta said it was alright. Is it alright?” Feyre asked. Nesta nodded, “Cass is in Illyria, Azriel has to pick up some things in the city before he leaves, but he’ll fly us up. I thought we’d have a sleepover. You and Rhys could have some alone time.” 

Feyre nodded as she wrangled her excited boy, guiding him towards the living room. “Do you have everything you need Nyx?” The boy nodded firmly. “Yep. I got my pajamas, and an extra coat.” 

“What about your toothbrush?” 

“I got that too!” he protested, looking at Nesta for confirmation. “He has it. Even so, the House would give him an extra one if he forgot.” 

“Who’s got a toothbrush? Oh, hello Nesta. We weren’t expecting you.” Rhys said as he entered the living room, crossing to kiss Feyre. Nyx wiggled with impatience as he tolerated a hug from his father. “I’m taking Nyx for a sleepover tonight.” Nesta said. 

“Taking?” Rhys said, with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“That’s what I said. I’m giving you two some alone time. Be grateful.” Nesta replied with a smirk. Rhys chuckled as he pointed to the door, where Azriel entered, “I take it you don’t need a flight up?” Nesta shook her head, as she watched Nyx pounce on Azriel. “We’ll be fine.” 

“Alright then, but please Nyx, don’t eat sugar all night and go to bed at a reasonable hour please,” Rhys said as Nyx rolled his eyes and grumbled, as if he was fourteen and not four. “We’ll have some cookies and cake before bed, and we’ll turn in at 10, I think.” Nesta exclaimed as she met Rhy’s eye. “We have different rules at the House.” Feyre doubled over laughing as Rhys threw his hands up in surrender. 

The flight up to the House was something of a success, as Nyx held tightly to Azriel’s arm as he practiced his flying. An entire flight up was too hard for him just yet, but with some supervision from his father and uncles, Nyx could practice at higher altitudes. The flight up stopped being an issue for Nesta years ago. After depositing their bags inside, they hugged and waved Azriel off, watching his form fly south out of the valley. Nesta spun, placing her hands on her hips in mock authority. “So, what is on the itinerary tonight?” Nyx scratched his head thoughtfully, as his wings absently flapped in thought behind him. 

“We’re gonna build a fort and sleep in it! Then we can go down to the library and see Gwyn and get a book to read. Then we can eat dinner and cake on the lawn for a picnic.” he said with finality. “Can we eat fried chicken and cheese noodles?” 

“We certainly can. What kind of book are you thinking of?” 

“A scary one! I want a scary one this time. I won’t have nightmares, I promise.” Nesta nodded as she asked the House to provide an age appropriate book. “Well then, Nyxie let’s get going. We’ve got a fort to build!” 

The room that the House provided was littered in pillows and blankets. Nesta layered the thickest and softest blankets and pillows down for their bed, while Nyx set the sheets and fleece blankets over the chairs that were strewn around them for coverage. The House added small little fae lights inside their cavern and had deep fried chicken shaped like bats and cheese noodles waiting for them on the lawn. Nesta and Nyx watched the late summer sun set behind the mountains, the sky melting pinks and purples across the city. “It looks like lightning bugs from up here.” Nyx said as he gobbled down his chicken bats that he slathered in a thick white dipping sauce. “They do, don’t they?” Nesta said as she pointed to the multicolored lights by the river, “Do you see that? I think that’s The Rainbow!” Nyx gasped with excitement as more lights began to flicker through the valley. He then showed Nesta all the constellations and planets he knew, explaining that it was summer and the most planets were out. The soft breeze dropped in temperature, making Nesta rise from her spot on the lawn, rubbing her sore bottom and stretching. “Why don’t we go down and see if Gwyn is working and say hi. Then we can grab a book.” Nyx shot up and ran inside. 

In the library, Nyx and Nesta greeted Clotho, who produced a small caramel candy in gold foil for Nyx. They found Gwyn a level down, Nyx slowly creeping behind her as he flapped his wings, mussing her hair and papers. “Boo!” 

“Ah! I thought you were a ghost!” Gwyn said as she gave Nyx a bear hug, “What are you doing here?” 

“Sleeping over at the House with Aunt Nessa. We’re getting a scary book to read in our fort! We built it, it’s really neat!” Nyx exclaimed. Gwyn giggled, “I’ll bet it is! You’re a master builder, Nyx.” 

 Nyx nodded with agreement before he turned to the shelves. “Is Em’rie here, too?” he asked. 

“No, she’s in Illyria with Uncle Cass.” Nesta said, “They’ll be back tomorrow.” As Nyx searched the shelves, Gwyn produced a small leatherbound book from her cart. “I take it this is what you’re looking for? It’s scary stories for children. Nothing too terrifying, just lots of ghosts” Nesta nodded as she flipped through the volume, assessing the strange illustrations that looked like water and smoke. “It’ll have to do. What time are you off? You should come up and join us.” Nesta said as she slipped the small book onto a nearby shelf within Nyx’s eyeline. 

“Thanks, but I’m working on a project for Az and I’ll be up too late.” Gwyn sighed as she motioned toward the cart piled high with papers and books. “Come up for breakfast then, if you’re up.” Nesta insisted as they watched Nyx snatch the carefully placed book from where Nesta had placed it. “Ooohhhh, I found a good one!” Nyx said triumphantly as he held the book up, “I want this one.” They said their goodbyes to Gwyn before they returned to the fort. Nestled into pajamas, Nesta read two ghost stories and one vampire story to Nyx, before she announced it was time for dessert. The stories weren't terribly scary, but the illustrations were a bit frightening. The House left two slices of chocolate cheesecake and milk on the small table in the fort room, and Nyx devoured his slice in what felt like a breath. The small clock in the hall chimed ten times, making Nesta realize how late it was. Crawling into their fort, Nyx insisted he wasn’t tired at all. But as Nesta rubbed his arms, the boy’s eyelids drooped. 

“Good night Nyx, I love you.” Nesta said, giving her nephew one last kiss. 

“Love you too, Aunt Nessa.” he slurred as sleep took him. With Nyx’s small hand in hers, Nesta drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face. 

Nyx and Nesta met the morning over the table, as Nyx devoured scrambled eggs and pancakes swimming in syrup. Nesta sipped her tea absently. The fort had felt comfortable when she fell asleep, but the crick in her lower back confirmed that maybe sleeping on the floor wasn’t her best idea. 

The dining room door swung open, as Cassian, wind chapped and smiling, bounded over to Nyx. “I didn’t know we had a guest!” he said as he kissed Nyx’s head and ruffled his hair. “Yep! Me and Aunt Nessa had a picnic and made a fort and read some scary stories. Sorry you missed it, Uncle Cass.” Nyx exclaimed as he turned back to his food. Nesta rose and greeted her mate, who smelled like morning fog and cedar. “You made a fort? Where?” Cassian asked with excitement. “Upstairs. It’s actually quite nice. Though I think next time we’ll drag a mattress in there.” Nesta said as she rubbed her lower back. Cassian turned to Nyx, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Hey Nyx, what do you say about spending the night again tonight?

#nyx #nesta #nesta is the best aunt #quick fic

[tswaney17]

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 41

Happy 3rd Anniversary, IDBTWY!! 🎉 I can't believe we're celebrating three years of this fic. This journey has been incredible and I'm so excited (and a little sad) to say that we are close to finishing this story. I'm very close to getting this on a regular publishing schedule. But in the meantime, please check out the art I had commissioned by the incredible SnCinder here. 💙💚💜

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 12,145

It was three days before their wedding and the only thing Azriel felt was utter bliss. He couldn’t believe that in just a short time, he would have Elain as his wife. Even though they were eloping to the Summer District, they’d been head down in wedding plans over the last month.

Elain and her sisters went shopping for her dress a few weeks ago, finding—according to El—the perfect dress that didn’t require any alterations. She refused to let him see it, claiming that even though they were eloping, the rules of bad luck still applied. He had to snort at the notion, but Az would admit that not knowing what she was wearing had him curiously wondering what it would look like. He pictured many different styles in his head, all of which Elain was absolutely stunning in.

He had been in charge of the rings, Elain claiming that if he could pick out the most perfect engagement ring, then she trusted him fully to select her wedding band. His jeweler managed to match the style of her ring, adding a few extra smaller diamonds to the set. He selected a titanium, black band for himself, having Elain’s name engraved on the inside of it. Az thought the black and rose-gold colors would compliment each other well, and when he put them together, he knew he was right.

Now they were sitting on the jet, waiting for the rest of their family to arrive. Rhys and Feyre were not far behind them in getting to the airstrip. Nuala and Cerridwen—as he and Elain had decided were family—were also joining them. The Moonbeam twins picked them up from the penthouse and were also coming along, both as security and because Elain considered them like family as well. All that was left was Cassian, Nesta, and Sutton.

The new parents decided that since they could travel by private jet, they felt comfortable bringing their new baby on board—since neither of them wanted to miss their siblings getting married. When they boarded, looking slightly disheveled, they apologized for the delay, claiming Sutton was fussing and they struggled to get her to calm down.

Elain moved towards her sister, taking her niece from Nesta’s arms. “Hello, beautiful girl,” she cooed, snuggling into the baby.

Azriel watched as his fiancée’s maternal instinct took over, soothing the child when she started to fidget.

Cassian approached his side, taking in the scene between his sister and daughter. “She’s a natural mother. You’ll be eternally grateful for that instinct deeply rooted in her when you two have kids.”

He didn’t bother responding, not even knowing if Elain wanted kids. Az had been waiting for her to bring it up, but when she hadn’t even after they got engaged, he started to believe that perhaps she was happy just being an aunt. She had put so much work into her career, he wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to take away from that. Even though he had some deep desire to get Elain pregnant, to watch her grow with life inside of her, their children, he didn’t want to put that pressure on her if it wasn’t something she wanted.

So, he didn’t say anything at all, content to just live with her.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked his brother instead.

Cash saw the change in the subject for what it was, shaking his head with a sigh, but let it go. “Sure.”

Azriel popped a bottle of champagne, serving everyone a glass aside from Nesta who declined because she was still breastfeeding and took the flute of sparkling cider in replacement.

“To the bride and groom,” Rhys announced, raising a glass.

He wrapped an arm around Elain’s waist, tucking her into his side while she held their niece in one arm and her champagne in the other. It was hard not to picture them as a little family, but he gripped that dream in a fist until it was a fleeting thought. He wanted nothing more than to marry the love of his life and wouldn’t let anything ruin it.

~~~~~

As soon as their flight landed and they arrived at the house—their entire family in disbelief at what they had purchased—everyone was tasked with something for the wedding. Meeting with the caterer, getting the arch and chairs they rented for the ceremony delivered, confirming the photographer, checking in with the florist on Elain’s bouquet, the petals that Nesta would help Sutton toss along the beach, and arrangements for the tables they were setting up on their courtyard.

There was one other thing Elain still had to do, pulling Cash aside before the rehearsal dinner.

“What’s up, Ellie?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.

Pink touched her cheeks, the only hint of her nervousness. “So, I know you’re Az’s best man, but you have been such an important part of my life. You’ve always protected me and taken care of me, especially when I felt utterly alone in the world. I was wondering—or hoping—you would walk me down the aisle tomorrow before you stand next to Azriel?”

Shock rippled across Cassian’s face. It was obvious that he had not been expecting her to ask him that. “Elain,” he said, emotion clogging his voice. “It would be my absolute honor to walk you down the aisle.” Tears lined his eyes as he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

“Thank you, Cash,” she murmured, trying and failing to hold back her tears.

That night, Azriel and the other men stayed in the guest house, giving the main one to the girls.

“No strippers, boys,” she said as they tugged Az away from her.

“The same could be said for you,” Rhys called out, giving her a wink.

Her fiancé growled, slapping his brother up the side of his head.

Elain laughed. “Believe me, the only man I want to see stripping is staying with you.”

“I’m happily taken, Ellie!” Cash called out flashing the cheekiest of grins.

She could only shake her head at their antics, returning to the main house where the girls were waiting for her with drinks, games, and a bride-sash.

“Since we didn’t have time to host a bridal shower and bachelorette party beforehand, we’re improvising,” Feyre announced, throwing the sash over her head and guiding her to the living room where they had decorated for their little party.

The whole night was perfect, celebrating her final night as an unmarried woman.

The next day was filled with a flurry of commotion, everyone getting ready for the wedding. Feyre had stuck Elain in a chair and was painting magic on her face while Nuala and Cerridwen worked on her hair, curling it into gorgeous beach waves and tying half it up into a knot at the crown of her head. They wove flowers into the knot atop her head and behind her ear.

When she looked in the mirror, Elain gasped. It was beyond stunning the work they had done on her. “Thank you,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears so she didn’t ruin her makeup. “All of you. I’m so grateful to have you all here with me.”

“There’s nowhere else we’d rather be, Ellie,” Nesta told her, hugging her from the back. “Come on, let’s get your dress on.” Her sister walked over to the garment bag and unzipped it.

Untying her white robe, Elain slipped on the dress behind the partition, coming out only to have help buttoning up the back. The dress was simply gorgeous. The bodice was made up of floral lace, plunging to just above her belly button while keeping her modestly covered. Delicate, thin straps of the same floral pattern went over her shoulders to the scooped back. The tulle skirt gathered at her waist, adding a layer over the lace skirt that sucked into her legs. It gave her this gorgeous silhouette under the gown.

Elain would go barefoot for the ceremony on the beach, wearing jeweled barefoot sandals that hooked over her middle toe and around her ankle. She had a pair of white heels she’d put on for the reception in the courtyard, once she was back on solid ground.

She slipped on the halo sapphire and diamond earrings that Azriel had gifted to her for her birthday—the only jewelry she wore aside from her engagement ring. They were one of her something blue, the other a cobalt garter in testament to Az’s favorite color. Grabbing the perfume she bought specifically for the wedding, Elain gave herself a few sprits, letting the delicate jasmine scent wash over her before making her way downstairs to the living area where Feyre, Nesta carrying Sutton, and Cash were waiting for her.

“Elain,” Cassian said her name with such reverence that she almost broke down right there. “You look so beautiful.”

Her pink lips pulled up into a joyous smile. “Thank you, Cash.” She hugged him, careful not to smudge her makeup on his suit jacket.

“Ready?” Feyre asked, handing her the blush-colored bouquet of peonies. The florist had done a stellar job with the bridal bouquets and centerpieces for the table.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything,” she said. Elain had waited for a decade to marry Azriel. Her excitement to finally get the chance left her breathless.

Though Feyre was Elain’s maid of honor, she walked down the aisle first since Nesta was carrying the flower girl.

Elain watched her sisters walk through the courtyard, out to the beach where they had set up the arch, decorated with more flowers. Where Azriel awaited her.

Cassian helped her out the door, holding a bit of her dress for her so it didn’t drag too much until they reached the edge of the courtyard and waited for the queue with the change of the music.

Elain and Azriel had picked strictly piano pieces to use for their ceremony and reception. It was fitting to them since that was how he proposed and they spent countless hours listening and him playing it.

Her brother fixed her dress one last time before offering her his arm. “Thank you for choosing him,” he said so quietly she almost missed it.

She furrowed her brow looking up at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I always worried that Azriel would never find happiness after high school. I watched my brother enter this cruel world intending to own it, even if it destroyed him in the very process. I thought I was going to lose him for a while…He’d been so depressed, I worried for his life.” Those pain-filled eyes looked down at her.

She knew Az had some internal struggles, but she didn’t know how bad it was. It broke her heart to hear that Cassian had feared for Az’s life.

“The one thing he never lost was his love for you,” he continued, likely noticing her inner sorrow, but needing to tell her this anyways. “And I’m so thankful that you forgave him for his past mistakes. The only time I ever saw Azriel happy was when he was with you, Elain. You are the world in which he revolves around. His entire being is to keep you safe and to love you, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.

“Thank you for loving him in the way he deserves but never letting himself have.” Cassian’s eyes misted over by the time he finished and she struggled to not let herself cry at the confession.

“He is worth loving,” she admitted, looking out towards the beach like she could see him from where she stood.

“That he is,” Cassian murmured as the music changed, indicating it was time.

The few steps to the beach seemed like a lifetime until she turned the corner and saw him standing at the altar, waiting for her.

Even this far away, she could hear his choked sound at the sight of her. His face crumpled in elation as he wiped tears from under his eyes.

Elain’s hold on her damn broke and she let out a sob, face splitting in the most adoring grin. Only Cassian’s firm grip on her arm prevented her from running down the aisle and leaping into his arms.

After what felt like an eternity, Cassian was leaning over to kiss her cheek, and offering her hand to Azriel before taking his place at his side.

She handed off her bouquet to Feyre so she could take his hands.

Unable to help himself, Az leaned forward to brush his lips on her cheek before he gently pulled her forward until she was facing him. “You look…” he paused, silver-lined eyes scanning her from head to toe. “I have no words to describe how exquisite you look, El. You’re radiant.”

She choked on her laugh, her face morphing into actual rays of sunshine. “Thank you, Az. You look beautiful, too.” And she meant it. He had on a brand-new suit, cut to every defined muscle. He wore a crisp, white button-up underneath the jacket with a blush-colored tie around his neck. Even the peony boutonnière contrasted perfectly with his tanned complexion.

Rhys cleared his throat, recapturing their attention. He gave them a knowing smile. “It brings me great joy to officiate the wedding between Azriel Knight and Elain Archeron. Azriel, my brother, you have been a part of my family since we were kids. Though our relationship started rocky—”

“You beat the snot out of me that first night,” Az muttered making everyone laugh.

Their brother waved a hand. “Semantics. It didn’t take us long to warm up to each other, finding that brotherly bond we both needed. I’m grateful every day that we took you in—that we became family.”

Those violet eyes turned to her. “Elain, my darling Elain. You have always been like a little sister to me. Even before Feyre and I started dating and later got married, you’ve held this special place in my heart to love, to protect. When you and Azriel began dating in high school, I was ecstatic because I always hoped you would one day become a part of my family. And you’re now a part of it in more ways than one.”

She released one of Az’s hands to grip Rhys’s forearm, squeezing it once before returning it to her fiancé. 

“I’ve never met two people more perfect for each other. Where one hides in the shadows, the other shines. You two lift each other up in the best of ways and I have no doubt in my mind you will build the most perfect life together. I believe you both wrote your vows. Elain, if you would please go ahead.”

Her brown eyes, reflecting pools of gold in the setting sunlight looked at her husband-to-be. “Azriel, you are the strongest, most considerate man I have ever known. Our love has definitely been tested to limits that most couples never experience, but I know that makes us more solid in the foundations of our marriage.” He chuckled at how true it was. “I know that when in moments of hopelessness, you will lend me your strength. In times of sorrow, you will give me your love. When the world around me becomes too loud, you will hold me close and protect me.

“You are so many things that it sometimes makes my head spin because how could you possibly be every dream I wished for myself to find in a lover? You have broken down every fear; every mark on my life and filled it with joy. I will love you with my entire being because you deserve that from me. You deserve to feel my elation in the life we have created together. I love you more than words could ever express. My life partner. My friend. My soulmate. My husband.” Tears rolled down her cheek and he reached out, swiping them away, ignoring how his face was also wet from waterworks.

Rhys turned to his brother. “Azriel, would you please say your vows?”

He took a steadying breath. “Fuck, I should’ve gone first,” he said quietly to her.

She couldn’t help but tip her head back and laugh.

“Elain Archeron.” Her name curled on his tongue. “You are, without a doubt, the light of my life. A decade ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life by letting you go and the gods know I didn’t deserve your forgiveness for it, but you gave it to me anyways. I sometimes have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. To verify you’re actually here with me.” She squeezed his hands in reassurance. “You have the most generous heart I have ever seen; have ever had the pleasure of being held within.

“You claim that I am strong, but my strength comes from you. Your resilience is unparallel. You have made me a better man, one who will love you faithfully even after we are but dust in the wind. I promise to share my life with you. To hold you in times of need and when you require a sturdy presence. I promise to help you pursue your dreams. To take you on adventures and everything else your heart desires. I consider myself the luckiest person in the world to get to call you mine. My light. My heart. My love. My wife.”

Rhys had to wipe a tear from his eye, clearing his throat to rein in the emotion he was feeling. “May I have the rings?”

Cassian slipped behind Azriel to hand his other brother the two rings.

Rhys handed them each one. “Elain, do you take Azriel to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold? In sickness and in health? From now and forever?”

“I do,” she said, sliding the black band onto his scarred ring finger.

“And do you, Azriel, take Elain to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold? In sickness and in health? From now and forever?”

Az’s dazzling smile lit up the world around them. “I do.” He slipped the beautiful rose gold band onto her delicate finger.

Rhys clapped his hands together. “Well, thank god for that!” he teased. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

The powerful male in front of her stepped forward, slinking one hand around her waist, the other cradling her head, and pressed his lips on hers.

Elain felt her back arch as he leaned them over, gently prying her mouth open so his tongue could slip inside. The kiss was languid like they took the time to learn about each other as husband and wife. Her fingers went to his nape, ruffling the hair there.

Time slowed as if even the world paused for that kiss. The kiss that certified them as one. A unit. And when they finally broke apart, when the sounds of their family’s cheers entered their ears, neither could look away from the other. An unbreakable chain linked between their souls, connecting them in the most intrinsic of ways.

He was hers and she was his. Now and forever.

“I love you, Elain,” he whispered, bringing her back in for another kiss, arms going around her lithe body to lift her off the ground.

She erupted into a fit of giggles, eyes shining with more tears, with love, with devotion for the man in front of her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Azriel and Elain Archeron-Knight!”

Grabbing her bouquet, she took Azriel’s hand as they walked back down the aisle toward the house. But about halfway back, he leaned down and lifted her over his shoulder, making her squeal. “Azriel!” she shouted, laughter echoing around them. “Put me down!”

He hauled her over his body until he was carrying her bridal style. “No,” he grinned, leaning forward to kiss her as he made the trek back into the courtyard.

Elain welcomed the kiss, wrapping her arms and the bouquet around the backside of his head and holding him there for a few extra seconds. The flash of the photographer lit up their bodies, but they didn’t care as they just held each other’s stare. She traced her index finger over his cheek. “Hi husband,” she whispered shyly.

His smile was too infectious to not beam back at him. It made him look so young, boyish. “My wife,” he murmured, nudging his nose into hers. Azriel set her back on her feet, pulling her close and never letting go.

~~~

Azriel was her husband. Elain couldn’t believe that after everything they’d been through—waiting a decade for this moment—it was finally here. Everything about this moment was completely different from anything she ever shared with Graysen.

Graysen’s priority had always been himself. She didn’t even think she was in his top five important things in his life. Their entire relationship had been based on their fathers’ friendship and a setup—and she had just let it go on, not really living, but simply existing.

It was nothing like the life, the love, she’d built with Azriel. This had been wholly hers. Her decision, her choices, her life.

They’d only been married for a few hours and she couldn’t help but think of how well it suited him. He couldn’t keep his hands off her (more than he normally couldn’t). Taking her hand in his large one, setting one on her thigh while they ate, tugging her onto the makeshift dance floor by the edge of the pool. Whatever they were doing, he couldn’t seem to let her go.

And she had no desire for him to stop. Currently, she was tucked into his arms under the twinkling lights as they swayed to the soft piano music. Her hand was curled in his, head resting on his chest as she listened to his thundering heartbeat.

Every once in a while, she’d let out a contented sigh and found herself somehow melting further into his embrace. He tucked her under his chin, giving him ample opportunities to lean down and press his lips to the crown of her head.

Elain had wrapped her arm around his waist, sliding it under his suit jacket so her palm laid on the backside of his button-up. Her fingers would flex, pressing the pads of them into the strong muscles of his back.

It was late evening. Nesta retired to the house earlier, taking a sleeping Sutton to lay her down, and never returned. Cassian followed shortly after, looking for his wife, and if Elain had to guess, found her asleep still in her dress.

Fenrys and Connall had sat with Cerridwen and Nuala on the porch patio and were chatting. Had been nearly all evening, but not before each of them took her and Azriel for a round on the dancefloor.

Her other sister and husband were twirling next to them, enjoying the soft sounds of the night around them.

Azriel pressed his lips to the top of her head again. “Would you like to head in now?” he asked her quietly.

Elain tipped her face up, a beautiful smile painted on her pink lips. “Sure.”

He gave her a soft kiss before leading her not to the main house, but to the adjacent one. She looked at him with confusion when he glanced over his shoulder at her. “I thought we could take the guest house tonight, so we don’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us.”

A cheeky smile threatened to turn up her mouth. “Azriel Archeron-Knight, are you trying to get into my skirt?” she teased, giggling.

He flashed her a heated look. “Always.” And then swung open the door.

Elain couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her, taking a single step forward. But before she could even get to the doorway, she was scooped up into his arms and carried over the threshold. She squealed in delight, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her in, kicking the door shut behind him.

The whole place was lit up with candles. Rose petals littered the floor, leading up the stairs and, what she assumed would be into a bedroom.

“Az,” she cried, eyes wide in astonishment. “Did you do this?” she asked as he set her back on her feet.

His hands came down onto her shoulders, thumbs swooping over the bare skin. “I had some help,” he admitted. “After our poker game last night, the guys helped me set up the candles. Nuala and Cer came in during the reception to sprinkle the rose petals and light everything.”

“It’s beautiful,” she told him. And it was, completely and totally romantic. Turning to face him, she kissed him hard. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, stroking his.

Azriel gripped her rear end, molding the flesh to his scarred palms and making her whimper. He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, the sensation pulling a heeding sound from her throat. Breaking off the kiss, Az took her hand and led her up the stairs toward the bedroom.

The bed wasn’t their usual size, but Elain had no doubt he could worship her like how she imagined he would.

Taking his phone from his pocket, Az turned on the same music they had playing all evening.

Her lips quirked up in the corner. “Setting the mood?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.” Azriel flicked his wrist in a circular motion. “Turn around.”

She did as requested, turning to give him access to her back.

His fingers slid into her thick, soft hair, plucking the loose flowers from her locks. He pulled the pin from her knot, letting the rest of her hair drape down her back. Gently, those scarred fingers grazed over her scalp, massaging.

Elain hummed in pleasure.

Azriel swept her hair over her shoulder, giving him access to the line of buttons that ran down her spine. He took his time opening each one, kissing at the patch of creamy skin it revealed as he went until he reached the final one just above the swell of her ass. “May I?” he asked her, fingering the delicate straps.

She nodded. “Please.”

Azriel slowly dragged her dress down her body, offering his shoulder to help her step out of it. His eyes dragged over every inch of the white lingerie she wore, all the way down to the cobalt-colored garter that adorned her luscious thigh. “Fuck me, Elain,” he groaned, moving to hang her dress up before turning to look back at her.

She appreciated he took extra care to hang her dress so it wouldn’t get ruined. Flashing him with a mirthful smile, she said, “I plan to.”

His long, powerful legs swallowed the space between them in two single strides as he crashed their lips together, nudging her toward the bed and carefully laying her down on top of it. He kissed her deeply, with long, sensual strokes from his tongue until their mouths were bruised and swollen. His hands swept over her body, feeling the texture of the lace. “I believe I was supposed to take this off with my teeth,” he mumbled against her lips, thumbing the garter.

He kissed down her body, in the valley between her breasts, over the soft swell of her tummy, across her hip, and down her thigh to where the garter sat, leaving little marks as he went. She squirmed under his machinations, but he didn’t let up, taking his time with each place he sucked a bruise onto. His teeth clamped down on the frilly fabric, slowly dragging it down her knee, her calf, and off her foot, tossing it over his shoulder.

She laughed at the audacity of it.

Gripping her hips, he made his way back up her body, only stopping at her neck to lick and suck at her delicate skin.

Elain’s fingers got to work, shoving his jacket off his shoulders, followed by his tie from around his neck, but he stopped her from tossing it on the floor.

Taking the silk fabric, he smirked, telling her, “We’ll save this for later,” and set it aside on the bed.

Heat pooled between her legs at the promise. As of now, he had yet to tie her up, but Elain wouldn’t lie and say the idea hadn’t crossed her mind. To be immobilized by him and only him made her blood heat.

Sensing her growing need, he rolled his hips into hers, giving her just a taste of what was to come.

Azriel didn’t seem to know where to touch her first, so he kept his hands moving in possessive little touches across her body. Pinching her nipples, gripping her hips, spreading her lush thighs apart so he could settle more firmly into their cradle. No matter what he did, it just made her ache for him.

She needed to feel him. Feel his skin on hers, sliding against the lace of her lingerie. “Az,” she whined. “Take it off, please. I want to feel you.” Elain pushed at his shirt, trying to unbutton it.

He obliged her, rising to shed his button-up, and then flicked open his belt to strip out of his pants. Az seemed to care much less about his expensive suit than her dress, tossing the garments onto the floor. In his boxers only, he crawled over her.

Her hands scratched at his skin, sliding up his sides to hook around his shoulders. Elain prided herself in knowing his body thoroughly. She knew every scar, every ridge, every whorl of ink. So, when he lay back on top of her, she immediately noticed something new on his chest.

“You look so fucking beautiful, Elain,” he groaned into her neck, sucking on her pulse point.

But her hands were on his shoulders, pushing him up to get a better look at whatever he had added to his chest. Her eyes went wide in shock, finger tracing the new whorl of ink on his pectoral, right over his heart. Because, holy fuck, that was her name he added. “When did you get this?” she asked, her eyes flicking up to his in wonderment.

A smile curved up the corner of his mouth. “A few days ago.” Which, kind of explained why she hadn’t seen it since they agreed to hold off on sex the past week to make tonight more special. And why he wore a T-shirt to bed the last few nights.

“It’s my handwriting,” she deadpanned. How did he have this perfectly done?

A blush heated his cheeks as he looked down at her with such love and devotion, she felt it in the very marrow of her bones. “I took a photo of your signature on our marriage license and sent it to the artist to create a stencil. I wanted your essence imprinted on me forever. Your handwriting, your name, permanently marked over my heart where you belong.”

Elain was desperately trying to swallow the emotion that had choked her. This man. This wonderful, incredible, selfless man tattooed her name on his body to always keep her close to his heart. She didn’t think she could love him any more than she already did, but he continuously proved her wrong.

Leaning her head forward, she kissed him right over that ink, then cupped his face in her palms; let her thumbs trace lightly over the apples of his cheeks. “Make love to me, Azriel.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, taking her hands from his face and lacing their fingers together by the side of her head. He sucked and licked the soft swells of her breasts, plumped up from the lingerie she was still wearing. His mouth attached to her nipple through the lacy fabric, pulling the point deep into his mouth until her back arched.

She raised her hips, rubbing them together. The wet spot on her panties would’ve told him just how desperate she was for him. It matched the one on his boxer briefs.

Az released her hands to work on the straps of her lingerie, pulling the white lace off her until she was completely bare before him. His thumb gently stroked her slit, grazing her clit just so, sending bolts of pleasure through her body.

Elain’s fingers slid into his dark locks, mussing them as she tugged him closer to where she needed him.

“Tell me what you want me to do, El,” he groaned, sliding his nose into the crease of her thigh.

A hot, needy sound tumbled from her throat, but she said the words that she knew would elicit actions. “Feast, husband.”

He growled, lapping at her entrance before plunging his tongue inside of her. He licked and slurped at her like she was the last thing he’d ever eat. It felt so good, she was nearly delirious with pleasure. Sliding two fingers into her, he pumped slowly, stretching her. “You’re so fucking close already, I can feel you quivering around my hand.”

Elain threw her head back, eyes squeezed shut as she focused on the pull, deep in her gut. Her hips undulated into him and she tugged his head down to where she needed him. Wanted him. “Please, Az,” she cried.

Knowing exactly what she was asking for, he sucked her clit between his teeth, finally drawing her to the brink, and pushing her off.

Elain shattered on his tongue, screaming out his name and tightening her grip on his hair hard enough that he groaned against her, the vibrations sending her spiraling.

He didn’t stop until she went limp, licking every drop she gave him. Azriel looked up at her from between her legs, her release dripping off his lips, and fuck, did the sight have her body trembling for more.

Using his hair as leverage, she pulled him up her body until she could kiss him. Elain moaned at the taste of herself on his tongue.

Brushing hair off her forehead, he smiled down at her. “Hi, wife.”

Those words made butterflies erupt in her stomach, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Azriel could’ve made his vow to her from that look alone, with so much love and longing, Elain knew he was feeling the same emotions as she was.

She reached down, cupping him in her small palm and earning a hiss as he pumped into her hand.

“Still need more from me?” he teased.

“I need everything from you.”

Heat flashed in his eyes. Crawling off her, he stripped out of his boxers, that last piece of clothing between them, then resituated himself between her legs. Azriel rubbed himself over her drenched slit, coating him in her release and adding friction to her clit.

Elain’s head tipped back as a moan crested from her lips.

He took advantage of the exposed skin, attaching his mouth to her neck and sucking a bruising mark into her skin. She loved his love bites, loved when he covered her in his marks like he was staking a claim.

Blindly reaching, Az grabbed the tie from the other side of the bed and held it between them. “Do you trust me?”

The corner of Elain’s lips quirked up. “A little late asking me that since I just married you.”

He pinched her butt cheek in reprimand making her squeal.

“Yes, of course, I trust you.”

“Give me your hands.” It was a soft command, but she listened, bringing her palms forward and presenting them to him. Azriel wrapped the small end of his tie around her, binding her arms together at her wrists with the soft silk. “Is that too tight?” he asked, sliding a finger under the fabric.

She shook her head. “No.”

He kissed her fingers. “If you become uncomfortable at all, tell me.” And then he pushed her arms above her head. “Don’t move these.”

Elain felt herself shudder, stretching out her body as he leaned over her again, mouth going straight for her neck. Her husband’s neck kink was out in full force that night and she loved every bite, every swipe of his tongue on the sensitive skin.

His hips rutted into her, sliding himself through her lower lips and coating his cock with her arousal.

It was heavenly. From the sensual tug of his teeth and the friction he applied between her legs, Elain felt herself slicken even further. “Azriel,” she groaned, arms aching to go around his neck but remaining still above her head. “Please. I need you inside me.”

Grabbing her plump thigh, he hefted it onto his shoulder, splitting her open. The head of his cock nudged at her entrance before he rolled his hips, sliding into her with ease.

Her back arched as he entered her, his grunts of pleasure from her clenching around him only enticed her further.

“El, fucking hell. If you keep doing that, I’m going to come before I’m even seated,” he complained, lips pulling her pert nipple into his mouth and sucking.

She couldn’t stop the cry from escaping her as he filled her to the brim. His cock sheathed in her warm heat was better than any feeling. She couldn’t explain how the fullness made her whimper from pleasure but also feel at home at the same time. Elain wrapped her other leg around his hips, urging him to move.

And move he did. Long, slow thrusts had her seeing stars when he hit that spot deep inside her. Everything he gave her was measured, from how far he pulled out, to how fast he pushed himself into her.

She needed him harder. Deeper. “Fuck me, Azriel. Like you mean it,” she growled.

His teeth bit down on her nipple in reprimand and, fuck, did she feel it everywhere. Pain mixed with pleasure. But he did as she demanded, snapping his hips into hers and building her up, up, up until she teetered on the edge of her pleasure.

He released her nipple, lips traveling up her jaw to find her own as he thrust into her again. Az grabbed the large end of his tie, wrapped it around his hand, and pinned it to the wall as he fucked her harder, the headboard slamming into the plaster with enough force to leave a dent.

But she didn’t care. She didn’t care about the goddamn wall, or how her arms ached, or that their family might hear them if they were still outside. All she cared about was the wonderful, delicious feeling that grew low in her belly.

Azriel’s tongue licked up her neck, sucking her delicate skin. He angled his hips up to catch her clit with every thrust. It was what she needed to send her shattering into a million little pieces.

Elain’s cries were smothered by his mouth like he wanted to swallow every sound she made.

It only took a few more thrusts before he careened into his orgasm, spilling himself deep inside her, her body milking him.

Azriel collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily into her neck as she fought to catch her own. He brought his arm down, pulling her hands until he could slip his head between her arms. She carded her fingers through his damp hair, scratching at his scalp. He hummed in contentment.

They lay there for a while, snuggled into each other’s embrace, Elain brushing her lips on the top of his head.

After a few moments, he was tugging himself out of her sensitive center, kissing the wince away before sliding out of her arms and sitting up. Az carefully untied her silk from her wrists, dropping, even more, kisses to where they had been bound. “How was that?”

She hummed, a soft smile painted on her lips as she circled her free wrists. “That was better than amazing.”

“Better than amazing, hmm?” he murmured, nudging his nose into her cheek.

Affectionate Azriel was one of her favorites—his need for physical touch after they had sex always led to some cuddling. So, she was quite surprised when he began climbing off her. “Where are you going?” she complained, reaching out for him, but her weary arm fell to the mattress with a thud.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her lips once more. “I’ll be right back.” Azriel walked over to his suitcase, sitting in the corner of the room.

Elain rolled onto her side, propping her head on her fist, and watched him stoop down. “Nice ass, husband.”

Her comment had him laughing, deep and full-bellied. He glanced over his shoulder at her, humor dancing in those dark eyes. Grabbing whatever he needed from his bag, he walked back over to her with a mischievous grin. “Since this is our wedding night, I thought we could make it traditional in that we take your last virginity.”

She raised a brow. “Virginity? Az, what are you talking—” Elain paused, taking in the items he presented to her in his palms. The pink vibrator, a tube of lube, and a plug were cradled in his hands. “You want to take my ass?” she asked in disbelief.

“You make it sound so dirty,” he snickered, kneeling on the bed. “And only if you want to. I know we’ve discussed it lightly before, but I brought everything we’d need if you want to explore it.”

Pink rushed to her cheeks, dripping down her chest. She’d be lying if she said the idea hadn’t prickled her curious mind. Whenever he touched her there, her pleasure always intensified. It felt so forbidden, but so right at the same time. Her eyes traveled from the items still in his palms back to his face. “Okay,” she breathed.

Setting everything on the bed, he kissed her belly, smiling into her skin. “My good girl,” he murmured, the words igniting something inside her. “On your knees.”

Elain rolled over, rising onto all fours. Her stomach clenched in anticipation.

Az placed another kiss at the bottom of her spine, kneading her behind. “You have less give back here, so we’re going to take this nice and slow. But I need you to tell me when it’s getting close to being too much to handle, and when you’ve reached your limit. We don’t go past anything that you’re uncomfortable with. Okay?”

She nodded, flipping her hair over her shoulder to look back at him. “I understand.”

“Good girl. We’ll start with my fingers to get you stretched, then I’m going to try and insert this plug.” He leaned over her to show her the plug again. Elain ran a finger over the cool metal. “First off,” he started, setting the plug back on the bed, “we need to get you stimulated.” Azriel slid two fingers inside of her, wetting them with their combined releases.

Elain moaned as he thrust into her, filling her, stretching her. Pulling his digits from her cunt, her body clenching around nothing, he then slowly inserted the toy. They had only played with it a few times, but it had become one of her favorite things to pull out when they got hot and heavy. She waited in baited silence for that first vibration, jolting at the first flick from his fingers on his phone. Hips stuttering, she bowed her head, moaning.

“Easy, love,” he murmured, stroking up to her rosebud. Az worked her opening with his two fingers. The squeeze was tight, but then she felt him add a generous amount of lube, slickening her hole and allowing him to slip in both digits to his knuckle.

She whimpered, rocking back onto his hand. The sensation of his fingers pumping in and out of her, the vibrations from the toy in her pussy had her sprinting towards her next orgasm.

But as soon as he felt her crest, Az pulled out of her behind.

Elain was close to crying out when she felt the plug being pushed into her gaping back hole. Holy fuck, the plug was larger than his two fingers. She whimpered as her body stretched to accommodate the toy, bordering on painful.

“You’re doing so well, my good girl. Breathe, love.”

She took shallow breaths, eyes screwing shut. “Az,” Elain cried out his name. “It hurts.” Her fingers tightened on the sheets beneath her palms.

Immediately he pulled back slightly, giving her body some relief. “Do you want to stop, Elain?”

Did she want to stop? No—she didn’t. Elain wanted this. “No,” she breathed, head bowing. “Just give me a second.”

He kissed her sweaty back, reaching between her legs her to lazily rub at her clit.

“How much further until the plug is seated?” she panted, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Azriel’s burning gaze was already on her face, the hunger she saw nearly made her quiver. “About a half inch until you reach the jewel. Once it’s in, it shouldn’t hurt anymore.”

Elain swallowed, nodding. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Are you sure, El? We don’t have to do this.”

She reached back, grabbed his knee—the only thing she could grasp—and squeezed it. “I’m okay. I want to continue.”

Adding more lube to her back entrance, he continued, twisting the plug back and forth to add to the pleasurable sensation.

The break was exactly what her body needed, because, after another moment or two, Elain felt the plug settle into her ass. She moaned, toes curling at feeling so full.

“Good fucking girl,” Az groaned, circling her clit with his fingers. “You did so well, my love. Let’s get you to come, shall we?” Kicking up the vibrator, he gently tugged on the plug, not pulling it out but giving her a sensation of a thrust.

Her body shook, teetering on the edge of her orgasm. “Az, I’m so close. Please, please.” Tears rolled down her cheeks from the pleasure she felt. That deep pull in her backside, the vibrations. Everything inside her was pulled taut and ready to snap. So, when he twisted the plug, Elain shattered in a way she had never done before.

She screamed, her body quaking around everything. Wetness poured out from around the vibrator, coating her thighs. Unable to hold herself up anymore, she collapsed, face first, into her pillow, forcing Azriel to let go of the plug lest he accidentally pull it out of her.

Elain shook, and shook, and shook, the aftershocks of her orgasm running up and down her spine like ocean waves crashing along the shore.

His body sidled up behind her, tugging her limp form into his arms to whisper words of comfort into her hair.

“Turn it off,” she panted, the stimulation overwhelming enough that it was too much.

He moved quickly, releasing her to sit up and grab his phone.

Elain whimpered when the toy was switched off, her sensitive center aching. She was gathered back into his arms, her back pressed into his chest. His hard cock was digging into her backside, thankfully not adding any pressure to the plug.

She panted heavily, her entire body unnaturally boneless. It almost felt like she was hovering just outside of her physical form, not quite drifting back down from her high.

Azriel ran his scarred hands over her curves, soothing her to finally come back to him. he planted kisses on her shoulder, her neck, wherever he could reach with his mouth while keeping her secure in his embrace. “I’m here, El. Just breathe,” he murmured into her hair, making sure she could feel his presence.

It could’ve been minutes or hours before she finally collected enough pieces of herself to twist her neck and look at him over her shoulder.

A dopey smile was on his face at her blissed-out state. “Hello, love,” he whispered, gently kissing her lips.

“How long have we been laying here?” she asked, genuinely curious if she passed out.

He kissed her cheek. “About fifteen minutes.”

That had her blinking. She’d been out of it for fifteen minutes? Holy fuck.

His low chuckle had her eyes snapping back to his. “That was a rather intense orgasm for you. It’ll take a while for you to come down from it,” Az explained, reaching over her to cup the side of her cheek. His thumb swooped over her skin and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “How are you feeling?”

How did she feel? Elain wasn’t quite sure she could explain it, to be honest, but she tried anyways. “I feel—” she weighed her words, trying to find the best ones, “light, I suppose is a good way to put it. Like I drifted out of my body.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Of course, he would ask her that.

“It was overwhelming, but yes, I enjoyed it. A lot. I’ve never felt anything like that before.” Elain reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Just give me a couple more minutes and then we can continue.”

He squeezed her palm. “Baby, we don’t need to go any further tonight. You’ve already been through a lot and I don’t want you pushing it—”

“I’m not, Az,” she interrupted him. “I want to try it with you. I’ve got one more in me tonight, but that’s it. And I want to share it with you.”

It was obvious he wanted to protest, but she didn’t let him. “You’ve only come once tonight. I want to be the reason you do it again. Please, Az. Just try. I’ll tell you if I can’t handle it.”

Scarred fingers brushed her hair behind her ear. “Okay, let me go get a towel before we attempt to pull the plug out.” He dropped another kiss on her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” Sliding off the bed, Azriel padded to the bathroom, bringing back two bath towels.

She watched him place one at the end of the bed, and then unfolded the other, sliding it partially under her hips.

At her questioning look, he told her, “It might get a little messy and I’d rather not have to change the sheets tonight when we’re finished.”

“You’re not going to put me on my knees again?”

He resumed his position behind her. “No, I don’t think you have the energy for that right now. So, I’ll take you like this.” Propping her knee up, he traced the pads of his fingers over her hip, sliding until her could toy with her clit, lightly circling it. “Tell me when you’re ready. I’ll put the vibrator back on but will keep it low.”

Elain took a steadying breath. He was right, she didn’t have the energy to keep herself upright and she was incredibly thankful that Az could read her body better than she could. “I’m ready,” she said with conviction.

His thick arm slid under her waist, coming up to cup her breast, pinching her nipple just enough to send bolts of pleasure through her body.

She whimpered, pressing herself further into the cradle of his hips.

“Touch yourself for me,” he ordered, taking her hand when she brought it between her legs and showing her just how much pressure to apply. “Good girl. Just like that.” Releasing her, he reached back for his phone, kicking on the vibrator to a low setting.

Elain sucked in a breath, her body still slick with her arousal. When she felt the twisting on the plug, she couldn’t stop the low moan from escaping her throat.

“You’re doing so well, love. Just breathe for me. Nice and slow.”

Doing as he told her, she inhaled slowly, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as he carefully pulled the plug from her ass. As soon as it was gone, Elain whined, her body clenching around the open air.

Azriel cursed into her shoulder, applying lube to his hard cock. “Your body is begging for me, love,” he groaned, nudging the head at her back hole. He grabbed her thigh, hauling her bent leg into the air and exposing her to the cool air. “Tell me when you need me to stop.”

She didn’t. Elain relaxed her body as best as she could, taking him inch by glorious inch as he rocked himself into her. She reached back, gripping his hair at the scalp and holding him into her neck while he sunk deeper and deeper until she felt her rear end pressed into the cradle of his hips.

“Fuck, El,” he moaned. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Elain couldn’t form words. She was delirious with pleasure, edged with pain, and everything in between. It was life-altering, how full she felt with his cock buried into her ass. Nothing could compare to how good it felt to have him like this.

When he started to move, the only sounds she could form were heavy breaths and low moans. Her mind was a kaleidoscope of color as he thrust into her, his fingers digging into the back of her knee, holding her open for him.

His strokes were measured and deep, sliding nearly all the way out, and pushing in until he hit a spot inside her that had her gasping every time.

She needed more. She needed it faster. She needed to come. “Harder, Az,” she cried out, her face burying into her shoulder.

He picked up the pace, snapping his hips into her, his mouth latching itself onto her the back of her shoulder.

Oh, gods. Oh, gods, it was so good. Her hand left her clit to clutch the edge of her pillow, but he quickly replaced it, releasing her breast to slide his fingers down between her legs, tightening his circles on her.

Elain sobbed in pleasure, climbing higher and higher. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. She couldn’t think straight. Her name…what was it? Oh, fuck, he felt so good. She had no idea it could feel like this. “So good,” she moaned pathetically. Her body had turned to putty beneath his careful hands and his hard cock. Another whimper passed between her parted lips as she climbed up to the top of her orgasms, teetering on the edge of something she’d never felt before.

Azriel brushed his mouth to the shell of her ear. “I’ve got you, baby. Let go for me.”

His gruff words were her undoing as Elain dove headfirst into the largest orgasm she’d ever experienced. She squeezed the hair between her fingers, hard enough that he grunted into her neck, but she didn’t let go—couldn’t let go as she fell, fell, fell, all while he fucked her ass harder and faster, prolonging her pleasure.

Her face was soaked with tears, body pulsing around his cock.

It only took another thrust or so before Azriel came with a shout, pushing himself as deep into her as he could go to spill inside of her, claiming her ass as his. Her body convulsed around him, taking everything he offered her and more.

The sweat between their bodies rolled over her skin, but she didn’t care. She was too far lost in her mind to worry about anything but how incredible she felt.

His hot breath panted over her shoulder as he gently laid her leg over her body, keeping her knee still bent. Grabbing his phone, he switched off the vibrator. Az gave her a while to catch her breath, before he murmured into her ear, “I’m going to pull everything out. Slow breaths, love.” The words rattled in her skull but didn’t fully register. She was too lost in the sensations.

Bringing her leg back up, he reached between her thighs and gently tugged out the toy. It didn’t stop the whimper from escaping her lips.

“Easy, baby. We’re almost finished,” he whispered, his voice velvety soft and covering her like a warm blanket.

Removing himself from her behind was another story. Her body clamped onto him, causing her to cry out from her sensitive hole.

He slowed his movements, stroking her hips soothingly. “Relax, El. I need you to relax.” His hands gently swept over her body, helping her body come down.

She did, inhaling deeply until he managed to pull himself free. Elain felt incredibly empty without him in her, missing it already, but was too exhausted for anything else tonight.

Azriel pulled himself from behind her, leaning over her body to kiss her cheek. “Don’t fall asleep. We need to clean up first. I’m going to start the bath.” Gripping her chin, he turned her head and dropped a kiss on her swollen lips, smiling down at her before padding into the bathroom.

Elain heard the water turn on and then him rummaging through the drawers, looking for something if she had to guess. Frankly, she didn’t care. She just wanted to sleep. But as soon as she started to drift off, Az was hauling her into his chest, her arms sliding around his neck.

The scalding water made her flinch when it touched her overly sensitive butt. She whimpered again, tightening her hold on him.

Az hushed her, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear as he slowly sank into the tub.

Fuck she was so sore, but the heat of the water felt so good too. She nuzzled into his neck before allowing him to twist her on his lap so she sat between his legs. Elain rested her head on his shoulder while he washed her down.

“You did so well tonight, love. I’m proud of you,” he told her, kissing her temple. “Are you feeling all right?”

Elain hummed in contentment. “Fine, just tired.”

His chuckle reverberated through her spine. “We’ll get to bed soon. I need to clean up the mess first and blow out all the candles. Do you think you can manage sitting in the tub a bit longer while I take care of that?”  

“Mhmm.” She had no energy for anything else.

His soft laughter chased her in her dreams. Elain felt him climb out from behind her, carefully laying her back against the edge. “Don’t fall asleep, El.”

Good luck with that, she wanted to say but couldn’t. Her eyes had already drifted shut, but she could hear him opening the slider to the small balcony, letting in the fresh air, and then collecting all the items from their bed. She peaked an eye open, seeing him drop the toys in the sink to clean them.

Az didn’t bother to dress, standing nude at the counter as he took care of everything.

Gods, she loved him. He always did everything for her so she never had to worry about anything after sex.

Turning to face her, he grabbed a towel and knelt by the edge of the tub. “All right, love. Can you stand for me so I can dry you off?” He popped the drain, gripping her under the elbow to help her to her feet.

Elain swayed dangerously, making him lurch to hold her under her arm so she didn’t slip.

Az dried her off as best as he could, tossing the wet towel over to the sink before lifting her back into his arms and carrying her into bed, sliding them both under the covers he had pulled down.

She snuggled into his chest, lips pressing over his heart where her name was permanently tattooed. “I love you, Azriel.”

He held her close kissing the top of her head. “Sleep, my beautiful wife.”

But she was already gone, pulled by exhaustion into a dreamless slumber.

~~~~~

Azriel woke to sunlight streaming in from the white curtains across the balcony slider. The rays reflected in Elain’s golden-brown hair, strewn across her pillow. His beautiful, naked wife was curled up on her side, her back pressed into his chest. He was pretty sure his left arm was completely dead, but he didn’t care. Not when he woke up to her every goddamn morning of every day.

She was his wife.

Fuck, she was his wife.

He couldn’t believe he got to call her that forever now. Az didn’t know who he should be thanking for it, but he sent up his prayers to anybody who would listen. His arms were banded around her, one across her chest, the other slung over her waist. He tightened his hold on her, nuzzling deeper into her jasmine and honey scent. She always smelled so good.

The faint laughter of their family told him that they should probably get up soon—join them for breakfast before the jet flew everyone home. He and Elain were going to stay here for a few days before starting on their three-week honeymoon. They were flying to the Winter District first, staying in this dome-like cabin under the northern lights. From there, they would travel to the Spring District to go through its impressive rose gardens. Elain had always wanted to see them and he was obliged to give that to her.

Three whole weeks to themselves. Three weeks of traveling across the country, taking in different sights, sounds, and tastes.

Speaking of tastes, Azriel was greedy for the delicate taste of his wife. Breakfast before breakfast, he told himself, leaning in to kiss her bare shoulder. When she didn’t stir, he moved further into the junction of her neck. He swept his hands over her body, the black band on his fourth finger catching the morning rays.

Elain shifted then, murmuring something in her sleep. Still, she didn’t fully wake.

So, he moved his lips to her nape, kissing her there and nudging his nose into her.

She sighed softly, rolling back into his chest to look up at him. Elain flashed him a sleepy smile. “Good morning, husband.” Her voice was a whisper on the morning breeze.

Gods, when she called him that…he had never felt happiness like this. “Good morning, wife,” he told her, tone husky as he leaned down to claim her lips.

Elain responded to his ministrations eagerly, allowing him to roll on top of her. Her fingers wove into his mussed hair. “What time is it?” she asked as he kissed down her throat to the center of her chest.

Az looked up at her, her brown eyes already dark with lust. “Mid to late morning if I had to take a guess. Everyone else is up. I can hear them.” His tongue darted out to lap at her nipple, sucking the point deep into his mouth.

She sucked in a breath, arching into him and pushing her breast further between his teeth. “Az,” she moaned.

He slipped further down her body, settling between her thighs. His thumb stroked her slit, feeling the wetness that had gathered there already. “Hush, love. You have to be quiet or our family is going to hear you while I enjoy my breakfast.”

At the first swipe of his tongue, Elain clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes screwing shut.

Azriel chuckled against her, throwing her legs over his shoulders and setting a brutal pace. He licked her entrance, plunging his tongue in and out of her, then slid up her slit to suck her clit.

Elain grabbed a handful of his hair, moaning against her palm as she writhed against his mouth, fucking herself on his tongue.

He loved when she took her pleasure from him, rode him to her heart’s content like she was doing now.

With her grip on him, Elain undulated her hips into him, positioning his mouth where she wanted him—needed him. When she tugged him to her clit, he sucked it hard, careening her into her orgasm.

She came with a muffled cry, body going limp into the mattress.

Swiping his tongue up her slit one more time, Azriel kissed his way back up her body, bringing his mouth to hers and letting her taste herself.

Elain hummed, hooking an ankle over his hip and flipping them over. Straddling his waist, she kissed him again. “My turn.” Following a similar path he took, Elain made her way down to his aching cock, at attention and eagerly waiting for his wife’s delectable mouth.

“Fuck, Elain,” he groaned at the first lick.

She smirked at him from between his legs. “Quiet now. You don’t want our family to hear you while I eat my breakfast,” Elain teased, repeating his words back to him.

“Let them,” he growled, sucking in a breath when she swallowed him whole. Fuck, he brushed the back of her throat in her bobbing. Azriel grabbed her hair, holding it at the back of her head and off his thighs. He wanted to watch her suck him.

And suck him she did. Elain’s cheeks hallowed, taking him deep into her mouth and swirling her tongue around his shaft. The warmth was fucking heavenly. “Baby, I’m going to come,” he warned her, feeling the pull low in his belly.

It should be embarrassing how quickly he’d orgasm when she put her mouth on him, but frankly, he didn’t care about staving off when she fucked him with her mouth. It felt too good to stop. “El…”

Feeling him at the precipice of his orgasm, she took him as deep as her throat would allow, finishing him off with a final draw from her mouth.

Az came with a groan, spilling down her throat.

Elain pulled off him with an audible pop, swallowing everything he gave her.

Fuck he loved her. He said as much, grabbing her under his arms and hauling her up his body to kiss her roughly. “You have no idea how much I want to be buried inside of you right now, but we should probably get down there to see the family off. I have housekeepers coming today to clean this place.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “We should definitely put away the toys from last night before they get here.”

He laughed, alerting the others to their woken state because a few minutes later, Cash was banging on the front door, shouting, “Lovebirds, get up! I’ve got breakfast ready.”

“We’re coming!” he growled back, making Elain giggle into his chest. “Come on wife, let’s get dressed.”

Half an hour later, they were cleaned up, dressed, and making their way across the yard to the back patio where his brother had served up a ton of food. Bacon, eggs, potatoes, toast, fruit, and every breakfast drink you could imagine.

Azriel pulled out a chair at the table for Elain, pushing her in before taking a seat next to her. He grabbed platters of food, piling various things onto her plate before his own.

“Elain, you look incredibly well-rested,” Cassian said.

He froze in the middle of scooping fruit, eying his brother in suspicion.

El blinked at his brother. “I am Cash. Thank you.”

He knew it wasn’t a compliment based on the tone of voice. “Cash, if you ever want to have children again, I suggest you not voice whatever is sitting on the tip of your tongue,” he warned.

His wife glanced at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

But Cassian just threw an arm around Nesta’s shoulders, smirking. “I’m just saying, if she’s well-rested, then you must’ve not done your job last night well enough.”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink at the comment, but before he could throw the platter at his ass of a brother, she said, “Cash, perhaps you shouldn’t be so boastful. You should know that women tell each other everything.” Elain propped her cheek on her fist, staring his brother down. “And I mean, everything.”

He glanced at her, unsure of whatever it was she had on his brother, but he was curious. And the look that Cash shot her was not one of pride, but rather one of caution.

“You don’t know anything,” he dared.

His wife’s smile was nothing short of chilling.

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t be so quick, to assume.”

Cassian’s face went pale and he whipped his head to Nesta who was trying not to smile, patting her daughter’s back. “You told her?!” he accused.

Nesta buried her face into the side of Sutton’s head, trying to hold back her laugh.

Feyre raised a glass across the table. “I can back, Elain.” The younger Archeron winked at his wife, sipping from her mimosa.

Cash gaped at the three women. “I can’t believe you told them,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Nesta patted his thigh. “It was years ago, babe. Who cares?”

“I care,” he muttered, looking put out.

Azriel reached under the table to grip Elain’s thigh, pouring her a mimosa from the pitcher on the table.

She slid her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. Picking up her glass, she clinked it on his, her smile brighter than pure sunshine.

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to kiss her, oblivious to the whoops and hollers from their family. Az ignored all of that and just let himself enjoy the moment with his gorgeous wife.

~~~

A few hours later, the newly married couple was lying on the beach, soaking up the sun’s warmth. He had dragged out two lounge chairs, sitting them side by side in the sand. Elain looked ridiculously good in her high-waisted bikini.

He had thoroughly ravished her body last night, her creamy skin plastered with his claiming marks. A few were covered by the swimsuit, but the ones on her neck, her ribcage, between the swells of her breasts remained visible.

Fuck she looked sexy covered in his bites.

And Elain didn’t seem to mind them showing, walking out of the house with the confidence of a queen.

Az had groaned at the sight of her. “I did a number on your body,” he’d told her.

She simply smirked, stating, “Perhaps you can add another one later.” Then she handed him the bottle of sunscreen and asked him to lather her back up.

He definitely did more than just her back, kneeling to cover her gorgeous legs, her toned arms, her ample chest, and her lithe waist. She laughed when his fingers slipped into her bikini top, asking him what he was doing. “Making sure my wife doesn’t get burned.”

Elain could only shake her head at his antics.

Laying out, she had tipped her floppy hat down, shading her face as she napped, the book she’d been reading discarded in the sand underneath her chair.

Noticing the pinkening on her stomach, Azriel got up, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen to rub more on her.

She jolted slightly at the contact.

“You’re getting pink,” he explained, spreading the white cream over her body. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Elain hummed, running her hand up his arm. Quick as a flash, she pulled his Ray Bans off his face.

He gave her an exasperated look. “What are you doing?” Az laughed.

“Here, you can wear mine,” she said, holding out her pink aviators to him and pushing his onto her nose.

Huffing, he grabbed hers from her outstretched hand and slid them onto his face. “How do I look?”

“Fabulous,” she said, grinning.

He grabbed her waist, hauling her over his shoulder and making her squeal.

“Azriel! What are you doing?” she laughed.

“Taking my wife swimming, that’s what.”

She smacked him on the butt. “Put me down!”

“No,” he said, popping her on the ass. “And believe me, baby, if you want to start the ass-smacking, I will win.”

Azriel should’ve known that her silence wasn’t her conceding, but that wicked little mind coming up with something truly devious. He hadn’t anticipated her grabbing his hips and biting him on the cheek.

A shout sounded from his throat, and he whipped her back over his shoulder to carry her bridal style. “You little minx. Did you just bite my ass?” He stared down at her in disbelief.

“I told you to put me down. It’s your fault,” she told him, smiling sweetly.

The heated look he shot her had her squirming in his arms. “Oh, I will get even for that later tonight.” His sensual promise had blood rushing to her cheeks. Despite his desire to turn around and carry her right up to the house and fuck her senseless, he continued into the cool water, setting her on her feet about thigh deep.

Elain bent at the waist, dragging her fingers in the waves. Giving him a feline smirk, she splashed him and took off running.

Stunned for a second, Azriel ran after his wife, following the sound of her joyful laugh. When he finally caught her, he kissed her like it was his last.

~~~~~

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[writtenonreceipts]

happy b-day to me. no tag list.

based on this prompt--right about 1k words

warnings: none!

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

All About Family

 Nesta stared at her brother-in-law, arms crossed over her chest.  It was a stance she usually took around him despite nearly fifteen years of knowing him.  Defensive, unimpressed, and mildly annoyed.  A large part of her wanted to slam her front door in his face. 

The man in question did at least look somewhat chastised.  He had a small bouquet of roses in one hand and a determined Nyx at his side.

“Yes?” She asked stiffly.  One of her eyebrows raised in its signature disapproving glare.

“Hello Nesta,” Rhys greeted, he smiled in his signature smirk.

“He's here to apologize,” Nyx blurted.

Rhys gave his son a look but the ten-year-old only beamed at Nesta, a triumphant look in his eyes.

“Oh really?” Nesta didn't believe it. Rhysand Avitas did not apologize.  “Well, you've wasted your time. She doesn't want to talk to anyone.”

“I brought flowers?” Rhys held the roses up as if she hadn’t noticed them before.

Had Rhysand been alone, Nesta would have snatched the flowers and then slammed the door.  It wouldn’t do any good to waste perfectly lovely flowers.  That was what Elain always said at least.

It was a warm summer day, the mid-afternoon sky perfectly clear with only a gentle breeze kicking around.  After running around with vacation, summer camps, and disastrous summer activities—Nesta and Cassian had planned to spend the day at home, relaxing.  Which was how Rhys had found them.  She should have known he would try this.

She sighed and smiled at her nephew. “Nyx, why don't you go down and see if she wants to come out of her room?”

The boy dashed into the house excitedly.  

“Yvette! Yvette!” He yelled, feet pounding on hardwood. “Hi uncle Cass! Yvette!”

“Hey bud,” Cassian called out, not at all perturbed to have another child running around.  Nesta heard his steps coming from the kitchen to the entryway of the house.  She knew it was likely just to see Rhys get his ass handed to him, knowing perfectly well Nesta could handle this situation.

Rhysand sighed. “You know it was an accident.”

“And you know how your niece is,” she insisted. She felt Cassian approach from behind, one hand resting on her shoulder as he leaned into her.

“Nes, we all know what an ass he is,” Cassian said with a small chuckle. Nesta looked at her husband and narrowed her eyes. 

“No excuse,” she replied.

A family party at the local park had resulted in a water balloon fight, one where Yvette, Cassian and Nesta’s oldest, hadn’t wanted to participate.  She’d been wearing a new dress and simply wanted to sit off reading.  Rhys had launched a giant water balloon that splattered all over Yvette resulting in a hastily ended party.

Nesta was furious.  It had taken some time to calm Yvette down and assure her that her dress wasn’t ruined.  It had been three days now and Yvette was still upset.

Nyx came running back down the hall, dragging Yvette with him.  She didn’t look at all excited about the situation.  Though, Nesta knew Nyx wouldn’t have been able to bring her from the room if Yvette really didn’t want to.  She came to a stop beside Nesta, glancing up with a questioning look.

“Uncle Rhys has something to say,” Nesta prompted.

Yvette looked to her uncle, her dark curls bouncing over her face.

“I brought you some flowers,” Rhys said, crouching down so he was at her level.  He held the roses out. “And to apologize about the water balloon the other day.”

Yvette nodded as she took the flowers. “Okay.”

“Your mom told Aunt Feyre they’re your favorite?” Rhys asked, just to be sure.

Yvette nodded again. “Yeah.  Thank-you.”

“You’re welcome,” Rhys said.

“We should get ice cream,” Nyx spoke up.  He went to his father and poked his side. “That always helps when I’m upset.”

Nesta had to purse her lips to keep from laughing, though behind her she could feel Cassian’s chest rumble with laughter.

Rhys nodded slowly, smile teasing. “Yeah, ice cream does help, doesn’t it?  What do you think Yvette?  Should we get some ice cream?”

Yvette glanced up at her mother and Nesta only shrugged. 

“It’s up to you baby, you can say no if you want.”

“I want ice cream,” Yvette said definitively.

Standing up, Rhys tucked his hands in his pockets. “The lady has spoken.  Let’s go.”

Yvette passed Nesta the roses before running with Nyx to the car in the driveway.

“She’s going to get her money’s worth,” Cassian warned his brother.  

“Oh, I’m expecting it,” Rhys assured them.  

The car’s horn honked and the adults looked up to see Nyx leaning up into the front seat, perched over the steering wheel.  His eyes widened comically before he scrambled out of view.  Rhys was certainly in for a wild afternoon, which amused Nesta to no end.

“Good luck,” Cassian called as Rhys headed for the car.  Rhys flipped him off subtly.

When they were pulled out of the driveway and gone, Cassian pulled Nesta tighter against his chest.

“I’m still mad,” Nesta sighed.

“I’m just glad I’m not the one facing your wrath,” Cassian said, pressing a kiss to her neck. “Where are the other minions?”

“Phoebe is at Elain and Lucien’s,” Nesta said, “and Margot is at dance camp.  She needs to be picked up at four.”

Cassian hummed, giving her another kiss. “Three hours then?”

Before Nesta could respond Cassian lifted Nesta into his arms.  They’d make good use of their free afternoon.

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

no tags

#nessian #acotar #nesta archeron #cassian #rhysand #nyx

[shcherbatskayas]

okay i actually have a strong-ish idea for an original project that i want to talk about bc i have thoughts and feelings and excitement for it. see below for gay arthuriana and Two Bastards In Love!

so as a known liker of fate/typemoon, i spend a lot of time thinking about what we can loosely call "canonical arthuriana" (there's not really a set arthuriana canon). and as i was looking at the galahad wikipedia page for the umpteenth time and thinking about his supposed chastity and definite lack of love interest, i thought about it for a second and was like "...okay so he's totally gay, right???" and is there canon evidence for that? not really, but i think it would be interesting, so it's canonical to me now. i just think that opens a lot of interesting doors! his whole character in the canon is very...bland, in the sense that he's just the Best Knight Ever and not shown to have much internal struggle, but bastard son of the Best Knight In The Land dedicates his whole life to being holy and perfect and proving himself worthy to wider society? that's something, especially when you add in the stuff about "i am judging my father for the sin of extramarital sex (which is not really what happened between lancelot and galahad's mum elaine, but he doesn't figure that out until way later) when i am a full blown homosexual, which is seen as just as bad in our society." there's a judgemental and hypocritical and bitterly self-righteous side to this stubborn idiot, but also he's so earnest. so serious. thoughtful and introspective and gentle. a defender of the defenseless. a bit of a goofball and an airhead, once he lets his guard down. galahad du lac has Layers to me.

and as i was thinking this, i knew any story with him needed a love interest so that some of the queer stuff could be unpacked with another person. i was thinking maybe percival because canonically they're pretty close, but you know who else is the bastard child of a famous member of arthuriana who craves external approval and status while also being fundamentally transgressive in one way or another? mordred!! and mordred is a hothead of epic proportions, impulsive and moody and mean as shit when he wants to be. he's also very passionate, confident, a jokester and a guy in love with being alive who will always help someone in need (even if he's calling you a moron the whole time). he feels every emotion all the way through, and does what he thinks is right no matter the cost.

as far as backstories: galahad is raised in corbenic as a bastard whose father is officially Unknown (but everyone with eyes knows it's lancelot), half in his mother's castle with her and her extended family, and half in an abbey run by his aunt. after some shenanigans (baby galahad runs away from home when he's locked in a room in the abbey; this happens because lancelot is recovering from one of his canonical insanities in corbenic and everyone agrees that seeing baby galahad would make it worse), the lady of the lake finds out that this is lancelot's kid swimming in her lake and officially adopts him as a grandson and makes him galahad du lac. the lady of the lake is easily the most normal adult in his young life. everyone else says stuff like "god told us he's the special grail boy so we should send him up to the mountains to slay the local dragon without any weapons." galahad's a grandma's boy for real. he doesn't eat fish because his grandma, the lady of the lake herself, personally cares about every fish and he's not going to eat his grandma's friends. he gets the lady of the lake's blessings, of course, and insists that being adopted as the lady of the lake's grandson is unrelated to lancelot being her adopted son in public. in private? he knows, and is pissed as hell that lancelot refuses to acknowledge him because his father should own up to his mistakes. <-thoughts of a guy who doesn't know what elaine of corbenic did to lancelot) and mordred? the result of arthur falling in love and having an affair with one of the nine sisters of avalon during his engagement to guinevere (a woman he's met all of once at this point; later he is genuinely in love with her). morgan, the head of the sisters, queen of orkney, and also arthur's biological half-sister, agrees to raise mordred as one of her sons. king lot formally adopts him and thus mordred grows up as a prince of orkney, but everyone knows that he's not biologically an orkney royal. morgan gives him the lo down very early on and he's convinced that by earning his place at the round table and being the bravest, coolest knight on earth, arthur will accept him as son and heir and make him prince of camelot. this...is not going to happen, lol.

mordred and galahad meet during shenanigans, after which galahad leaves home to be his squire. they bond while traveling and after some deeper conversations about their aligned sense of justice and the fact that they're an iconic comedy duo and about being bastards, they become a certified team. mordred is going to help galahad fulfill his grail destiny, which will also obviously fix everything with his parents, and galahad is going to help mordred become prince of camelot. that's not going to go according to plan, of course, but they're still in it together.

i have so many other ideas (did you know the holy grail here isn't actually holy? this ruins galahad's perception of his life btw) but i'm going to stop bc it's late and i need to work tomorrow. to separate them from their fate counterparts, galahad stuff will be tagged galahad du lac and mordred stuff will be mordred le fae, but i think the context will make it obvious when i'm talking fate or talking about this. i really need to name this wip stuff, but later. not now. i am so sleepy now.

#galahad du lac #mordred le fae #i've been calling their ship name galamo #i also need a goddamn wip name and a full outline but guess who is fucking sleepy!!!!!!!!!

[ecileh]

Nesta and the Mercenary

Pairing: Nesta / the mercenary Rating: explicit Length: 9k Tags: F/F, SAPPHIC SMUT, canon-compliant, non-graphic past mention of the canon SA AO3 link

But Nesta had gone with that mercenary. My hateful, cold sister had been willing to brave Prythian to rescue me. “What happened to Tomas Mandray?” I asked, the words strangled. “I realized he wouldn’t have gone with me to save you from Prythian.” —A Court of Thorns and Roses, Chapter 30

BUT WHO DID GO WITH NESTA TO SAVE FEYRE?? THE MERCENARY.

This is their story. It’s very gay.

As they sat around the fire for the quiet hour before bed, the faerie came.

Later, Nesta’s memories of the encounter were crystal-clear, but frantic and scattered with her terror. She remembered the faerie’s golden fur and elk-like horns and snarling voice. She remembered how Feyre tried to stave him off with a hunting knife. She remembered protecting Elain with her own body like a shield of skin and bone, despite her own fear, always putting Elain’s safety above all else.

Most of all, she remembered her father telling Feyre to go, and live well, and never come back, because she was better than all of them.

She remembered how deep down, she agreed.

Then Feyre’s eyes were on Nesta and she was saying, “Whatever you do, don’t see Tomas Mandray again. His father beats his wife, and he’s never done anything to stop it.” Nesta set her jaw so her lips wouldn’t quiver. “Bruises are harder to conceal than poverty.”

Those were Feyre’s last words to any of them as she left with the beast.

As much as the encounter had made her fear for her life, nothing could have prepared her for the growing horror she felt as she watched Elain and her father dry their tears and go from cowering in terror and sobbing with grief, to bland smiles and mindless conversation in mere minutes.

“To think we had an aunt on the island, all along. I do wish we could have met Aunt Ripleigh before she grew too ill,” their father said, idly picking up his wood carving supplies.

Elain smiled dreamily. “I wonder what her mansion is like, or if she has any handsome bachelors for neighbors. Feyre is so lucky to get to travel, even if it’s for such a sad reason.”

Nesta looked from her sister to her father in disbelief as they chattered away about Aunt Ripleigh, who, as far as Nesta could tell, was a figment of their imaginations.

Elain continued, “Isn’t it funny, how you wrote to our other relatives on the Continent so often for help, when we had one just a few days’ ride away?”

“Feyre left with a beast, Elain. What the fuck are you two talking about?” she hissed.

“I’m sorry, Nesta, that you did not get to go,” Elain said mildly. “But that’s no reason to curse at me or call Aunt Ripleigh’s coachman a beast. He seemed perfectly well-mannered to me. Are you on your cycle? We should have picked up some willow bark tea from the hedge-woman at the market.”

Nesta sputtered, unable to form a response. She looked toward the door, which had been shattered by the faerie mere minutes before. The door was now whole, but it had a little round window that had not been there before. And all of Feyre’s paintings were now missing from the wood.

“When did we get a window in the front door?”

“Hm?” her father said. “Oh, I suppose Feyre must have done that before she left, after the wind damaged it.”

Her eyes fell upon Feyre’s hunting knife, lodged in the cabinet that Feyre had painted with little blue flowers. She pulled the knife from the wood, then looked outside the bare front door’s new window. It hadn’t snowed since that morning, and there was not a footstep in the snow, not even from when Nesta had returned home an hour before.

And Nesta Archeron knew, with absolute certainty, that she was the only one left who knew the truth.

✦✦✦

Nesta rose early the next Sunday and marched into town alone, before Elain could wake and tag along. The market was sleepy and most vendors were still arranging their wares in their stalls and wagons when Nesta arrived. But the person she was looking for was already there, leaning against the broken fountain.

“What will it cost for you to accompany me to the wall? No more, no less,” Nesta asked the only woman of the handful of mercenaries who awaited work in the town square.

She was a mountain of a woman, perhaps in her late twenties, with scars through her eyebrow and along her forearm, chin-length dark hair, and thick muscles draped in silver fur—the very wolf that had earned Feyre her life sentence in Prythian. She narrowed her obsidian-dark eyes as she spoke in a voice that was at once husky and girlish, “Have the Children of the Blessed brainwashed you into thinking you’ll find a faerie husband in Prythian?”

“The Children are simpering fools,” Nesta scoffed. “I’m looking for a human, and I won’t expect you to go over the wall with me. Just get me through the woods.”

The mercenary appraised Nesta from toe to head, her gaze lingering on Nesta’s curves and fine wool dress. “It won’t be cheap, what with rumors of faeries getting over the wall. For what exactly does a fine lady want to spend two days hiking through snow and wolf territory?”

“I am no lady,” Nesta said, steeling her spine to her full height, which was still several inches shorter than the mercenary. “Just tell me your price and I will pay it.”

“You're the brassy-haired huntress's sister,” the mercenary said, fingering the silver fur on her shoulders.

“They took her last week because of the very pelt you wear.”

The mercenary looked at Nesta for a long moment, then clicked her tongue. “Forty silver. Double if you don’t get through the wall and I have to bring you back. And you’ll want more practical clothes, princess. Your boots are fine, but you need pants and warm layers.”

Nesta counted out twenty silver. “Don’t call me that. You get the rest when I see the wall. We leave tomorrow at dawn.” It was more than she had expected, though she had not actually known what to expect. The silver, plus the cost of any clothes she couldn’t salvage from Feyre’s old hunting garb, would eat up a good chunk of the little fund that she had set aside for herself. But if there was even half a chance of rescuing Feyre from the faerie beast who had stolen her and bewitched their family, it would be more than worth it.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“My name is Nesta,” she said, frowning up at the other woman.

“The princess has manners! I'm Rab.” The mercenary grinned, extending her hand. “It will be my pleasure to do business with you.”

Nesta glared at Rab, but shook on their deal anyway.

✦✦✦

Telling her family that she was going to “check on Feyre and Aunt Ripleigh” had been a vexing affair. Nesta was still in a pissy mood from it when she met Rab in the town square the next morning at dawn, in the same exact spot she had left the scar-faced woman. Blessedly, Rab had stayed true to her word rather than having made off with Nesta's silver, as many other mercenaries might have done.

“What's got your bloomers in a twist, princess?” the mercenary asked with a smirk, noting Nesta's stormy expression.

“You ask as if I'm wearing any,” Nesta said flatly. “Let's go.”

Rab raised her eyebrows suggestively, but stayed silent, having apparently decided not to tangle further with Nesta's attitude.

They walked in silence for the first few hours. Nesta felt awkward and exposed in Feyre’s pants, which hugged her larger backside obscenely, and she was soon gasping for breath. She may have had a full week of square meals for the first time in months, but her body was still not strong enough to overcome the lingering weakness of near-starvation.

Nesta did not complain or let herself fall behind, however, and Rab did not slow her pace, though she did loudly announce, "I could use a bite," before sitting down on a log and handing Nesta a few pieces of hard bread and venison jerky.

Nesta ate quickly, though she appreciated the chance to catch her breath. Rab chewed slowly while Nesta took long sips of water from a canteen and shrugged off her outermost layer now that she was warm from walking.

They continued like this for the rest of the first day: Nesta quietly pushing herself to keep up, Rab maintaining a hard, steady pace but also enforcing regular breaks. She would never admit it, but Nesta was grateful that her pride was saved from having to request time to sit down and catch her breath.

“Didn't your family care to help search for your lost sister?” Rab asked as they bedded down for the night. “I saw you with a third girl. No parents, other relatives to help you or go in your stead?”

Nesta frowned. “I'm keeping up, aren't I?”

“I didn't mean to offend,” Rab said with mock solemnity, piling wood onto the fire. “You're doing fine. I'd just be surprised if coming yourself was your first choice.”

“Even if my father or my sister could make this trip, which they couldn't, they're so magic-addled they wouldn't understand where they were going.” Nesta sighed as she inched closer to the fire, savoring its warmth. “They think Feyre is at some imaginary relative's house and that I've gone to check on her.”

Rab froze in the middle of adding a log to the fire and raised an eyebrow. “They've been glamoured?”

“It's utterly infuriating. I forged a letter and everything to ensure that they thought this nonexistent aunt desperately needed me, and not Elain or my father, to come visit. But they're so bewitched that all I had to say was 'Aunt Ripleigh', and they were glassy-eyed and dreamy-voiced, telling me to have such a lovely trip.”

“But you are not glamoured.”

“Clearly not,” Nesta snapped. Sparks flew as she took the log from Rab's unmoving hand and tossed it roughly into the fire.

“There's a science to a good campfire, and you're fucking it all up, princess.” Rab grabbed another log and used the end of it to rearrange the fire. “Why wouldn't the faerie glamour you? Have you had past dealings with them? Or a charm that protected you?”

Nesta shook her head, then pulled up her sleeve to show the mercenary her iron bracelet. “This is useless. Elain had one, too, and was enchanted anyway. Don't know why I still wear it.”

“The only metal that will stop a faerie from hurting you is a wit of steel, or a sharp blade to the heart or the neck, and the latter is only after sticking them with an ash arrow first,” Rab said, fingering the sword at her side. “You’ll have to rely on the former, as it doesn’t seem like you’re wanting for mental steel. That’s a good thing.”

Nesta stiffened and said bitterly, “Try telling my family that.”

“Do you think my mother was proud to raise a child more beast than girl until I started bringing her money every season until she died? Or that any mercenary bands respected me as an equal until I proved myself their better? You might as well have pride in whatever it is that you’re good at.”

Nesta heard the truth in Rab’s words. She knew her own stubborn pride was all that had kept her going these years. Even if her father never looked at her the way he looked at Elain every day or at Feyre as the faerie led her away. Like he was proud of the people they were. But Nesta didn’t need his approval—or anyone’s. Right now, she just needed to bring Feyre back, because it wasn’t right that she was gone.

It wasn’t right that nobody but Nesta even knew enough to miss her.

That didn’t mean she wanted to face any of that pain right now. Not with the mercenary always observing her so intently.

So Nesta was silent as Rab directed her to boil beans for dinner. She tried to ignore the thickness in her throat and the feeling that Rab could see right through her. If anything, the sensations only ached more keenly the more she tried to shove them away.

Meanwhile, the mercenary stomped through the trees around camp and scattered salt or whatever charm she had to deter any passing faeries who might scent two humans so close to the wall. Even though they both knew it would do nothing to stop a faerie who truly intended to steal, torture, or devour them. Even though Rab herself had said only an ash arrow and sharp blades and wits would stop a faerie. But this close to the wall, humanity felt too fragile to dismiss anything that could turn a faerie away.

“Say one word about the overcooked beans and you’ll be eating snow for dinner,” Nesta said as she handed the returning mercenary a bowl.

“I’ve seen worse,” Rab said before tasting the meal. If one could even call it a meal. “Actually, you know what? I think I like it better this way. It’s inspired. Maybe when you find your sister, her faerie husband will spare your life to keep you as his cook.”

“Shut up.” Nesta closed her eyes and struggled to swallow a mouthful of dry, flavorless mush.

Rab snickered and set to spreading the mush on a piece of hard bread. “Can you at least defend yourself better than you can cook?”

“I'm sure you'll disagree, but not every problem needs to be solved with fists and steel,” Nesta said. Reaching into her pack, she found Feyre's knife. “Though, I do have this.”

The mercenary arched one dark eyebrow. “And can you wield it?”

“Sharp end to the gut,” she said as she stabbed the knife into the cold ground next to her. “Just like that.”

“That's a hunting knife, princess. It's for skinning and filleting, not stabbing.”

Nesta glared at the mercenary, who looked like she was trying not to laugh in Nesta's face. “It wouldn't feel good if I stabbed you with it, would it?”

“Fair enough,” Rab said, setting her bowl aside. “Eat fast, if you can stomach it. I'll give you my time until the moon rises, but then it's bedtime.”

“Your time for what?” Nesta asked.

“To show you how to survive an attack long enough to run away if your wits—or your tits—aren't enough. Works for faeries and men alike.”

For the next hour, Rab showed Nesta the fundamentals of self defense: how to escape a bind, to stun an attacker by gouging their eyes or hitting them in a soft spot (if they even had any), and to wear a knife properly, though Rab impressed that Nesta should only draw it as a last resort, since wielding it would take weeks to learn, and it could easily be taken and used against her.

The quick training was a blessed distraction from her brooding, but Nesta was still relieved when she could curl up in the bedding that Rab had laid out, so that she could hide her face in the shadows of the forest, but the mercenary stopped her.

“You a heavy sleeper?”

Nesta shook her head.

“Good. Then I won't have to worry about not being able to rouse you for your watch.”

“Do I get a discount for doing your job for you?” Nesta asked.

Rab smirked. “Absolutely not, princess.”

The night was cold and long, but the mercenary sat close to Nesta through her watch, her warmth welcome at Nesta’s back. Sleep came even more scantly for her than usual, as it had been years since she had slept anywhere besides the huge iron bed, and its mattress, as lumpy and old as it was, was still a far cry from the cold, hard ground. So she did not care much when her watch came—or at least she wouldn’t have at all, if it weren’t for the distant howls of wolves. Rab had told her not to mind them unless they grew louder than the crackling of the fire, but the sound was unsettling all the same.

The second day passed much as the first, quiet and grueling, though as they drew closer to the wall, the mercenary grew visibly more agitated, fussing with her layers and furs and accidentally thwacking her sheathed sword against tree trunks as if she had forgotten how far it stuck out from her body. Nesta, on the other hand, was exhausted from the day before but had gained some sureness of foot as she picked around the tangled roots and thorns that wove through the snow.

“We’ll camp here,” Rab said abruptly as she dropped her pack on the ground.

Nesta narrowed her eyes at the sun shining through the trees, not yet near the horizon.

“We’re close, aren’t we?”

“You can’t go into the faerie lands so close to nightfall, princess. You’ll have a good night’s sleep and then be on your way with a full day of sunlight before you,” the mercenary said. “Start the fire while I have a look around, see if there’s a gap in the wall nearby. In most places it’s invisible, but here there’s stone brought in by humans. It means there was a gate that faeries were getting through.”

“Absolutely the hell not,” Nesta said, fetching the purse from her pocket and pressing it into Rab’s hand. “We’re done here. Two more hours of daylight is that much closer to my sister.”

The mercenary sputtered in disbelief at the suggestion. But even in her shock, Rab was fast, and she grabbed Nesta before they were more than a step apart.

Nesta tried to stomp on Rab’s feet, to throw her head back at Rab’s face, but Rab was the one who had taught her to do those things. The mercenary anticipated each attack and swiftly dodged Nesta’s blows.

Though Nesta had only just learned how to escape a bind, she had lived her entire life on the offensive. She was feinting, distracting the mercenary. When Rab adjusted her hold on Nesta in order to swing her head out of the way, Nesta took the opening and spun in Rab’s arms.

She sank her teeth into the exposed skin of the mercenary’s neck. Rab yelped in shock, and it was enough for Nesta to slip away.

She took off running toward where she assumed the wall would be. Northward, with the setting sun to her left.

“Nesta, stop!” Rab cried, but Nesta was not listening to the mercenary’s voice or even whether footsteps followed behind her.

All she knew was that Feyre was somewhere on the other side of that wall, and Nesta would bring Feyre back, even if she had to trade herself to the beast that had taken her sister away.

It wasn't right. It just wasn't right that Feyre had been taken away without any choice, and Nesta had been left behind to her own wretched life.

If any of them deserved to be taken away by nasty, vain faeries, it was Nesta, who had never said a kind word or obeyed an order in her life. The faeries would have just eaten her or sent her back once they'd had enough of her attitude. Not Feyre, who always did whatever was required of her, and then some, and still found it in her heart to make things beautiful and care about others.

The woods blurred into a canvas of grey and white smudges as she ran. She barely registered the bare branches that cracked across her face like tiny whips. Skipping and leaping over rocks and tree roots felt second-nature—though her boots were heavier than any dancing shoes, dodging the obstacles recalled some memory in her muscles of long-disused dance steps as she ran toward her destination.

All Nesta could picture was Feyre enslaved to the faeries like their ancestors, meekly scrubbing their floors or being sold off in marriage to a hideous beast. Feyre, trapped for life in a misery she didn't deserve.

And only Nesta knew.

It wasn't right.

Nesta had no idea how long she ran, though even with the added adrenaline of her fury and fear, she knew she could not have made it far.

But just when she thought her winter-starved body would give out, the snow underfoot melted, and when her eyes refocused on the grey in front of her, it was the stone of a wall.

The wall.

Nesta gasped with relief and pressed her hands to the smooth stone.

It was cool, but not cold. And the air was warm, scented of lemon and roses. As if the magic of Prythian itself leaked through the wall to offer a deadly flirtation to any mortal who dared come this close.

She stepped back, taking in her surroundings. Old, rough stone ran along the bottom of the wall as far as she could see, but here, from her chest up, the stone was smooth and clean. A very recent repair if the sharp, precise fit of the stones and the lack of lichens and moss were any indication.

To the left, toward the setting sun, the patch of fresh stone went as far as she could see, sometimes even comprising an entire section of wall from bottom to top, as if the entire wall had crumbled in places. But to the right…the patch ended.

Hoping a rogue faerie or the freeze of the particularly bad winter this year had broken enough of the wall for her to slip through or climb over, she ran to the right, toward the darkening sky, savoring the warmth and the smell of fruit and flowers. A tiny, uncharacteristic smile toyed at the corners of her lips—everything seemed brighter here, and she was so close.

Nesta almost laughed when she saw the pile of boulders ahead, perfectly arranged that she might clamber over them to reach the break whence the rocks came, toward the top of the wall.

She was just putting her hands on the second boulder when a hard yank at her collar sent her tumbling backward. The breath was stolen from her lungs as she hit the damp ground.

A great shadow stood over her. She blinked the shock from her eyes just in time to see short, dark hair swaying around a shaking head.

“You are a damned idiot,” Rab hissed, pulling Nesta back to her feet. “Didn’t you hear me when I said you can’t go into Prythian tired and hungry? We’ll both be alone in the night, on either side of the wall with no one to watch our backs. And then the first monster you meet, if they don’t outright eat you, will ply you with fruit and wine and trap you in a bargain or put you to sleep for a hundred years, and you’ll be too hungry to refuse, princess. And then you’ll be no use to your sister.”

“I've gone hungry plenty.”

“That's exactly how I know you won't be able to refuse anything you're offered. I'm just doing my job to give you your best shot.”

Nesta gave the mercenary her best withering glare: eyes narrowed, one finely arched eyebrow slightly raised, her sharp lips pressed into a thin, cruel purse. “Your job is done.”

The mercenary sighed. “It's your life.” She reached into her pack and handed Nesta what was left of the jerky. “Try to make it last. Eat nothing of Prythian origin, not even a berry.”

Nesta nodded, then turned back to the wall. She expected to hear the retreat of footsteps behind her, but there was only silence.

“Why are you still babysitting me?” she asked coldly, glancing back at Rab.

Rab gave a wicked grin that Nesta wanted to insult right off of her face. “Because if whatever allows you to resist glamours doesn’t let you through that hole, I’m not missing out on my double pay by letting you die on this side of the wall.”

“I'm not going to die,” Nesta snapped, though she swallowed, looking up at the break in the wall.

There was no turning back now.

So she climbed.

It wasn’t a very long climb, maybe ten feet to reach the fresh break. But hauling herself up the layers of boulders required the grueling use of long-dormant muscles, and she was embarrassed to struggle in front of the mercenary with her bulging biceps and thick neck. It was a blessed relief that Rab did not offer to help, as Nesta’s pride might have necessitated that she kick the mercenary in the face.

And when she finally got to the top, the air undulated and sparkled, as if simmered by the forge of the earth beneath, but she could see it.

Prythian. The land of faeries, a land that only the stupidest and unluckiest of humans had seen in centuries.

She would be the first to be neither.

Through the shimmering air, she could see a forest of pale spring green, dotted by white and pink and yellow blossoms. The forest stretched into the distance, occasionally broken by smooth rolling hills and glittering rivers and ponds. She could even spy distant trails of smoke rising from little buildings surrounded by lush gardens. The undulating air seemed extra thick between her eyes and the villages, as if trying to hide their existence from her, but failing.

Nesta knew that Prythian was full of monsters, and even though faeries were known to prize beauty, she had not expected their homeland to look so … normal. Not unlike the mortal lands, just … more colorful. More beautiful.

She looked back at Rab one last time, her eyes inexplicably hot with tears she refused to shed.

“Have you seen it before?” she asked.

“Once,” Rab said. “Where the wall meets the sea. It made me sick to even look at. A dark, twisted hellhole perfect for all the monsters that inhabit it. No wonder they break through to torture us.”

Nesta scoffed quietly, turning back to the spring-touched forest. So not even the wall’s ancient magic could glamour her. Somber and steeled, she reached a hand through the shimmering air.

She was immediately met with a buzzing, crackling pain that coursed through her entire body, and she drew her hand back quickly as a metallic scent scorched her nostrils.

A quick examination of her hand showed no damage other than a little redness. Either a test that she would not fail, or a warning that she would not heed. Nesta rose to her feet and stepped through with her entire body this time.

Every muscle seized with excruciating pain as she froze mid-step, then crumpled to the stone beneath her feet.

The pain lingered this time, like pins and needles from head to toe.

But Nesta rose, shaky and panting, even as Rab yelled below her, “Come down! You can try again tomorrow.”

Nesta jumped.

She screamed as the air held her for a moment, her muscles spasming through the pain, no longer buzzing, but burning through her flesh and veins.

She didn’t remember falling, but she must have. She was curled in the fetal position on the boulder, her teeth chattering and her nose burning with the scent of metal. There was something hot and salty in her mouth and when she spat, it was bright red with blood.

The mercenary yelled again, “Knock it off, princess. You failed. If you keep trying, you'll—”

Staggering to her knees, Nesta howled again, not with pain this time but with rage.

“This isn't fucking right!” she raged, blood streaming from her nose and mouth as if she'd just ripped a creature apart with her very teeth.

She grabbed a small rock from the boulder pile and hurled it at the magic air atop the wall. “Give my sister back!”

The wall held the rock in shimmering air, then flung it right back at her, square in the stomach.

“People have died messing with that magic! I will drag you down myself if I have to!”

The scraping of rocks behind Nesta indicated Rab was following her up, but she didn't care.

“What do you want to let me through, you enchanted piece of shit? My firstborn? A blood sacrifice?” Nesta snorted and sucked up all the blood and saliva and mucous in her mouth, and she spat it all at the wall.

The spot where the disgusting red liquid hit the shimmering air glowed golden-white for a moment, and then it exploded.

✦✦✦

Nesta was floating in a pool in the Archeron estate gardens, ignoring the sound of her younger sisters giggling and splashing in the background.

Nesta loved the pool, but not for the same reasons her sisters did. The water was pleasantly cool as she slowly waved her arms and legs to stay afloat, and the sun warmed her face, and she liked the patterns of stars and flames that danced across the backs of her eyelids in the sunlight. The pool had been meant as a water feature in the garden, where water lilies and lotuses and colorful ducks could float, but Feyre had invaded it—playing pirate—one hot summer years ago, and it had been the sisters’ domain ever since. They always begged her to play their childish water games with them, but she hated getting her face wet and they knew not to direct their splashes toward her. Nesta was content to float, if she joined them in the pool at all.

The splashing and screeching faded into whispers, and a small hand laced in hers.

“Nestaaa,” a girlish voice said in her ear. “Come play with us.”

Nesta opened one upturned blue-grey eye, meeting its near-twin in her youngest sister’s freckled, smiling face. “No, thank you.”

“Please! Hide and seek isn’t as fun with only two people.”

“Hide and seek isn’t as fun when you’re doing it in a pool of clear water. It’s way too hot to go in the garden,” Nesta snorted.

Elain, who had been hanging back behind Feyre, popped her head over Feyre’s shoulder. “We’ve been playing it with our eyes closed, and then the hiders can move around but they have to be quiet or else the seeker will definitely hear the splash and find you. Please, play with us,” she begged.

“Please, Nesta, all you have to do is find us. You’re the best seeker.” Feyre squeezed Nesta’s hand. “Elain always opens her eyes!”

“That was one time!”

Nesta opened her other eye and raised her head. “No splashing, you say?”

Her sisters nodded expectantly, a wolfish grin on Feyre’s face and a pretty pout on Elain’s.

Nesta kicked her feet under to stand upright and closed her eyes tight. “One … two … three … four … five … six … seven … eight … nine … ten!” She reached her arms out and began walking slowly through the pool, careful to keep her movement silent so she could hear her sisters.

Elain was easy to find when a splash and a giggle gave her away less than a minute in. But Feyre had always been a strange, quiet child, and she was much more skilled at games of stealth. Which was probably why she loved sneaky games so much and hated that Elain had to resort to cheating to find her.

“Nesta, what are you doing?” Elain asked. “The game’s over.”

Nesta tip-toed quietly through the pool, listening intently and reaching out in hopes of bumping into their youngest sister. “I still have to find Feyre, silly.”

“But Feyre is at Aunt Ripleigh’s.”

Nesta whirled and opened her eyes. “What did you just say?”

“She’s helping Aunt Ripleigh,” said Elain, who had suddenly aged ten years and was ruining a beautiful silk gown as she sat on the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in the water. “How flattering it was of Aunt Ripleigh, to require us in her time of need!”

Nesta thrashed in the pool, turning in circles. “Feyre!” she yelled. “Come out! This isn’t funny!”

“All you have to do is find me!” Feyre sing-songed on the hot breeze. “Nestaaaa.” Feyre’s girlish voice grew deeper and huskier, distorted like bubbles in water.

“I’m trying!” Nesta cried, then looked down at the water and reflected sunlight that made it hard to see her own feet. What if Feyre had—in the deep end—when she couldn’t yet swim and only ever tip-toed on the shallow side—

“Nesta! Wake up!” called the strange, low and girlish voice.

“Feyre!”

Nesta took a deep breath, and dove underwater.

✦✦✦

Nesta sputtered as the liquid hit her face. It took several tries to fully open her eyes and blink away all the water.

“About fucking time!” said the girlish, husky-voiced shadow that hovered over Nesta against a backdrop of fading sky. “Just relax, princess, stay still.”

Nesta scowled and scooted her arms to prop herself up, but firm gently hands pushed her back to the ground.

“You didn't tumble far, but if you're hurt, moving before you know it is going to make things much worse,” said the shadow.

“I can't go very far with you straddling me,” Nesta said hoarsely.

“That's the point, princess.”

Nesta's eyes had adjusted enough now to see the long, sculpted face and scarred eyebrow—Rab, the mercenary.

Who had brought her to the Wall. Which she had failed to cross.

She had failed, utterly failed, to rescue Feyre. Her little sister, whose little hand she could still feel wrapped in her own.

“I'm just a common bitch, not a fucking princess!” Nesta hissed. “And I’m a terrible sister.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Rab just coolly raised her eyebrows.

A hot lump in her throat threatened to strangle Nesta as she allowed Rab to poke and prod her fallen body, searching for internal bleeding or broken bones. Though by the time Rab was checking her eyes and asking asinine questions to assess whether her throbbing headache indicated an injury to her mind, Nesta couldn't hold back the eye rolls and scoffs that came more easily than breathing.

Rab froze in the middle of making Nesta count fingers, her pointer still raised above Nesta's face.

The hairs on the back of Nesta's stood on end, and she felt it too.

They locked eyes. Nesta saw nothing but terror in Rab's deep, obsidian gaze.

“Whatever you do,” Rab hissed, her lips barely moving, “don't look anywhere but my face. Don't look. Don't make a peep. Its power comes from acknowledgement.”

Nesta pressed her lips together. Her shivering had little to do with the dewy ground pressing at her layers of clothes.

The temperature dropped precipitously. It was a cold unlike that of the winter woods they had hiked through these past two days; this cold was a living, leeching thing that stole any inner warmth.

Look at me.

The voice was not a sound carried on the air; but rather something older than ears, something felt in the bones, something inherently understood. The cold thing, the leech, circled them, though Nesta did not see it.

But she could feel it. She could hear it.

Look at me. I will devour you. I will snap your bones between my claws. I will drink your marrow while you watch.

Having nowhere else to safely look, Nesta took in every detail of the mercenary's face. She traced the planes of the high cheekbones, the aquiline nose, the sharp brow, the cleft chin. A face that would have been beautiful if carved into stone, but was daunting in the flesh.

She watched the sun-browned warmth drain from Rab's face, leaving full lips ashen and scars stark white against olive skin.

I will make it hurt, and in the end you will beg for my teeth to shred you into oblivion. Look at me.

The throbbing headache turned into a sharp pain along her temples as Nesta clenched her teeth. She flinched minutely at the pain and relaxed her jaw, but it was enough to break Rab's waning focus.

Look at me.

The mercenary's dark eyes narrowed and grazed all over Nesta's features as if unable to find an anchor. A bead of freezing cold sweat dripped from Rab's forehead and splashed onto Nesta's cheek.

Rab was slipping.

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

The voice was ancient, hollow, terrifying, seductive.

Nesta just had to be worse.

She lifted her head and wrapped her lips around the finger that was still dangling above her face, even though the flesh was as cold as the faerie-chilled air around them. Rab's eyes, which had wandered as far as the ground next to Nesta's head, grew wide with shock and snapped to Nesta's mouth with sharp, almost predatory focus.

And as quickly as it came, the horrible faerie slithered away. Plants rustled in its wake, as if recoiling from its presence, and the air warmed.

But Nesta's shivering no longer had anything to do with the temperature. And even though she had initially sucked Rab's finger to distract the mercenary, she found she did not want to stop.

She had never been touched like this by a woman, and barely by a man—she refused to count Tomas’s assault days earlier or his harsh, foiled attempts at pawing in his woodshed before. But this, with the mercenary—she wanted it.

It was now she who needed the distraction—not just from her failure, but from their near-brush with death. She needed to feel alive.

Or maybe it was just the faerie magic that leaked through the wall here.

Either way, Nesta wanted.

Nesta's tongue lazily traced the sensitive fingertip, her lips and palate forming a light suction to take the mercenary knuckle by knuckle. She held Rab's gaze as she did so, enjoying the slight twitch in Rab's left eye every time she sucked the finger deeper.

The mercenary's full lips quirked when she shifted her straddle over Nesta, until their pelvises met with a sensation that sent Nesta's abdomen rippling with pleasure and surprise despite the terror that still gripped her muscles. Nesta arched her hips to grind her pelvis into Rab's, and when Rab withdrew her finger from Nesta's mouth, a small gasp escaped.

Her hand freed, the mercenary set to finding the skin under Nesta's clothes. As her hand tickled Nesta's breast, Nesta closed the gap between their mouths. Rab's lips and tongue were soft and ... surprisingly warm. So were her hands where they grasped her breast and slid along her waist, and so was the spot where their pelvises met—her protector seemed to run extraordinarily hot. The sensation was exquisite.

Wanting Rab’s heat to envelop her, Nesta kissed Rab deeper, harder, and ran her hands along Rab’s body until she found a series of leather laces, which she deftly untied. Meanwhile, Rab half-unbuttoned Nesta’s coat and undershirt and pulled away from Nesta’s kiss to admire the escape of her full breasts, peaked despite the warm evening air leaking from beyond the wall. Nesta tried to slip off the mercenary’s jacket, but was met with resistance as Rab buried her hands and face in Nesta’s chest, squeezing her breasts together and licking and sucking every inch of exposed skin.

Nesta luxuriated in the feel of the mercenary's soft mouth and rough hands until she could not stand it anymore and tugged on Rab's jacket again. When Rab still did not move, Nesta practically growled, “Get up, you brute.”

Rab froze mid-lick, her tongue still on Nesta's nipple, as she glanced up at Nesta and smirked.

“As you wish, princess,” the mercenary replied, matching Nesta's mocking tone. She stood, extending a hand to help Nesta rise and ensuring that Nesta was steady on her feet before Rab leaned against the rubble of the wall to remove her boots and undress.

Nesta watched intently, drinking in every ripple of the mercenary’s body as it was revealed limb by limb. Rab had little curves to speak of, besides that of her thick thighs, one of which was spidered with black veins that ran from ankle to hip. Her breasts were small but pert, overshadowed by the broad muscles gained from years of fighting. And yet, her muscles were very different from a man’s—softer, as if kept deeper inside her body, encased in thicker flesh, criss-crossed with pale scars.

Nesta thought she was stunning.

When she was bare, Rab ran a hand through her short, dark hair, a move that she surely knew showed off her muscled arms. She smiled coyly in a way that had Nesta unbuttoning her coat the rest of the way.

The mercenary shook her head and picked Nesta up before she had a chance to remove anything more than her coat. She pushed Nesta against the wall and sank her lips into Nesta’s neck, gently licking and sucking so that goose flesh spread across her skin. Rab slowly unbuttoned the rest of Nesta’s shirt while Nesta explored Rab’s bare skin, tracing circles that ultimately led her fingers to the trail of coarse hair from Rab’s navel to the warmth between her legs. So warm—the thatch of dark curls was so warm, and her engorged clit was positively burning. Nesta rolled it between her fingers and stroked it slowly, dipping her fingers into the wet behind it to slicken her touch, then playing with the bundle of nerves to feel out what made the mercenary shudder and gasp.

Rab unlaced Nesta's pants and swiftly peeled them down to pool around her ankles, kneeling in the process to bring her eyes level with Nesta's pelvis. Nesta wasn't ready to remove her fingers from Rab's clit, and she reached for it until she couldn't, leaving a line of slick along Rab's torso.

Nesta arched into Rab's hands, which slid up her legs to grasp her ass, fingers reaching into the space where her buttocks met.

“You weren't kidding about not wearing any knickers,” Rab said with a glance up at Nesta.

“I’ve never worn pants before…” Nesta ran a light, teasing touch along Rab’s thick neck and shoulders.

Rab chuckled before burying her nose and mouth between Nesta’s legs, breathing deeply and licking Nesta's clit in exquisite, heated patterns as she unlaced Nesta's boots.

By the time Rab had removed the last of Nesta’s clothes and laid her bare, Nesta’s chest was heaving from the pleasure of Rab’s tongue. The mercenary met Nesta’s eyes and though Nesta mourned the loss of Rab’s mouth, she welcomed Rab’s lips on her own and the return of access to the warmth between Rab’s legs. Nesta tasted Rab’s mouth, enjoying the saltiness of her own flavor on another’s lips. Rab dug her fingers into Nesta’s ass and lifted her onto a large piece of the crumbled wall, the perfect seat to wrap one of Nesta’s legs around Rab’s waist, while Rab lifted her opposite leg onto the boulder beside Nesta in an act of impressive flexibility.

Nesta moaned at the feeling of hot, wet cunt on cunt as she and Rab ground against each other in unison. Rab’s breaths grew loud and fast, turning into gasps when Nesta played with her nipples and licked her earlobe. Rab wrapped her hands around the back of Nesta’s head to hold her closer.

“Aren't you afraid that a faerie will catch us here?” Nesta whispered breathlessly, her lips against Rab's ear.

Rab shuddered, whether from the thought of faeries or the heat of Nesta's breath, Nesta did not know. “If I must die, I always wanted to do it mid-fuck,” the mercenary said teasingly. “Fae are horny bastards, though... Half of them would be as likely to try to join in, if you believe the stories.”

It was Nesta's turn to shudder as she imagined such a deadly creature joining them.

“Would you like that, princess? A monster on one end, and your protector on the other?”

Nesta was unable to form any response other than a moan as she imagined the scene and arched into Rab's heat, her nipples grazing against Rab's broad chest.

Rab chuckled as she ran her mouth along Nesta's collarbone and shoulder. Nesta leaned into the sensation—until Rab sank her teeth into the spot where Nesta's neck met her shoulder.

Nesta yelped at the sharp pain, which seemed as much payback for Nesta biting Rab earlier as it was to pin Nesta in place as Rab’s grinding grew faster, harder. But Nesta didn’t mind the pain much, not when it seemed to sharpen the feeling between her legs. The sounds of pleasure that escaped her mouth seemed to encourage Rab, who pressed hard against Nesta with a shudder and released the bite with a deep groan as they both climaxed.

Panting heavily, Rab released her raised leg and sank to her knees before Nesta, her large hands wrapped around Nesta’s waist. Her face came to rest between Nesta’s legs for a moment while she caught her breath before she sank her face into Nesta’s cunt and licked her once again with gusto.

Nesta tangled her fingers in Rab's hair, gently directing the mercenary's head to the exact spot where she wanted it—up, left, up a little more, more.

Licking turned into sucking, and Nesta shuddered and moaned when Rab teased one finger at her entrance.

“Do you want me to fill you up?” Rab’s voice rumbled against Nesta’s clit, and Nesta moaned again.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Lips closed back around Nesta’s clit as Rab slowly fed her finger into Nesta’s expectant cunt. Nesta immediately tightened, savoring the feeling.

“More,” Nesta said breathlessly.

Rab made a low sound of agreement against Nesta's clit as she inserted a second finger and curled her fingers to massage a spot that, combined with the vibrations of Rab's voice, sent Nesta over the edge, clenching rhythmically around Rab's fingers.

But when Nesta's orgasm faded, she was still arching into Rab's mouth. She pumped up and down on Rab's fingers, almost as if her hips had a mind of her own. Nesta leaned back against the crumbled wall, savoring the cool stone at her back in contrast to the hot mouth and fingers at her core. It felt amazing, but still, she wanted—

“More.”

Rab compliantly inserted a third finger.

“You’re so wet,” Rab crooned, pumping her hand in response and running her tongue along Nesta’s clit. “Seems like you won’t be happy until I fill you up entirely. Are you sure?”

Nesta nodded pleadingly. “I can handle it.”

Rab grinned and rose halfway to worship Nesta’s breasts with her mouth and free hand as she inserted another finger. She curled all four to rub that internal spot, while her thumb grazed over Nesta’s clit.

Nesta’s senses were nearly overloaded, but still she begged. Rab hummed with pleasure that she could elicit this response and slipped her thumb from Nesta’s clit to her core. Nesta gasped as Rab thrust the rest of her hand into her hole, stretching her to what felt like her limit.

“Rab,” Nesta moaned, her legs shaking.

The mercenary kissed and licked and bit her way back down to Nesta's clit. Her hand was now fully engulfed in Nesta's core to the wrist, and Nesta could have sworn her lower abdomen swelled with every thrust.

The sheer force of her climax made her cry out, far too loudly for their precarious location.

But it seemed, luckily for them—or unluckily, if either of them had been serious about the threesome with the horny type of faerie—the horrible, cold leech-faerie had scared away everything for quite some distance, as they didn't even hear a wolf howl that night.

They camped back in the spot that Rab had originally picked out. Though it was much warmer near the wall, the proximity to Prythian was too unsettling. And neither of them needed to say that they felt like they had already pushed their luck for the day.

Nesta barely made it through dinner—blessedly cooked by Rab this time —before she was pulling Rab under the fur blankets of the bedroll so she could have a turn at tasting the mercenary.

It was a welcome distraction from the guilt of her utter failure that day, but mostly, Nesta was nowhere near done with Rab. She didn’t think she would ever be.

When the mercenary, dripping wet from her orgasm, turned on Nesta, she hesitated a moment before saying, “I—my full name is Mirabelle. I started going by the nickname when I realized I’d never hear the end of the mockery in my line of work. It’s too pretty a name for me, but I wouldn’t mind if you called me that while no one else is around. If that’s the name I make you cry out.” Rab—Mirabelle—smirked with arrogance.

“It’s not too pretty for you.” Nesta frowned, reaching out to stroke the face that hovered between her legs. “I think you’re beautiful, in quite a remarkable way. You look like you were carved from stone. I would proudly put you in my garden to admire.”

Mirabelle snorted, but her smile reached her eyes for the first time since Nesta had met her. “Makes sense for a stone-cold bitch to think that, then.”

✦✦✦

Months later, Nesta watched as a servant frantically rushed to find a big, floppy hat for Feyre to protect her skin from the sun.

It was pointless. Feyre had returned home already freckled and tan. If she hadn’t been practically glowing from the inside, some residual magic of being loved in Prythian no doubt, she would have reminded Nesta of Mirabelle—so out of place in, for all the sun she’d drank in as she wandered the countryside, fighting faeries and wolves and protecting stone-cold bitches.

Nesta’s heart was heavy as she approached Feyre, who was examining the dirt on her hands.

“Even if you washed them, there’d be no hiding it,” Nesta said to her sister. “To fit in, you’d have to wear gloves and never take them off. Sit under a parasol and let your freckles fade.”

Feyre grabbed her shovel. “Maybe I don’t want to fit in with your social circles.”

Nesta huffed. As if it was her social circle. “Then why are you here?”

“It’s my home, isn’t it?”

Nesta reached into her pocket to toss the chunk of painted wood, a bit of table that had been torn off by the faerie beast. “I think your home is somewhere very far away.”

Feyre stared at the piece of wood, painted by her own hand with tangled vines and too-blue foxglove.

“Glamours don’t work on me. So while I watched Elain and Father dry their tears and forget everything, talking nonsense about some made-up aunt’s house, I remembered everything. I thought I’d gone mad—but I looked at that table and his claw marks, and the gouge of your knife in the cabinet, and I knew it wasn’t in my head.” Nesta reached under her skirts to her calf, where she wore an embossed leather sheath gifted to her by Rab. From it, she brandished Feyre’s hunting knife.

Feyre blinked, looking at the knife in disbelief. “Elain said you tried to visit me.”

The anger boiled to Nesta’s surface, after long weeks of letting it simmer beneath a façade of blank listlessness. She did not bother to hide it anymore—not around Feyre, whose ferocity could rival her own. “He stole you away into the night, and he lied about why, or else you wouldn’t be back now. And then everything went on as if it had never happened. It wasn’t right.”

“You went after me—to Prythian,” Feyre said hoarsely.

“I couldn’t find a way through the wall. I could see it. Right there on the other side, I could see it. Even when others couldn’t. But I couldn’t get through the magic.”

The shock in Feyre’s eyes gutted Nesta like a knife. Like Feyre didn’t think anyone would have come after her, even if they knew where she was. “You went four days through the winter woods. Through wolf territory. Through woods where faeries slip through.”

Nesta shrugged. She’d lived. “I hired that mercenary-woman who bought your pelts. I figured she owed me as much, if she was going to wear the faerie-skin that got you taken away. And I didn’t think anyone else would believe me.” Her voice came out soft, unbidden, as she spoke of Rab. She hadn’t left the Archeron estate or seen her lover in weeks. Not since the mercenary had taken a job and not yet returned.

“You did that for me?” Feyre said, the words half-strangled with emotion.

“It wasn’t right,” Nesta repeated, meeting the mirror of Feyre’s eyes.

“What happened to Tomas Mandray?”

Fury and shame welled up in her chest and coursed through her throat, threatening to break open the little box where she kept the secret of what Tomas had done to her. Nesta exhaled forcefully through her nose, willing all thought of Tomas away.

“I realized he wouldn’t have gone with me to save you from Prythian.” The words held another meaning, the subtle praises of the one who had gone with Nesta to save Feyre. A tiny gift, to trust Feyre with one thing that no one else knew.

Feyre’s eyes widened, and Nesta had the distinct feeling that Feyre was seeing right through Nesta’s hard shell of rage and pride. As much as Nesta had willingly bared in the last few moments, knowing that Feyre was seeing that much of her still made her desperately uncomfortable. But there was understanding in Feyre’s eyes—understanding that Nesta was near her limit, that Nesta feared sharing any more of her fragile, secret happiness with Rab would somehow lead to it shattering.

“Tomas never deserved you anyway,” Feyre said softly.

Nesta had to change the subject—and she was so ready for an end to months of frustration and lies and worry. “Tell me everything.”

And hours later, when Feyre finished her long tale of faeries and High Lords and blight and love, Nesta asked Feyre to teach her how to paint.

#nesta archeron #nesta #nesta deserves better #acotar #acotar fanfic #nesta fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #sjm #nesta is canonically a big tiddy biddy #nesta and the mercenary #ecilehwrites

[thesurielknows]

Cousins- 4

The trio sat on a couch, looking at their feet as five furious parents prowled and glared in front of them. Lucien was closest, sitting in chair near where Aether sat, his hands clasped together, his arms on his knees, talking quietly but fiercely to her only. Elain sat on the arm of his chair, ever the lady, listening to what he said and making mental notes to add later.

Feyre stood, coolly leaning against the fireplace of the study. She had her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on Nyx. The way that he winced told Erie he was getting a mental tongue lashing that would continue until the High Lord got here.

Erie knew none of them were in worse trouble than her. And she knew it because both of her parents stood silent and together, arms crossed, facing her down. They were waiting, she realized, to unleash judgement. Her father would wait to hear what his brother had to say before unleashing. Her mother, well, there were sometimes that Ereba couldn’t tell what was going to happen with her mother. There was a familiar fire in her eyes, though, and Erie determined that her fate must already be sealed.

Both too slow and too fast for the trio’s liking, Rhys strode into the room, his hands in his pockets. He brought a cool breeze in with him, and Nyx could’ve sworn the lights got dimmer.

“Well, Aether,” he said, cool as can be, “Must’ve been some necklace for you to risk our alliance with our closest ally. I’m sure it must be, in order for our three talented, foolish children to risk two separate courts having their ties severed with Dawn.”

Nyx flinched beside Erie. She didn’t dare lean to see Aether’s reaction. She knew she’d be the one to speak first, “How did you guys know-“

“Please,” Elain said, tired, “Aether is a Seer because I am. I knew the moment you two touched down. Didn’t you think it was odd that your uncle or I didn’t greet you?”

Erie cursed silently. Her mother stepped forward and, though she was 20, she wanted to cry like a child. “I didn’t need to be a seer to know you were up to something,” her voice was level, “It was written all over your face you three were up to your usual trouble.” Erie knew better than to respond.

“It seems,” Rhys began, “that we have given you three too much free time.”

“That changes now,” it was the first thing Feyre had said out loud. Erie had always admired her aunt. She was always intimidating, but kept her wolf beneath her skin. Other courts may have sneered at the High Lady when she wasn’t around, but in her starlight, they dimmed and stared. That was her aunt and uncle. The Darkest Night and his Brightest Star.

She dared not to look at her parents. Matching generals. A united front of calculated judgement. She knew by the way her father’s jaw clenched that he was ready to rage, but he kept it back. Out of respect for Rhys, she figured, and love for her. Though she knew of his nature and how people saw him, her father had always been gentle with her. Wiping her tears when she got hurt in training, whispering jokes to her in boring meetings.

Her mother was the same, though she was who Erie was more afraid of in times like this. Nesta had a wolf under skin like her sister, and the tough mother standing before had a look, that though it was to tell Erie she was in trouble, also said what Erie knew too, “There’s a wolf under your skin too, and you got it from me.” No one understood Ereba quite like her mother, and Erie wondered if she understood her mother better than anyone else too.

“Of course,” Rhys continued slowly, “Lucien is a High Lord and will have his own punishment for his daughter. Her punishment isn’t the Night Court’s responsibility.”

“No,” Lucien agreed, “but I agree that she’s had too much time on her hands.”

“And that’s going to change now,” Elain continued his thought.

Rhys nodded in agreement and turned his attention to the two Night cousins. “Ereba,” She cringed at her full name. Uncle Rhys only called her that when he was upset with her, “Your parents have chosen your punishment. As your High Lord, you know I can’t let you get off without something for this, but I let Nesta and Cass decide what exactly that is.” She wished he’d have handled it instead.

“As for Nyx,” Feyre said, and Rhys turned his attention to his mate, “We’re devising a schedule for you as we speak. You won’t be out of the sight of your father and I for a while yet.”

“How long?” Nyx demanded and Rhys shot him an angry look.

“Maybe a century,” Rhys spat back, “You’ve jeopardized our closest ally, besides your uncle, and potentially alienated Dawn from the Celestial courts. You’re lucky your mother got there first. This was foolish and irresponsible.” Erie turned her attention back to her own parents, avoiding looking at her uncle. “Your work was sloppy and your ward breaking was obvious on top of everything. We’re going to have extensive training to solve that. Every afternoon.”

Nyx didn’t dare groan in protest.

“When you’re not with me, in meetings or training, you’ll be with your mother. Charity and lessons.” Nyx wasn’t sure what lessons meant, but he couldn’t hope not to be exhausted by the end of the day. Likely, he’d be active until he felt like curling in bed and passing out.

Erie was hoping that she’d be forgotten, but she knew with the twin looks from her parents, she wouldn’t be. “You, young lady,” her father started, his voice clearly restrained. She glanced down at his arm, where a Siphon was glowing. He was more upset than she’d feared, “Are going to Windhaven,” he continued.

Erie wanted to collapse back into the couch. “Your mother and I will be going with you. We’ll oversee your training and ensure you have plenty to do.” She knew what that meant. Likely, she’d train as a Valkyrie in the mornings and an Illyrian in the afternoons. She’d be one big bruise when she came back.

“We’ll be staying at the family cabin, and the only visitors you’ll be having will be when your aunts and uncles decide to come,” Nesta told her, “And Uncle Az will be coming every week to take over your training for a day.”

She gulped.

“If there’s nothing else you three want to add,” Rhys dared them to, “We’ll be done.”

And that was it. Their fates were sealed.

#acotar #spoilers #fanfiction

[starfall-spirit]

A Court of Twisted Wisdom

ACOTW Masterlist

Summary:

It didn't matter that her family was made up of war heroes. She was the daughter of a bastard Illyrian and a Made female. Every second of her life had been about proving she was more than a basic half-breed with no need for seven siphons or magic swords.

When the time comes for her to prove herself she finds herself slipping between worlds as her mother's depleted power blossoms within her with a greater force than any could expect. On her path she finds two companions who just might change everything she knows.

Chapter I: Training Pays off

Ayla

I touched down in front of the Riverhouse, my cousin right behind me. "Come on, Ay. Let's get inside. I'm starving and freezing my ass off."

"You're such a baby. And stop with that nickname."

Even still I swung the door open, kicking the mud and snow off of my boots before entering the house. The house's warmth and the scent of Nuala and Aunt Elain's baking washed over me simultaneously and Nyx and I sighed in unison, earning a snicker from my father and uncles. "Lovely cooks, aren't they?" my father said, shoving a large platter of cookies down the table. "This is likely your best batch this week," he called to the pair.

"I'm glad you like them, Cassian," Elain chirped, removing her apron and claiming her usual seat at Azriel's side. I had just barely turned eight when Lucien finally let go, mating bond or not. Her happiness was his first priority, even if that meant she had fallen for the shadowsinger of a court he only played nice with for her sake. "At the rate you three are going we'll need another few batches by the time the others get back. What happened to your no sugar for warriors policy, Cassian?"

I did a quick scan of the room as my father chuckled with a smart reply. Indeed, Aunt Feyre, Mor, Roxanna, and Amren were missing. Shopping, I believe. "How was training?"

"Great," I said before Nyx could go tattling about the shit show that was today.

"Satisfactory at best and only due to Ayla's victory," Nyx still corrected me.

"Oh?" my father asked.

"It's been a repetitive argument. I'm not all that bothered by it."

"What was it?" he pushed. I gave him a look. He already knew. "More half-breed shit?"

I nodded. The daughter of a bastard male and Made female with no power to show for either. So I got physical. I slumped into a chair between my mother and Uncle Az, adjusting the subject slightly. "I attempted the Blood Rite Qualifier today."

The house went still. Even as the door opened the females walking through it sensed the drama in the air. "And?" Uncle Rhys prompted me. "Did you make the cut?"

I smirked. "I beat half of the males there."

"Two thirds, I'd say," Nyx backed me, ruffling his sister's hair as she crossed into the kitchen, looking as chilled as the older females she had entered with. She was my age, so obviously the "brotherly love" irked her to no end. Unlike Nyx, Roxanna had taken after Aunt Feyre, her hair just a shade darker than mine with Feyre's stormy eyes.

"Better than my time."

I had always worried about my size and I had quickly discovered my strength would never be in matching the males' brute force. I could be quick, taking out a knee or disarming my opponent before he could even notice, not to mention the countless Valkyrie techniques I used to throw them off. Poor males. "What are we talking about?" Mor asked.

"Ayla beat most of the males testing for the Blood Rite today," my uncle said, his violet eyes a bit worried. But it wasn't his call to make.

I looked to my parents. "Your mother and I went through it when we were about your age. We'd be hypocrites to hold you back."

I caught my uncle's grin out of the corner of my eye. "Well then, Ayla. Go show those stuck up males what a half-breed can do. Again."

Azriel's following comment was one I wasn't entirely expecting. "And Mother help them all when you do." ~~~~~ I was always a bit disbelieving when I heard my mother had made such a fuss about training when she was my age, especially when I was facing her myself. "Ignore those bony bat wings on your back, Ayla. You're a Valkyrie through and through."

I grinned back at the loud-mouthed priestess nearby as I went through my usual morning core work. My cousins and I were oddballs in the Illyrian camps. A half-breed and the pair of them three quarters Illyrian walking in on day one like we owned the place. Mistake number one. I had taken to liking a few other techniques more. It sounded a little dorky, but the practices my parents, Gwyn, and Emerie taught me had brought me this far. I'd cut the ribbon and learned enough about Illyrian practices to move on. Yesterday it had gotten me through the Illyrian obstacle course at Devlon's camp, Windhaven. The Blood Rite Qualifier.

I was sweaty and breathless afterwards, but I had beat it. My father and uncles had set up enough mock courses to prepare me just as they had done for my cousin, though I think they had assumed it was a jealous spark that would fade. Nyx had been drilling his sister and me just as hard as the rest of the Illyrians. He had gone through with the Blood Rite at twenty-six, just like me and the ten years since Nyx's ranking had been horrid when it came to training for this.

He was the only one who realized just how far I wanted to take this and being my older cousin he felt it was his job to ready me with "the most realistic simulations". Roxanna soon followed, bringing her success of the Qualifier this morning. Aside from flying over the mountains we had done just about everything I could to prepare for this. I just hope they drop us close to each other.

I trusted my best friends and I could both make it. Lyra was the daughter of a soldier my father and uncles had been flying with for centuries. She flew up here at least three or four times a week to train or even just to chat or sleep over. "Dear Aunt Nesta, will you share Ayla with the rest of us?" Nyx asked as I blindsided my mother with sheer luck.

She nodded, stepping out of the ring and I tossed a smile towards my cousin. "Get in here then."

I went down. He went down. Two victories for me. "Nice job. But I can tell you're stressed."

I blushed. "Is that so abnormal? It's the Blood Rite." I could already feel the phantom touch of the binding on my wings. A few days ago I'd asked Nyx to do whatever they did to bind them for a few moments so I wouldn't make a total fool of myself where other Illyrians could see my shock. The restriction had every instinct protesting the disadvantage. I suppose worse things could happen to my wings. I shook off the doubts. "But I made it through the obstacle course at the camp. I'm moving on. And I'll survive it. I can make one of the ranks."

"Shoot for the top, but don't kill yourself doing it. Remember, I only got through to Oristian. If you do better, great. Just stay alive, Ay."

"I know. I will." ~~~~~ "Is this legal?"

Gwyn flipped her hair with a cheeky smile as she continued teaching Lyra, Roxanna, and me how to weave a charmed bracelet. "Well, the wish wasn't affected by the stuff they used to take out our gifts, so... yes?"

"Good enough for me," Lyra said, quite successful in her work. My bracelet would be nicer than the one I was giving her. I rolled my eyes finishing the bracelet. It was a pale weave of pink, minty green, and white and I felt it suited her cheerful personality. As for mine, she knew just how important my court was to me. The blue, black, and silver she had woven was nearly flawless and I knew I'd wear it with pride. Roxanna's was a twin weave to mine. My two best friends beamed, holding the bracelets tightly. "May we always find each other, no matter the odds."

"No matter the odds," I echoed. With that the bracelets were tied.

Next

#acotar fic #throne of glass #crescent city #crossover fic #original characters #next gen

[angrychesticles]

Tag Dump.

.

#| just as angry. (betty) | #| friend from work. (thor) | #| puny god... (loki) | #| his warbound; his queen. (caiera) | #| saw the human beneath. (jarella) | #| blames himself. (rick) | #| son of hulk. son of banner. (skaar) | #| problem child. (hiro-kala) | #| stole my DNA with a kiss. (thundra) | #| born to rage. (lyra) | #| ain't nobody messing with my clique. (hulk family) | #user: david banner #| the kind woman. (mother) | #| always knew what to say. (aunt elaine) | #| marvel of a woman. (carol) | #| the little mermaid. (namor) | #| if we ever need to meet again. (defenders) | #| hulk's shrink. (leonard) | #| bowling buddy. (ben) | #| fought for me. (hercules) | #| i won't hurt you anymore. nobody will. (bruce x thor) | #| see how much you loved me? (bruce x jarella) | #| has a way with people. (marlo) | #| beyond the nuclear option. (robert reynolds) | #| sworn to stand with the hulk. (warbound) | #| invited to the revolution. (korg) | #| the shamed. (hiroim) | #| traitorous bug. (miek) | #| angry red warrior. (elloe) | #| eats lungs. (brood) |

[cest-la-vieve]

A Court of Pain and Pleasure (Ch. 2)

Summary: The chapter in which our dear Evelyn Archeron (that’s you) finds her younger sister has returned. After everything she’s put herself through to find Feyre, she’s less than enthused to hear about some recent updates, but does share a moment with the ever-elusive Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

Word Count: 3.8k (?!?!?!!)

Warnings: Chronic disability/pain, tooth rotting fluff at the end

Notes: this chapter completely got out of hand. once i started writing i couldn’t stop. then when i forced myself to stop, i picked up actoar and read it in an afternoon. ironically, i’m now on acomaf where all of this actually takes place, so it should be pretty closely related to canon! (plz plz plz keep the comments coming and let me know what you think! i haven’t written in years and years and hearing y’all’s thoughts means the world to me!)

Next Chapter: Chapter Three

My Masterlist

---

This was it. I had died. Or the exhaustion had taken over to the point I was hallucinating. Either way, I was dead or going to be soon. I could only hope that whatever gods we used to worship were merciful in the afterlife. Perhaps I could have a pet dog, like I had always wanted, or I would get to simply exist in peace. Or perhaps even, I would not exist at all.

The only thing I knew for certain was that what was currently happening was not real. Feyre was not standing in our foyer, holding her arms out expectantly, with a giant grin on her face. She couldn’t be.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.

This was real. And not only was it real but I was standing in the doorway like a slack-jawed fool while my sisters all stared at me waiting for me to say something, do something.

My pain suddenly forgotten, I dropped what I was carrying and flung myself into my younger sister’s arms. I cried. I cried and cried for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes. Her strong arms held me up as I stared at her face and let my emotions flow out of me. I was vaguely aware of Nesta’s disapproving and suspicious glare and Elain’s hesitant optimism, but as I held onto Feyre, I couldn’t find it within myself to care. I didn’t care that she had returned only to be ripped away again. I didn’t care that I had just made the journey to find her when she was already here, waiting for me. All I cared about was that she was alive and in my arms.

It all came rushing back. That time spent with Nesta trying to get her home, only for her to return on a carriage with enormous wealth in her name, then disappear a few weeks later. I had thought I was crazy when I woke up and she was gone again. I was inconsolable, crying and screaming, as I mourned my youngest sister a second time. I had begged Nesta to tell me what they had discussed that day in the garden, a day where my joints ached to the point that I couldn’t get out of bed and only saw my sisters speaking outside. I had wished with every fiber to join them, to ask Feyre about this false aunt and what had happened in Prythian, but between the chaos of planning a ball, a ball I couldn’t attend, she was gone before I got the chance. Nesta allowed me to cry on her shoulder for days, rubbing my back in comfort and seldom saying a word about Feyre or the faeries. She had also kept Elain and my father from my chambers, why I never knew, but I appreciated her silent support. I knew someone had taken her again which is why my fervor to find her had only increased. Why I had gone to the Wall a few days ago and returned tonight, exhausted. And here she was, again. How quickly would she be taken from me again?

After what felt like a lifetime, I pulled back and wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. I gathered myself a bit before speaking, “It’s so so good to see you,” I gushed, with a huge smile on my face.

“Evelyn, I missed you so-” Feyre began but Nesta cut her off harshly.

“Ask her where she’s been.”

Confused, I looked between Nesta and Feyre as Nesta’s cold stare caused Feyre’s smile to falter.

“Where have you been?” I asked.

Before Feyre could even begin, Nesta answered for her. “While you’ve been slaving away trying to figure out how to rescue her from Fae hell, Eve, Feyre’s been living as a High Fae in her own court. She even managed to find herself a second High Lord,” she spat the last words as if it burned her tongue.

I stared in shock for a moment before turning back to Feyre. What I had failed to notice in my all-encompassing relief and joy at seeing her again was the new sharpness to her features, her pointy ears sticking out from her full blonde hair, and the elegance with which she now held herself. Feyre was High Fae. She looked stunning, but with this realization also came the realization that during my months of slaving away and putting myself through physical torture, she had become… this. I had been working myself sick trying to figure out how to rescue her but she didn’t need any rescuing. For months, she’s had the power to leave, to see us and she hadn’t.

I took a step back as this hit me all at once. Feyre looked betrayed as she realized I was intentionally moving myself away from her.

“Why didn’t… where have you… why?” I managed to ask.

“I don’t - I don’t know,” Feyre answered as an achingly beautiful frown crossed her new Fae features.

“She went to rescue that Fae filth and apparently failed to remember her sisters back here who knew nothing of why she left,” Nesta spat. Another knife to my already broken heart. She hadn’t even come here to see us. And she hadn’t been forced to go the last time, she had left on her own. Why hadn’t she told me?

I turned towards Nesta, “You knew? When she was taken again - left again - you knew where she was going? Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

Nesta looked at me, her eyes even harder than they had been before but I knew her well enough to see a flicker of regret cross her features. “You would’ve hated her. Had you known she left of her own volition, I couldn’t - I couldn’t let you hate her.”

Feyre looked at me, “Evelyn, if you just give me a chance to explain.” 

I held up my hand to stop her. “There’s nothing to explain right now, I need… I need time to process this. What brings you back this time, Feyre? Will I get the pleasure of knowing this time or will you simply disappear again?” Venom filled my words, and all 3 of my sisters gaped at me, not used to hearing such disdain from my otherwise optimistic mouth. 

Elain looked away as the fury in Nesta’s eyes was threatening to boil over. I remained quiet as Feyre went on to explain the reason she was here. She needed to use our home to facilitate a meeting with the human queens and ask for their half of some sort of book. Nesta continued to discuss things with Feyre until I heard something like an invitation for others to come in. Elain had shuffled off somewhere, to get the servants to leave, I thought I had heard. I tuned back in just in time to hear Feyre invite others to join us in the room. Three men - no, fae males - were close behind her as she came back.

I cannot even begin to describe how I felt looking at the looming figures behind my sister. One with purple eyes and midnight hair, not quite black but wholly otherworldly. He was beautiful, sharp features decorated his face but something still seemed off and decidedly not human. I noted that he seemed to be in charge as the other two stood firm behind him. The tallest of three stood proud with red gems glowing in various places on his armor. He was also handsome, with some harder features than the supposed leader and longer hair, but his eyes gleamed with a playfulness that was a refreshing contrast to the hard leather armor he wore.

The third… The third was the most devastatingly beautiful person I had ever laid eyes on. His face was gaunter than the other two and held what seemed like centuries of sadness. With a small mental chuckle, I realized that’s probably exactly what it was. He had shining hazel eyes and hair that was on the longer side but fit his face perfectly. His chest was broad and strong, something I could tell even under the armor adorned with bright blue gems, matching those of the tallest. I was so distracted by his beauty that I let out a small gasp as I noticed the shifting of something behind them and adjusted my eyes to focus on the giant wings sprouting from his back. They were stunning, with a beautiful intricate pattern of webbing and muscles as they flexed and stretched behind the two males.

After a few breaths, Feyre smiled and turned towards her companions while introducing us. “My sisters, Nesta, Elain, and Evelyn Archeron,” my breath hitched in my throat as the third male met my gaze at Feyre’s introduction. I quickly looked away.

Feyre introduced the faeries one by one. The one with the long hair and red gems was Cassian, she said. Azriel, she introduced the handsome one. I met his eyes again and repeated his name a few times in my head. Azriel. Azriel. Something about it felt magical and tugged on my gut in a way I wasn’t used to.

The final faerie, the one with purple eyes, was Rhysand according to Feyre’s introduction. This was the High Lord of the Night Court.

Upon his introduction, he thanked us for having them and Nesta scoffed before making a comment about dinner and walking briskly to the dining room. Elain huffed out a quick “Nice to meet you” as the rest of us moved to follow.

As soon as I went to take a step, however, my body reminded me of the long journey I had just returned from. My hip caught in its socket and pain shot through my body. I felt myself falling as I cried out in shock and pain, but my body never met the floor. Strong arms - the strongest I’ve ever felt - wrapped around my small torso and caught me as my strength failed me. Thinking it was Feyre, I turned to thank her only to be met with the intense gaze of Azriel’s hazel eyes.

My mouth dropped open a bit as time froze for just a second. In that second, I noticed the grip Azriel had on my waist, preventing me from dropping to the floor, I noticed the scars that littered his large hands, and I noticed the way he also seemed to pause.

Just as quickly, I was righted on my feet and he was steadying me as I tried to get my balance.

“Are you alright?” His deep voice rushed over me.

I took a deep breath and tried to take another step but couldn’t get my leg to move the way I wanted it to. I looked to Feyre for help and she immediately recognized what was going on.

“I um… I have trouble walking sometimes,” I muttered sheepishly in response to Azriel’s question.

He just nodded. Feyre moved to help support me as I walked to the table but Azriel waved her off.

“Here,” he offered his arm as support. 

I hesitantly accepted his arm and he helped me slowly make my way to the table. I shot him a beaming smile as I took my seat next to Nesta, who unsurprisingly had sat herself at the head of the table. I didn’t miss the look she gave Azriel as he lowered me to my seat.

He went to move away, but I reached out and grabbed his arm. His eyes flashed as he looked at me. I retracted my hand quickly, thinking I had offended him, and whispered, “You’re welcome to sit near me, if you’d like.”

He looked surprised, as did Nesta. Azriel shot a glance to Rhysand, as if asking for permission. The High Lord had a small smirk, seemingly amused at a joke only he knew, then inclined his head.

Azriel looked at me one more time before pulling out the chair next to me and sitting down.

I noticed that the two winged faeries were having difficulty adjusting themselves to sit comfortably. I nearly chuckled at the sight - these strong, immensely powerful creatures brought to their knees by a human dining chair.

I got distracted as the conversation continued, my eyes flitting around the room and taking in the strange scene that was our dining table. I heard Feyre cuss and smiled while looking down at my lap. I did not doubt that she could eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as she claimed. My smile quickly turned to a frown as Nesta mentioned never going to Prythian - a small part of me was hoping for an invitation. I noticed Feyre looking my way and gave her a small smile. I wonder if she could tell I was thinking about going with her. Oh my. Could she read my mind? Could they ALL read my mind? Rhys choked on his water as he laughed and I quickly looked over at him with wide eyes. He nodded before discreetly gesturing between him and Feyre. So they both could?! I was mortified and hid my blush behind my hair as I looked back at my hands in my lap.

Suddenly, I heard a voice that I hadn’t heard before. My eyes searched the room before landing on Cassian. His booming voice echoed as he admonished Nesta for her lack of care when Feyre needed her most. I froze. My eyes flicked between Nesta and Cassian, watching the exchange as Nesta held her composure in the face of the challenge he presented. 

I sat awkwardly as the others attempted to make what seemed like it was supposed to be conversation. It was mostly just Elain struggling to explain why she was having difficulty accepting the faeries that sat around our table. I watched quietly at the looks shared between Azriel and Elain, fleeting glances that ended as quickly as they started. She must recognize how handsome he is too, I thought. Rhys raised an eyebrow and I flushed. I forgot he could hear me. 

Elain blurted out a question about Azriel and Cassian’s wings and if they could fly and I did my best to stop the laugh rising in my throat.

I felt Azriel bristle beside me at the question, before he answered that he and Cassian were Ilryians and could, in fact, fly. Elain’s eyes sparkled with wonder and I heard her asking about the height and if flying was terrifying. I felt myself getting jealous that the mysterious Illyrian seemed so taken with my older sister. I shut those feelings away before Rhys had time to sense them or read them or… whatever it was he was doing. I shifted my focus instead to Nesta and Cassian’s discussion of High Fae.

Nesta finally spoke, saying that she and Elain would take a letter to the town tomorrow on behalf of the Night Court. I couldn’t stop the smile that grew on my face and I hoped Nesta recognized how pleased I was that she agreed to help. 

I had hoped that Feyre would want to chat more, maybe answer a few of the million questions that burned in my mind, but she and the others seemed more than ready to disperse once Nesta declared dinner over.

Rhysand and Feyre were the first to leave, heading upstairs to begin drafting their letter. Cassian kept an eye on Nesta as she rose to leave the room, but she paused. She turned to me and said, “And Evelyn, don’t think I forgot your little impromptu trip to the Wall. That discussion can wait until tomorrow, but it will be happening.” 

I shrunk in my seat, wincing as I moved for the first time since this “dinner” had started. I stayed seated as Cassian stalked after Nesta as she finally left.

Elain and Azriel were the next to get ready to leave. Elain elegantly rose from her seat, eyes remaining on Azriel all the while. She seemed like she wanted to speak, but settled for a polite nod before retiring upstairs.

This left me and the Shadowsinger, a name I had come to learn from our discussions of their court. I could feel his gaze on me as I refused to move from my seat. I was afraid to glance at him and see the judgment in his eyes or worse, pity. I hated when others pitied me for my condition. I could do just as much as the next person, faerie or not, just in different ways and in my own time. Eventually, when the silence became too much for my anxious brain to bear, I turned and met Azriel’s hazel eyes. To my surprise, I saw no pity, confusion, or judgment. Just patience.

“I, um. I wasn’t always like this, you know?” I said softly, breaking the silence between us. 

He just nodded as I continued, “It happened slowly. I didn’t even really start to notice it until I was 12. Nobody knew exactly what to call it or what it was, but from there it’s gotten worse. I, uh, tried to fix it myself but I never could. When Feyre was taken-” I glanced at him, wondering if that’s even what I should call what happened - “or uh, left I guess, I trained every day to be strong enough to go to the Wall and look for her. That’s where I was today, and why the pain’s gotten so bad…” I trailed off and waited for his reaction.

He seemed to be drinking in my words as I spoke them, slowly chewing on each one as he formed his response. I had never seen such intelligence in someone before, where I felt I could see the wheels turning as he thought of what to say. I fiddled with my hands, wondering if I should say more or try to force myself up from the table and waddle away before the silence became any more deafening. Just as I was about to try to stand, he spoke.

“I understand. The urge to do something that people tell you that you can’t. Most Illyrians,” he cleared his throat and I instinctively reached out my hand to comfort him, but pulled away as I remembered his reaction earlier, “they learn to fly from birth. I wasn’t afforded that luxury. I had a lot to teach myself but Rhys, the High Lord, and Cassian helped. One thing I’ve learned in my time as Spymaster is to never underestimate someone, especially not based on their physical capabilities,” his voice faded off as he finished.

I smiled at him, a genuine smile, “Thank you for sharing that with me. I know that probably isn’t easy to talk about.”

I only got a small grin in return, but it was enough to fill me with pride for cracking his hard exterior and made my stomach fill with butterflies as his beautiful mouth turned up at the edges, just for me. We stared at each other for another second before he cleared his throat once more, clearly wanting to say something.

“Azriel?”

His eyes jumped to mine in shock at hearing his name, “Yes?”

“Did you… Did you have something else you wanted to say? I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about and I promise to listen to whatever it is…” I didn’t want to be too forward, but I would do just about anything to hear more from the enigma that was the Night Court’s Spymaster.

He looked at me again before answering, “I didn’t want to offend you, but I wanted to offer any assistance you might need in retiring for the night.”

It was my turn to be shocked. And very, very flattered. I could feel my face flush pink as I took in his words. Was he offering to carry me?

“Oh, no offense taken! It’s really no big deal, I usually just sit here until I feel up to moving. I could always crawl on my hands and knees if need be,” I replied with a small laugh, only half-joking.

A look of horror crossed Azriel’s face before grim determination replaced it. In one swift move, I was out of my seat and comfortably held bridal-style in his arms. “Is this okay?” He murmured.

I reassured him with a smile and said, “It’s more than okay, I… appreciate your help.”

He nodded solemnly before walking to the stairs. His grasp on me was firm, almost like he was afraid I was going to be torn out of his arms, but gentle enough to not further the ache that was presently residing in my muscles. I relished the feeling of his fingers gripping my thigh ever so softly as he adjusted his grip to climb the stairs.

“My room is to the left, on the far end,” I directed him.

He again nodded and tread carefully down the hallway, maneuvering his wings to fit in the rather narrow space. I marveled at the way they contracted to fit his surroundings and expanded once he had stepped inside my room.

My bedroom wasn’t much to look at. A few paintings Feyre had done for me when we were living in the cabin were littered around the space. A small toy bear my father had given me before everything had happened sat on my dresser. Jewelry from my mother filled the rest of the dresser space, even though I had never worn any of it.

Azriel leaned down to gently set me on top of my bed, careful to keep his hands in a respectful position as he pulled away. I stretched like a cat, free from the pain that gravity brought as my weight distributed itself across the bed, rather than focusing on my hips. I heard a small chuckle at my antics from the man - male, I mean - standing above me. I gave him a mischievous smile in return before pulling a blanket up to my chin.

“Thank you,” I said, “not just for the chauffeur service, but for being open with me and for… not judging me.”

I watched him as I began to nod off, the exhaustion of the day finally washing over me. I tried my best to give one last smile of thanks before I drifted off, but right before I could I heard his voice whisper, “I would never judge you, Evelyn” and then the lull of sleep finally won me over.

#rhysand #acotar #acowar #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #feyre archeron #feysand #nesta archeron #elain archeron #nessian #reader x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x ofc #azriel smut #a court of mist and fury

[aquafaith]

My lengthy, angry ACOSF rant review.

Spoilers, TW for mental, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.

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I loved ACOTAR. I still love ACOTAR. I always will love ACOTAR. But every book afterwards made me give up more and more. ACOMAF romanticized an abusive relationship and assassinated characters for the author's convenience. ACOWAR was a bunch of boring and inconsequential death scares. ACOFAS was all-round dreadful. And each book kept shitting on and pushing away Lucien for no reason.

I'd like to preface this by saying I hated Nesta too. I hated the way she treated Feyre in ACOTAR especially, and I wasn't even too excited for this book because I wasn't that keen on Nesta as a character.

Nesta's POV and her backstory changed my perspective. It does not excuse her actions. All Nesta stans can hold these characters accountable for what they do - trauma is a reason, not an excuse. I, and many others, sided with Nesta because of the way she's treated by everyone else in this book. Also, if you're going to hate Nesta for not teaching Feyre how to read and letting her hunt at fourteen, (which I did, and are very valid things to hate), AT LEAST hold Elain accountable too.

This book. This fucking book.

Shall we start with the intervention? Feyre on her little power trip thinks that her boyfriend that hates Nesta and Nesta hates back, Nesta's ex-best friend, and her possible mate who she never talks to should be at this stupid fucking intervention??? Excuse me???

Remember in ACOMAF when Feyre wouldn't shut up about how rich Rhysand is? Feyre literally has four or five houses and is always talking about how much jewelry and lingerie she can afford because Rhysand is so rich??? Well, Nesta has a few shots. So you know what Feyre does? Humiliates Nesta at this "intervention", TEARS DOWN HER HOME, and forces her to go to the Illyrian training camp.

That was the god awful premise for this book.

Did you think Elain wasn't there because she was against the "intervention"? Nope! She was packing Nesta's belongings without permission.

Remember in ACOMAF when it's made a big fucking deal that locking up a traumatised woman is extremely damaging? Well, when Nesta decides she doesn't want to be in Illyria, Feyre locks her in the House of Wind. Nesta can't fly, so her only way of leaving is down the TEN THOUSAND STEPS, that Feyre KNOWS Nesta isn't capable of climbing.

Feyre's pregnant. In ACOFAS she randomly decided that she wanted a baby to remember Rhysand by if he dies. Which doesn't make any sense because they made that stupid fucking death pact in ACOWAR. It's just SJM superimposing her pregnancy onto her early 20's protagonist. Ignoring the fact that Feyre isn't ready for a baby and Rhysand CERTAINLY isn't, and with a war just ended and another looming and so much trauma and a DEATH PACT are all such horrible circumstances to bring a child into, Feyre is already pregnant. Remember when SJM made a big deal about Fae babies being so hard to conceive, and Feyre said in ACOFAS they wouldn't have to worry for a long time because it can take years to conceive your first Fae child? Well it's been no more than 3 or 4 months and Feyre's already pregnant. Yep.

Also the birth will kill her. Because of course it will. Rhysand KNEW this, and still agreed to try for a baby.

There's no solution. Abortions don't exist for some stupid reason, and a C section would apparently kill Feyre?

(Wasn't this book supposed to be about Nessian?)

In ACOWAR, Cassian was on the battlefield with his entrails around his knees. Someone had to literally hold his guts in for him, and he's fine, but you're telling me a C section would kill Feyre?

Don't worry, this is just setting up the AWFUL ending to this book.

ACOSF amounts to Nesta being gaslit into believing her abusers are right. Her friends and family slut shame her and shame her for her lifestyle constantly. Cassian says it took him decades to work through some of his trauma, and he tried to drink and fuck it away too, but suddenly when Nesta does so it's heinous? Nesta's barely twenty five and she's expected to cope better than these ancient immortals.

Hell, didn't SJM write ACOMAF? Nobody expected Feyre to pick herself up so quickly. The IC (excluding Rhysand) respected her boundaries for the most part and understood when it was grief, trauma, and turmoil that made her angry, sad, want to be left alone, etc. But that's all forgotten here.

Amren also compares Nesta to the people in, and says she belongs in, The Court of Nightmares. You know, the murderers, abusers and rapists? This innocent woman who had a few shots and a bit of sex is on par with them, apparently!

The sex scenes.

SJM is scared to say vagina so she says sex.

She says seed to mean semen.

Apparently the word cunt turns SJM on. I just found Cassian saying that kinda cringe because I'm Bri'ish so the word cunt really isn't a big deal.

Back to the baby killing Feyre, because this is definitely what we all wanted from this book as indicated by the change in covers and format and title... Rhysand decides not to tell Feyre. He tells her friends and family, and tells them not to tell her.

SJM loves sweeping Rhysand's abuse from the first book under the rug and claiming it's always about Feyre's choice... where is that here, MAAS? WHERE IS IT?

Anyway, when Nesta rightfully decides to tell Feyre (although it is kind of out of spite), Rhysand threatens to kill Nesta.

And I believed him. With the way he treats his """mAtE tHaT hE lOvEs sO mUcH""" and all the people he's mindlessly killed before, do you really think he wouldn't kill the person who gave Feyre an inch of autonomy?

So what does Cassian do? His lover who he cares deeply about and suspects is his mate has received a death threat from tHe mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lORd iN hIsToRy.

Cassian simply gets Nesta out of the court.

EXCUSE ME?

He doesn't breathe ONE word to Rhysand about this. This Illyrian WARRIOR who fought with his GUTS HANGING OUT didn't dare step up to the hIGh lOrD who he considers his brother and sparrs and fights with all the time?

Cassian literally does nothing.

Was it not Rhysand himself who said Mated males are dangerous? Can kill anyone who looks at their mate? Can be dangerous simply leaving the house? Rhys and Feyre both pull the Mate card to justify their bad actions on the other's behalf... and Cassian just tried to get Nesta out of the court?

Also, this High King bullshit.

I swear to fucking god, if SJM DARES to make this abusive, power-tripping, mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lOrD eVEr, husband-insert of hers hIgH kInG, I will fight her in the street.

My beloved Lucien is in this book. Only for him to be used and shat on.

I really liked it when he calmed Cassian down with just a look though. Yes please fox man.

Helion is also in this book. Nothing to do with Lucien.

Eris is also in this book. ERIS. Lucien's eldest brother. The same one who abused him for years, but according to SJM he's slightly better, because at least he didn't agree to kill Lucien's lover. He betrayed his daddy that one time, therefore Eris is good. Y'know, the same Eris who abused Mor? Left her laying on the Autumn Court border with a nail in her womb? Well SJM is going back on her own canon to redeem yet ANOTHER abusive male, while continuing to demonize Tamlin for things he only happened to do when SJM decided the villain from the first book was sexy.

Nesta and Cassian are Mates.

Remember when Mates were supposed to be a rare and sacred thing? Now SJM dishes them out like Oprah.

I don't want these characters to be mates. I want to see them slowly fall in love. But SJM is incapable of writing that so she forces them together with the mAtInG bOnD. That's literally the only basis for most of these relationships, Feysand especially.

The only relationship where the bond would make sense is between Helion and The Lady of Autumn. Who still isn't named. But I will die on the hill that they're mates, I can feel it between them.

I wanted someone to die in this book. I predicted that it would either be Helion or Tarquin, but Tarquin isn't even in this one.

And the ending.

SJM can't write a decent climax, so she kills both Feyre and Rhysand for the second time. Yep.

The baby is being born which stupidly kills Feyre, and thankfully takes Rhysand with them.

Nesta decides to save them. Bad choice. But she decides to save them! Because she's so powerful and she ATE THE CONTENTS OF THE CAULDRON and she's CONNECTED TO THE MOTHER.

Do you know what happens.

Nesta loses her powers.

NESTA.

LOSES.

HER.

POWERS.

The powers we've hardly seen, the powers that were briefly mentioned and used ONCE in ACOWAR, then we saw like two flashes of in this book? They're GONE now. GONE SO NESTA CAN SAVE HER ABUSIVE SISTER AND ABUSIVE HUSBAND WHO ABUSES THEM BOTH.

Nesta is just an Amren now. They both fought for their powers, and had to give them up to save people who didn't deserve it. Now they're anticlimactically trapped in powerless bodies.

Also, and I can't BELIEVE I didn't originally include this - do you know what else Nesta TRADED HER POWERS FOR?

Illyrian anatomy so she can carry Cassian's baby one day.

EXCUSE ME?

I am so fucking SICK TO DEATH of the narrative that every woman needs a man and children to be happy. SJM clearly loves this because she's literally only keeping Amren and Nesta alive now to be sex objects to their partners and nothing else seeing as their POWERS WERE RIPPED AWAY FROM THEM, and now NESTA TRADED THOSE POWERS TO HAVE A BABY SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW SHE WANTS? Nesta does NOT strike me as a motherly type. She's the wine aunt, she and Cassian are the couple that go on holiday a lot and and babysit their nieces and nephews, but nope. Nesta HAS to have children.

The Feysand baby is called Nyx. That's just so underwhelming, you go from these huge, multiple syllable names like Amarantha and Morrigan and Lucien to Nyx? I get it's supposed to be unique but it's not even meaningful. It's just more shit-flavoured icing on the hAHa nIgHt uWu cake. I prefer Renesmée.

Nesta is wrong somehow. She says she's sorry as she's saving them. FOR WHAT? For being a little rude to Feyre as all sisters are? And rightfully hating your sister's abuser?

Oh yeah, remember in ACOWAR when Nesta took care of a comatose, starving Elain for months? Elain is randomly okay now because she takes care of her mental health the stereotypical way of baking cakes, and not drinking and fucking, which she shames Netsa for.

Remember the slut shaming, demeaning comments that the whole iNnEr cIrClE made about Nesta? They all expect apologies from her. For some reason.

Nesta has done nothing wrong. She coped with her trauma and minded her business in her own ways, and she's expected to apologise to the people who control and emotionally abuse her.

Nothing that any of these characters did to Nesta is right. Nesta wasn't okay at the end, this wasn't Nesta's healing story. This is Nesta being shamed and degraded until she submits.

Oh I can't believe I forgot to write this in my first draft of this review, do you know how Nesta "overcomes" her grief about her Father's death and her conflicting feelings about him and his life and her guilt? When she visits his grave for the first time, she takes Nyx.

NYX.

She holds NYX up to the grave and talks about how it's his grandson.

GO AWAY YOU STUPID DEMON BABY THIS IS NOT YOUR BOOK.

Speaking of, it's revealed that Nesta was abused by her mother and grandmother in this book? Something we were all looking forward to is seeing more of the Archeron's mother seeing as Feyre was so young when she died, but... nope. She gets a few vague mentions, and this newly revealed abuse is entirely glossed over. Nesta was also actively groomed by an older man at 14. But SJM glosses over this because of course she does.

Finally, the bonus chapters.

My edition came with a bonus chapter from Feyre's POV. It was pointless and I hated it.

There's another bonus chapter from Azriel's POV. Once I'd finished this book, he was one of the few characters I still harboured a shred of respect for.

Then I read his bonus chapter.

This exists to purely objectify Elain.

Whether you ship Elain with Azriel, or Lucien, or neither, this chapter is disgusting. He thinks about her coming on his tounge, and other things simply just to please him.

He then dares to suggest that "the Cauldron picked wrong" in choosing Lucien as Elain's mate?

No Azriel, SJM picked RIGHT in not giving each Archeron sister a bAt bOy.

Rhysand does the only right thing he's ever done by telling Azriel to stay away from Elain, but then he has to ruin it by clarifying that it's only so they can manipulate and use Lucien more.

Oh, and Azriel wants to kill Lucien.

Need I remind you that Lucien respects Azriel? Lucien is another victim of the Night Court's needless, baseless torment, and Azriel is no exception.

Lucien stays well out of Elain's way because she makes it clear that she's not interested in a mate, but Azriel wants to kill him simply for being her mate.

Lucien has done nothing. And I mean literally NOTHING to warrant any of this treatment. From the bAt bOyS, from Feyre, from his family, from SJM, from the deluded part of this fandom that think he's done wrong. NOTHING.

All I liked about this book was the Lucien scenes (which is a given), ((although I hated the way everyone talks about him behind his back)), Nesta's relationship with the house, Emerie and Gwyn, the evidence that Gwynriel is endgame and subsequently Elucien, and the book love. Everything else was horrible. Oh, and Nesta hates Rhysand. I love that for her, because everyone else bows at his feet.

Oh yeah, when Nesta DARES suggest that Rhysand is an "arrogant, preening asshole" which I think is a compliment, Cassian can't take Rhys' cock out of his mouth for one second, and has to get mad at her for having an opinion. Don't even get me started on Azriel in that scene.

If each book after ACOTAR made me slowly give up, this book made me give up altogether. I cannot go on to support this victim-blaming, abuse-forgiving, misogynistic series. I've given up on SJM, and the only characters I care about anyone are Lucien, Nesta, Helion, and Tarquin. I'll continue to read this series to see if SJM redeems herself, but I'll be downloading them for free. I'm not giving this piece of shit any more of my money.

I hope we don't get the Lucien book. I don't want her to slaughter my fox in the way she slaughtered LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE.

Thanks for listening.

Edit: I put the review on Goodreads!

#anti acotar #anti acomaf #anti acowar #anti acofas #anti acosf #anti sjm #anti feysand #anti rhysand

[rayonfrozenwings]

Just read your recent Nyx headcanon and now it's all I can think about!!

Could you please do one for when Feysand and IC meet Nyx's girlfriend/boyfriend for the first time?

ummmm...

ok

So Nyx is very old when he brings home a serious girlfriend. Hes arty and a little shy but buff as and super sweet - so a total hunk and his partner cannot believe that this Nyx's first serious relationship and is terrified to be meeting his aunts and uncles even tho Nyx says its fine

For the purpose of this I will use the pronouns they/them because I just don't yet know in my head what Nyx likes.

So Nyx brings them in and their eyes are like sauncer - this house is massive and nothing like the arty studio Nyx owns in the rainbow.

They knew Nyx came from money and a prominent family but not "the family".

So there's the big hall, nyx is wrapping his arm around them and squeezing their shoulder. Seeming calm - but obviously knowing what his family is like.

Nyx sees cassian waving from the mezzanine floor saluting at him before turning Nesta around and walking back down the hall. Checking out the couple but also knowing how Feyre and Rhysand will react if anyone other than themselves greets them first.

Feyre and Rhys walk into the main foyer, Feyre in a long gown and hair up and Rhys in his usual black suit - wings hidden away for convenience.

Nyx smiles at his parents and they smile back looking to him and his date.

The evening is supposed to be a semi-formal affair, Emerie and Mor are celebrating their anniversary in style and doing a tour of Prythian - they arrived yesterday and today is a celebratory dinner at the house. Nyx was unable to hide his date from his family anymore and he knew Aunty Mor and Em would get mad if he didnt let them meet his date while they were in town.

Feyre steps forward for a big hug and becomes overly affectionate with Nyx and his partner. Rhysand nods his dad like the proud dad and introduces himself like the person standing before him wouldn't have a clue - but they do, Rhys is a celebrity in Velaris.

Rhys escorts Nyx's date down the hall and they chat and his date and Rhys are both smiling and laughing.

Nyx watches from behind as him mum puts her arm in his and walks behind them.

They are lovely Nyx, we just want to see you happy - you know that right.

Nyx nods his head and pats his mums arm realising he still has paint under his fingernails - but its ok because Feyre has some pain spots on her wrist where she hasn't quite scrubbed hard enough.

They enter the main living room, lots of guests are already there from around Prythian and Velaris. Nyx scans the room, jumping over auras and reading energy. The red and silver of Cassian and Nesta is by the temporary bar set up leading to the gardens and main lawn.

Elain and her baby pink glow flecked with golden sparks is vibrating as she talks with other esteemed members of Velaris.

Nyx looks for more faces he knows but gets distracted as Rhys leaves his partner at the bar with Nesta and Cassian.

"Well done my boy they seem lovely" he says to Nyx passing him a drink, and Nyx responds with a smile and a "of course" he's always learned to keep his heart tucked away under many layers even with his family.

Feyre pats Nyx on the back and says "I'm glad they make you happy and you should bring them round on Sunday for brunch - we aren't that intimidating" she finished off the sentence with a wink.

Nyx signs and says"I know mum, I just find it hard being the centre of everyone's focus - at least tonight I know everyone will be focusing on Mor and Em."

Feyre leans in and hugs him. Rhys pulls Feyre off of her son and says "enjoy your evening" and whispers in Feyre's ear.

Nyx moves towards the bar hope to dear god that Nesta and Cassian haven't scared them with tales of sexual exploit.

"Are the drinks good" he opens with a a swave smile. The charm offensive coming on now he is in public. He is rewarded with a kiss and a whisper "I really like your family - everyone is so kind".

Cassian says that he has had better but he can't really complain if the drinks are free - Nyx can tell it's going to be a long night.

The festivities move on throughout the night - eventually Em and Mor turn up - matching in iridescent green and gold outfits mimicking the summer moment.

Dancing starts and Nyx retreats to drink in peace. His date flits around the space - meeting people and enjoying themselves.

And Nyx just sees the picture before him - the splashes of colour and aura's of people and the night sky a backdrop for the entire thing. He sees the painting in his mind and sends the image to his mother.

She smiles and looks to him. A soft sad look. so they aren't the one? no golden thread yet. no. it seems not. its not always needed my love - mates are rare - you can just enjoy your time with the people you love. but I see all the threads mother, I see all the strings, and it would just be nice to know my own was out there. Feyre walks over to him and hugs him in the biggest bear hug she can muster. Rhys is soon there as well encapsulating them in wings and darkness.

funny that your darkness is the only time I find peace, Nyx whispers to his father, chuckling and taking in another drink.

Rhys pulls it back - ah but without it you wouldn't see all the colour my son. Your gift is the most special.

Nyx sees a tear on his face, his mother has probably already told him the realisation he has had this evening - that it just won't work out this time.

"What do Mor and Em look like to you?" Rhys asks Nyx.

"Happy" he replies.

"What do they look like in your mind?" he tries again.

Nyx shifted focus, the hazy glows of people coming to the front. "Happy and in love" he replied.

"Do you see a string of fate?"

"Do you want me to?"

Rhys shook his head. "No I just wanted you to remember that not everyone is fated or connected with the golden string of fate."

"I know dad. There's is pure light, not the same as the others but more pure - it might not be the same mating bond that pulls you to mum of Nesta and Cassian but its something powerful. I would even guess its connected to auty Mor's powers."

Rhys nodded - "I wish I knew if they always had that for you so put your own worries at ease but I don't know. Only you can see these."

Nyx went silent. Looking out at the lawn and gardens outside. The soft glows behind hedges and the many people thinking themselves hidden in the shadows.

"I think it's time to call it a night - I'll let you know about brunch on Sunday" he went over to the dance floor had a few twirls with his date, whispering in their ear as his parents watched.

Not a bad evening, best to enjoy the present because nothing was set in stone and everything could change at a moments notice. They left and went back to Nyx's place for a long awaited rest.

#nyx #headcanon #innercircle #idk where i went with this #for some reason i made nyx tortured and im sorry #acotar #ask

[darklove9314-blog]

Family : A Nessian Fanfic

Day 19 of Nessian month: Prompt: Nessian bonding with the IC.

Nesta gazed upon Cassian, Her hand firmly in his as Cassian knocked on the front doors of the river house, Feyre opened the door, a smile on her face, a hand pressed firmly to her swollen stomach before a five year old Nyx grinned at the sight of his aunt and uncle flinging himself in his aunt’s arms.

“Aunt Nes! You came!” Nyx exclaimed. A happy chuckle escaping her lips.

“Of course I came. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.“ Nesta smiled as Cassian cocked his head to the side staring at Nyx.

“What? No love for your favorite uncle?” He stated as Nyx’s eyes widened with excitement

“Is Uncle Az with you?” He questioned causing Nesta to hold in her laugh. Only five years old and he already mastered the art of a good come back. Even Feyre was reining in her smile.

“Say hi to your other uncle, sweetie.“ Feyre encouraged him as he wiggled himself out of Nesta’s arms and hugged Cassian.

“Hi Uncle Cass.“ He greeted. Nesta had no real idea why Nyx had grown more of an attachment to her than Cassian, but she guessed she would never really know that answer. Kids were always a mystery.

“Come inside, we’re just getting to cutting the cake.“ Feyre explained as Nesta and Cassian entered Nyx holding onto Feyre‘s hand.

Cassian‘s hand slid into hers before they entered the sitting area. Several of Nyx’s friends gathered around a table as he chatted away. He really was a social one.

Cassian pulled out a chair for Nesta, she thanked him as they took a spot beside Mor who greeted Casan with a hug.

“Long time, no see, stranger.” Mor greeted. Her smile dazzling across the whole room.

“That’s what happens when you go to the court of Nightmares for a whole six months.“

Mor shrugged taking a sip of her wine.

“It’s not easy to undo the damage the years have caused there, but perhaps in a few more years The Court of Nightmares will be a thing of the past and it can start anew.”

A fresh start. Something that a lot of the Night Court had needed. progress was slow, but nothing ever happened over night.

Nesta‘s eyes drew to Cassian, the curve of his lips at his friends accomplishment. The determination she had showed to take over the Court of Nightmares after her fathers passing and do what she thought she should have always done. Made more dreamers in the city of Nightmares. Nesta had even offered her assistance if Mor ever became overwhelmed. Which she had appreciated.

“How are things in Illyria?” Mor asked, her eyebrows raised in question at Cassian, who’s own smiled beamed, his arm going around Nesta. Pride shone in them with their accomplishments.

“We finally managed to convince Devlon to combine a two small units made up of both Illyrian and Valkeryie warriors. One of them are the younger generations who wish to become apart of the ranks and the others are the ones who have already went through the rite.”

“That’s amazing, I knew you two could do it.” Mor smiled looking over to Nesta.

“I couldn’t have done it without the steel will determination of my mate,“ Cassian explained pressing a kiss to the side of her temple.

“Don’t forget Emerie and Gwyn.” Nesta added.

“How could I ever?” Cassian smiled pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I thought the mating bond was supposed to die down some after a couple of years?” Amren asked sliding down in a chair, Varian by her side.

Cassian smirked at her. “You know that’s not how that works.“

“I dread the day you procreate boy. Hopefully the babe has its mother’s smarts.“

“I hope so too.“ Cassian told her making Nesta feel warm in her chest.

She had been thinking a lot about having children lately. Been having dreams of Cassian filling her with life. thinking of the one they would create together. Been gazing at the tea she had been using as her birth control for the past five years and been wanting to have a conversation about what his thoughts were if she stopped taking it, if they had started trying.

but they both had been so busy lately getting everything together that it had been a while since the two of them had time to be intimate, Had time to talk about the future that she wanted to have with him. Would they be able to have a baby? She knew getting pregnant as a fae could be difficult, but she was willing to try. She just needed a moment with him where they both weren’t exhausted.

Amren smirked seeming to catch how deep Nesta’s thoughts ran.

“I guess we’ll see when the time is right.“ She simply said leaning into Varian. Her wedding ring flashing in the light.

Before Cassian could say more, the door opened Azriel stepping through it as Nyx hugged him. Azriel placing Nyx on his back and carrying him into the dining room.

“Be careful there, Uncle Az, you may throw your back out.“ Cassian teased earning him an eye roll from Azriel.

“I’m in better shape than you.“ Azriel retorted. “I bet you couldn’t even lift him to your shoulders.”

“Is that so?” Cassian challeneed as Nesta heard a far off voice say.

“I hate to break up your bet with my son, but it’s time for presents.“ Rhys told them taking Nyx for Azriel’s shoulder. A wide grin on the boys face.

“Presents!” Nyx shouted happily running towards them as the other children followed. Feyre smiled rubbing at her abdomen absentmindedly.

“Do you think he’ll have any trouble not being an only child when his sister arrives?” Feyre asked as Rhys beamed.

“Not at all. though there definitely will be an adjustment period.“ Rhys assured her as Nesta looked back to Cassian. His gaze on Rhys and Feyre as Rhysand pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek.

Nesta had always knew that Cassian had longed for a family of his own. It wasn’t that his close circle of friends wasn’t enough for him or even her, but she knew Cassian had always wanted children. She had been hesitant afraid if she would be a good mother or not.

He had assured her there was no rush for children. That he would wait hundreds of years if he had to so she could be ready for them. Nesta just had to make sure she was doing this as much for herself as she was for Cassian. She would not bring a child into this world unless both her and Cassisn were ready for one.

Nesta joined the others sitting down next to Feyre as Cassian joined Rhys and Azriel having a conversation that Nesta had no clue what it was about.

Elain was beside Mor and Amren, her laughter flooding over to them as she sent both her sisters a slight wave. Nesta waved back before turning back to Feyre, not sure how to start this particular conversation as they watched Nyx open his presents. His eyes growing wide at the mini paint set his mother had gotten him.

“Thanks mom!” Nyx said flinging his arms around Feyre’s neck as she pulled her son closer.

“You’re welcome baby.” Feyre said hugging him as Nesta took in the sight. She knew she wanted that with her own child. But she was still afraid that she would not be any good at motherhood.

Nesta watched as Nyx opened his other gifts, watching as he opened the toy that Nesta and Cassian had gotten for him. Thanking both of them with a hug.

Nesta‘s smile bloomed as she beheld the hug between Nyx and Cassian, Could almost see Cassian with their own son or daughter, How good of a father he would be. She wondered when Cassian saw her with Nyx if he thought the same thing.

“Is something on your mind?” Feyre asked when they both were alone in the kitchen. they were cleaning up while the others were in the living room showing Nyx how to use his toy and helping him set them up. Cassian had always been great at building things. He was putting the others to shame. A smile tugged at Nesta’s lips.

“When did you know?” She asked as Feyre stopped on the dish she was working on.

“Know about what?” She replied scrubbing at a really stubborn stain as Nesta handed her a better sponge.

“Thank you.“ She said as Nesta dried the dishes Feyre handed to her.

”How did you know you were ready to have a baby?” She asked. Feyre stopping mid scrub.

“Are you and Cassian-?” She started but Nesta interrupted her.

“No. At least not yet. I-I haven’t brought up the conversation with him yet.“ Shd told Feyre. Feyre nodded in understanding.

“I can understand that. It’s not a decision to take lightly. There’s a lot of factors to take into account.”

“Like how I feel like I would be a terrible mother?”

Feyre looked at Nesta with the same eyes they both had inherited from their mother.

”What makes you believe you’ll be a terrible mother?” Feyre asked. going back to the dishes.

“Because I couldn’t even take care of us when it mattered most.” She confided to Feyre.

“It wasn’t your job to take care of us. It was our fathers. “

“It wasn’t your job to take care of us either. but you still did it anyway.“

“It still doesnt mean it would have been right no matter which of us took care of the other. perhaps the real mistake was that we didnt take care of each other, but we were young and we’ll learn from those mistakes, God knows I still make them when it comes to my own child.”

“Please. You’re the definition of the perfect mother.” Nesta told her drying the dishes Feyre had worked on.

“I wouldn‘t say that. I still have the deal Rhys and I made which in retrospect wasn’t the brightest idea if you want to have kids.”

“You made a mistake, it happens to all of us.“

“I will admit we didn’t really think it through. the deal I mean. But no one ever said every decision was a rational one, but you’re deflectin. We were talking about you wanting kids.”

“I know it’s been years but I still have those intrusive thoughts that I’ll end up just like our mother.“ Nesta told her.

“We can’t live our life in fear Nesta. and remember you also have a support system in your corner. If you want to have kids than that’s your choice, well yours and Cassian’s. Just make sure that you’re ready to commit to it. To put that child before anything else, because when your baby comes. It’ll be your whole world. only you can determine what mother you’ll be, The past be damned.“

“Thanks Feyre.“

“Don’t mention it.” Feyre smiled as Cassian turned towards them getting up from his spot and heading towards the kitchen until he stopped where they were at.

“I’ve come to relieve you, my high lady.“ Cassian said as Feyre chuckled.

“Thank God you have spared me of the tedious task that is dish washing.” Feyre teased giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“I’ll see you two when you’re finished,“ Feyre told them heading to sit down beside Rhys and Nyx.

“Were you two having fun in here?” Cassian teased grabbing a dish and washing it.

“Aren’t we always?” Nesta smirked grabbing the dish from him and drying it.

“What were you two talking about?” Cassian asked. “It seemed like a pretty intense conversation.“

“It was a sister thing and…there’s something I want to discuss with you when we get home.“ She told him.

“Nothing bad I hope.“

“No. It’s just a conversation that I’ve been wanting to have with you for a while now.“ She confided in him, He nodded, relief filling his features as they worked on the dishes. talking about the party. When things were winding down Feyre pulled Nesta into a hug as Nesta also hugged Nyx,

“Goodbye Aunt Nes.”

“Goodbye buddy, I’ll see you next week when you come spend the night,“

Nyx‘s eyes lit up at the sound of that, the house adored Nyx as it had any other person, Maybe even favored him slightly. Though she didn’t blame the house. it had been a while since a child had been in it.She wondered how the house would feel to have one there permanently.

When Cassian and Nesta went home, She had found her answer in a stack of novels on the house library’s table. Books on motherhood, what to expect when you’re expecting. Nesta felt a warmth in her chest as the house also presented her the herbs for her tea. She hadn’t taken her dosage today.

Footsteps sounded in the door of the library as the books vanished from sight but the tea remained. She had made up her mind. Had known her answer as Cassian approached her.

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” He asked taking a seat beside her noting the tea.

Nesta took a deep breath. “Did you mean it? When you said you wanted kids?”

Casian nodded. “It’s something Ive always wanted. What brought this up?” He asked as Nesta took another breath.

“I was thinking-“ Nesta started. “About the future you’ve talked about for us. How you said you wanted kids?”

“Did you change your mind? Did you not want kids? Is that why you said you wanted to talk?” Cassian asked.

”No, I-I wanted to talk to you because I- I want to try for a baby. I-I want to make a baby with you.”

Cassian eyes snapped to hers, searching her face before he stood up, his calloused and warm hand going to her face.

“You want a baby?” Cassian asked. Nesta nodded. And she did. Gods did she want a baby with her mate. the love of her life.

“Yes.” She whispered to him as he smiled. The smile as bright as the dawn as he lifted trash can up eyes flickering to get tea.

Nesta’s smile curved upwards before she took the tea tossing it in the trash before Cassian‘s lips camd crashing down to hers.

He hoisted her on the desk, her back leaning against it as Cassian pulled away smiling down at her in the most breathtaking gaze she had ever saw and whispered.

“Then by all means mate,let’s get stared.“

#nessian #nestaarcheron #cassian #nesta #nessianmonth

[gracie-rosee]

Nessian + Nyx

Just some Nessian fluff for you <3

Summary: Cassian and Nesta take care of baby Nyx while Feyre and Rhys sleep.

Word count: 1,166

"What the hell are you doing to that poor child, Cassian?" Nesta said as she walked through the door of their room at Feyre and Rhys' estate. Her mate was sitting on their bed, Nyx laying on his lap looking like he was about to throw up on him.

Feyre and Rhys were currently upstairs sleeping. They haven't been able to rest much since Nyx's birth and neither parent had wanted their child out of their arms for more than a minute. Their exhaustion took hold of them however, and left babysitting duty to the newly mated couple.

Cassian was ecstatic, making silly faces and tickling little Nyx until his shrill laughter filled the room. Though he would never admit it, Nesta could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes at one point or another.

"He doesn't seem to want to go to sleep, apparently." Cassian's eyes were fixed on the baby Illyrian in his lap. "You just love giving your uncle a hard time, don't you?" he added quieter, softly tickling Nyx's little feet, making his tiny face widen in a toothless smile.

Nesta stood in the doorway, watching her mate and nephew together. Her mate.

The term was still so new to her. She still couldn't believe that this male could possibly love her. She doesn't know what she did to deserve him, but she thanks the mother every single day for being blessed to have him.

Leaning against the doorway, she gazed at the pair on the bed. The look of pure love in Cassian's eyes nearly stole the breath right from her lungs. A look that was directed at her too many times to count. Seeing Cassian with Nyx made her heart do somersaults in her chest. She knew, without a doubt that he would be an incredible father one day.

Yes, she thinks with a smile on her face. One day.

A soft gasp pulled her from her thoughts. Looking back at the two, she saw that Nyx had indeed thrown up all over Cassian's shirt. Nyx was being held an arms length away, a devilish smile on his face. The child was only a few weeks old and he's already perfected his father's stupid smirk. This child will certainly be a handful, but Nesta knew without a doubt that there isn't a single thing his parents wouldn't do for him.

Cassian sighed and pivoted towards the doorway where Nesta still stood. He sent her a glare as she bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

She crossed the room, taking a seat on the plush mattress next to him. "You probably deserved that," she chuckled, an unrestrained smile spread across her face. Cassian, however, didn't laugh. She looked over at him to find his gaze locked on her, that adoring look in his eyes once more as he stared at her in awe.

"What?" she whispers, suddenly feeling as if she were out of place.

The corner of Cassian's lips curved upward as he brushed a finger along her jaw. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss to her lips before pulling back to rest his forehead against hers. "I love you," he whispered, so softly she barely even heard it. Even Nyx was silent as he watched his aunt and uncle with wide eyes.

Nesta felt tears starting to form in her eyes at the sincerity of his words. He had yet to actually say the words out loud to her, but she knew it wasn't the first time he said them. He may not have uttered the words out loud, but she knew he didn't need words to tell her. He says I love you in the way he kisses her. The way he holds her. The way he looks at her.

Blinking back tears, she lays her hand softly against his cheek. His hand comes up to cover hers as he turns his head and places a kiss to the palm of her hand.

Nesta smiles, and looks down at Cassian's ruined shirt. "I love you too, but you really smell," she says, unable to stop her laugh this time.

Cassian looked down, as if just realizing there was vomit on his shirt. Nyx, the little devil, laughed happily, as if he too just saw what he did to his uncle's clothing.

Cassian sighed and shifted to place Nyx in Nesta's arms. She stiffens slightly as her mate carefully hands her the baby wrapped in the midnight blue blanket Elain had made. With his entire family fawning over him, Nesta hasn't yet gotten the chance to hold him.

Nyx babbles happily as he's placed in his aunt's arms, his small fingers playing with the end of her braided hair. His little wings are tucked behind him, and it takes her breath away at how delicate he looks. His wings are so tiny, so fragile that she's afraid to even move lest she accidentally hurt him.

She's still getting used to it – the emptiness. The lack of that dark power. The power that was pure death. It feels as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders once it was gone. Yet holding this child didn't frighten her as much as she expected it to. The reassuring presence of her mate next to her helped ground her. She knew he would always be there for her, reaching out his hand. Knew that every time she was plagued by nightmares in the dead of night, he would be there to wake her, to hold her as he does every night.

Nyx continues to smile and giggle in Nesta's arms as Cassian gets up to change his shirt. She scoots up the large bed and situates them both comfortably amongst the pillows.

Cassian reappears in the room momentarily and plops down on the bed beside his mate and his nephew. He doesn't even try to hide his smile as he wraps an arm around Nesta and places his free hand on hers where it rests on top of Nyx's blanket.

Nyx's chubby fingers wrap around Nesta's and he immediately tries to shove them in his gummy mouth. A laugh bubbles out of her at his attempts and she looks up to find Cassian gazing at them, a look of pure love in his eyes.

Looking back at him, she found that the future, for once, didn't scare her. That she was happy- no, excited to live her life. With her mate, her family and friends.

She leaned her head over to rest on Cassian's shoulder. Though she couldn't see his face, she could feel his smile, his happiness. She felt it down their bond. She felt it in her soul. And as she gazed down at the now sleeping infant in their arms, Cassian's arms wrapped around her, she found that she too was happy. Happier than she had ever been before. And she didn't plan on ever letting this feeling go.

:)

Tags:

@perseusannabeth @laraexia @sleeping-and-books @mu-si-ca-l @superspiritfestival @althelkingshorses @danibutterr @morganofthewildfire​ @booksofthemoon @tswaney17​

#my writing #Nessian #nessian oneshot #nessian fluff #nesta archeron #Cassian #Rhysand #Feyre archeron #Acosf #acosf spoilers #Acotar #Feysand #nyx archeron

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Totems of Comfort [Elriel]

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: The inner circle just had an evening meal following the events of ACOSF and Azriel and Elain are no where to be found. What Feyre and Cassian stumble across pulls more heartstrings than expected.

Pairings: Azriel x Elain, Elriel

Warnings: None - it might be sickly sweet though ;)

A/N: Guys I haven’t read ACOSF. I don’t care about spoilers so I kind of know how the novel ends, but if it seems like anything’s amiss know that’s why! This is just pure fluff, something to keep you going in these difficult times! <3

“What are you looking at?” Feyre finally quipped as she walked into the lounge.

Tonight the inner circle had had their first proper evening meal in what had felt like a lifetime. With Nyx’s arrival to the family, it would be reasonable to say things had been a little hectic. It was Rhys who finally snapped, sick of having his closest friends, his found family, scattered across Prythian like marbles. He had promptly sent out a strongly worded invitation to all their friends, softly demanding their attendance to a family dinner the coming Friday - or else.

Cassian said nothing to Feyre, didn’t even look away from whatever it was that had got him so enthralled, he just held out an arm and lazily gestured for Feyre to join him.

The dinner had passed without a hitch. Amren and Varian had come up from the Summer Court, Mor was even in town, Cassian and Azriel had rescheduled their upcoming training rotas to fit the visit, Nesta was in the best mood she’d been in, in a long time, and Elain was Elain. If Rhys was the spine of the group, Feyre the heart, and if Cassian was the muscle and Azriel the mind, Amren the gut, Mor the face and Nesta the tongue, then Elain was the soul - the whimsical organ, the incomprehensible one. And Nyx - Nyx was their hope. All of their hope.

Rolling her eyes, Feyre moved over to where Cassian was standing in the living room in front of the crackling fire, looking down at the sofa closest to the French windows, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. The dinner had been coming to a close over the past two hours. The group fracturing into pairs and couples who stumbled out onto the chilly streets of Velaris, only the alcohol and their coats to keep them warm. Rhys was now upstairs, finishing off paperwork he’d put on hold for tonight before he would inevitably come to find Feyre. She knew based on the amount he had laughed tonight, his violet eyes nearly brimming with joyous tears, that he was full of love - love he would no doubt pour into her when the house finally fell asleep.

“What is it?” Feyre asked Cassian again as she sidled up to him. Nesta was currently in the library, swapping out a few of their collections for her own before she headed back to the House of Wind with Cassian. The love between her sister and Cassian had been so visceral tonight, like a tangible thread of spun gold between them, she could practically feel it’s summery warmth from across the table.

“Just look,” Cassian murmured softly, his voice like a navy cloud, his eyes sparkling at the scene before him.

“What...oh...” And it seemed that Feyre had just found where Elain and Azriel had ended up - she had wondered where they had gone off to.

Towards the end of the dinner, Nyx had come bounding in, his nanny apologising profusely as she followed. Feyre had merely brushed her apologies off with a grin before taking Nyx and telling her to take the rest of the night off. Mother knew she deserved it. Nyx was more than happy to stay up past his bed time, bouncing from lap to lap of his adoring aunts and uncles.

After Amren and Varian had been the first to leave, Feyre and Rhys quickly found themselves overwhelmed with trying to clear away the plates and pour everyone a fresh glass with Nyx bouncing between them. Elain had walked over and bundled Nyx up in her arms, apparently hearing the couples silent plea.

With Nyx bouncing in her arms, she walked him out of the dining room into the living room, her long skirts swishing around her as she moved. Feyre missed it, but Azriel must’ve followed her out, blending with the shadows as he so often did. Of course he did, Feyre now reprimanded herself with a coy smile. Nothing Elain did these days ever went unnoticed by the shadowsinger. But the soft brushes of fingers, the prolonged longing stares, the heavy breathing and blushing that even Feyre had noticed between them, seemed hilariously shy to what she now saw.

Azriel was splayed on the left hand side of the sofa, his arms stretched out along the sofa’s back and arm. His head was thrown back against the cushions, his neck exposed and his eyes closed as he breathed heavily in sleep. Azriel’s legs were wide, allowing Elain to have thrown her own legs over his lap and curl into his chest. She too had her eyes closed, and her breathing was delayed. And between them both, tucked into Elain’s lap and resting against Azriel’s chest, was Nyx, passed out just like his aunt and uncle.

“Oh my god...” Feyre whispered excitedly, unable to contain the grin that was so large it made her cheeks ache. The picture was so perfect, such a simple moment of the people she loved, an image of this life which never in a million years did she ever think she would be blessed enough to have. “They look...cosy.”

Feyre knew by the slight shaking of Cassian’s shoulder that he was withholding a snort. But tearing her eyes away from the sweet picture in front of her, she didn’t fail in picking up the slightly emotional look in Cassian’s eyes. So similar to his brother’s tonight - the look that threatened to spill joyous tears.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so...relaxed,” Feyre couldn’t stop herself from saying. But it was true. Azriel kept to himself, not just in an emotional way: the reality that even his closest friends, his found family, didn’t truly know everything he had been through. But also in a physical way. He crossed his arms the same way Rhys shoved his hands in his pockets, a physical totem of preservation. As though by wrapping his arms around himself he was forming a barrier, not to let anything in, nor anything out. He stood at the sides of rooms, could never permit himself to get comfortable even when he had scouted the place for threats thrice. He was self-contained and self-conscious, aware of everything whilst remaining in mystery.

And here he just looked so, vulnerable. It dawned on Feyre that she had never seen Azriel with his guard down, not like this. Not to mention Elain who was still sensitive touch, still not used to having her brothers pull her into their chests in greeting. Feyre swallowed something bitter in her throat - like Azirel’s past, no one was quite sure what had happened with Grayson. If he could be so cruel in public, in front of the High Lord of Night, God knew what he had done behind closed doors. Cassian pulled her from her bitter thoughts with ease.

“You know it’s weird...I knew Azriel struggled to be completely comfortable around us but, I thought he had let his guard down.”

“I don’t understand?” Feyre murmured as her eyes followed the curve of Azriel’s exposed throat, an animalistic splay of vulnerability.

“I just...I never realised he could be this happy. I thought he’d just always be closed off, that that was just a part of him. It never occurred to me that he would ever - could ever - open up more than he already had, that he would ever fully relax.”

“Do you really think that this her?” Feyre murmured, wringing her hands to try and ease the itch to paint. “You think Elain’s really helping him?”

“I know Elain now,” Cassian murmured cocking his head as he zoned in on Feyre’s sister, his own sister now, his eyes still uncannily bright. “And...it makes sense doesn’t it? The way they sort of, fit together.” Feyre hummed in agreement.

Feyre hadn’t failed to notice the miasma of harmony that clouded Azriel and Elain whenever they came together. She knew that at their core they shared similar values: honesty, kindness, forgiveness, and beyond that, they seemed more at ease in each other’s company than when they were alone. Often Feyre has caught them sitting together in the library or the living room, not even talking, Azriel rummaging through his paperwork, Elain pouring over her gardening books, more comfortable in each other’s silence than their own.

There was a spark of course. The way the air between them sometimes turned charged, as though electricity was zipping between them when they caught the others eye. Azriel often sought out Elain’s laughter, a hidden smile lighting in his eyes as he searched for the source. Elain went out of her way to tell him all the things he deserved to hear, the things even Feyre found herself forgetting to remind him.

She’d overheard them one day. They were coming back into the garden from the town house, an inch of air between them as they walked, their tones warm and relaxed. Elain was asking him if he was to come to her birthday celebration that evening, Azriel was stumbling on his words, something he only ever did around her. As a joke he made some off-hand comment about how he wouldn’t fit in with the floral decorations that were flowing from every corner of the house. Feyre had scowled from where she was perched in the kitchen, he was brushing her off, claiming he was to ugly, to scarred to be around something, or rather someone, who was so beautiful. Looking up Feyre had watched as Elain stopped walking, the afternoon sun pouring over her like liquid gold. She had looked at Azriel with a sudden intensity, a ferocity that reminded her that Elain was Nesta’s sister. And the same way Elain’s kindness was hidden in Nesta, Nesta’s fire was hidden in Elain.

“I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen,” Elain had said simply. Her eyes were bright and clear, her hand reaching up to rest on his shoulder, nothing but earnest truth rippling from her soft voice, so compelling Feyre knew that even Azriel couldn’t deny her statement. And he didn’t, he didn’t do anything, some kind of internal meltdown wringing inside him as he peered at the girl at his side - someone who, Feyre suspected, had come along and had slowly begin to unravel the shadows Azriel had being binding himself in for 500 years.

“I...” Azriel began a sentence that hadn’t fully formed in his mind, but Elain just smiled wider, the action seeming to fill the room with golden light.

“Just be there,” her voice was honey and butter, and Feyre could see some part of Azriel begin to melt. “For me.” 

He had come of course, and whether it was the alcohol or the sun, or perhaps Elain’s compliment ringing in his ears, he had spent the entire evening wearing a lopsided grin.

Elain currently cuddled closer into Azriel’s chest, her arm wrapping around Nyx before gripping onto Azriel’s waist, and as though in response, Azriel moved in his sleep to wrap both of them closer to his chest. The movement, though done unconsciously, had stirred Azriel slightly, enough for him to acknowledge the two figures grinning down at him. He tried not to jump.

“You comfortable there buddy?” Cassian’s thick voice stirred him further, and all at once he seemed to come into his body. Glancing down he first saw Elain’s legs, exposed from where her skirt had been pushed up in her sleep and draped over his thighs. Her soft skin illuminated in the firelight, more of her skin than he’d ever seen. His head snapped up, his eyes now bright and awake and he shifted as though to stand up.

“Woah, woah...don’t move you idiot,” Cassian chuckled as quietly as he could. “You don’t want to wake them.”

Azriel paused. No, he didn’t want to the wake them. But that didn’t mean his body was going to stop screaming at him. Ignoring the snickers of his brother and sister, he glanced down again. 

On his chest lay perhaps the two most precious and vulnerable things in his life. A voice inside his head, a voice that sounded somewhat like his father, was screaming at him to winnow away. That he was going to somehow, somehow hurt them, even now. That the mutilated skin of his palms would mar their delicate, smooth flesh.

But then he saw Elain breathing. Saw the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest which Nyx currently had snuggled into. Unconsciously, Azriel timed his breaths to her own. In, out. In, out. Breathe - he could practically hear her soft voice whisper in his ear. And for the first time, in a long time, he allowed himself to be swayed by someone else. Allowed for his gut instinct to subside and pass, like a black wave that had rolled through his body before evaporating and floating away. Breathe, he imagined her voice again and he felt his muscles loosen under her warmth. Breathe, not taking his eyes off her he permitted himself the indulgence to uncurl the arm wrapped around her, and run his knuckles along her exposed arm, slowly dragging his scarred knuckle up and down.

He looked at them both now, honestly this time, with no fear.

Elain wasn’t his, wasn’t his mate or even his lover, in the same way Nyx wasn’t his son, and technically not even his nephew. But for the first time, ever, Azriel felt something prick inside his chest. It was pure and gold, and managed to pierce an inch of his shadow-clad heart with perfect light. It was unfamiliar but it’s name rolled into his head as though it had always been there, as though it had been dormant, just waiting for the spark.

Hope. 

For the first time, ever, Azriel had pure, tangible hope in his heart. Not the messy hope of battle or espionage, the erratic hope that he might survive the days predicament and make it back home to his brothers. But a personal hope, something that felt innately closer to his wants and desires - like all at once the idea of happiness, of having someone there to share just some of his love and some of his pain, it all dawned on him in that one prick in his chest.

Elain. Her name whisked through his head like a lone petal in the wind. And he felt safe, he felt his own personal sense of home.

Ignoring Cassian and Feyre, ignoring the voice in head, ignoring the world - Azriel stroked the golden hair away from her neck, relishing in the feeling of her snuggling closer into his chest, a soft content sigh escaping her lips. He did it again, slowly stroking her hair, then running his knuckles down her arm, then back to her hair. This would be all he permitted himself tonight. This inch of indulgence; this totem of comfort.

And it would be enough. It was more than enough - it was everything. 

#elriel #elain #elain acotar #elain archeron #elain and azriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel acosf #acotar #acomaf #acofas #acosf #acowar