#Nesta's thing is CAKE

[utterlyotterlyx]

18 with Azriel because mans is taaaaall

Little Thing

Summary - Azriel loves finding any reason to hold you, his height restricted mate, in his arms, and isn't ashamed to admit it.

Warnings - absolutely none really, slight swearing, just Az fluff x 1000

"I've been breaking my back to kiss you."

"I'm not that fucking short."

The weight that occasionally pressed against the tips of his toes had become something he found endearing, because it meant that you were trying with all of your might to kiss him by using his feet as leverage to boost your own height.

Azriel was abnormally tall, his six foot seven to your five foot three was the source of copious amounts of teasing from your shared family, mostly from Cassian who always questioned aloud how Azriel fit inside of you, like it was all he thought about whenever he looked at the two of you.

"Would you like to watch since you're so intrigued about our sex life, Cass?"

"I, uh-," Cassian had stuttered that chill afternoon, the stars had blanketed across the sky, and you were stood in the centre of the lounge in your floor length skirt which only reached Azriel's knees, (he'd tried it on one day much to your delight); you were tapping your foot against the wooden floor, eyebrow arched and waiting for a real answer, "No."

Azriel had to give it to Cassian, and Rhys, and well anyone who questioned how Azriel, the brother with the largest wingspan, managed to fit inside of you. Cassian said often that his cock must rearrange your insides and he was surprised how you could walk around after your nights, mornings, and afternoons together, let alone go to work and live a normal life.

"Thought not. Shame, you could have learnt a thing or two for Nesta," Azriel chortled at your words and sent a wave of pride and adoration down the bond, a shower of affection that you lapped up.

"Ouch, y/n. That stung," Cassian fluttered his fingers over his heart and winced dramatically.

"Bite me," you flipped him off and headed back into the kitchen where the most incredible aromas floated from.

Once a month, you promised to cook a family dinner for them all, having negotiated your family away from the once a week they had begged for. It was as though they believed that you didn't have a life. The most decadent bakery in Velaris had your name plastered on the front of it in pale blue swirls, that was how you had met Azriel, after Feyre had dragged him into the store owned by the tiny fae female who made the best pastries she had ever tasted in her life.

The bond had snapped immediately for him when he saw you in your black apron dusted with flour, pink icing and white buttercream on your cheeks, hair strewn up but spilling over your forehead, boxing up a larger than you three tier cake without breaking a sweat.

The pastries you had made for him once you had decided to accept the bond, and the life that came with it, were almost as good as the passionate love he gave you that night.

Azriel loved everything about you, from the larger than life ferocity and sass you carried in your tiny body, to your equally ferocious loving heart; you were independent, talented, sweet, and kind, a ray of sunshine in his otherwise shadowed reality.

Though, there were two things that Azriel loved more than anything. The first was being able to find any excuse to lift you up in his hands, whether that be to help you reach the top shelf or fuck you against a wall; he wouldn't admit it easily, but he did purposefully hide things out of reach from you so that he had a reason to hold you in his large hands. The second thing he adored was how you would stand on his feet, on your tiptoes, to capture his lips on yours. It was such a sickly sweet part of you, but one that he wouldn't change for anything.

Hearing you strain, Azriel furrowed his brow, imagining you struggling to reach the second shelf of the cupboard in a home where furniture had been made for three huge Illyrians, not a tiny fae baker. Rounding the corner, he smirked at your form, he smirked at the way your skirt was hitched around your thighs as you clambered onto a nearby chair to hop onto the countertop.

Azriel sauntered over to you, laying his large hands on your hips and pressing his lips to the small of your back, grinning against your skin when you shuddered at the contact, "Need any help?" Azriel had moved the stool away from the edge of the counter, placing himself where it used to be.

Turning in his hands, you looked down on him with a wide smile, "No, I got it," you presented the bag of sugar to him and he took it from your fingers, placing it down for you, "Is this what it's like to be you? I can see so much up here."

Azriel chuckled, resting his chin on your stomach and peering up at you through his long lashes that always made you curse his Illyrian genes, "I guess so," he shrugged, locking his arms around your hips, enjoying the moment you had taken to run your fingernails over his scalp which drew a whine from his lips.

Taking his face in your hands, you leaned down and placed your lips to his, a tender embrace, one full of love and the faint taste of your vanilla lip balm that gave your lips the most incredible glossy finish, "How does it feel to kiss someone taller than you?"

Grinning, Azriel prodded, "Amazing actually. I've been breaking my back to kiss you."

You gasped, swatting his shoulder with the towel you had tucked into the back of your skirt, "I'm not that fucking short!"

His laugh boomed throughout the kitchen as you fiddled with the ends of your hair, "Okay, maybe I am just a little bit. Cassian's right, how do we have sex?" Azriel continued to laugh at your mumbling as he lifted you from the counter, placing you back on to the ground which felt so far away from where you were stood moments before.

Your mate bent down to peck your pouting bottom lip, pulling you into his body and stroking his fingers through your hair, "Who are we to question science? It works, that's good enough for me."

"It's definitely good enough for me."

"Oh I know. You told me as much last night - ow!" Azriel hissed as you dug your heel into his foot, frowning, he asked, "What was that for?"

Your cheeks flushed pink and you bashfully whispered, "I don't need Cassian to know what I tell you when we're doing that."

"You said it first."

"And?" There it was, the sass, the popped hip and arched brow, "Now move, I need to finish cooking and you're blocking my view."

Azriel smirked, "Oh my beautiful little thing, but I am the view."

A giggle floated through your lips, his favourite sound apart from when you were moaning his name beneath him, "You're lucky I love you," you fell into his open arms and pressed your lips to his clothed chest, to the exact place where your lips always met when you stood before him.

"I wouldn't change anything about you, you know that right?"

Humming in agreement, your hands wrapped around his back, "I know, Az," you pulled away, craning your neck toward the ceiling to look at him, "I'd change one thing about you though," his face dropped, "That you'd stop purposefully hiding things on the top shelf."

Azriel took a step back, "You know?!"

Scoffing, you turned, focusing back to the slowly simmering melting chocolate on the stove top, "Of course I know. I'm small, not dumb."

Azriel's warmth swarmed you, his huge arms nestled over your chest, and he rested his head atop your own, "All I can do is do it a little less. You know I like man-handling you. It makes me feel strong."

"Big Illyrian baby."

Authors Note

Just a little drabble on a Wednesday evening x

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #maasverse #fanfiction #azriel x reader #imagine #cassian #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel fluff #acotar fluff #acotar fic #acotar oneshot #acotar drabble #azriel drabble #azriel one shot #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

Omega Ours - Part 1 | Alpha!Cassian x Alpha!Nesta x Omega!Reader| Short Series 2.7k

After fighting your way out of every potential mating offered to you, your village sends you off with the High Lord. Rhysand, tired of dealing with the Alphas living in the House of Wind, gifts you to Cassian and Nesta in the hopes that it'll settle all three of you down.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, language & themes. Omegaverse dynamics including Alpha & Omega and the sexist assumptions/implications that go along with it, heat/heat cycles, forced proximity, d/s themes, only one bed (and only one chaise), lots of tropey tropes! No use of YN but liberal use of pet names.

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Cassian & Nesta - from Pinterest

Created for @polyacotarweek - prompt 5 faveourite tropes (Omegaverse, only one bed, forced proximity, sort of insta-love)

Part 2 will be posted on the 13 (Free day!) follow @illyrianlibrary for updates ❤️

Part 2 | Masterlist | Poly Fics | Cassian

The only way to describe the couple stood before you was - handsome. 

The High Lord and Lady who’d brought you here were beautiful, elegant. But this couple could only be described as handsome, strong, Alpha. 

You knew them, of course. General Cassian of the Nightcourt and his mate, Lady Nesta. Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death, they’d called them in the camps that circled the Illyrian villages like pilot fish on a shark.  

“I’ve brought you a present,” Rhysand drawled, pointing at you. “Well, it’s a favour and a present. The last unmated omega of the season. She's  from the Western Isles, I thought it might help to tamp down your behaviour if you two had a project.” He grinned and you turned to look at Nesta and Cassian again. 

It was true, you’d rejected every mate offered to you, bitten some of them, in your desperation to get away, and that’s how you’d lost your freedom. Fighting the boys from the village was one thing, fighting an Illyrian was another. They’d hauled you into the camp in front of the High Lord on his last visit and demanded compensation. 

Rhysand, ever flush with jewels and gold, had paid them and then had a set of cuffs and leathers made for you. Nightcourt black velvet, red stitching and silver buckles. But restraints were still restraints, no matter how soft they felt against your wrists and ankles. He’d had new clothes made for you as well, traditional sheer panels of matching blood red that hung in gossamer curtains down your legs, pooling around you as you were forced to your knees in front of the Lady and General. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nesta studied her nails, her air bored but her eyes kept flickering towards you. 

“Come now, Nesta, we both know you and Cassian caused quite the stir the last time you were both in heat.” 

You were right then, you could smell it on them anyway, that raw power and strength that designated them as Alpha. 

“Still -  you want us to take care of your problems?” Nesta huffed. 

“Of course not, she’s a gift, for you and Cass, if you happen to tame her enough that she stops mauling my men then that’s a bonus.” 

You looked between them, it was undeniable how attractive they were. Better than the mud caked idiots from the village at least, but you still railed against the hand that dragged you back to your feet. 

Cassian kept his hand under your elbow, pinching your cheeks with his other hand. “Come on, Nes. She’s cute, isn’t she?” He angled your face up towards his mate. 

Nesta shrugged one shoulder and you snarled, snapping at Cassian’s fingers. 

“Feisty,” he gave a deep chuckle, “I like that, that’s how Nes and I got together.” He hauled you over his shoulder, your legs and arms dangling, the panels of your dress slipping dangerously. 

“Put me down!” You beat your fists on his back. 

“Should have thought of that before you tried to bite me,” he teased, jostling you. 

You scowled at Nesta, who followed, laughing, through the halls of the palace and then tried using the only knowledge you had about the Illyrians. You reached out and grabbed his wing, squeezing as tightly as you could. 

He growled back, the sound travelling up through his chest into yours, vibrating your very core. 

“You want to play rough? Good.” 

Cassian shouldered a heavy door open and suddenly the sweeping corridor was gone and a dark, warm room wrapped itself around you. 

The walls were an oxblood red with thick velvet curtains that lay heavily in front of the eternally open windows. The soft jasmine breeze that circulated through the house was mixed with the cleaner scent of mountain air and the crackling of a fire, rich and inviting. 

The general set you down, his gaze travelling slowly down your figure. He clenched his jaw and then instantly turned to his mate, cupping her cheeks in his large hands and kissing her roughly. She growled in response, leaning into his embrace and allowing him to lift her against his body. You watched as he carried her across the room to an open archway, almost hidden behind a large tapestry, and then they vanished again. 

Tentatively, as much as you could with the thin chain connecting your ankles, you crept across the room to the curtain, now brushed back and curling heavily on the polished floor. 

Nesta and Cassian were tangled on the bed, the heady scent of their arousal lay thick in the air, the bedsheets already rumpled as if they’d been interrupted before, the room in disarray. 

On both bedside tables there were stacks of books of various genres, a pitcher of water on one and dagger on the other. 

“Either come in or go,” Nesta groused from the bed, hair messy, one of Cassian’s hands still tangled in the long golden-brown strands. 

“Play nice, Nes.” The general laughed, biting at Nesta’s earlobe. “You can join us or you can sleep,” he said over his shoulder. 

Sure enough there was a small chaise made up with blankets at the end of the bed. You shuffled over, and fell heavily onto the soft cushions listening to the sound of their love making. Each grunt and moan made you press your thighs together harder. Each stifled sigh had your hands twitching, itching for something more. You may have rejected every attempt at a mating, but you weren’t completely without feeling, without desire and needs and lust. 

You lifted your hands to cover your ears, the chain between them digging into the bridge of your nose, and fell into a confused sleep. 

 You awoke to the sound of moving bodies and cloth dragging on the floor. 

“She’s asleep, let her rest, Cas.” 

“What if she’s cold?” The footsteps came closer and you tensed on instinct. The steps stopped, but a gentle weight floated down on you, a large cotton blanket, awash with their scent, settled. 

“I’m going to wash,” Nesta’s voice faded as she walked away but there was no other movement. 

“I know you’re awake.” His voice was loud in your ear, closer than you’d expected and you jumped again, almost sliding from the chaise. Cassian’s arm caught you, tight around your waist and his bareskin was so warm against your own. You cracked one eye open and looked around the room as best you could with his wings blocking out the faint candlelight.

His arm was speckled with tiny scars that twinkled against his tan skin, the hair that decorated his forearm was as dark as the long tendrils that brushed over his shoulders and this close, his chin almost resting on your own arm, he smelt heavenly. That mixture of his own scent and Nesta’s even stronger in his proximity and, no doubt, enhanced by their earlier activities. 

“If you want, you can borrow some clothes.” His voice was a sleepy rumble and you resisted the urge to let your omega instincts take over and push yourself back into his chest, seek out that warmth, that comfort - but you didn’t respond. 

The sound of running water in the other room stopped, replaced with the gentle pad of Nesta’s footsteps and then she was in front of you. Surrounded by them again you had to fight back every urge to give in to her wicked mouth, her lips plump and kiss bitten. 

“We’ve left you some things on the chair, choose what you will. If you want to join us on the bed, you can.” Nesta moved away taking Cassian with her and you assumed from the gentle rustle of sheets they were back in bed. 

The chair that sat opposite their grand fireplace was strewn with clothes, silky looking negligees and billowing linen shirts, some cotton leggings and a pair of woollen socks. 

Waiting a moment, hoping they weren’t looking, you rose from the chaise and rushed for the chair. The translucent dress the High Lord had had you wear left your skin cold and bare, exposed and vulnerable. Cassian’s shirt was a welcome relief, covering your body from view, although the two slits in the back for his wings did feel slightly odd. The socks were warm and fluffy, long enough to reach almost to your knees. Redressed, you turned to return to your chaise and tugged the blanket up to your chin. 

You didn’t really want to spend the entire night there, but you also refused to give in to the ridiculousness of the situation. No one chose your mate, or mates, for you and you’d rather sleep on the tiny chaise that allow anyone to take that choice from you. 

Thankfully, Nesta and Cassian had turned away, the Illyrian’s large wings spread over the bed,. Shielding his mate from view? Or stopping her from following you around the room with her silver stare? You weren’t sure, but you were grateful as you closed your eyes. 

It was only as you were falling asleep that you realised you were snuggled into the shirt, inhaling Cassian’s scent, and by then it was too late, you were tumbling into your dreams. 

The next morning Cassian and Nesta were gone, but someone had left a tray of food, a pot of tea and a stack of books on the table. The doors to the balcony were open and the jasmine wind blew the curtains back so invitingly you couldn’t resist. 

You were halfway through one of the books they’d left, something by Sellyn Drake that had far more smut in it than you were anticipating. A slice of buttered toast was stuck halfway to your mouth as you stared transfixed at the page, when the door opened. Cassian held the door for Nesta, taking a long sword from her hand and placing it on the table that was perpetually strewn with weapons. His own sword and daggers followed and the two of them began to strip out of their leathers. 

There had been a rumour that Nesta trained alongside the Lord of Bloodshed and the Shadowsinger, trained with other women as well, but you hadn’t thought to believe it until now. 

Her leathers were tight against skin, a sheen of sweat making her sparkle, her long hair was tied up in what was now a messy ponytail and, most surprising of all, she was smiling broadly at Cassian. He returned the smile, cupping her cheek and pulling her in for a kiss, his hands wandering down to the buckles and clasps that held her fighting leathers together. 

Cassian looked equally as powerful, his own armour dark against his tanned skin, his tattoos flowing under the leather before appearing again at his collar bone and trailing over his shoulders towards the vast wings at his back. You set the book down slowly, the lust filled scene already had you feeling hot under Cassian’s shirt even before they appeared. 

The movement caught his eye and he turned, taking Nesta with him and pinning her against his chest. They way they looked at you, like the most delicious prey, had you pressing your legs together. You wouldn’t give in to this, especially not when it was exactly what that smug prick of a High Lord wanted. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he cooed, “Would you like to join us?” 

It was Nesta who held her hand out, crooking her finger to coax you forward. “We’re going to bathe, the tub is large enough for three, come.” It was more a demand than a question and, though you longed to see how far down Cassian’s tattoos went and how Nesta would look covered in bubbles, you resisted again. 

With a shake of your head you went back to your book, trying to ignore the sound of them together through the wall. 

You fell into a rhythm, the three of you. Nesta and Cassian continued as they were, training, working in the library and attending meetings, and inviting you to join them whenever they were together. 

Your nights on the chaise were becoming increasingly uncomfortable, but you refused to be worn down by their requests, preferring to stay silent and read alone either on the balcony or by the fire. No amount of reading could drown out the sound of their love making, though. If you could call it that, judging by the bruises both of them sported proudly and the way their headboard banged against the stone wall. 

Despite your protests their allure was difficult to ignore, their playful banter, the care and attention they showed each other, even the way they whispered in bed, dissecting the day's events and, on a few occasions, discussing you. 

This only happened when you were pretending to sleep heavily, breathing slow and steady as you wished for dreams to take you. 

“Nes, did you see the way my shirt fit her today, rolling up her thighs-” Cassian had made a deep, guttural noise, only to be shushed by Nesta. 

“Yes, Cas, stop, she’s right over there.” Nesta hissed in return. 

“I know, God, she’s so fucking close, don’t you think she smells good?” 

“You know I do.” The sheets rustled and you heard Nesta whimper as a wave of arousal flooded you. They could smell you, you knew it and you couldn’t stop it. 

Sleeping in their room, bathed in their scent every day, surrounded by their things, it was like a huge nest and the longer you lingered here the more you wanted to give in and climb into their bed, to be between them and allow them to care for you.

You knew something had changed when you woke up drenched in sweat. As usual, Nesta and Cassian had already left the room, your breakfast arranged in its spot, clothes laid out for you. They’d started adding some new things, items that smelt like neither of them, clean linen and lavender, but you were still drawn to their items the most. Perhaps, it was the way they smiled when they saw you cuddling into one of Cassian’s shirts or standing on the balcony in one of Nesta’s dresses. But you refused to confront that feeling. 

Despite your long, cold, bath you still felt hot and uncomfortable. It was mid way through stripping off your linen trousers that Nesta reappeared. She moved with a preternatural grace that you were sure existed well before her sister’s ascent to High Lady. A smoothness to each turn of her hand, or extension of her arm, she made walking seem like a dance and you were transfixed.  

Nesta stopped as soon as she saw you, her nostrils flared, almost imperceptibly.

“Are you okay?” she asked in that cool, silvery voice. 

“Yes,” your voice felt hoarse. You barely spoke and had gone days without saying anything to either of them, merely existing in their presence. But now, locked by her gaze, there was no escaping. 

“You seem -” she weighed her words carefully, “unwell.” 

“I can assure you, I’m fine.” You took a half step towards the balcony doors, hoping the breeze would cool your skin. 

Nesta hummed, surveying you from head to toe. “I’d feel better if you got into bed.” 

You knew this was as persuasive as Nesta could be, a simple request made in the lowest of tones, an argument not worth having. 

“I-” 

“The bed.” She crossed the room swiftly and turned you towards the large, velvet draped bed that took up a large portion of the room. Since your first entrance into Nesta and Cassian’s suite, you’d done your best to avoid even looking at it. Now there was no escape.

Your hands were shaking, a tingling heat rising from your spine and coiling in your stomach. On this occasion, just once, you’d listen to her. “Fine.” With great difficulty, you pulled the shirt over your head and dropped it to the floor. You were so tired. When had you become so tired?

Nesta’s deft fingers grasped your chin, holding you still so she could look at your pupils, large and frightened. “Get in bed and go to sleep,” she insisted, and you obeyed. 

Part 2

#poly+acotarweek2024 #Cassian #Nesta #cassian x nesta #nesta x cassian #Cassian x Nesta x Reader #cassian x fem!reader #Nesta x fem!reader #nessian x reader #Nessian x female reader #Nessian #nesta acotar #nesta archeron #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #ACOTAR #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #nesta x reader #cassian x you #nesta x you

[theostrophywife]

Hey! I love your work! I was wondering if you could do a Azriel x reader fic where reader doesn’t know a lot about males and so az (maybe he already has a thing for reader) offers to give her lessons? The more NSFW the better 😉

innocence.

author's note: sorry for being m.i.a. please accept this as my apology gift. largely inspired by this song. you can't tell me that az doesn't have the biggest corrpution kink 😏

it started out innocently enough.

one winter evening after a particularly rowdy wine night, you and azriel laid in a heap at the house of wind, giggling at nothing as the warmth of the alcohol lowered your inhibitions and loosened your lips.

"never?" azriel asked incredulously, his brows creasing in the most adorable way. "you've truly never kissed anyone?"

you pouted, crossing your arms. thanks to cassian and his big mouth, the shadowsinger now knew the true extent of your naivete. growing up in the high priestess's temple in the dawn court, you had devoted much of your life to duty and training, which left little to no room for encounters with the opposite sex.

it never bothered you before. until you moved to the night court and met the shadowsinger. azriel was beyond gorgeous and smart and funny and probably well-versed in the art of seduction, which is more than you could say for your inexperienced self.

"don't tease, az." you groaned, covering your face behind your hands. as if that would hide the flush spreading through your cheeks. "i'm already mortified enough as it is."

"hey," azriel said softly as he gently grabbed your wrists. "it's nothing to be embarrassed about, love."

"you're just saying that to be nice."

the shadowsinger shook his head. "i torture people for a living," he deadpanned. "i am not nice."

you chuckled, which brought a smile to azriel's handsome face. "besides, practice makes perfect. i've seen you go from not knowing how to hold a sword to perfecting the eight point attack in a matter of weeks. kissing should be a piece of cake compared to that."

"kissing and fighting aren't the same thing."

azriel smirked. "it is, if you're doing it right. all it takes is a good teacher." the tips of your ears reddened. “and we all know how fast of a learner you are.”

you snorted. "somehow i doubt that nesta would be into the idea of letting me borrow her mate for lessons." a little frown formed on your face. "or maybe she would. you never know with those two."

the idea formed in azriel's mind before he could think better of it. the shadowsinger hated that he thought of it in the first place, but fuck. you were both a little tipsy and a tiny bit reckless and he'd been crushing on you for far too long and maybe tonight was the night he finally did something about it.

"i could teach you."

you stilled. “what?”

azriel shrugged and put on his most nonchalant expression even though his inner monologue was currently pure turmoil. “i could teach you how to kiss.” he cleared his throat, lowering his gaze to yours. “it might help to practice with someone you’re comfortable with.”

you cocked your head, weighing his words. “you’re…actually serious about this.”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

“well, wouldn’t it make things weird? you’re my best friend. best friends don’t just kiss.”

you had him there. azriel certainly had never offered this unique service to any of his friends before. “i don’t think it’s weird. i think it makes perfect sense. in fact, it’s weird that we’re not kissing right now. best friends kiss all the time,” the shadowsinger deadpanned.

you snorted. “so you and cassian are just having heated little makeout sessions behind me and nesta’s back?”

azriel winked. “i won’t tell if you don’t.”

that earned an earnest little giggle out of you. then you were quiet again, lost in the pros and cons.

pro: you really wanted to kiss azriel.

con: you really wanted to kiss azriel.

what if you were horrible at it? what if you had bad breath? what if you accidentally bit him? what if azriel figured out that you had a pathetic little crush on him and he doesn’t return the feelings and your friendship implodes then you’d have to move back to the dawn court and adopt a bunch of cats just like thesan always teased you about when you were children—

“you’re spiraling.”

you crossed your arms. “am not.”

azriel rolled his eyes fondly. “i can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” his expression softened as he turned over on the couch, his chin perched in one hand. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to. i just…” the bob of an adam’s apple. “i just wanted your first kiss to be with someone who genuinely cares about you.”

that turned your insides into mush. “oh.”

the shadowsinger’s cheeks reddened. “never mind, it sounds silly now that i’ve said it out loud.”

“it’s not,” you said, sitting cross legged on the sofa. “it’s not stupid, az. it’s really sweet, actually.”

your heart hammered inside of your chest as you faced azriel. his hazel eyes glowed golden under the faelights and a warm flush colored his cheeks a rosy tone. from this close, you could make out the constellations of freckles that kissed his nose and cheeks, its traitorous little trail stopping just above his cupid’s bow. you couldn’t help it. your gaze went straight to his lips. they looked soft, sensual, and perfectly kissable. you wondered if he’d taste like sweet wine.

“y/n?” azriel murmured softly.

“hmm?”

“you’re staring.”

your cheeks reddened and a slight smirk tugged at the corner of azriel’s mouth. “you’re the one who brought up kissing,” you countered, raising a brow. “now i can’t stop staring at your stupid lips.”

the shadowsinger’s smirk grew wider. “my stupid lips,” he repeated. “that you want to kiss.”

“no,” you blurted. azriel raised a knowing brow. “yes. maybe.” you shifted awkwardly. “what if i’m terrible at it? what if i accidentally miss? what if i don’t know where to put my hands? oh my gods, what if i accidentally bite you?”

to his credit, there wasn’t an ounce of judgement on azriel’s face. he’d witnessed your outbursts enough times that he wasn’t even fazed by it. the shadowsinger grabbed your hand and traced soothing circles over your knuckles. “one, no one’s first kiss is great. at best, it’s weird and awkward because you’re just trying to figure it out. that’s kind of the point. two, you won’t miss. just follow my lead. three, the neck or waist are generally safe spots to place your hands.” azriel demonstrated by wrapping your arms around his neck. “lastly, i don’t mind if you bite me. in fact, i might enjoy it.” he gave you a cheeky wink that helped dissipate the rest of your anxious worries.

you chuckled softly. leave it to azriel to make you laugh mid freak out. the shadowsinger smiled and cauldron fucking boil you, the sight of it pretty much sealed your fate.

“so,” you murmured, toying with the loose curls at the nape of azriel’s neck. “what now?”

“that’s entirely up to you, love.”

you blinked. once, twice. the smell of cedar and starkissed night. freckles and rosy cheeks. warm, golden eyes that melted your insides like honey. scarred hands that caressed the side of your face with heartbreaking gentleness.

“kiss me, azriel.”

the shadowsinger did not need to be told twice. he tilted your chin, brushing his nose against yours for a brief moment. azriel took a deep breath like he was savoring the moment, like his entire life had been leading up to this. then he kissed you.

his lips were as soft as freshly plucked rose petals and as sweet as the wine that still coated your tongue. they pressed against yours, gentle and exploring as azriel cupped your cheek. you leaned into him and your fingers found purchase in his silky, dark locks as azriel deepened the kiss. his arm snaked across your back as he pulled you into his lap, his mouth never once leaving yours. the sweet innocent pecks did not stay innocent for long.

the shadowsinger groaned as you nestled into him. there wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t pressed against him, but still you wanted more. your hands moves of their own accord and slipped underneath azriel’s cream sweater. his skin felt like a warm summer day despite the fact that it was currently the dead of winter.

“fuck,” azriel growled into your neck.

you pulled away, startled. it didn’t even occur to you that your fingers were as cold as icicles. “shit. sorry, az i didn’t think—“

you slipped your hands out of his sweater, but azriel caught you by the wrist. “no,” he grunted, his voice dark and low and dangerous. “no, don’t stop.”

it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. even hotter still with the way azriel tugged you to him as though he’d rather die than have you stop touching him. you greedily obliged, taking the lead this time. azriel cursed under his breath as you kissed him again, tangling his curls between your fingers. there was something intoxicating about him—his taste, his touch, his kiss. you couldn’t get enough.

when you finally came up for breath, the shadowsinger looked at you as though he’d been starving for centuries and you’d only really begun to scratch the surface of his hunger. azriel wanted to devour you.

but tonight, he’d settle for a kiss. except, it was anything but.

azriel was fucked.

he blinked, drinking in your lust added gaze and flushed cheeks. you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and it was all he could do to reel himself in. “are…are all first kisses like that?” your voice was hoarse from disuse and utterly sexy.

“no,” azriel answered honestly. “i’ve never had a kiss like that.”

your grin brought out a set of dimples that azriel had long ago deemed as his greatest weaknesses. “and i’ve never had a first kiss, period.”

and you never will again, azriel thought. not if he could help it.

“does that feel good, love?” azriel asked as he pressed a kiss against your collar bone.

you whimpered as his lips trailed between the valley of your breasts. since that first kiss, you and azriel hadn’t been able to keep your hands off of each other. over the last few weeks, the apprehension you felt about your inexperience slowly started to feel like a blessing in disguise. azriel said you were a fast learner, but only because he was such a great teacher.

“gods,” you breathed, clutching the sheets as azriel continued his descent.

“you can just call me az, you know.”

you rolled your eyes at the cheeky male below you. from this angle, he certainly looked like a god. his hair was a tousled mess, dark curls tangled from where you ran your fingers through it. sweat dripped down his shirtless torso, his golden brown skin glowing in the afternoon light. you were vaguely aware that the sun as setting over the horizon, which meant that the rest of your friends would be arriving for dinner, but neither one of you seemed to care.

during the past few weeks, you and azriel continued your lessons. first base was easy enough to master. the two of you put in plenty of hours sneaking off to make out in azriel’s room, the wine cellar, the training pits, and even in feyre’s art studio at the river house once when things really got desperate. it was a wonder that your friends hadn’t caught you yet. there had been several close calls with cassian. mostly because the male was a nosy busybody.

second base took a little more work. you were terrified at first. you and azriel had been making out in your bed for what seemed like hours before you finally mustered up the courage to slip your hand into his trousers. the shadowsinger made a sound that was half growl and half purr and for a split second you were afraid that you’d hurt him. when you voiced your fears, azriel was quick to reassure you.

“i’m not in pain, love.” azriel said, his voice strained and breathy. “trust me, i feel the complete opposite.”

“tell me how to make you feel good, az.”

the string of curse words that fell from his lips were so filthy that it made you blush. the shadowsinger guided your hand over his cock and you nearly gasped at the impressive length. azriel was hot and hard beneath your touch, his wings flexing as you grasped him in your hand.

“loosen your grip, love.” azriel adjusted your hand, motioning for your fingers to relax and mold against him. you mimicked his movement, eliciting a low rumble out of the shadowsinger. the competitive part of you awakened, eager to make azriel groan like that again. you gazed up at azriel through your lashes with determination. “gods, don’t look at me like that y/n or this lesson will be over before it’s even started.”

heat erupted in your core, but you shook the desire away. this was about azriel. you wanted to make him come undone for once instead of the other way around. “show me, az.” you said. “i want to see how you touch yourself.”

“cauldron boil me,” azriel muttered under his breath. “you’re going to be the death of me, y/n.”

you watched as he gripped himself and pumped at a steady pace. he slowed down the movements for you and you studied each flick of his wrist as though you’d be tested on it later. as sinful as it was, there was something heavenly about watching azriel stroke himself. your hands itched to touch him. once you felt confident enough, azriel let you take over.

azriel’s eyes rolled back as you pumped his shaft, carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest. his heavy breathing filled the room and it quickly became your favorite sound in the world.

you felt a strange rush of power witnessing azriel in such a vulnerable state. his lids were heavy with lust, golden eyes barely visible from the ring of onyx swallowing up his irises. you thought he looked pretty like this, his head tilted back against your headboard while his lips parted to release a shallow breath every now and then.

"you have no idea how good that feels, love." azriel grunted. you tightened your grip, spreading the bead of precum over his tip. your little improvisation was met with a moan that seeped into your bones.

"how good, az?" you teased.

those long lashes of his kissed the tops of his cheeks as his eyes fluttered close. "fucking amazing," azriel declared. "keep going, love. don't stop, please. gods—"

"you can just call me y/n, you know."

azriel growled in response before pulling you in for a heated kiss. his hips thrust up to match your pace as his tongue parted your lips. he swallowed your moans, devouring you like his life depended on it.

“just like that, love.” azriel said in appreciation. “you’re doing such a good job, y/n.”

the praise affected you more than you thought it would. you were always seeking positive feedback when it came to your work, especially in training, but this was something else. it only encouraged you to keep going at a faster pace until azriel was coming undone in your hands. the sight of him losing control would forever be etched in your mind.

the more azriel gave, the more you craved. not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. the whole thing may have started as a practical way to tackle sex, but as time went on, it started to evolve into something else entirely.

until the lessons weren’t really just lessons anymore.

if you had to pinpoint the moment when everything changed, it would have been a few days after winter solstice. azriel had been away for a mission and was unable to make it home for the festivities. throughout the night, you kept finding yourself fidgeting and glancing at the empty seat beside you. at one point during dinner, cassian squeezed your hand and smiled sadly.

“i’m sure he misses you too, y/n.”

the gravity of those words hit you full force when you found azriel standing in the doorway of your flat. he was still dressed in his combat leathers and dark circles formed underneath his eyes as though he’d flown nonstop from wherever he was to get back home. before you could stop yourself, you rushed at him and nearly knocked him into the street from the force of your hug.

“i know, love.” azriel murmured softly into your hair. “i missed you, too.”

one bath and two cups of hot chocolate later, you found yourself curled up on the sofa as snow fell softly against the windowpane. you set your drink down on the table and turned to face azriel.

“so, i was thinking…”

the corner of azriel’s mouth quirked. “that’s never good.”

you tossed a pillow at him and rolled your eyes. “i was thinking that maybe it’s my turn to teach you a lesson, for once.”

the shadowsinger looked intrigued by that. “oh yeah? and what do you want to teach me, love?”

“i’m going to teach you how to sleep, az.” you pointedly stared at his bruised eyes, which only made him chuckle in amusement. “because judging from those bags underneath your eyes, you’re no expert in the matter.”

“i don’t get a say in this, do i?” shadows peered over his shoulders as though they too yearned for rest.

“nope,” you said cheerfully, dragging him off the couch and into your bedroom.

azriel let you bully him into getting underneath the covers. he tucked his wings to the side as he faced you. “what’s so great about this thing you call sleep, then? seems pretty boring to me.”

“well if you’d let me demonstrate,” you said impatiently before tugging him towards you. azriel chuckled and scooted closer. “i’ll have you know i’m a world class cuddler.”

“yeah? prove it then, love.” azriel teased.

the shadowsinger watched in amusement as you bossed him around. first you made him lie on his stomach and then pulled him to your chest. as much as he enjoyed teasing the absolute hell out of you, he couldn’t help but murmur in satisfaction as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. even his shadows seemed to enjoy bathing in your warmth and breathing in your jasmine shampoo.

“mmm,” az mumbled sleepily. for the first time in gods knew how long, he felt warm and safe and content. “you’re bossy as hell, but comfy too.”

“i know, you stubborn giant bat baby.”

the shadowsinger snorted. “giant bat baby?”

you rolled your eyes fondly. “shut up and cuddle, az.”

azriel burrowed himself further until his body heat warmed every inch of your skin. “that’s the good stuff,” he declared, brushing a soft kiss against your collarbone.

“told you i was good,” you said with a smile. azriel couldn’t even argue. with your hands massaging his scalp and your legs intertwined with his, the shadowsinger would’ve agree to anything you said.

“the best,” he hummed against your skin.

this was dangerous territory. with your other lessons, it was easy to shove aside your feelings because pleasure made it hard to think about anything else. but with azriel laying on your chest and clinging onto you like this meant something more…you could no longer avoid that pesky voice of doubt.

you were in love with azriel.

you had been for a long time.

shit.

“y/n?” azriel asked, cutting through the turmoil of your thoughts. his wings draped over the sides of your bed, relaxed and at ease.

“yeah?”

his golden eyes found yours in the dark. for a second, he stared at you like he was trying to commit every detail to memory. the shadowsinger opened his mouth like he was going to say something important, but he gave a tiny shake of his head and smiled.

“good night, love.”

in that moment, you knew azriel had your heart in the palm of his hand. “good night, az.”

azriel knew it was only a matter of time before these lessons came back to bite him on the ass.

he had been so eager that first night. mostly because he'd had a crush on you for so long and it was finally time to do something about it. the shadowsinger knew that he probably should've just told you how he felt, but he didn't want to shatter this delicate thing between you.

after all, these were just lessons. for all he knew, he was just your practice partner. it wasn't really all that different from sparring. except your weapons where your lips and your hands and your fucking smile that made his heart skip a beat every time you so much as grinned at him from across the room.

gods, he was so fucked.

the reality of it didn't fully hit him until that disastrous spring night.

the two of you had perfected third base eons ago. azriel knew how to make you cum with his mouth using a combination of expert tongue flicks and help from his shadows. nothing brought him joy like your shaking legs greedily wrapping around him as he ate your pussy like a man starved.

azriel thought he found the key to happiness until you returned the favor and went down on him.

finding restraint was hard. reeling his desire in while you knelt before him with your lips wrapped around his cock was nearly impossible.

"like this?" you asked, licking a stripe along the underside of his cock. azriel thought he was going to come right then and there when you looked up at him through your lashes, determination burning in your gaze.

you had always been intense. azriel knew that much from months of training together, but he didn't expect you to approach sex with the same competitiveness. you put your all into everything you did, which is what made azriel fall for you in the first place. he just didn't think you'd take the same approach when it came to sucking his dick. not that he was complaining.

in fact, all he could really do was moan.

the shadowsinger attempted to pull it together long enough to utter a coherent sentence. he had to at least attempt to say something helpful. you were putting your trust in him. he liked knowing that he'd been your first everything. now he just had to muster up the courage to tell you that he also intended to be the last.

he tried. he really did.

that night in his room. laying in bed with your legs tangled together. the soft spring breeze billowing through your curtains. azriel watched as you propped yourself up on your elbows and turned towards him.

"so, what now?" you asked.

azriel's brows furrowed with confusion. "what do you mean, love?"

you tilted your head, biting down on your bottom lip as you mulled over what to say next. it was one of your many little quirks that azriel adored. "i mean, what happens now? we've pretty much covered all the bases. except for one."

sex. you hadn't had sex yet. azriel knew this would come up sooner or later, but he had hoped it would be the latter. while it was easy to pretend that the lessons were just lessons to him, azriel couldn't do that with sex. it had always been hard for him to separate his feelings from the physical act and as much as he wanted to make sure that your first experience would be with someone who loved you, it wouldn't be fair to have sex without telling you the truth.

"i don't think that would be a good idea." as soon as the words left his mouth, azriel knew it was the wrong thing to say. he could tell that much from the look on your face. "i just mean, we shouldn't rush into anything."

"rush?" you asked incredulously. "azriel, we've spent the last three months doing anything and everything under the sun except sex."

"and it's been great," azriel said, trying to reel the conversation back in. "the lessons. trusting each other. but i just think you should take a step back and consider if you're truly ready."

that intense gaze he loved so much suddenly felt like the sweltering sun that azriel couldn't wait to shy away from. "you were my first kiss, az. my first everything. i think i've made it pretty clear on where i stand." you paused for a second, scanning his face. "oh my gods. i didn't even think to ask if you wanted this."

you were up before the absurdity of that statement could sink into azriel. if he wanted this? he'd never wanted anything more in his entire life.

"they were just lessons," you murmured to yourself while gathering your clothes. “how could i be so stupid?”

"y/n, please." azriel pleaded, not entirely believing what he was hearing. he nearly tripped over his own bedsheets as he followed you across the room.

“no, az. i’m sorry, i thought—“ your eyes brimmed with tears. the sight broke his fucking heart. “it’s not your fault. i just assumed—“

“that i’m in love with you?” azriel asked, gently gripping your wrists. you froze, wide eyes pinning azriel in place. “because i am, you know. i’ve been in love with you since the moment we met. this past few months, it’s killed me to pretend that whatever this is between us is just lessons.”

your gaze softened. “why didn’t you ever say anything?”

azriel chuckled bitterly. “because i’m a coward. i was scared that you might not feel the same way, so i settled for whatever scraps you were willing to give me.”

tears filled your eyes again and azriel was scared he’d fucked it up again, but you wiped your cheeks and cupped his face. “you deserve more than that, azriel.”

“i know, love.” he bowed his head. “and you deserve more than just lessons. that’s why i don’t want to have sex. not unless you know what this means to me. if we do this, there will be no one else. not today, not ever. i may be your first, but i also intend to be your last. if you’ll let me.”

a stray tear fell down your cheek, but it was a happy one this time. “if you haven’t noticed, i’m totally crazy about you, az. i think i’ve been in love with you longer than i wanted to admit.”

“can’t blame you,” the shadowsinger said. “i’m totally lovable.”

you smacked him in the chest, but azriel only laughed before he kissed you. really kissed you. it felt like you were floating on air.

gods, you loved him. you really did.

you smiled into the kiss. “i love you, az.”

the shadowsinger kissed the tip of your nose. “i love you too, y/n.”

“so…no more lessons, right?”

azriel shook his head and scooped you into his arms. “no more lessons. i want the real thing this time.”

#friends and family we are gathered here today to fucking YEARN #i missed az and i m back with a bang #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel smut #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #acotar

[readychilledwine]

Lost Bonds pt 4

Summary - The last thing Tamlin planned to have happen was a bond snapping between him and Y/N Archeron. Now the big question becomes, is it too late to fix what has been broken?

Warnings - stereotypical happy ever after, grudges, cutting ties with family, rhysand being a decent brother in law, divorce, children, babies, pregnancy, reader's powers are yin to Nesta's yang, loosely edited (squint away any mistakes💕)

A/n - I know some people might be upset with the direction this ended in, but it felt... right? Forgive me.

✨️Tamlin Masterlist✨️

Lost Bonds: Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

The Fire in Spring *can be read as a bonus Calanmai smut scene*

Rhysand was eerily calm as Azriel approached his office with Feyre. For the first time since her arrival here, Feyre would be in a seat he typically only forced the Inner Circle to instead of at his side.

Rhys sat and waited, hands laced together as they entered. “You are probably wondering why I asked you two to come in. Sit.” He motioned to the chairs across from him, not missing the look of confusion on Feyre's face. He waited for them to settle before saying the one thing he knew would begin the fight he prepared himself for, “I sent y/n to Spring yesterday. For Calanmai.”

Azriel's hands instantly twitched, and the fight began.

Three weeks had past with you and Tamlin and Tamlin and you. They were spent deep in the throes of passion. In need and want and want and need and every lingering emotion in between.

He had worshiped you. Truly and fully. He explored every inch of skin, tasting and kissing it every time like it was his last meal, like these were his last moments and he would rather spend them nowhere else than between the thighs he had become obsessed with.

It had taken 3 weeks for the bond to cool down enough for him to attempt to go back to his duties. He still ached for you and the completion that came with being yours, and you ached as well. You were like air to each other. Something so simple, yet so vital to life.

He sighed as he entered his office and sat in front of Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. “You selfish-”

His hand went up. “If you're going to start throwing names around, shadowsinger, I have several for you. Be silent and allow me to discuss this with your lord and lady.”

Rhys was the first to speak after the blatant dismissal. “Where is she?”

“She should be resting. She's had a long morning already. She spent the morning with other Ladies of the Court discussing the upcoming Summer celebrations. I believe she is still socializing, though. I do not keep track of her constantly. She is a grown adult.”

Feyre scoffed and Tamlin raised his brow at her before she instantly looked down. “Is she happy?”

“Happier than I've been in a long time,” you entered the room, long hair falling in waves, an apricot colored dress swaying as you did. The colors of Spring made you even more radiant, your skin glowing, eyes dancing with light that had been missing for several years. “I assume you brought papers for me.”

You moved to Tamlin, standing behind him and holding a hand out for his. Feyre was shaking, refusing to look at you. “If you sign this, if you choose to stay, I never want to see you again.” The words should have cut like a knife, but all you could do was sigh.

“Would you like me to stay in Night then?”

Azriel glared towards Tamlin. “Its where you belong. Where your husband is. Where your family is.”

“Where your mate is,” you began to trail on for him. “Where you can have your cake and eat it too. Where your family has spent the past 4 years letting you make a fool out of me. Fond memories, yes.”

“Our marriage wasn't always unhappy, y/n.”

“No. But it became unhappy the second you had an affair. Sign the papers, Azriel.”

Rhysand stayed oddly silent, as did Tamlin, the two high lords were in a silent conversation regarding the scent only they seemed to be able to detect. You were not leaving Spring, not when you, albeit unknowingly, were carrying its salvation inside of you.

Tamlin pointed to the line that would grant you your freedom. Tapping it twice in a silent message to you to sign and stay at his side as he watched Azriel. He had no doubt the male planned on grabbing you, upset that he was losing his own claim to a made sister, upset that the Cauldron had paired him with another.

Tamlin knew his look. The look of a male who wanted everything with no compromise. He remembered being there. Being that male. He knew the pain that came with it, the anger. He watched you sign, signature so flawless and soft, curling the page that gave you freedom and you stepped back. Hiding that joy that was flooding him as you did.

“I won't stop fighting for you.”

You shook your head as you laid the ring on the desk and slid it to him. “You will. You will realize this was best for both of us in time. You will find happiness, peace, and what you are looking for.”

“I won't sign.”

Rhysand pinched his nose and then picked at his jacket, a nervous habit now instead of obsession. “Azriel, sign the papers.”

“I won't-”

“You will because I have tolerated every moment of this bull shit knowing it is against every law we have honored for thousands of years.” Tamlin was oddly calm, hand still in yours. “I tolerated it for her happiness.”

“She was happy with me.”

“Until 4 years ago, yes.”

You turned to Rhysand, eyes pleading. “Please.” Her brother in law nodded, taking her side and owning his error another time.

“Sign the papers, Azriel.” Feyre and Azriel seemed to freeze. It was a set command, one the shadowsinger would not be able to push. “Sign the papers.”

“I will never forgive you for this.”

Rhys shrugged. “I'll add it to the many times I was doing what was best for everyone else but made the bad guy. Sign the papers.”

Azriel stared at Tamlin as he signed the papers before taking the ring and standing. He left without saying goodbye, without looking back at you one last time. Without even so much as a sign of the love you two once shared.

“You will never see Nyx again.” Tamlin tugged the bond, sending you his love and support regardless of what you picked but silently begging you to stay.

Your throat tightened as you looked to Feyre, “Are you truly that selfish? Without Tamlin, you would not even have Nyx. You wouldn't have a mate.” She glared at you, chin head high as you continued, “you were never met to be Tamlin's, Feyre. Imagine a world where you would have just let me go, where I came here as the person who was supposed to.” She suddenly looked away, eyes squeezing shut as she did. “If that is the road you would like us to go down, consider it done. You are no longer my sister, no longer my other half, no longer part of me. If my happiness means this little to you, then we need to part ways.”

Feyre just nodded, standing and holding her hand out to Rhysand. Your brother in law shook his head, nodding for her to go. He sunk further into the chair he was in before looking to you and Tamlin. “Congratulations,” in was sincere, soft. Rhys grabbed your hand, kissing the palm. “You will always have a home in Velaris.”

10 years later

Tamlin sighed quietly next to you, bouncing your third child and daughter, Willow, on his lap as the other two sat. Oakland, your oldest son, was reading with his back leaned against your legs. Fleur, your middle daughter, was sitting by the glittering fish pond every court was circling.

High Lord's meetings were now quarterly. A way of holding each other all in check and accountable. Each one was more of a bitchfest than productive, but it had allowed relations between several courts to improve.

This one had been called due to Helion stepping down. With Beron gone, Autumn stable, and his mate and son finally at his side, the High Lord decided there was no better way to celebrate than relinquishing his powers to Lucien and enjoying the lost time he should have had with Andromeda.

Lucien looked to Tamlin, a little lost on the question Rhysand was asking before clearing his throat to answer, “I will not be enforcing rank and class if that's what you are asking. Fae are fae. Lower or higher does not matter to me. Laws will be enforced, tax will be enforced, and opportunities will be fair.” Rhys seemed content in that answer, looking at Feyre and Nyx before nodding.

You two knew you were next and Tamlin sighed as he handed Willow to you, much to her protest. “Spring is fully rebuilt and has implemented a version of Tarquin’s laws that work best for us,” the mentioned high lord smiled and raised his bubbling wine. “Our army is young, growing, but eager.”

He looked to you, “We would appreciate the spies being removed from our court, though. We are willing to answer any questions someone may have. We feel the use of spies in unnecessary. We have opened our boarders and home to anyone."

“The mortals,” Eris began slowly. “They are?”

“Part of our court as of two months ago,” you answered for Tamlin. “We are the only court they agreed to form a pact with. Jurian and Vassa will remain ruling over them as a better connection point.”

Eris hummed. Satisfied with the answer.

“Will they be asking to travel?” Kal watched his daughter, stopping her before her snow pale hand touched the pond with a soft no. “There are concerns over them coming to Winter. They were not made for such temperatures.”

Tamlin nodded, “We had hoped to discuss that with each court one on one. They are… beautiful, curious creatures. They want to travel the courts and experience different foods and lifestyles. Provisions will need to be made for that to happen, though.”

You couldn't help but smile, hearing what you used to be called beautiful by the most stunning male you had ever seen. His hand moved to rest on your thigh, squeezing softly as the next question came.

“The growth in Spring, the herbs, the medicinal plants, the food, flowers,” Thesan took a short pause as he and his mate communicated silently. “How did that happen?”

Tamlin squeezed your thigh again. “Nesta was blessed with the powers of death. Y/n was blessed with the powers of fertility and live. Her presence alone has brought light and growth back to Spring.”

“And children,” Kal murmured. You chuckled softly. You knew your every growing family was a source if jealousy from several other High Lords and Ladies.

“Yes, and children. The increase of faelings in Spring has been our biggest blessing. We are averaging 20-25 babes a year instead of the standard 3.”

You watched Rhys smile behind his hand as Feyre still refused to look your way. “And how many more do you two plan on having?” The question came from Cassian. He had taken to his nieces and nephew like they were second nature to him. He was their favorite uncle, and Nesta was fighting Elain hard for favorite Auntie.

Tamlin looked at you. “Perhaps we will be done after this new one arrives.” You shook your head quickly, lip pouting out. “I promised her 12.” Eris and Lucien both spit out their wine. Having grown up with many siblings, the two of them both looked shocked as Helion and Lady Autumn both smiled wide. “We will decide here in a month or two.”

Your hand absentmindedly moved to your very swollen stomach. This one was a boy. You felt it in your soul, and new Tamlin was secretly excited over the idea of another beautiful son.

The meeting came to a close as soon as Summer finished their updates. Tamlin helped you stand, moving his hand to your lower back as he walked you and your three toddlers out of the room. You could feel both of their eyes on you. A lingering cold Hazel gaze, a heartbroken blue one.

He tugged the bond softly before winnowing you home and immediately taking you to bed as the children's nannies all came to collect them for nap time.

“She looked regretful,” Tamlin unlocked your dress, kissing your shoulder softly. “She will approach soon.”

“It doesn't matter if she does.” The acceptance came so easily now. “We have each other, our family. We have this,” you tugged the bond. “Nothing will come between our happy ever after.” You held your pinky to his, and he wrapped his much larger one around it. “To us and our happy ever after then.”

“To us, petal.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Lost Bonds Taglist:

@impossibelle @fxckmiup @applerubyy @awkardnerd @sleepylunarwolf @macimads @esposadomd @stormhearty @starcrossedsan @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thisblogisaboutabook @ohemgeewhat @mybestfriendmademe @isa1b2h3 @b0xerdancer @forever-paramore28 @circe143 @ancientbeing10 @disgruntledturtleduck @fandomarchiveilyd

#acotar #acotar x reader #tamlin x reader #tamlin x archeron!reader #tamlin x yn #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x you #tamlin acotar

[ruhnlidiasworld]

Cassian eating chocolate cake with Nesta in the end, Y'ALL SAYING THINGS ABT THEM BUT NESSIAN IS STILL STANDING

#i love my parents #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #i was upset with him but now he's forgiven #they're so cute #hofas #hofas spoilers #there's too much drama for no reason

[sadiegirl2021]

Just a reminder that Cassian does stand up for Nesta against Rhys -

"I'm pissed off that you can't seem to believe even one good thing about her. That you refuse to fucking believe one good thing about her..."

And Cassian obviously didn't stay mad after the mask incident if he was eating chocolate cake with Ember and Randall and saying he hopes he sees them again!

#pro nessian #nessian #Hofas #hofas spoilers

[starsreminisce]

Here's the thing... Feyre processed her mating bond by painting the cabin, and Nesta processed hers by being with her friends and talking about romance novels.

Can you imagine Lucien walking into wherever Elain was staying to process their bond and just seeing all the products of her stress baking - pastries, cookies, cakes, all kinds of bread including sourdough, pizza, doughnuts, and she says, "Pick one, they're all for you anyway"?

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #maybe I should make a Drabble of it lmfao

[azrielslightintheshadows]

hello please could i request one where the reader was part of the inner circle for centuries and they were all very close. however, once the sisters come into the picture, they, without realising, neglect the reader and don’t realise until something happens to the reader, like her falling deathly sick or very badly injured etc. reader can be mated with any of the batboys, maybe with all three ;) very angsty with grovel and comfort 💗

ps love your writing 💗

My mate.

Bat boys x f!Reader (Mainly Azriel x f!Reader)

Warnings; mentions of abuse, trauma, scars and blood. Swearing.

Masterlist.

Sooo, the ending is not exactly what you asked me to write, but the story took me there. If you don't like it I can rewrite it :)

You were a toddler when your father found out that your mother had an affair with a lesser fae that resulted in you. He waited until your mother fell asleep and carried you into the Illyrian woods, he left you there with your blanket and returned home. You never found out what happened to your mother, and you didn’t care at all. Rhysand’s mother found you the next morning hiding under a tree’s root, she wiped your tears and carried you to her home. That was how you met Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel. You all grew up together, your friendship getting stronger as the years passed and a few months before Rhysand got trapped under the mountain the mating bond snapped.

You were training with Cassian when it happened. He kicked your legs making you fall on your back, your hands instantly grabbed his shoulders and you took him down with you. His face a few inches away from yours as you stared at each other, and it snapped. Both of you burst into laughter and immediately kissed. Rhysand and Azriel were ecstatic when they found out, congratulating both of you and talking about the mating ceremony.

Two days later you asked Azriel to take you to the city. You wanted to get the ingredients you would need to make Cassian’s favorite cake. You were flying back to the house of wind when you looked at Azriel’s face admiring his beauty as the sun fell on him, he glanced down at you and the bond snapped. You almost fell off the sky from the shock. When you landed you both ran to the library, trying to find a book that explained the situation. You didn’t find one. That night during dinner you announced it, both of you staring at Cassian and waiting for his reaction. He grinned and hugged Azriel shouting “We’re going to have so much fun”. Rhysand was smiling as he watched the scene, yet you didn’t miss the hurt that flashed in his eyes.

The next day Rhysand came into your room to ask you a few things about the mating ceremony, he wanted to know where you wanted it to happen and which priestess you preferred. You explained to him how you had imagined that moment, your eyes shining as you spoke and your cheeks heating up. He admired your face and pushed one strand of hair behind your ear making the bond snap into place. Both your faces paled as you stared at each other. He gulped and immediately called the others in his mind. You explained to them what happened, and their jaws dropped.

“Mother’s tits! Do we expect more mates to come?” Cassian exclaimed while Azriel shook his head.

You somehow managed to have a relationship without problems, the boys did everything in their power to keep you safe and happy and you managed to give everyone the same amount of attention. Then Feyre burst into your life, Rhysand became her friend under the mountain and when he found out that Tamlin was mistreating her, he sent Mor to take her. You didn’t mind that she took all your mate’s attention from you, you felt like you owed to her for saving him and Prythian. Afterall Cassian and Azriel were giving you enough attention, and you didn’t want to be greedy. But after a year her sisters were made, and Rhysand took them in to help them and everything changed. Cassian spent most of his time with Nesta and Azriel with Elain. They would cancel your dates, they wouldn’t show up for dinner leaving you alone with four cold plates and most importantly they would come to bed after you had fallen asleep and leave before you woke up.

When you confronted them about it, Cassian and Rhys called you selfish and greedy and stormed off. Azriel looked at you with guilt and quickly left when you screamed “get out”.  You couldn’t believe what was happening and you stayed back and watched your mates slowly falling in love with other females.

It had been a month since the last time you shared your bed with them, your relationship was non-existent, and you were slowly healing your heart. You got ready to go to the Hewn city to handle some problems Keir had caused. As usual no one was home so with a sigh you winnowed away. You were walking down the main hall of the castle when two males pounced on you from behind. You grabbed your dagger, but you were too late, one of them had already caught your wrist while the other one stabbed you repeatedly on your back. Your screams shook the whole court and you instantly opened the bond sending every ounce of pain to your mates. Black dots clouded your vision slightly, and your body went numb. You could only feel the adamant walls Rhys and Cassian had built around the bond and suddenly a wave of fear and rage. “Az” you whispered.

Shadows came like a wave in the room, and Azriel emerged from them, Truth-Teller in hand, his wings stretched wide and a deadly expression. The males took a few steps back with wide eyes as they saw your mate walking slowly towards them like a predator ready to pounce. You now understood why they called him God of death and goosebumps filled your body. You only heard screams and cries and bones cracking before a bloodied hand grabbed your shoulder and turned you on your back making you cry out in pain.

“Shh its okay I’ve got you angel” Azriel whispered and picked you up.

“I love you” you whispered before the darkness engulfed you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A groan left your lips as you tried to open your eyes.

“I’m here angel” Azriel’s deep voice rang in your ears.

“Az?” you asked and forced your eyes to open. The light burned your vision and in a blink Azriel’s shadows blocked the sun. He was sitting on a chair next to you, still covered in blood the only difference was that it had dried now.

“You’re okay” he smiled.

“What happened to them?” you croaked.

“I wanted to let them for you, but I couldn’t, I felt so much rage… I’m sorry” he lowered his gaze.

“It’s okay my love. Thank you.” You said softly.

The door opened and Rhysand walked in with Cassian behind him.

“You’re awake” Rhys gasped, and you nodded.

“Thank the Cauldron its been two days” Cassian exclaimed and grabbed your hand. You flinched and pulled your hand back harshly.

“Don’t” you snapped, and he frowned.

“Where were you when I needed you?” you yelled, your eyes filling with tears. “Both of you! If it wasn’t for Azriel I would be dead now!”

“Sweetheart we didn’t feel you” Rhys said softly.

“I know! Because you blocked the fucking bond! Where were you?” you sat straighter and with a soft whine that made Azriel growl and move closer.

“Y/n…” Cassian tried to speak but you stopped him.

“Where. The. Fuck. Were. You?”

“I was training Nesta” he mumbled and stared at the ground. You glanced at Rhysand who had a guilty look on his face.

“I was helping Feyre write a letter to Helion” he said.

“Get out!” you screamed. “Now! Get the fuck out… get out… get out!”

Azriel jumped on his feet and glared at his brothers, daring them to not listen to you. They quickly left the room, their faces red and their eyes filled with tears. Azriel quickly fetched a glass of water and gave it to you.

“Calm down angel” he mumbled as he placed a soft kiss on your head. “Don’t act like the perfect mate, you were ignoring me too.” You growled.

“I know and it broke my heart” his voice was soft and filled with regret.

“Then why did you do it?” your voice was raising.

“Because you have two perfect mates, a High Lord and a General. You don’t need a scarred monster to defile you!” he snapped.

“What? Are you serious?” your hands shook with rage.

“Yes! I’m a broken beast… you deserve way better”. He was yelling now. “You’re not! What the hell are you talking about? You are the exact opposite. Az you’ve been protecting me since the day you met me, you are the only one who cares about my day and my feelings, the only one who comforts me when I’m sad. You’ve proved multiple times that you would give your life for me. I don’t give a fuck about your scars, I love them. Would you leave me because of the scars on my back? Because I’m sure that they will not heal completely, I can feel them.”

“I would never leave you” his voice was barely above a whisper now.

“Okay shut up then.” You said and he chuckled.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A few days later Madja announced that you are completely healed and offered to make a salve for your scars, but you denied. You wanted to show Azriel that its okay to have scars.

Cassian and Rhysand frequently checked on you, they would lurk around you with sad looks on their faces.

Azriel only left your side to get you whatever you needed. He even asked Elain to come to your room and he told her that he has a mate who he loves with all his heart and that he doesn’t want to spend time with her anymore. She nodded and left with her head bowed, a few days later she went on a date with Lucien.

You were currently getting ready for dinner, you had asked everyone to come because you had an announcement to make. Azriel was sitting on your bed behind you while you got dressed.

“Az can you help me with the zipper?” you asked as you checked your reflection on the mirror.

He got up with a smile and approached you. His hands traced your scars, his breath hitching as he leaned and pressed soft kisses on every scar making you shudder.

“So beautiful” he murmured on your back as he zipped your dress slowly. You smiled and leaned back into him.

“Let’s go handsome” you said softly, and he chuckled.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everyone was sitting around the table waiting for you. Azriel pulled one chair for you, and you smiled thankfully. Cassian and Rhysand were staring at you with a guilty expression. You all ate in silence and after three glasses of wine you felt ready to speak so you stood up.

“I made a decision” you announced getting everyone’s attention. Nesta and Feyre nodded while Cassian and Rhys stared with panicked expressions.

“I know that Cassian fell in love with you Nesta and Rhysand with you Feyre.” You told them and they avoided your gaze.

Your mates opened their mouths but quickly shut them as you glared at them.

“Its okay, both females are wonderful, and I can see why you are pinning after them. So, I decided to let you go. I realized that I love you as friends and nothing more. I’m in love with Azriel though and it wouldn’t be fair to him if I allowed you to come back to me.” You smiled at Azriel who nodded. You had talked about it two days ago and he had told you that he doesn’t want to share you with anyone else.

“Are you sure about this?” Feyre asked you softly.

“Yes I’m sure.” You smiled.

Cassian and Rhys had tears in their eyes as they stared at you.

“Let’s go mate” you told Azriel and offered him your hand.

“My mate” he smiled, and you left the room with genuine smiles on your faces.

Because this ends with Azriel I will put it under him on the masterlist.

Princess chapter 7 coming later today!

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #rhysand #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #feyre archeron #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #cassian acotar #cassian #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel angst #azriel x reader #acomaf #acowar #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #velaris #city of starlight #night court #the night court #spymaster

[arinbelle]

Moments V

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for over a year and I’m so happy it’s done. I really wanted this conversation to happen right after the Blood Rite or even after Nyx’s birth but alas. So anyways, here we are.

@nestaarcheronweek

Moments Masterlist

~*~

Part V: Shackled

Nesta surveyed the cerulean gown, fingers gliding over the satin before turning away. It was a silent rejection, one of many, and he moved out of the way as the tailor pursed her lips but replaced it with a red one. 

Cassian had come with her to help her pick out a dress for her sisters and Emerie to wear at their mating ceremony, but after the tenth one he was beginning to feel antsy. It wasn’t that he minded the small boutique, hidden amongst stores selling sweet caramels and cakes, or fresh bread and spiced meats. He’d been here before, rather, he’d been wrangled over with Mor and Amren, even with Azriel to find gifts for the females he never brought to meet them. 

It was Nesta’s neither here nor there look on her face that had him apprehensive. She’d been deemed fully healed and back at her full strength three days after the Blood Rite and so preparations for their Mating Ceremony had taken over immediately. She’d doled out the responsibilities the night before; Mor on decorations from whatever colors and schemes Nesta already had in mind, Elain and Feyre on the guest list, Azriel to set up security parameters, and Amren to confirm with all the vendors they bought from. Rhys was of course the master fund for all expenses, to which Nesta had agreed to with a sly smirk.

Yet today, their first day out together since everything had been settled, to find dresses and taste cakes, was proving to be difficult. If it had been a case of true dislike, or perhaps indecision, Cassian wouldn’t have minded. But Nesta had never been an indecisive person- she knew what she preferred and it never took her long to get what she had in mind. So he knew something was wrong when she’d given her silent or quiet rejections to the various cakes and dresses and flower assortments. 

“That’s alright,” he finally decided to cut in, before the boutique owner began laying out another collection of dresses. “We’ll come back another day. Thank you for your time today.”

The boutique owner didn’t seem to mind, likely happy to be rid of them, and he bade her another farewell while ushering Nesta out.

“We weren’t done,” Nesta said when they were finally a few paces away from the shop. “I need to get things done today if the ceremony is in a few days.” A risky timeline for a wedding ceremony, let alone a mating one that was as extravagant as they’d planned it to be. But he ignored that.

She had pulled herself out of his grip, crossing her arms in the middle of the cobblestone street, staring him down with that familiar fire. He’d missed it these past few days but had attributed it to exhaustion from the Rite or nerves from what she’d endured. And he’d stayed silent about it too. Perhaps stupidly, perhaps warily, but he’d kept quiet, even when the dejected look on her face seemed to be worsening with each passing day. 

“We’re not getting anywhere right now. How about we take a break and come back another day, Nes?” 

She didn’t move so he reached out his hand, waiting. Always waiting. Something was wrong but she’d speak when it was time. Until then, he was fine to walk with her in silence for however long she needed.

A few breaths passed but she finally loosened her stance, moving closer before grabbing his hand. He pulled her in tight, wrapping an arm around her waist before moving them down the street. She allowed it and he pressed a kiss to her crown before ushering them towards a juice stall with a long line.

She looked up at him, a small smile gracing her beautiful face. He traced the curve of her lips, the slope of her nose with his eyes, taking in the beauty. He might have been staring too long as a lovely blush colored Nesta’s cheeks and she shoved his face away.

“Stop that,” she snapped, but there was no bite to it.

“Never,” he promised, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheeks before changing to another line that was selling something that smelled tempting each time the wind blew past it.

”If you were hungry you could have just said that,” she huffed, but it was all amusement now.

He thought about it, taking a few steps forward as another order completed ahead of them. 

“Fine, yes, I did want to eat,” he admitted, ignoring the smirk she sent his way. “But I had us leave because it wasn't getting anywhere. You didn’t want to be there so why suffer through it.”

She stiffened in his hold and he knew he’d probably struck a chord. That hadn’t been his intention, but he cursed himself silently. Sometimes his honesty got him into more trouble than he asked for. 

They were silent for the rest of the line with Nesta only speaking to the vendor and ordering fried potatoes with cheese and a mint lemonade. 

”No, I don’t want fish, thank you,” she spoke quickly, cutting her eyes at him as he made to speak. She rolled her eyes at him as he paid, thanking the stall owner before grabbing their food.

”You could use the protein. We’re going back to regular training in a few weeks,” he called behind himself, knowing she’d have something cutting to add. He delighted in it, teasing her incessantly about her huffy dislike of all the things he tried to get her to eat. 

“And you could stand to skip it,” she said sweetly, with nothing kind in her smile. She reached for her plate and popped a wedge into her mouth before continuing. “I mean truly, I don’t know what they’re feeding you, Cassian. You don’t need any more muscles to ogle at.”

He chuckled at that. “Don’t you mean more muscles for you to ogle at.”

Her eyes narrowed but she shook her head emphatically, finally giving into the banter he’d so desperately been trying to distract her somber mood with. 

“It’s embarrassing honestly, all the staring I get when I walk around with you and your wings hulking behind me. The size of you is scaring the poor citizens of Velaris.”

“You don’t seem to mind the size of me most days. And nights. Especially nights,” he added with a wicked grin. 

She blushed, breaking her gaze from his own, snickering quietly even as she stared out at the harbor.

“You’re an idiot,” she finally settled on, mouth twisted in a wry half-smile.

”You still laughed,” he pointed out, poking her cheek as she swatted him away.

They ate in peaceful silence, until a restless urge overcame him and he couldn't keep it in any longer.

“You're not happy.” It was an observation from the past few days. Her face, her mannerisms, her behavior all had him more worried with each day. 

“What?,” she asked, startled at his words.

He tried again, grabbing aimlessly for better words to get through to her.

“Doing all this I mean. I don't have much experience as a bride of course, but I think you're supposed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I am,” she protested quickly. Too quickly. 

“I am,” she tried again, but it was quiet and a far more obvious lie this time than he was used to seeing from her. 

“I just mean, your heart doesn't seem to be into it. Do you not want this ceremony?” 

There he had said it. It had been a concern he'd toyed with for the past few days but he's convinced himself there was nothing to it. That he was imagining it. But he'd said the words and Nesta hadn't jumped to deny it. In fact she'd gone silent, looking everywhere but at him.

“We should go,” she finally said, her food half uneaten, lemonade completely untouched. “It's getting dark.”

And that was that. 

She seemed to be waiting for him to finish his food but he found his appetite wholly gone then. It was a quiet, painful walk back to the House of Wind and an even worse flight up. Nesta did not look at him, did not dare to meet his eyes, and he found himself secretly relieved. He didn't want to know what he'd find should she look up at him. Disappointment or anger or perhaps both.

Nesta broke away from his hold too quickly for him to not notice it and grimace. But something held her back, one foot in the terrace they’d arrived on and one foot inside the House, and Cassian watched expectantly.

”Can we talk?,” she asked softly, looking back towards him. Something was stirring in her blue-gray eyes and it gave him pause and a moment to reconsider. But something within him told him to agree, and go forward.

He took the few steps to reach her and placed a kiss at the back of her head. “Always,” he promised.

She led him to the smaller alcove they sometimes used to have lunch in between trainings. It was a cozy room, with a fireplace they no longer needed in the blooming heat of summer, and two plush armchairs facing each other.

Cassian sat, stiff and uncertain, but he did it. She settled in across from him and to an unpracticed eye they’d see her move as elegantly as ever. But he saw the faint tremor in her hands, her gaze, the nervousness in all of it. And it set him on edge.

”I didn’t want an audience,” she started. “Out there I mean,” she nodded to the terrace and the world that lay below them. “We’ve done that before and I don’t want to get into another screaming match over the Sidra while all of Velaris watches.”

So it would be that sort of talk. He had to agree though. It wasn’t his finest moment and considering they were extensions of the royal family, it didn’t represent them all very well by public opinion. 

Nesta played with an errant string on her shirt, fidgeting with it until he cleared his throat. She met his eyes then and he was terrified of what he saw. Before he could brace himself for whatever blow she was about to land, whatever hit-

“I think we should cancel the mating ceremony.”

The room was suddenly suffocating him. Hot and wretched air seemed to be all he could breathe in and the walls were definitely closing in around them. There was no way he’d heard her correctly.

“What?,” he blurted out. 

Nesta’s stricken face told him he hadn’t heard anything wrong and his worst nightmare was in fact turning true. Silence laid waste in the space between them, and the longer it went on the worse he felt. Nauseous and overheated and jumping out of his skin. 

“It was your idea,” he managed to bite out.

“I know…,” she sighed. “I know and I’m sorry-”

”Sorry…,” he chuckled, but it was cold. Flat.  

He shut his eyes, trying to reign in his temper. It had no place here, he knew that, not when she was trying her best to talk to him as calmly as possible. He knew she was going through something, had known for the past few days. Angry as he could feel himself getting he knew it would undo any progress they had made in the past year. Maybe all of it.

“Okay,” he started again, opening his eyes and taking in her guarded pose. “Can you…tell me why?”

“I don’t want to fight,” she whispered pleadingly. He heard it, the tremble in her voice, and it broke his heart that she was this upset.

”We aren’t fighting sweetheart. Talk to me.”

Nesta curled up on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her satin dress, and her arms seemed to be holding her together.

”I don’t think it’s a good idea. To have the ceremony.”

”You don’t want to be mated,” he summarized, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of his voice. Or perhaps it was desperation. 

”No. It’s not that. I mean,” she met his eyes, some of the tension gone, to his relief. “We are mated. Technically. I just thought about it and the ceremony is official. I mean, we’re having the priestesses come in to bless it. I know all about that Cassian. It’s serious. It’s ordained by Prythian’s magic, the land’s magic. It is binding.”

Cassian scoffed. “And you don’t want that.”

”No,” she snapped. “I think you don’t.”

Before he could protest the shocking assumption she moved on, a hand shot up to halt him and whatever he had to say.

”My parents were a love match. Did you know? It was so rare where they’re from, so everyone in their families was against it. But they loved each other.” Her eyes narrowed in contempt. “It was supposed to solve everything. Should have. But when I was growing up, I know what I saw. Resentment and anger and frustration. They were stuck together and they hated what they’d become. My father loved my mother, and I think she loved him in her own way, but they weren’t good for each other, in the end.” She shook her head at the thought. “ And I see that now, far more clearly than I did when I was a child. I know how it happens and it never starts off obvious or grim. It starts off like this.” She motioned a hand between them.

“We are not your parents,” he pleaded, not even sure where this was coming from.

”We don’t know that,” she stated flatly. “And I don’t want you to wake up one day, ten, fifteen, two hundred years from now and realize that we want two very different things.”

”Nesta-“

She spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear it. So soft yet laced with heartbreak. “I don’t want you to resent me. And I never want to hold you back.”

He shook his head emphatically, hoping she understood. “Never. You could never do that. That is not us. Wherever this is coming from, whatever you’re scared of, that isn’t us.” 

“It may be. It could be. It’s different for you,” she explained, shifting in her seat, hands wringing nervously in her lap. He wanted her to just look at him, hold his gaze in that fierce strong way he was so used to from her. But she was so on edge he didn’t know if she even could.

”Explain it to me” he said simply.

”You grew up here,” she tried, hands gesticulating around them. “This world, your world, it tells you these things about the mating bond that I have never heard of. That I can never understand. But I can tell from what little I’ve learned, it is sacred to all of you. It is…” she struggled to find the words. 

Nesta stood up then, and he was taken aback by the sudden movement. But he remained seated, focusing his attention wholly on her.

”I loved you,” she breathed out, holding his gaze in a tearful snare. “I loved you from the moment I met you. I knew it was only ever going to be you for me. And that was enough for me. If husband and wife was all I ever got, it was enough for me.”

He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her too. That he’d been so enamored by her from that first moment they’d met, that he’d-

“I have only ever wanted you Cassian. But you, you wanted a mate.”

”No!” He shot up to his feet then too. He had to, to defend himself, to defend them.

Nesta ignored it, lifting her chin in defiance. “I don’t think I can ever live up to the myths and legends your people tell of such a union and the bond. Mates are equals in every sense of the word. We are matched somewhat in power but what else? I am not like you, nor your family. I am not good or kind or honorable.”

“You’re wrong,” he breathed out shallowly, moving towards her. She stepped back and it took everything in him to not howl at the motion. To gather her up in his arms and force her to listen, to see how wrong she was about him, about them, about it all. 

“You said it yourself, so many times Cassian. I just never wanted to see it. And your family…,” she scoffed. “They’ll likely never let me forget it.”

”They aren’t a part of this,” he growled. “Fuck them. Fuck them all. All I want is you. Do you not feel the same? Is that what it is?”

”I already told-,”

”Do you love me?,” he demanded. “You told me you wanted a mating ceremony and now you don’t. You also told me you loved me. Or was that a lie as well?”

She lifted her chin in defiance, hackles already rising at the bite in his tone. And just as suddenly as he’d seen her temper spike to match his, it seemed to completely disappear. Nesta seemed to turn inwards, eyes downcast. “You said you’d be shackled to me.” 

Cassian’s breath came out of him in a whoosh, and understanding had finally hit him. 

“I didn’t mean it.”

”Then you wouldn’t have said it,” she stated coldly. “But you did, and, I can’t even blame you. I would not be my own first choice for a mate, so why would you? Given everything you have heard of this bond, in what reality would you ever want to be with someone like me. I fall flat of all the expectations and I see it and I accept it and that is why I’m canceling our ceremony. You want a mate but you would not have it be me if you had a choice. And I won’t force you into it.”

”Nesta,” he pleaded, hating the crack in his voice. Hating all that he’d done to get them to this point. He’d take it all back, all of it, if only to reverse this moment right here. 

Nesta did not wait to hear more, see more, skirts bustling as she hurried out of the room, Cassian reaching his hand out far too late to catch her.

~*~

He would wait it out. That was what he’d promised himself when she’d locked herself away from him. He's convinced himself that he should take a step back, give her some space, and they’d try again the next day. Perhaps they just needed to cool off and Nesta more so than him, needed time to re-evaluate. But that plan had quickly disappeared when he remembered the broken look on her face as she’d reminded him of his cruel words.

Shackled.

It took him back to that night on the bridge. He’d thought to wait out then too, opting to see her the following day when they’d both had time apart. And what had it gotten him? A mate who’d been stolen from her bed in the middle of the night, likely convinced he hated her. And he’d never made it right had he? In all these days together, planning and teasing, joking and smiling, he’d never corrected himself. Never apologized the way he’d rehearsed and planned to as he’d made the flight to Emerie’s house the day of the Blood Rite. 

No, waiting wouldn’t be an option today. He’d given her an hour and then made his way upstairs. 

He knocked at the door forcing his heart to ignore the soft, muted cries he heard beyond it. If he let himself feel it all as he often did, he may tear down the door itself to get to her. Every instinct in him was roaring to the surface and he barely subdued them.

“Go away Cassian.”

“Please.” It was all he said, all he could say, but something in it seemed to have gotten through to her because he heard a murmur and then the telltale click of the lock. A phantom wind opened the door and blew him in, and he murmured a silent thank you up to the House. 

The bed dipped as Cassian seated himself beside her, and Nesta burrowed her head further under the covers.

A tense silence filled the room and he heard Nesta grit her teeth. Cassian shifted closer.

“I didn’t mean what I said-”

“But you-”

“I know,” Cassian cut her off. “I know I did anyways. I shouldn’t have said it at all. It was spoken in anger and, Nes, it was a mistake.”

Nesta didn’t speak but she did remove the covers from over her and sit upright. Cassian controlled the urge to reach out and smooth her hair, the lines on her face and her tearstained lashes. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Cassian insisted again, extending his hand towards her splayed out on the bed. She withdrew it sharply before he could react and he swore he felt something shear against his heart. Cut and slice and dice him up inside at the small motion.

“You did.” She may have tried to keep the accusation out of her tone but there was only so much that she could do. And only so much he could ignore. “I saw it in your face. You meant it, Cassian. Don’t make yourself a liar just to make me wrong.”

“I…” Words died on Cassian’s lips and he looked away. “I didn’t mean it in that way though,” he whispered hoarsely.

“What other way is there to mean what you said?,” she snapped.

Cassian got off the bed and turned his back to her. His wings twitched with irritation and he tamped down the urge to spread them to ease this edginess in his bones. 

“You’re young,” Cassian’s voice shook when he finally spoke. His hands shook and he interlaced them to calm himself down. “You’re powerful, you’re…so strong, Nesta. So strong. And you could have so much more.”

He turned slightly, dragging a hand over his face, suddenly feeling so tired. Nesta did not speak but her eyes were wide, glistening with something he couldn’t place. 

“You could have had a kingdom. Could have been a queen with the power you had.” He shifted on his feet. “Still have,” he added on. “You could have had a prince who would have become a High Lord one day.” 

He spat out the words High Lord, not caring if Nesta realized that the ire he felt towards Eris was still strong and present.  

“You’re settling with a bastard.” He felt her flinch at the word, but Cassian went on as if he hadn’t seen it. “I have no name to give you and no title to share. You’re shackled to me, and you could do so much better. And I hate that,” he admitted with a bitter laugh, “But it’s the truth. And it’s why I was so angry that night. Because I know all that but still I was hoping I could have you. That I could ever endeavor to be worthy of you.” 

“You are,” she insisted, breaking the silence that had built up between them. Her lip wobbled but she didn’t cry. Instead she reached out a hand to him, and he took it on instinct. But he did not join her on the bed, instead falling to his knees before her. Nesta tightened her hold on his hand and he reveled in it. Delighted in that reassurance that no matter what, she was still here, still willing to hear him out.

“From the moment I met you, I was falling for you.” A whispered confession but he’d kept it from her for too long. She was doubting him. Them. And he couldn’t allow it. 

“I knew, and my brothers knew, and the wiser option would have been to stay away. You were human and fragile and mortal, and it was never going to end well. And I promised myself I would stay away, but I couldn’t. You were so…,” he struggled with his words. There was a band around his neck and it was hard to speak. But he did it anyways, nearly choking. “You were beautiful, and you were fierce, and loyal and brave. Everything you wanted to keep hidden from the world, I saw it. Nesta, I saw you.”

Nesta blinked back tears, holding her composure far more than he thought he was going to. 

“I know,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

”I kept finding stupid excuses to come see you,” he chuckled dryly. “A letter to the queens, a message from Feyre, all bullshit. I just needed to see you because I wanted to know you, all of you. Then you fought with those queens and you defended the humans in your land. And I saw you plead with them for mercy, to help your people, and they mocked you for it- I nearly killed them right then and there. Rhys had to go into my mind and tamp down on me.”

He stopped before he made this new confession. Because it would either fall short on expectations or it would heal them.

”It was then that I knew I was in love with you. You are good and kind and honorable, and I am sorry you don’t see it. You were standing up for those who had no voice. You were courageous, loyal, and fighting for justice and righteousness and innocent lives. It was everything I had spent my entire life fighting for on killing fields and strategy rooms. I remembered how many times my pleas fell on deaf ears. And I knew then, that you were it for me, that I was in love with you, and that we were probably going to die in that war anyways, but it didn’t matter to me because I had found the woman I wanted to spend whatever time was left of my life with. The mating bond hadn’t even registered to me yet, Nesta.”

Nesta was crying now, silent tears streaming down her lovely face and it was all he could do to not reach over and wipe them away. All of his instincts roaring to the surface to cut and kill and hurt whoever had hurt her. Except it was him. He had hurt her, so who was punished then?

”And I will never forgive myself for what happened with Hybern. I promised to protect you and I did everything but. When Hybern threw you into the Cauldron, right before you went in, you looked for me. In a full room of your sisters you were looking for me, just as I have always been looking for you.”

Nesta nodded, confirming what he’d always suspected. It was the bond he’d felt between them when she’d been thrown into the Cauldron. She had sought him out in those moments of desperation before she’d drowned in that black water, and he had died a thousand deaths watching her go in, helpless and useless as she fought alone.  

“The mating bond snapped, and you went under the surface. I felt you drown, I felt you die, I felt you beg for someone to help you and then I felt your anger when you decided to save yourself and take something back. And it meant nothing to me. The mating bond. I was grateful to it, but all that moment caused you was pain and fear that will likely follow you for your entire life. And I would do anything to take that away from you if I could.”

He lifted her hand, clenched and bone-white in his own, to his lips, and he kissed it savoring the blood and life and warmth he felt under his lips. That she was here with him. Through it all, here she was, this female, borne of darkness and anger and fear and strength and calamity. Still she was here, still she was his, and still she stood tall and proud beside him. He’d never stop marveling at her, at all she was, and all she had survived and fought for to get here. 

With him.

Cassian pressed another kiss to her wrist. “I am in love with you. I love you. I will always love you. I don't need a bond to tell me that. Even if we didn't have it I’d tell you the same. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, no matter what.  I never want to be apart. I want whatever you want. If you don’t want a mating ceremony, damn it to hell, we don’t do it. If you want to take some time and think, that’s fine too.”

Nesta stroked his cheek and he burrowed into it. That warmth and life she held for him. 

“But know that I love you Nesta and I will never resent you for being you. I will never not want to be with you. Ten years from now, two hundred years from now, you are all I will ever want by my side. Know that if nothing else.”

He had never been one for poetry, for flowery words and beautiful language. It wasn’t in him but something in him knew this much had to be said. They’d had a whirlwind relationship these past few months and he knew so much had been left unsaid. Some of it was fine, but some of it he knew had led to distress. To him. To her. He’d had so much more to say the night she’d all but banished him and gone to Emerie’s. So much planned and he’d never done it, never thought to in the aftermath of the Blood Rite and Nyx’s birth.

But Cassian had been consumed by her from the moment they’d met. And every moment after. If she doubted him, them, he had to do something about it. 

He waited apprehensively for an answer, a sign, something, anything from Nesta to know what their next move would be. 

Nesta didn’t break his hold on her, nor did her gaze lower from his own. 

Nesta’s voice broke when she finally spoke.

“I love you too. I always will. I…I don’t know what the future is going to bring and I’m scared,” she whispered before leaning down and touching her forehead to his own.

He breathed her in, sighing with relief as some of the tension in both of them loosened.

“We’ll deal with it, all of it, as it comes. I’m here with you. Always. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nesta seemed to be holding in a sob. “Do you promise?”

He ran a hand down her face, her back, soothingly. She was all but shaking. 

“I promise,” he said before kissing her. She kissed him back fervently and they were both out of breath when she finally broke apart. 

Cassian opened his eyes and watched her. He vowed, “I promise, on breath and blood, I will be with you for as long as you’ll have me. I will love you for the rest of our entire lives and I will cherish every moment we are given together. And when this world ends I will search for you in the next. And through it all, I will never stop loving you.”

Nesta smiled softly at that, before reaching for him again for another kiss. The kiss could have ended worlds. It could have stopped time. It was just them in that moment, bound by the very fabric of their souls, with the melody of their bond soaring high before tightening stronger within each other. 

He’d meant every word. 

So long as he breathed, he would be by her side, unyielding, loving her with every moment of their lives. 

New Taglist:  Taglist: @endlessdaydream @sleeping-and-books @purpleglitterypinecone   @sv0430 �� @gwynberdara @karmasworlds @bookstantrash   @duskandstarlight  @d0riansgray @perseusannabeth@vasudharaghavan   @sayosdreams   @arielle-reads   @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter  @nahthanks  @oversizedbats  @swankii-art-teacher  @inardour  @rowaelinismyotp  @starryblueskies7   @vidalinav @nessiantrashh   @imagine-me  @iwastoowildinthe70s @lady-winter-sunrise @vanzetanze @moodymelanist @wishfulimaginings @amaranthas-whore @simpingfornestaarcheron @generalnesta @mis-lil-red @nestaisgod  @booksstorm @loosingdreams @champanheandluxxury  @18moneytoad @starksravings @tinasbookishlife @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @nesquik-arccheron @readingwitches @that-golden-lyre @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @story-scribbler @readingismyonlyhobby

#Nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #acotar #Nesta #pro nesta #pro nesta archeron

[sapchat]

Ways to add simple little details to Prythian in your stories!

For the Autumn Court this one is basic and many people use it: Males gift their fiancées, wives, mates fox kits as a symbol of their love and good luck with the relationship. To make it sadder, Beron never did this for Lady A, so when Eris found out about this tradition he got his mom one!

For the Dawn Court: Like how the night court Illyrians put the women down, what if the Dawn Court was the opposite and the Peregryn females would put the males down. In the real world male birds are held to a high standard for breeding, I feel like Peregryn instincts would cause this and it just gives more to a story than the females constantly being the abused. Also they’re stomach/side sleepers. I talk more about this below with the night court just to not repeat myself.

Day Court is full of bastards. You can NOT convince me that it isn’t. Helion is laying the fucking pipe like he’s discovered oil. And the reason I feel this is because of @florencemtrash ‘s story “The Shadow and the Inkbird” (also it’s really good go read it if you haven’t) where the MFC is Helions bastard, and meets Lucien and instantly realizes that they’re halfsiblings. And I was like ya know the Day Court is probably like Game of Thrones Dorne. Dorne is know for their bastards almost every persons name in that city is ‘Sand’ because they’re all bastards basically. So I just KNOW that Helion probably has other kids than just Lucien. And everyone in that court is fucking.

Summer Court has mermaids. It’s basic, it’s simple and it’s true. There’s mermaids.

Night Court, listen we already now a lot about the Nigh Court but this pertains to Illyrian’s so I feel it’s different. They’re stomach/side sleepers. They are. You can’t tell me that two massive wing sticking out of your back would allow you to lay on your back. It can’t be comfortable. Like have you ever tried sleeping with like a ponytail/claw clip in? It ain’t nice. Now imagine it with two that sit right beside your shoulder blades and the clips are like 3ft long? Idk how long the base would be but like probably pretty fucking long to allow actual flight capabilities. Also when they sleep on their side they just have their wings straight out, now like laying on one and the other out. They’ve got big ass beds for a reason spread out. (Cassian fully takes up a bed like star fish style just on his stomach. Nesta is sick of it.)

Spring Court, during the Spring Equinox the High Lord chooses someone to dress up and hand out spring gifts to family’s (usually kids). When Tamlin became High Lord he appointed himself to do so. During this time Tamlin also gives many of the less fortunate families something they can later use for the Tithe.

Winter Court puts on a celebration for the children called Three Kings Day. Family’s with children are welcomed to the castle(? Do they have castles…?) and the bakers leave a cake outside the doors of the family, inside the cakes (this is a real thing from Puerto Rico/France/Spain too btw, the cake is called la galette des rois (Kings Cake)) are toys/coins. Whichever children find them get to wear a crown for the day and called Kings/Queens (Kallias started the tradition that all kids get to do this, he’s a softy).

#acotar #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #a court of frost and starlight #acofas #a court of wings and ruin #acotar x you #acotar x oc #acotar x y/n #acotar x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar tamlin #acotar feyre #tamlin acotar #acotar headcanons #helion x reader #kallias acotar #Helion acotar #Beron acotar #Tarquin acotar #thesan acotar #acotar writing #acotar fanart #acotar theory #acotar rhysand

[theladyofbloodshed]

Hunt x Nesta - Epilogue

Life sucked.

Hunt could split his life into two chapters: before Nesta and after Nesta. Both chapters sucked. But that little blip in the middle – the one week where life had been better than he ever expected was good. He’d always have that.

‘Stop moping, my goodness.’

Isaiah groaned from his desk then dropped his forehead onto the cheap wood.

‘Everything reminds me of her,’ Hunt replied, holding up a sugar sachet from the crappy coffee machine.

It was true. Hunt could draw a correlation to Nesta regardless of the topic; she liked it, she would have hated it, he wished he could show her it, they’d tried it.

He had loved Shahar but it had been intense from the start. The rebellion had intensified every moment of it, pushing them both towards a zenith that he free-fell from. Losing her was different. It was a loss that held finality – but Hunt had lost so many that day, had suffered so much as a result, the grief had been for Shahar and all the others who'd fought alongside him.

To Shahar, he had been Hunt, a powerful angel plucked from the bowels of Pangea to command her legions.

This was different.

To Nesta, he’d only ever been Orion. Grumpy, sleepy, teasing, serious, or goofy, she’d wanted all of him. And Nesta wasn’t dead but it would have hurt less if she was.

Night after night, Hunt scoured the internet on any whiff of something similar to the Horn to try and find a way back to her. He’d deal with breeches and no hair dryer if it meant they were together again. He’d even wondered if Ruhn Danaan would know anything about another fae relic because Isaiah couldn’t be persuaded to get another warrant to search the Autumn King’s home for hidden artefacts.

‘I know that you miss her, Hunt, but it’s just not possible to find her again,’ he said calmly.

Those same words had been said to him a month earlier, also by Isaiah, when he’d found Hunt deliberating in the street. He’d gathered is hard-earned coins ready to dump them all in the Astronomer’s lap so that he’d use his mystics to locate her. In the end, it proved too risky. Hunt wouldn’t dare to expose Nesta that way.

‘It fucking sucks,’ replied Hunt before shuffling back to his desk for a long night of paperwork.

When Nesta left, Hunt expected a depression to come and drown him. He’d been there before and it always lurked in his periphery. But she’d given him hope and it felt different. The light didn’t abate in her absence; the flame remained burning. So he worked and worked. Did what Micah asked. Treaded every single line without complaint. And he thought of her. Thought of her smile, her curiosity, the way she had him wrapped around her finger in a single day.

***

‘What now?’

Emerie’s brown eyes had dulled from their week of absolute hell. She sat on the cushioned windowsill of the river estate with mud still caked over her face. Nesta looked down at her own hands. They were splattered with a mix of blood. Some was hers, Cassian’s, Bellius’, and Feyre’s.

Her stomach was empty enough that it hurt. She’d see a healer soon. Gwyn had the worst injuries so was with Madja in a separate room.

A small cry rang out down the hall from the baby boy, Nyx.

Feyre had died. Her heart had stopped beating. Nesta had felt the whole world turn colder, felt the knife coming for Feyre’s thread, so Nesta did the only thing she could think of. Still beaten and ruined from the Blood Rite, she gave her power back. She gave it all back.

And Feyre lived. The boy lived.

Nesta wedged her aching body into the windowsill next to Emerie, wishing they were a different set of wings cradling her shoulders.

It had been a tough few months since her little jaunt to Lunathion.

To his credit, Lucien did not speak of what he saw. He simply pretended the entire event had never happened and acted with all the quality of one the males from Fangs and Bangs when it was discovered by the others that Nesta had returned. It was their secret, never to be mentioned. She was grateful for that.

None ever questioned her moroseness because it was no different to her capricious ways. She could feel herself pushing everybody away, as always, week after week without Hunt’s infectious joy. The idea of Cassian touching her churned her stomach. She’d put an end to it, dumbfounding him. And when her sister’s family had convinced her to seduce Eris through dance, it confirmed to Nesta that all she would ever be was a pawn to be used for their benefit. When Eris had shown interest, Nesta had considered it if only to have a lifeline out of the Night Court.

‘I don’t even know if it will work,’ Nesta said quietly, tilting her head to touch Emerie’s.

The pair of them absolutely reeked. Being dragged from their beds and dumped onto Ramiel for a week would do that. Only sheer grit and hoping had kept them alive. That, and Gwyn bringing a beast to slaughter eight of the Illyrians.

‘It’s worth a try,’ replied Emerie.

They’d huddled together in the dark, cold and tired but not willing to sleep. And Nesta had told Emerie and Gwyn everything about the male she’d found in Lunathion. How she could not even go an hour without thinking of him, without imagining a life together. They’d listened with rapture, delighted for her as true friends were. Even when she cried at the thought of leaving them behind, they encouraged her to take her chance if they made it out alive because they loved her enough to let her go and find happiness.

‘It’s complicated.’

‘What’s complicated? Toot the horn and fly off with your angel.’

Gwyn limped into the room in her filthy clothes. ‘Who’s tooting? Are we tooting?’

‘Nesta’s about to go to the future with her angel lover.’

Instead of indignation, colour heated her cheeks and she felt like a giggling, love-struck fool. ‘He is so handsome.’

The cell phone had died quickly from all the moments that Nesta had spent agonising over photos of the Umbra Mortis in his boxers, as he called them.

‘So we have heard,’ Emerie replied drily.

Nesta shoved her heart back into its cage. ‘It’s impossible. I’ve surrendered my power. The Horn won’t work. Hunt is a slave. It’s been almost four months. He could be sold by now to another owner.’

‘Then buy him back,’ urged Gwyn.

‘With what?’

Emerie braced a hand against her ribs as she stood. ‘Well, the High Lord did offer you anything for saving their lives.’

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Rhysand would never agree to let me go, much less give me a pile of his wealth to send me on way. They still think Cassian is my mate. That the bond will snap. If it didn’t snap when Briallyn had him try to kill me, it never will – and I thank the stars for that.’

The words hung heavy. It had been one horrific moment after the other. Cassian bellowing at her on a bridge crossing the Sidra that she was his, despite her refusals. Morrigan delivering her to Emerie and Gwyn as she trembled. Waking disorientated in the Blood Rite. Staring down Bellius as she held Ramiel’s pass. Briallyn controlling Cassian with the Crown, trying to kill her. Only the Mask coming to her rescue again had saved her life.

‘I made a list the other day of all the things I’d like to do in Prythian. Do you know what I wrote?’ At her friends’ expectant faces, she continued, ‘Finish my book. I have no desires or dreams here. I am simply an object.’

‘What did you write for the other side?’

The corners of her mouth twitched. ‘So many things. There are things I want to do that I don’t even know exist yet. I want to go to the amusement park with Hunt. To study. I’d study for my whole life. I want to throw my cap in the air when I’ve finished studying. I want to live with Orion – I want a life with him like I’ve never dreamed of a male before. I didn’t kiss him enough.’

‘It was not only the High Lord’s life you saved, Nesta,’ Emerie reminded her. ‘There is a High Lady of the Night Court.’   

***

Silver light poured into the room like molten metal, so bright that Hunt needed to shield his eyes from the glare.

A low, hissing noise had him scurrying from his bed and pressing his wings to the cream wall in anticipation.

‘What the fuck.’

The wall opposite was flooded with a silver fire that chilled him to the bone. The narrow window above his bed frosted over. On his exhale, his breath was visible.

Then she was there.

The fire fell away, revealing an ornate library with rows of leather-bound books. Light streamed in from the massive bay windows, bathing Nesta in its glow. Like the first day that Hunt had seen her, Nesta was other-worldly. Instead of tight leathers that sinfully kissed every curve, she wore a pale lavender dress with a square-cut neckline. Her hands were buried in the long sleeves although Hunt spotted the tip of the horn poking from beneath. The draping skirts couldn’t hide the sneakers that she’d bought in Lunathion and declared the comfiest shoes she’d ever tried.

‘Tell me I’m dreaming,’ Hunt murmured.

Twice, Nesta’s lips parted then sealed again. Tears rimmed her grey eyes.

‘Nesta,’ he said, stepping closer to the fiery portal. The hairs on his arm stood from the seeping cold that surrounded it.

A soft gasp emitted from her side and two females came into view, ushered into the library by the same male he’d seen months ago with red hair and a metallic eye. One cradled a baby to her chest. This had to be Feyre; she had the unmistakeable look of her older sister although freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose and her hair hung freely. A swirling, black tattoo covered the hand that stroked her son’s wings. The other female was darker haired with large brown eyes reminding Hunt of a faun.

‘It worked?’ Feyre asked.

‘Obviously,’ the male replied, making Elain giggle and cover her mouth to hide it.

Hunt took another step closer to Nesta who was still immobilised. In the chairs behind her were two more females. Hunt had heard all about them. The winged one was Emerie and the red-haired one was Gwyn. Nesta’s face had lit up as she spoke of her only friends in Prythian when they’d been together.

‘Hey, Starlight,’ he said, reaching his hand through to her side. He jerked his chin towards her sister and the baby. ‘They made it.’

‘They made it,’ Nesta repeated, face twisting with emotion. ‘I gave up my power for them. I didn’t know if this would still work. I had to choose between seeing you again and saving them.’

‘And everybody won,’ he said, grasping her shaking hand.

It took every instinct not to haul her through to his side and kiss her until every star went out.

Nesta did that for him.

From the force that she yanked him to her, Hunt was practically falling. His hands found her waist to steady himself and he could feel her breath on his cheek as he pulled himself upright. Their bodies knocked together, the softness of her curves feeling like home.

‘I missed you.’

‘There has been nobody to laugh with.’ He touched his forehead to hers. ‘There was a national crisis because demand for ice cream plummeted since you left.’

When Hunt moved to kiss her, he stilled. There were markings on her neck, a fresh cut that still had the scab on her cheek and more wounds on her hands. They had to be recent because fae healed as fast as malakim.

‘What the Hel has happened? Are you alright? Who hurt you?’

The two females in the chair exchanged a glance then he noticed that both of them had been wounded recently too. Emerie had a bruise above her eyebrow that caused the lid to swell and Gwyn’s hands were bound in bandages.  

‘It’s alright,’ Nesta murmured, holding his hands in hers. ‘Something happened. I was taken. The three of us. We woke in the Blood Rite.’

‘I don’t know what that is.’

Surprising him, Nesta broke into a laugh. It skittered over his skin like static.  

‘What’s funny?’

‘That’s what I say to you, Orion.’

The male, Lucien, cleared his throat from his post at the door. ‘Nesta, I don’t know how long it will be open – or until they notice.’

‘Right,’ she said, nodding. ‘It was hell. All of it. That week on the mountain and all the months before. All I wanted was you. I told my friends that if we survived, if we made it through each night, I would find you.’

From the three-legged table, Nesta picked up a rolled-up piece of parchment. There was a line down the middle, splitting it into two columns. In an elegant script, lines upon lines of text had been written.

‘I wrote why I should stay here or why I should leave. There is danger on both sides, uncertainty, and it feels like leaping into the unknown. This is the world I know. My sisters are here. But the difference is in Lunathion, I will have you. And that makes all the difference, Hunt.’ She clutched the paper tighter. ‘I don’t care. All I want is you.’

When his day began, Hunt didn’t have Nesta appearing and offering him a forever on his bingo card. He blew out a breath. ‘Nesta, I’m a slave. I can’t give you a home. I don’t even know who my father is. If you want a life of comfort, you’re better off with Tristan Flynn.’

There was a brilliant shine of determination in her eyes. ‘I want a male who will love me.’

He’d loved her the moment she’d dropped out of the sky and told Isaiah she was a bard. These months without her had felt like living without the sun. He’d do another two hundred years in gorsian shackles strung up in the Asteri’s dungeon rather than spend another moment without Nesta.

Hunt stepped back through the portal to his room in the barracks and pulled out a prospectus for Crescent City University along with guidance on how to apply for funding. He’d gathered them just in case Nesta ever came back. He’d pulled legislation on the minimal rights of slaves. As long as Hunt answered when called, slaves could rent a property – they couldn’t own it, but it was a start, so he’d saved every penny of his pitiful wages, took double shifts and worked on his allotted days off to scrape together a few more coins because Nesta had given him that piece of hope that he hadn’t had before.

On the desk, there was photo album that he’d been compiling. It had provided an outlet instead of moping. Hunt had channelled all of his dreams into it.

‘There’s still space for more,’ he said, stepping back through and handing it to Nesta.

Her sisters and the other females peered over her shoulder at it. Every single photo that Nesta had taken on her cell and his, no matter how blurred, had been printed out and stuck in with his terrible handwriting beneath with a caption. Hunt had written about their day, about what she’d said, where they’d been or what they’d eaten. There was one of her bending down with the Istros in the background as Hunt had tried to get a scurrying otter in shot with her – but ended up with a smear of brown and yellow flopping into the river.

‘You look in pain there,’ said Elain, pointing to one.

‘She couldn’t decide on a milkshake flavour.’

Nesta’s lips quirked as she looked at the photo. ‘I regret banana.’

‘Is that why you drank mine?’

There were photos of him too. Ones she had taken. Ones that were blurry or zoomed in too far or ones in the elevator when she discovered that she could use the mirror to capture both of them. One of him with his fluffed-up wings and that rotten witch-ink halo on full display. One of them snuggled up on the bed on a pile of pillows. Lots of them together; Nesta appearing regal and poised whilst he looked surly or goofy to annoy her. One of Nesta in her gown before the ballet with Ruhn that she’d taken of herself in the bathroom mirror. A few of her when she’d put a cat-eared filter on and couldn’t work out how to take it off. Some even of Ruhn when he was driving, trying to block the camera with his tattooed hand.

‘I thought that was Rhys.’

Nesta chuckled, ‘So did I – and I gave him hell for it.’

‘They’re coming,’ said Lucien from the window where he’d been observing the skies. ‘They’ve likely felt the shift in the wards.’

On the horizon, three black shapes were moving quicker, wings beating rapidly.

Nesta turned to him, silver eyes shining with hope. ‘Will you have me?’

‘You were mine the day you fell from the stars. I love you. You think I make photo albums for every girl that lands in the middle of the road?’

Nesta silenced him with a kiss that surprised everybody in the room.

‘My bags are packed. I’ve already said goodbye.’

‘You’ll have to flirt with Flynn to get his credit card again,’ he said, grimacing slightly. ‘It will be centuries until I can afford somewhere for us to live.’

Feyre shook her head. ‘Finances are handled.’

‘I’m paying for your freedom,’ Nesta said resolutely. ‘There may only be one Umbra Mortis but I’m the bitch who stole from the Cauldron. That has to count for something.’  

 What she was, was a pillar of steel that could never be broken. Hunt didn’t care if she was sharp or unyielding, she was his Nesta. His girl from the stars.

Hunt slid his hands to her face, kissing her deeply. He didn’t care if her sisters watched. Didn’t care if the winged female whistled loudly at them. He had waited months to feel her again, to hold her.

‘We need to go,’ Nesta urged.

The two females had moved back to the chairs and exchanged a glance as the roof shook. A heavy landing. Feyre clutched her son to her chest, eyes going vacant as if listening to something else.

Three bags had been prepared and neatly tucked beneath the table. On her direction, Hunt hauled them up and through the portal back into the barracks. The final one tested his strength. It was bulky and ridiculously heavy, but with five females watching him, Hunt pretended the weight didn’t surprise him even if his muscles strained.

‘Are you bringing your Harp, bard?’

‘No. Only the Horn to close it then we’ll destroy it.’

Hunt pretended he didn’t just hear Nesta declare that she was about to break a priceless fae artefact that would have Einar Danaan, Micah, and the Asteri string her up from a dungeon for touching it.

They were doing this.

A cold sweat rippled down his back. They were really doing this. In the face of an archangel, a fae prince, and whatever the Asteri were, Hunt and Nesta were doing this for real.

His fingers enclosed around her wrists as steps grew closer. ‘Are you sure? You’ve known me a week.’

‘I have the rest of my life to know you,’ she said, before kissing him tenderly again. ‘Orion Athalar, you are my home. Maybe I fell that day, rattling the stars, because I was searching for you.’

The door swung open and shadows flooded in, sweeping the rugs of the library like a tidal wave that could no longer be held back. The first male had slicked back black hair and sparkling eyes so blue they appeared violet.

‘Shit, he does look like Ruhn,’ said Hunt.

In a soft voice, he said, ‘What is this?’

Two more males filed in, taking care to manoeuvre their large, leathery wings through the wooden doorway. These were the Illyrians she had spoken of which meant one was Azriel, who’d handed her a bag too heavy for her to manage, and the other was Cassian, a male who Hunt would delight in hurting.

Immediately, Hunt catalogued the subtle changes in Nesta. Whilst he would have expected her spine to go straighter, her chin to lift in defiance, instead Nesta curled in on herself as if she was deflating. Her shoulders hunched, making herself smaller and a flat, empty expression took up residence on her pale face.

The high lord’s eyes flashed to the Horn in Nesta’s hands. With a jolt of magic that Hunt felt fire across the room, he tried to lurch the Made item from her grip but it stayed firmly in her hand.

‘You have opened a portal to another world,’ he said, voice low and edged with warning. ‘You are endangering the lives of everybody in this city, Nesta. Endangering my mate and our son.’

Hunt couldn’t take it. It was as if all of the air was being pressed from the room. The two Illyrian sentries stood silent either side of their high lord in a display of cruel dominance. Neither would speak for Nesta. Hunt looked again to the females. Her two sisters were mute. The red-haired male had taken a not-so-subtle step closer to Elain, an arm extending ready to shield her. The other two females were as pale and timid as Nesta had become in their chairs; the winged one settled a hand on Gwyneth’s knee in reassurance as shadows lashed at the walls.  

These fae pricks.

‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’

The urge to let his lightning loose was an instinct that proved difficult to deny – but not when Nesta was in the firing line, nor a child and a male with a metal eye that would send his lightning haywire.

The high lord blinked in disbelief then took a step closer to Nesta.

Lightning wreathed his hands in response. ‘Don’t even fucking think about it.’

‘If it hits Nesta?’

Hunt could play that game. He went into the place where Micah sent him where it was cold and empty. ‘If it hits your son? Your mate?’

He let the static tighten the room so strands of their hair rose. Hunt pulled the clouds closer, bringing in a storm from the mountains which darkened the room. Rain pattered upon the glass.

The male to the high lord’s left tilted his head, back hair falling across his pensive face. The blue stones on his leathers pulsed. ‘What are you?’

‘He’s not Peregryn,’ the male with red stones said.

He kept his brown eyes fixed on the threats in the room while he spoke softly to Nesta. ‘Go through, Starlight. We’ll go to the movies tonight. I realised you never tasted popcorn.’

The weight of her decision pressed on her. That, or the arrogant bastards shooting daggers at her.  

‘We can make out on the back row too.’

That shifted something in Nesta, like the final screw coming loose. She exhaled with relief and edged towards him. Hunt stretched out his arm towards her to sweep his love behind him, behind his wings, so she could step through safely to the barracks as if they were negotiating the transfer of a hostage.

‘Baby, can you get my gun? It’s in the holster at the bottom of the bed.’

With a trembling hand, Nesta placed the gun in the hand that was outstretched behind himself. Magic was great, but nothing could quite replace a steel kiss. Hunt cocked his weapon, keeping it trained on the high lord.

‘Which one’s Cassian?’

Likely the male whose face was purpling as he stared at Hunt like he wanted to wrap his hands around his throat. Join the club, buddy, Hunt thought.

‘The red stones?’

None in the room gave an acknowledgement to his words. He didn’t want this to turn into a standoff but now that Hunt was here, facing the bastards who’d made Nesta’s life a misery for the last couple of years, he couldn’t resist being a dick. The Umbra Mortis had earned his reputation. He’d survived torture and a failed rebellion. And he was going to have a beautiful future with his gorgeous Nesta – but first, these males needed to atone.

‘Listen, these ladies look as if they’ve seen enough violence so I’ll refrain from blasting your brains out on these lovely rugs, but you owe my girl an apology.’ Over his shoulder, Hunt asked, ‘Does Lucien need to say sorry?’

‘Hunt, don’t bother. Let’s just close it.’

‘Does Lucien need to say sorry?’ he repeated.

Nesta gave a sigh. ‘No. Lucien is fine.’

‘Good male,’ he said, offering a slight wink in the scarred-one’s direction.

A shadow that had been creeping along the skirting board made to lunge towards him but Hunt hit it with a bolt of lightning that crippled it. The male who’d bejazzled his leathers with blue stones winced as if he felt the blow too. Aha, that was the shadowsinger. Red stones was the prick who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

‘Alright, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to say sorry to Nesta then I’m leaving with her. We’re going to have a beautiful life together and never come back to this place again.’ Hunt gave a dramatic sigh. ‘If I’m honest, I think it’s less about my company and more about the fact you three have made her life so miserable here that she's willing to leave.’

‘That’s not true,’ Nesta called, and he caught the slight playful edge in her tone. ‘I want to go to university too.’

Little minx.

The three males were carved from stone. Every now and then, Hunt felt something trying to edge towards his mind like a tendril of smoke but his lightning zapped it without thought.

‘My finger is getting really sweaty holding back this trigger.’

The gun wasn’t even loaded – safety protocol – but if these fae were as clueless as Nesta had been, they’d have no idea.

‘Nesta, I am sorry that we did not extend the same warmth to you as we did to your sisters. I’m truly sorry that after the war, we were not a support for you.’

‘Well done, blue stones. Next one.’

The high lady shuffled the baby who was growing restless in her arms. ‘Is this necessary?’

‘Yes. Next question.’

Hunt lashed his lightning towards the males’ feet, making them leap back a step. Damn, he wished he recorded the sudden bloom of fear on their arrogant faces.

‘I’m sorry that I loved you,’ Cassian said. ‘I’m sorry that I gave you everything I could and it still wasn’t enough. Nes, what are you doing? In this life, we can have our time together. Think of our future.’

‘Didn’t you make her walk until she collapsed?’

The male blanched. ‘It was for her own good.’

‘No,’ Hunt uttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘I can't do this. I need to go before I shoot you.’

Behind him, Nesta’s snort of laughter was the confirmation that Hunt needed. Nesta would never get the apology that she deserved from this male – but the promise of a future free from him was good enough. A future with Hunt meant more.

His wings scooped low, tucking towards his spine, as Hunt took a backwards step. The cold bite of Nesta’s magic that surrounded the portal edged closer. He hoped he would look cool departing the library and wouldn’t fall on his ass through to the other side.

Once back in Lunathion, Hunt stood at Nesta’s side, proud to do it.

‘We won’t come here again,’ said Nesta, voice growing stronger with every word. Her eyes bounced between her friends and her sisters. ‘I love you but this is best for me. I wish you all the love in the world.’

Nesta lifted the horn to her lips and Hunt prayed to Luna that she’d hit that note on the first try or he’d laugh his ass off again. His hand enclosed around her fist, raising it in the air.

‘This is how we say bye in my world, assholes.’

Hunt prised Nesta’s middle finger up to flip them off – giving her only a moment to blow the Horn before she grinned.

Silver flames swarmed it then fell in on themselves like a star collapsing. They were left with the plain wall of his room in the Comitium.

‘You okay?’

Hunt touched her cheek in an attempt to read her expression. She didn’t need to wear the mask anymore. There would be no hiding her feelings or supressing her hurts. Nesta could be Nesta in Lunathion. And if she didn’t know who that was yet, it was fine. She could discover who she was.

Nesta slipped her hands around his neck, moving closer. ‘Oh, you are going to get it tonight, Orion Athalar.’

‘Oh?’ An eyebrow cocked up.

‘Defending me. Making them say sorry. What a male.’

Their lips crushed together. Now they had about a thousand things to do before they could relax, like storing the Horn somewhere safe, where nobody would notice the magic, find a place to live rather than keep her smuggled in the barracks, and figure out what the Hel was in that massive bag. With Nesta at his side, anything was possible. They’d weather the storm.

‘Your male,’ Hunt said between hurried kisses.

‘Mine,’ agreed Nesta.

‘Always.’  

#hunt x nesta #hunt athalar #nesta archeron

[theladyofdeath]

Anxious & Bewitched {nessian}

Ship: Nesta x Cassian Summary: College AU; Nesta loses a bet and has to go on a date with Cassian to a haunted corn maze. T/W: None; Fluff

Written with @snelbz

As Nesta opened the passenger side door and dropped from the cab of the truck, a chill breeze had her tucking her hands into the folds of her thick sweater.

The driver-side door closed behind her and she took a deep breath.

She had no reason to be nervous. There was no reason to be nervous. It wasn’t the first time they’d hung out together, wasn’t even the first time it’d just been the two of them, without the rest of their friends. But this time… This time was different.

He appeared around the front of the truck. “I told you I’d come around to get your door.”

Reigning in the urge to roll her eyes, Nesta muttered, “Yeah, well, you were taking too long.”

He laughed, as he always did when he was clearly exasperated by her. She wondered if somewhere, deep down inside, Cassian secretly wanted to throttle her instead of being amused by her annoyance. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“Most girls—” With one look shot in his direction, Cassian stopped speaking and cleared his throat. “Like corn mazes,” he finished, even though she knew damn well that wasn’t what he was going to say. “Do you?”

Nesta shrugged. “I don’t think anyone really enjoys corn mazes. We all just do them because it’s a tradition.”

“Glad to see you’re excited,” he muttered and shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked toward the ticket booth. “I hope you don’t get scared too easily. They say this is the scariest maze in the county.”

Nesta glanced at the setting sun, barely still in existence. She gave it fifteen minutes before they were in complete darkness. “Do I seem like someone who gets scared easily?”

They reached the front of the line, which saved Cassian from having to answer the loaded question and headed for where the festivities would be starting as soon as the sun fully set behind Ramiel in the distance.

“So,” Nesta began as she looked around at the stands and vendors around them. “I believe the stipulations were one dinner and one trip through the corn maze.”

“And apple cider after the maze,” Cassian reminded her with a wink. The bet they’d made last week over whether Azriel or Elain would earn a higher score on their English lit midterm had won Cassian a date with Nesta, after over a year of rejections. He would make it count.

Nesta’s dramatic sigh was mostly for show as she said, “Right, how could I forget? Where do we start?”

“Dinner?” He asked, gesturing to the stalls they paused before.

Chili, soup, and roasted chicken legs; kettle corn, funnel cake, and, of course, hot cider. The options were limitless and as Nesta’s stomach rumbled hungrily, she realized her appetite was as well. “I could eat.”

After a quick discussion over what they each wanted and whether or not it would count as a date if they weren’t eating the same thing, Cassian led Nesta to an open picnic table, placing her bowl of hearty tomato soup in front of her as she sat down. Rather than taking the seat across from her, Cassian sat next to her, the heat of his thigh against hers as he took a bite out of the massive chicken leg he’d decided on.

He ate like an animal and Nesta hated to admit that she found it oddly attractive. 

Nonetheless, she said, “You eat like a barbarian.”

“I eat like a man,” he corrected and nodded towards her soup. “Are you going to pretend to sip that thing like a lady instead of devouring it like you want to?”

The word devour from his lips sent a chill down her spine. She’d read too much smut.  

And yes, yes she was.

Nesta took her sweet time sipping her soup, just to spite him. He was finished in less than a minute but he waited patiently for her once his food was long gone. 

Half an hour passed before Nesta’s bowl was empty and by that time, the moon and the stars were shining brightly in the night sky. Cassian took care of their garbage and clapped his hands together as Nesta stood from the picnic table.

“Ready?”

She sighed, even as a whirlwind of anxiety and excitement swelled in the pit of her stomach. “I guess I don’t have a choice, right?”

His grin was intoxicating as he said, “Not at all.”

They lined up behind a group of high school students, Cassian recognizing the green and silver of their letterman jackets from the next town over, and sat in companionable silence as the teenagers planned how they’d make their way through the maze. They discussed who would lead, who was too scared and would walk in the middle, and who would bring up the rear, making sure those people from the middle wouldn’t fall behind.

Before they knew it, the excited giggles of the group became shrieks and howls of laughter as they meandered deeper into the maze.

Then it was their turn.

“After you, Nes,” Cassian said, gesturing to the long walkway ahead of them. It faded into nothing but darkness and he swore he heard her swallow before she turned to him.

“I don’t think so. This was your idea, so you get to go in first.”

The attendant rolled his eyes and held an arm out toward the entrance. “I’ve got a line and you’re backing it up. You can go in together.”

Nesta opened her mouth to protest but Cassian took her by the hand and pulled her into the maze. Before she could even catch her breath, they were enveloped in corn stalks, the shrieks and screams of others radiating around them.

Nesta’s body grew taut, so much so that she hadn’t even realized that her hand was still in Cassian’s until they turned their first corner.

“So,” he began, and she could see his smirk in the outline of the starlight, “not scared, huh?”

“I swear to the Cauldron, I will leave right now if you don’t shut up.” The words rushed out of her. She took a deep breath, then another. “I’m not scared. I’m just—”

A guy dressed as a bloodied up zombie jumped out of the cornstalks and Nesta screamed.

But it was Cassian that jumped nearly a foot in the air, a long string of profanity tumbling from his mouth.

Nesta stared at him.

Cassian, chest heaving, stared back.

Then, despite herself, Nesta laughed.

With an exasperated sigh, Cassian took Nesta’s hand again and dragged her away from the still snarling zombie.

“Holding my hand a little tight there, aren’t you?” She asked, once they had moved farther into the maze. He could hear the smile on her face, but didn’t look at her as they surged forward. “Don’t worry, Cass, I’ll keep you safe.”

A twig snapped at their backs and Nesta whirled, turning to face the…empty path behind them. Her eyes darted around, searching despite not seeing anyone or anything there.

A terrified scream from somewhere deeper within the maze had Nesta gasping and clutching onto Cassian’s arm with her free hand.

“I could say the same for you,” he snapped, and cursed when the sound of a chainsaw began to rev from somewhere in the maze. “I’m having a blast.”

“Me too,” she hissed, grounding herself in the warmth of his body. She had never felt so annoyed and so safe at the same time. Maybe if she closed her eyes, this whole experience would be so much more enjoyable. 

Ignoring the fact that she was clinging to Cassian for dear life, Nesta continued to make her way through the maze, wishing she was literally anywhere else every time they came to a dead end.

They had just gotten away from a psycho in a hockey mask when Cassian said, “I have no clue how to get out of here.”

Nesta looked down the creepy pathways before them. “I don’t either. Isn’t there some trick to getting out of mazes?”

Snapping his fingers, Cassian took her hand and began pulling her down the path to the right. “Right turns only.”

The psycho in the hockey mask was waiting around the next turn with the rest of his team.

“Why do you even like this stuff?” Cassian demanded as they stopped to catch their breath, warily looking around at the corn stalks, waiting for someone to jump out at them.

“I don’t,” Nesta replied, peeking around the corner, cringing at whatever she saw. “I hate it.”

When there was no response, Nesta glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting him to be gone. Instead, she found him staring at her.

“What do you mean you hate it,” he asked, eyes on hers.

“I mean, I hate getting scared,” she snapped, looking back around the corner. “Slashers and horror movies are the extent of my interest in being scared.”

He muttered under his breath, “I’m going to kill them.”

With her brow furrowed, Nesta turned to find him shaking his head. “Who?”

“Feyre, but I’m sure it was Rhys’s idea, too.” He stepped up behind her, finally seeing the clown standing in the middle of the path and stepped back. “When I asked her for an idea of what you’d want to do, she said you’d love this. That you love haunted houses.”

Nesta tried her best not to gape but couldn’t help herself. “She said what?”

Cassian just shook his head, dragging Nesta past the creepy ass clown. 

“You don’t like this, either?” She asked, when he said nothing. Cassian just shook his head, and Nesta scoffed. “Wow.”

“Being scared pisses me off,” he admitted. “Which, your sister knows.”

A realization hit Nesta as they turned yet another corner: he hated being scared, but he brought her here anyway.

Because he thought she would love it. 

She hadn’t realized she was staring at him until a second clown popped out of the stalks and Cassian’s hand gripped onto hers so tightly that it hurt.

Nothing else was said until they reached the end of the maze, just a few minutes later. There were no other big scares, nothing else to take any additional years off of Cassian’s life and he wished his sigh of relief when they finally walked out into the open air of the festival wasn’t as loud as it was. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, beyond thankful that the entire ordeal was over and he’d made it out alive.

“Alright,” he said, exhaling one last time and looking towards the stalls. He’d seen someone selling hot cider when they’d first gotten here. “I could go for some cider. Honestly, I’m down for something stronger, if you are, but—”

A tug on his hand had him leaning down and then a warm kiss was pressed to his cheek.

For a moment, he stilled, thinking what had happened hadn’t just happened, but when he met her gaze, she almost looked as surprised as he was. Her eyes were wide and hesitant, glancing hectically between his eyes and his mouth. Cassian swallowed, scared to say or do anything to break whatever the hell was going on here. 

“Thank you,” she said, quietly but firmly, eyes locked on his. 

“For what?” he asked, blinking. “You were miserable.”

“So were you,” she agreed, and shook her head. “So, thank you.”

“I wanted you to have a good time,” he admitted, brushing his fingers against hers. “I didn’t want you to regret having said yes.”

Her fingers grazed his again, but then she laced them together. “Technically, I didn’t have a choice, since I did lose a bet after all,” she said, voice taking on a teasing tone before dropping back into something softer as she smiled. “But I’m glad I came. I’m glad I said yes, Cassian.”

She glanced down at their joined hands, squeezing his fingers once before she met his gaze. His eyes were already on her and he couldn’t help but stare in awe at how beautiful she was.

Blushing, Nesta cleared her throat. “So. You owe me a drink.”

Cassian hesitated. “Cider? Or…”

“Something stronger may be nice.” Nesta breathed a laugh and Cassian couldn’t help but smile. “Something to take the edge off.”

Cassian couldn’t deny that. He could use the same thing, something to take the edge off. “There’s a bar two miles up the road. I think it’s a biker bar, but it seems… Well, I’ll keep you safe.”

Nesta raised a brow. “Maybe I’m the one to keep you safe.”

Cassian sighed. “You can’t ever just say okay, can you?”

Nesta pretended to think about it. “No.”

Yet, with a wicked smile, she dragged him by his hand to the parking lot - which was nothing more than a field marked off with rope - until they were at his truck. Still holding her hand, Cassian opened the passenger side door and helped Nesta up inside before rounding the truck and climbing up behind the wheel. 

The ride to the corn maze had been okay. Conversation had been awkward. Not bad, but a little forced. The ride to the bar was nothing like that. It was brief, but by the time Cassian put the truck in park and cut the engine, he had Nesta dabbing at her eyes as she laughed at a story he was telling her about a prank he and Azriel had pulled on Rhys when they were in high school.

“To this day, he can’t stand the smell of tartar sauce,” he said, shaking his head as unbuckled his seatbelt.

She did the same, laughter still shaking her shoulders. “I don’t blame him, I don’t think I can think of it the same way either.”

With a grin, he opened the door, hopping down and rounded the truck. When he opened her door, he offered her his hand. “You waited this time.”

Her cheeks darkened just a bit, but her eyes sparkled as she said, “Well, I wouldn’t have wanted to take your chance to be a gentleman away.”

“Again,” he added.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Again.”

After taking his hand, Nesta hopped down from the cab and he locked the truck behind them as they made their way inside the bar. It was pretty busy but they managed to find a little table tucked into the back. 

“What’re you drinking?” Cassian asked after Nesta plopped onto the bench.

Nesta lifted a brow. “Surprise me.”

Cassian chuckled. “You trust me that much?”

“We’re about to find out,” Nesta crooned.

Suddenly nervous, Cassian made his way to the bar and waited for the bartender to find her way towards him. He took the time to decide what drink best represented Nesta Archeron.

In the end, he returned to the table with two drinks and two shot glasses.

“What’d you get?” She asked, eyeing the drinks as she set them on the table.

“Jack and Coke,” he said, hovering his hand over the first. Then the second. “Vodka cranberry.” Then he slid one of the shot glasses in front of her and took the other himself. “And a shot of tequila for us both, in case you hate either of those.” 

Grinning, she looked back at the drinks. “And if I want the Jack?”

“Then it looks like I’ll be having a pink drink tonight.”

Rolling her eyes, Nesta nudged the Jack and Coke closer to him and took the other. “I like both, but this is my favorite.” She picked up the shot glass and held it out to him. “Cheers.”

Clinking his glass against hers, Cassian tossed it back, before placing it top down on the table. He did his best not to make a face, but found himself chasing his shot with his drink. Blowing out a brisk breath, he asked, “So am I to assume that haunted corn mazes aren’t a part of your yearly Halloween traditions?”

Nesta shook her head, leaning back in her seat. “Absolutely not. I’ve never even been to a haunted house. Feyre and Elain used to try and get me to take them in high school, before they could drive, but I’ve never liked it.”

“Me either.” He drummed his fingers on the table next to his drink. “Why would I want to pay someone to scare me shitless?”

With a laugh, Nesta agreed. “What about you? Anything you do for Halloween every year?”

“Pumpkin carving. Hands down.”

Nesta scrunched her nose.

Cassian blinked. “Do you have…an issue with pumpkin carving?”

“It’s so messy,” she said, sipping from her drink. “And I hate the feeling of all the guts between my fingers. No, thank you.”

Cassian shakes his head, eyes narrowed in her direction. “What kind of person hates pumpkins? Who hurt you?”

“I like pumpkins.” Nesta laughed. “I just like them intact.” 

“You’re missing out,” he said, and his toe nudged hers until the table and lingered. “Maybe you should give it another try. Maybe you’ve done it wrong.”

“You’re very passionate about carving pumpkins,” Nesta chuckled.

“I prefer calling it pumpkin art, but yes I am.”

Nesta laughed again and Cassian stared at her in awe. It was nice to see her laugh, smile, be happy instead of glaring daggers in his direction.

He looked away from her, his finger circling the rim of his glass. “You could come over, one night this week, if you wanted. We could carve a couple pumpkins. I’ll handle the guts, all you’d have to do is the fun part.”

Raising her eyebrows, Nesta asked, “And what exactly is the fun part? The stabbing?” 

“That and realizing that what you carved looks absolutely nothing like what you planned.”

With a snort, Nesta asked, “I thought you said it was pumpkin art?”

“I did,” he replied with a shrug, but the corner of his mouth was lifted up in a smirk. “But I never said it was good art.”

Tipping her head back, Nesta laughed. When she was done, she brought her glass to her lips and took a drink. “I’d love that.”

Cassian was almost shocked by her revelation. “Yeah?” She nodded but Cassian tried not to get his hopes up too much. “How about Wednesday?”

Nesta slowly set her glass back down. For a second, she hesitated, but then she said, “I can do Wednesday.”

Nearly dropping his glass, Cassian stared across the table. She was not only on a date with him now, but agreed to another in only a few days time. 

Either he was dreaming…or she was already drunk.

Maybe a bit of both. 

After a few more drinks, Cassian glanced at the clock over the bar and saw that it was pushing midnight. “We should probably go. You said you work at nine?”

With a groan, Nesta nodded. She worked at the library on campus and the librarian was not lenient about tardiness and attendance. “Bright and early.”

Drumming his fingers on the table, Cassian stood. “I’ll pay our tab and we can get out of here.”

By the time he returned, Nesta had finished her drink and was slipping her purse over her head.

His hand fell to the small of her back as they left, the crack of pool balls and droning of the jukebox in the corner fading as they walked out the front door.

As soon as they were outside, Nesta shivered. “It’s definitely fall,” she said, tucking her hands under her arms.

With a laugh, Cassian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side, not letting himself second guess the move. “It’s almost like you should have worn that coat I mentioned when I picked you up.”

“I’d rather be cold than admit defeat,” she joked, but Cassian sensed there was a bit of truth to it, even as she leaned further into him. “Besides, you seem to like my lack of a coat.”

He did. “I wouldn’t like it if you were to die of hypothermia.”

Nesta snorted. “Once again, look who's being overdramatic.”

She let him open her door and help her into the truck, before it roared to life and he headed back into Velaris. On the ride back to her apartment, Nesta admitted she’d never been to a high school football game, much to Cassian’s dismay.

“What did you even do on Friday nights?” He demanded, glancing over at her as they stopped at a red light.

“Stayed in and read.” She said it like it should have been obvious, and honestly, it probably should have been.

“We’ll have to fix that, too,” Cassian said, just as the light turned green. “There’s nothing like being under those lights, the sounds of the game.”

Nesta lifted a brow. “There’s also nothing like curling up in bed with a good book.”

Cassian shook his head, amused. “You can’t tell me that reading is better than a real life experience.”

“Football is not a real life experience,” Nesta protested but that playfulness in her tone remained. “It’s a sport where people are either getting injured or praised way too much. Sometimes both.”

Cassian looked over to find her already watching him with the smallest of grins on her mouth. “So hateful.”

“I could say the same for you,” she crooned.

“Fine,” Cassian laughed. “You come with me to a game and I’ll read whatever book you give me.”

Eyebrows raising, Nesta asked, “Whatever book I give you? Any book of my choosing?”

“I already feel like I’m going to regret this, but yes.” Cassian pulled into the parking lot of Nesta’s building. “Any book of your choosing, as much or as little smut as you want.”

Nesta’s cheeks darkened. “I’ll start thinking then.”

He put the truck into park, looking over at her. “I can’t wait.”

The cab of the truck was silent, as her eyes met his. It felt quiet, intimate, safe. Softly, like speaking too loudly would shatter whatever was building between them, Nesta said, “I had fun tonight. Despite getting the shit scared out of me.”

“Me too,” Cassian agreed, hardly more than a whisper. “Can I walk you to your door?”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved.

The realization that Cassian had no idea what to do was daunting. He had never had trouble with women before but Nesta was a different breed. He’d waited years for this moment and now that it was here, he felt he was walking on glass and it would shatter beneath him at any given moment.

Nesta cleared her throat when the silence dragged on. “Should I get my door this time or…?”

That set Cassian in motion and by the time he rounded the truck and opened her door, she was doing her best — and failing — to hide her grin.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, taking her hand and helping her down.

Her laughter was quiet, but she didn’t let go of his hand as they headed up the stairs and to her door.

“So I’ll come over Wednesday?” She asked, and it was more than Cassian could have hoped for. He’d half expected her to change her mind, to pretend she forgot, and move on.

“Yes, I mean, yeah.” He was stumbling over his words and he cleared his throat. “I’ve got a bio chem lab that lets out at three, but I’m free anytime after that.”

“Then I’ll be there after three,” she said.

Cassian's hand tightened in hers as they stood on her doormat. “Sounds good.”

“Good.” With one last smile that had Cassian feeling weak, Nesta turned towards her door.

Before he could think twice, Cassian pulled on her hand and pulled her towards him until their mouths met, softly. He was still walking that line of caution even if caution was the last thing on his mind.

But she kissed him back, each touch sweet and gentle and nothing like he expected a kiss with her to be like, but far better.

He cupped her face, her lips soft and lush against his, and breathed in her scent before stepping back. The blush on her cheeks was beautiful, her eyes bright, and her breathing was shallow and quick. He wanted to kiss her again, something more than the quick meeting of their lips, but he forced himself to take another step back, to head towards his truck. “I’ll see you Wednesday,” he said, gaze locked on hers.

“Wednesday,” she repeated, voice soft, and unlocked her door. It opened with a creak and she stepped inside. “Goodnight, Cassian.”

The door closed and he was left staring at her autumn-themed wreath. So soft, there was no way she could have heard it, he breathed, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

#nessian #nesta #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #halloween #spooky season #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #fluff #drabble

[nikethestatue]

Breed Me

Happy Valentine's Day!

A little one shot of pure smuttiness for all of you to enjoy today. Also, blame @tswaney17 for this! She sent me a video in IG of a pink cookie being decorated with the words 'Breed Me'. She said 'Elriel'. I said 'I have to write this'. So here you are.

This is an Elriel and Nessian smut

(Generally speaking a bonus set in the world of A Match Baked In Heave, but is a standalone)

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuckety fuck fuck.

She knew it. She just knew it. She knew that she’d forget. And she did. She even forgot to set the reminder not to forget.

Valentine’s Day.

Their first Valentine’s Day together. 

The only excuse she managed to come up with was that they’ve been together for almost a year now. They began properly dating right around the last V Day, and therefore, it’s been some time and Nesta was allowed to forget. Or so she told herself. But she was the worst girlfriend ever. She didn’t even have a card for him!

The problem was that Nesta Archeron, barrister extraordinaire, successful, beautiful, admired, and well-put together always, did not possess a romantic bone in her body. Romance just wasn’t how she operated. Nesta liked to go to Michelin starred restaurants, she enjoyed good wines, she adored interesting trips, and she got emotional when walking down the streets of Florence overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and history of the place. But romantic, she was not. At least, not in the sense that people came to expect someone to express their romantic side–chocolates, flowers, jewellery, horrid chocolate lava cakes and even more terrifying public marriage proposals with the ring being dropped to the bottom of a champagne flute. If her boyfriend Cassian ever did that to her, she’d break up with him. Though that wasn’t exactly his style–he’d probably propose on a mountain peak, or looking out at some terrifying squall, or, if she were lucky, at night, on the streets of Florence, when no one was looking and it was the two of them.

But, enough about proposals and romantic gestures. 

She’d leave that to her sister Elain. Her other sister, Feyre, had an even less romantic attitude than Nesta, if that was even possible. Feyre was hopeless in the romance department. Good thing her husband Rhysand was romantic enough for the two of them, and then some. If Rhys could gift Feyre the Moon on a string, he would. 

That left Elain. The only one who was a romantic at heart, and per Feyre ‘romantic on steroids’ who adored V Day and began prepping for it in advance, the way others prepared for Christmas. 

Nesta never enquired about Elain’s Valentine’s Day plans, because she was frankly, a bit scared. Though the Archeron girls were all girls, and close in age, they weren’t the types to discuss their sex lives with each other. They weren’t the types to change clothes in front of one another, and Nesta couldn’t remember when she saw any of her sisters naked. That’s just how they were. And Nesta preferred to keep it that way.

But today, she was desperate. And she was close to Elain’s house. 

Unannounced pop-ins weren’t a thing that the sisters did either, but Nesta was always close to Elain and now, she hoped that Elain wouldn’t mind it. Besides, it was only 2 pm. What could Elain possibly be doing?

Just in case, though, Nesta sent a warning text “I am in the neighbourhood. And need to stop by. Are you decent?”

The last part would’ve seemed like an overkill, but it wasn’t. Because Elain, and her husband Azriel, were known to get it on frequently and at any time of day or night. Nesta had to get her eyes bleached by now, considering how many times she either overheard them or walked in on them. Azriel was a damn exhibitionist, who loved semi-public sex, and what’s more, the man’s had some peculiar interests, which made being in their company a veritable minefield of strange sexual encounters. Elain…well, she was in love. She was love-drunk, dick-drunk, and sex-drunk most of the time. 

Nesta hurried down the street, before rushing up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. True to Elain’s character, the white columns beneath the awning were decorated with pink, white and red roses. Love was in the air.

Nesta banged on the door and heard ‘it’s open!’

She entered the foyer, toed off her boots and almost ran to the open concept first floor kitchen and sitting room. 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” her sister asked, worry etched on her pretty face.

Elain was wearing a pink dress with red flowers and a wide pink headband, which struggled to contain waves of her thick curls. The dress accentuated her growing stomach, which was just beginning to round and pop at 4.5 months. Of course, Elain made the prettiest pregnant woman in the world. Shiny hair, sparkling eyes, clear skin, a wide smile, gorgeous boobs, no weight gain other than in her stomach, and the most perfect pregnancy–no violent sickness, explosive vomiting, sickening cravings or swollen ankles for the middle Archeron sister. 

“I am brilliant!” Nesta put on a fake smile. “Just need a few ideas,”

Elain eyed her with a disapproving look and then said, 

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Ummm, forgot what?” Neta decided to play stupid.

“Don’t play stupid,” her sister snapped. “You forgot about Valentine’s Day and now Cassian doesn’t have a gift, does he?”

Nesta plopped on the stool by the marble bar and announced with pretend excitement,

“No. But that’s where you come in!”

“Oh, is that so?” rolled her eyes and then picked up a pastry bag, and curled over the counter. “Am I expected to get your boyfriend a Valentine’s Day gift?”

“No, no, no,” Nesta assured her breezily. “Nothing like that. Just…ideas. Give me some ideas. I will execute!”

Elain thought for a second, absorbed in whatever she was doing with that pastry bag, and then explained,

“Men don't care about presents. Not for this type of holiday,”

“They don’t?”

“No! Cass doesn’t want a box of chocolates!” she laughed. “He’d just have to work it out longer at the gym.”

“So then…?” Nesta’s voice trailed as her brows knitted in confusion.

“You are hopeless!” Elain sighed. “Romance. Seduction. That’s what he wants. Seduce him…”

“O-kay…As in?”

“I have to teach you how to seduce a man?” Elain demanded.

“I don’t need to seduce him. He is already seduced!”

“Expand your repertoire,” Elain all but ignored Nesta’s reasoning. “Do something you don't normally do,”

“What, whips and chains?”

“Why must you go that far? Unless you want to be chained and whipped?” 

“No thanks.”

Nesta knew for a fact that that was more of an Elain and Azriel thing.

“Then what?” she asked again.

“What about sending him a sexy video?” Elain proposed. 

“I am not sending nudes,” Nesta stated firmly. “If that ever gets out,”

“You think he is going to share your nudes?”

“Phones get hacked. Next idea?”

Elain sighed and then leaned back against the fridge, and crossed her arms on her chest.

“Have you tried introducing some whipped cream? Strawberries?”

“I don’t like mixing sex with food,” Nesta told her.

“Oh god. Well, what do you like?”

“My choices are nudes or rolling around in greasy sheets?” Nesta demanded crossly. 

“Play a game,”

“What kind of game?”

“Like a sex game. You tell him one of your desires, and he tells you one of his, and you both do it,” Elain proposed.

Nesta chewed on her lips, thinking about it. It wasn’t a terrible idea.

“What else?”

“Try having sex in an unusual place,” Elain suggested. “Not in bed or a shower. But somewhere you don’t usually do it in,”

“Hmmm. Okay.”

This was giving Nesta ideas.

“We have a book,” Elain began but Nesta shook her head, 

“No. Please no. I don’t want real-life examples from your sex escapades!!!”

“All I wanted to say,” Elain pouted, “was that if you have a sexy book or a magazine, you can open it to a random page and act out whatever is there…”

“Oh. Hmmm. That’s not bad. You’ve done that?”

“You just said no real-life examples!” Elain reminded her dryly.

“Yeah, true.”

Giving her a meaningful look of pure judgement, Elain added, “wouldn’t hurt if you dressed in something other than your smart clothes and your suits.”

“Lingerie?”

“It’s been known to help.”

In the next moment, Nesta exclaimed, “Oh my god, what is that!?!? Elain?!”

Elain glanced at the MASSIVE bouquet of pale pastel flowers that Azriel had given her earlier today. It wasn’t unusual that Azriel would give her flowers, so she didn’t quite understand Nesta’s reaction. 

But Nesta was staring, wild-eyed, at what Elain was doing, and she saw a whole array of sugar biscuits, which were already shiny with icing, and upon which Elain was writing.

Writing such as:

Lick Me

I Lick You

Butt Play

Toys

Anal

Reverse Cowgirl

Pearl Necklace

Blindfold

Breed Me

Outside

Car BJ

69

And many others, which Nesta couldn’t even make out.

“What the hell is this?!” she cried out.

Elain began to scramble pathetically, trying to turn the biscuits over, but it was too late. Nesta’s seen enough. 

“Elain! What the heck are you two up to?”

“Okay, whatever,” Elain was redder than the icing on the bakes. “It’s a game, okay? We are going to play a game too!”

“What kind of game is this?!”

“I think it’s obvious,” Elain hissed. 

“Not really…”

“My god,” she rolled her eyes and threw her head back dramatically. “It’s a very simple game, Nesta. There is a platter of biscuits–you select one or two, and read what it says. Then you do it.”

Nesta’s eyes bugged out,

“So you are going to do anal?!?! Or a car BJ!?”

“I don’t know!!!!!!!!!!!” Elain screeched, all flustered and red. “Maybe! Maybe we’ll do anal,”

“You are pregnant,”

“You can have anal when you are pregnant. Also, I am not discussing this with you anymore. I’ve given you ideas. That’s it!” she stomped her foot. 

Before the conversation could escalate even further and end up in a potential screaming match, the front door opened and Azriel’s deep, highly masculine and unabashedly sexual voice announced,

“Two jacket potatoes, coming up. Baby, I hope you are naked, because I am fucking gearing up to eat your pussy like a bulldog eats cereal.

“Also, they made me run three sprints today–though I told him that I am an old man with a wonky knee–but per your request, I am still sweaty. So have your way with me, lick it up.”

Nesta made a gagging noise deep inside her chest.

“We are not alone!” Elain screamed frantically.

“Who are we with? The dogs don’t count.”

Elain and Azriel had four dogs. The oldest, who was Elain’s originally, and then he had three sons–Benny, Churchy and John Boy–whom Elain and Azriel also kept. So, the dad and the three sons ran around together, and caused mischief and were four of the cutest dog potatoes ever.

When Azriel stepped inside, holding–by the looks of it–Churchy and Benny in each arm, both of them were dressed in red sweaters, it dawned on Nesta what he meant by ‘jacket potatoes’. Because it was kind of unbelievable that Elain and Azriel would dine on jacket potatoes for Valentine’s Day. Nevermind that Azriel was planning on dining on something else entirely.

“Oh, Nesta,” he muttered, without an ounce of excitement.

“Don’t worry, I am just leaving,” she got up from her seat, scowling. “I don’t need to be hearing about all your perversions,”

“Perversions?” Azriel smirked. “Judgey much?”

Elain was still squirming from embarrassment, but Azriel didn’t seem to care that his sister-in-law became privy to some seriously serious sex talk.

“The boys are knackered,” he announced, dumping the two pugs into their beds. They didn’t even wake up. Both were outfitted with heart-shaped headbands, and red jumpers with white hearts. 

“Nesta, something you need?” he asked, “or,”

“Definitely not! The last thing I need to see is my sister licking your sweat or whatever the fuck you implied she was going to do to you.”

He laughed, while Elain buried her face in her hands.

Azriel was abnormally handsome–in a way that was almost unnatural, and his handsomeness allowed him to get away with a lot of nonsense. 

“Let me guess, you forgot it was V Day and didn’t get my brother anything,” he suggested, stepping behind Elain and wrapping his arms around her.

“Ha! Not even close!” Nesta lied. 

“All right then.” Azriel clearly didn’t believe her. “Then off you go, ice princess. I need to fuck my wife.”

“Az!” Elain moaned helplessly, while Azriel turned her around and cupped her face in his hands.

“What?” he smiled, while his tongue traced a line against her lips. “Let’s make Nessie so uncomfortable, she’ll run out screaming!”

“Already there,” Nesta hissed. 

With Elain’s back to her and Azriel occupied with the kiss, Nesta quickly swiped a bunch of biscuits from the counter and dropped them in her bag. She can play the game too!

“Bye, you degenerates!” she cried out, and ran out, hearing Elain’s soft ‘byeeee’ on the way out. 

-

Nesta and Cassian

“Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome,” Nesta cooed. “Do you want to play a game?”

“Any game you want, sweetheart,” Cassian offered, his voice thick and husky, “I’ll even lose, if you’d like me to,” he promised. His normally bright hazel eyes were dark and satiny, glistening with want and lascivious desire, as they skimmed over Nesta’s stunning lushness, presented to him in all its glory.

She greeted him in their kitchen, when he stomped inside like a big bear, dripping with February rain. He sure didn’t expect to find her there–wrapped up like the perfect candy box of Valentine’s chocolates for him to unwrap. Truthfully, he thought that she’d forgotten about it today–this holiday wasn’t her jam. But, oh how wrong he was. 

Nesta was splayed on the white quartz countertop, dressed in nothing but blood-red silky lingerie, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The panties were little more than a piece of tissue paper, covering literally nothing, and the bra, which was tasked with containing Nesta’s lavish cleavage, was hardly anything more. 

The bra was held together by an innocent looking rose, which nestled at the juncture of her soft, plush tits. While the same rose was attached to the top of the panties, just below her belly button. 

“Well, that won’t be necessary,” Nesta assured him breezily, slowly, but intentionally crossing one long leg over the other. To complete the festive look, she wore gravity-defying red Louboutin heels. “I think we can both be winners in this game.”

She slowly walked her manicured fingers down the countertop, to an assortment of heart-shaped biscuits which were laid out in a…heart shape. 

Cassian was a bit shocked. Not just from watching the gorgeous body and the spectacular set that she was wearing, but also from all this wild Valentine-ism that she went out of her way to do. He wasn’t expecting it. This was more of an Elain thing to do.

But he’d lost his ability to speak anyway, so it was a moot point. He was trying to wrap his mind around everything that he was seeing. There were only harsh, primal sounds coming from his gut. Very caveman-like. 

“Pick a biscuit,” Nesta offered, tapping her finger next to each one.

Cassian shucked off his sodden jacket and his brogues, tossing his suit coat on the floor, uncaring. Slowly, like a lion stalking a lioness in the wild, he approached Nesta, trying to appear unaffected.

“What do we have here?” he finally managed to ask, licking his lower lip slowly. Nesta tracked the movement and shifted her body, so that her breasts almost spilled out of the flimsy bra cups, her nipples straining against the transparent lace. 

“A gift for you,” she offered, batting her lashes at him.

“And what will it say?” he pondered, slowly untying the topknot of his long, black hair. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted innocently. “But whatever you pick, you get to do to me…How does that sound?”

“Sounds like I am up to the challenge,” he promised, watching her bite her lower lip. 

His cock stirred within his trousers, while he watched her full lips glisten with a smear of bright red gloss. What a trail it would leave on his cock. The thought alone made him harder. 

Absently, he picked up one of the biscuits and then turned it, to see the message.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, cocking his brow.

Nesta craned her neck to sneak a peek, but he tsked and shook his head. 

“No, no, Miss Archeron, a deal is a deal. Whatever it says, I will do.”

“But what does it say?”

“Something very interesting, and something I am very in the mood to do,” he told her and then slipped the biscuit in his back pocket.

She pouted, but it didn’t last long, because Cassian leaned over her and kissed her. Grasping her slim wrist in his huge hand, he brought it firmly to the swell of his cock. 

“Must have been an interesting message,” she murmured into his mouth, but he wrapped his lips over her soft, pouty mouth and pried the sticky red lips apart with his tongue. Her thin fingers groped his dick firmly, just like he liked it, and a satisfied moan slipped from his lips, landing on Nesta’s tongue. She still sprawled on the counter, but despite the awkward position, Cassian put his big, warm hands on her thighs, travelling slowly over her soft skin toward the gossamer coverage of her panties, until his thumbs traced the warm wet slit beneath the material. 

Nesta moaned into his cheek, biting the skin on his jaw, as she squeezed his shaft harder, working it over with her expert hand. She smelled incredible, her expensive Chanel perfume tickling his nose, as he inhaled deeply, while thrusting his palms under her ass cheeks and palming her hard. He caressed her tongue with his, opening her further up to his kiss, kneading the soft bare skin of her behind. She breathed hotly into his mouth, letting go of his cock and winding her arms around his neck. The loss of her hand on his erection was tragic, but that also allowed Cassian to pull her to him, making her grand tits press into his chest and the warmth of her pussy into his dick. She rubbed against him impatiently, murmuring ‘sorry for ruining your trousers’ to which he replied, ‘feel free to ruin all of me, sweetheart’. 

She nodded, her long leg wrapping around his calves and pulling him even closer. The lips of her pussy stretched around the base of his erection, and she ground on him firmly and confidently.

“What’s my present for V day?” she teased, stroking his long hair and the back of his neck.

“Also a fun game,” he said, dragging his tongue over her mouth, kissing her lazily and with obscene sort of tenderness, indulging in her scent and her taste.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A version of whack-a-mole.”

“Are you the mole?” she queried.

“I am the whacker and the mole,” Cassian told her confidently.

-

Azriel and Elain

“Where was I?” Azriel murmured, watching Elain’s arched body in front of him. “Oh yes,” he remembered, “spreading your legs…”

He was behind her, his scarred palm rough on her hip, as he parted her thighs further. She was panting loudly, and he smiled, caressing her hair lovingly, “my little pillow-biter”.

“Mmm,” was all Elain managed, while the head of his hot, heavy, hefty cock prodded at her entrance, but he didn’t push inside. Instead, his hand slipped under her and stroked her round belly, while he whispered, “he good?”

She nodded yes. “He is good.”

“Ask for my cock, wife,” he then ordered. 

She wiggled her round ass against his groin, the underside of his hard cock landing between her butt cheeks, but didn’t do as he asked. 

He tsked and then slapped the heavy pole over her folds, making her gasp and clutch the sheets harder in her hands.

“Be a good girl, and ask,” he encouraged her, but she shook her head, stifling another moan when he smacked his cock over her pussy. 

“Oh god,” was all she managed, because while it hurt, it also felt so good.

“I am waiting,” he sang, gripping her breasts in his hands and painfully twisting her nipples. 

“Mmm–nooo,” she argued like a brat, shaking her head stubbornly.

Azriel sighed and contemplated for a moment, as he casually fondled her tits, half-seated on her hips. 

“Last chance, beautiful. Ask for my dick,” he told her.

She shook her head and remained silent. 

The thrill of punishment made her even hornier, as she didn’t know what he was going to do.

Flipping her over on her back, he kneeled on one knee over her and cupped his balls in his hand, lazily stroking his shaft. When she made to touch it, he said, “nope. You didn't ask for my cock like a good wife should. Now you are not getting it until I am ready to give it to you,”

He traced his lips with his thumb, while still rubbing his shaft, smearing precum over it, before sliding down and straddling her chest. Gathering her heavy breasts in his hands, he then spit on his dick and firmly pushed her breasts together. “Get ready, sweetness,” he warned, before thrusting his thick cock inside her cleavage. “Now, you are going to take my cock like my good girl, swallow nice and deep, while I fuck your pretty titites,” he instructed, pumping slowly between her breasts. “Tongue out,” he ordered, and Elain stuck her tongue out for him. The smooth head of his cock immediately landed on it, and she burrowed the tip into the sexy little slit, licking on it, tasting him. “That’s a good girl,” he approved, smiling down at her, as he quickly fluffed a pillow behind her head, so that the angle was just right. He squeezed her breasts even harder, and she gasped, especially when he tweaked her nipples, but he didn’t stop thrusting steadily, his movements precise and firm, so that the head of his cock remained inside her mouth for her to lick and suck on. 

“Eye contact at all times, my love,” he reminded her, smiling at her, before pushing deeper in her mouth. Elain watched him obediently, her mouth full of him, her lips stretched around the thickness of the shaft, as she panted loudly around him. He jiggled her tits playfully, keeping them wrapped around his base and his balls. “Now you’ll have my cock in your mouth for as long as I want, naughty girl,” he pinched her nipples, “start sucking, baby.”

Elain submitted, immobilised beneath his weight, sucking scrupulously and hard, as she watched him like he wanted. 

She wanted to be here too, in this place, in his position. She enjoyed being dominated, and Azriel dominated her well. She didn’t crave pain, though when he spanked her, or choked her, or slapped her with his dick, she loved it, but she needed to submit to his desires. She loved taking his cock any way he told her to, loved to serve him in bed, loved to give up control. 

So she sucked sloppily, while he pumped her tits and worked his heavy balls up and down her chest. 

“Is that good, pretty girl?” he asked. 

She nodded, gasping for breath when he pushed his cock deeper. He didn’t stop, and pressed further, whispering “choke on it, beautiful. Come on!”

She sputtered and choked, her eyes pleading with him silently, as tears ran down her cheeks, but he shook his head. 

“No. Swallow. And choke,” he ordered. “Open up. Wider,” and as she did, he plunged further, into her already trained throat. 

After they got married, for three months all she did was suck his cock multiple times a day, learning how to train her gag reflex, learning how to truly suck dick, falling in love with it. 

He released her tits from his grip, and she noticed the blossoming of bruises on her skin, while he propped himself on his arms, before starting  to fuck her mouth greedily and obscenely.

Elain relaxed under the onslaught of his expertly delivered thrusting in her mouth and while he still choked her, she was also enjoying herself. She loved her husband more than it was rational or describable. Azriel fulfilled every dream, every hope, every desire, every need that she had.

Elian hummed against the hard, hot pole in her mouth, which made Azriel feel drunk, particularly when the sound reverberated in her throat, tickling the head of his shaft. He lovingly brushed his thumb over her cheek, watching her bob up and down and meeting every push of his shaft. The noises that she was making–sloppy, wet, explicit–were an erotic symphony in his ear. If he could listen to her gag on his dick for the rest of his life, he probably would.

“You are so good to me,” he whispered. “My Ellie. But, I promised you a gift.”

He eased his pounding of her mouth and resumed his spot on her chest, sliding his shaft back between her breasts. Her breathing eased and she put her hands on his firm, muscle-corded thighs, stroking him slowly, running her fingertips through the nest of pubes around his cock.

His balls tightened and this member twitched next to her sternum, while she squeezed his rock-hard ass cheeks in her hands, digging her nails into his skin. Just like her, he liked a bit of pain as well. 

He pulled out of her mouth just in time for the warm jets of cum to land on her lips, her neck and her chest.

“Mmmm, more,” she finally moaned, licking the familiar salty outpouring from her lips, while he kept coming, until it was dripping down her chest. He scooped some with his fingers and let her lick them off the sperm.

“Beautiful girl,” he purred lovingly. “With a beautiful pearl necklace.”

She laughed and touched her neck. There, beneath the globs of cum, was her new pearl necklace, her Valentine’s gift and the present for her pregnancy.

Azriel collapsed on the bed next to her and then handed her a glass of water. She chugged it down gratefully and he took the biscuit from the nightstand. On it, in pretty script it was written ‘Pearl Necklace’.

Elain got up, amidst his protests and skipped to the bathroom, where she washed off her V Day gift and brushed her teeth.

Then, she quickly returned to bed and collapsed into the embrace of her husband.

“I love you, you know,” he said seriously, spooning her from behind.

“I do know that,” she smiled and kissed his hand. “And I love you. More than you’ll ever know.”

He kissed her shoulder gently and then arranged her against himself, before spreading her pussy with his fingers and nudging his already-hard dick inside. He thrust in slowly, filling her gradually and completely. She sighed contentedly.

“Are you hungry?” he worried.

She shook her head and made herself comfortable on his bicep.

“But I am happy.”

“I am happy if you are happy,” he said to her, and kissed her cheek.

Elain yawned. 

Incredibly, of all the biscuits that she would have selected, she randomly chose ‘cock warming’--her very favourite thing to fall asleep with. It’s almost like she…cheated.

-

Nesta and Cassian

Nesta rolled her hips, seated on Cassian’s knees. Her own knees were tucked against his thighs, pressing tightly into him, holding him immobile.

“You look delicious, Nes,” he ground, his voice choked, as he ran his thick fingers through her long silky hair, though now it was tangled against her back.

Her pussy was dripping his shaft, each fold splayed prettily to accommodate his considerable girth and he couldn't get enough of the sight. Especially with the red of her panties pulled aside haphazardly, reminding Cassian of how impatient she was with him. 

A lock of hair bounced over her round breasts, still covered by the bra cup, but it didn’t stop him from putting his mouth over her puckering nipple and biting.

“Fuck me, Cassian,” she grunted through gritted teeth, holding onto the back of his neck. She ground down on him, taking him inside her gorgeous body wholly, tempting tits swaying freely next to his face. He bit her nipple again, sucking on it through the material, and her head fell forward, pressing into his forehead.

The wet, hot friction between them was almost unbearable, but Cassian held her firmly by the hips, fucking up into her and making her take all of him again and again. It was pure, glorious heaven.

“Gimmie a kiss, sweetheart,” he told her, as he fucked her with rough, deep strokes. This was his favourite Nesta–weakened and compliant, her lips pink and glossy, when he took her mouth in a messy, wet kiss. She keened into him, allowing him full control of her body, sucking on his tongue like he wanted her to–soft and sighing with pleasure. He rocked her steadily, his thrusts deep and punishing, as he caressed her arched back and the peachy cut of her ass. She took him breathlessly, her mouth forming an almost shocked ‘O’ every time he hit that perfect spot inside of her, angling her body just so and making her cry out loudly again and again.

“Cassian. Cassian. Cassian.”

Her head lolled to the side and she closed her eyes, her grip on his neck and shoulders easing, and he held her closer, allowing her to relax and know that he had her. 

“Good fucking girl,” he murmured into her hair, pressing his thumbs into the divots above her ass. “Letting me fuck and breed this perfect pussy.”

At that, Nesta exploded. The squelching sounds of her dick pushing inside her became a staccato of explicit, sultry melody. 

“GOD. Cassian. I love you,” she squealed, as he huffed and grunted with adoration at her words.

The walls of her pussy squeezed him tightly, holding him in an almost painful vise-like grip, as she climaxed all over him, melting into a loud, needy scream. She fell into his chest, pumped continuously and nestled her face into the crook of his neck, sucking on it with desperation. 

Only then did Cassian let go of his iron self control and came inside of her, letting her milk every drop of his seed.

“Beautiful, Nes,” he babbled in her ear. “Take it all. Finally.”

This was perfection.

The way she gripped him and how her pussy pulsed all around his dick was incredible.

Nesta was severely allergic to any hormonal contraceptives, and non-hormonal IUD didn’t work for her, causing constant bleeding and extreme discomfort. So they practised the ‘natural method’ and he never came inside of her. Until tonight. Finally. It was amaz-

“Cassian!!!” she cried out. “What the hell?!? What did you do?!”

She pushed against his chest and stared at him with a horrified expression.

“What did I do?” he exclaimed, alarmed.

He was in fact, still orgasming inside of her.

“What?!” he repeated.

“You came!” she accused him pointlessly.

“Well, yes,” his brow furrowed.

“Inside!” she stated the obvious, like he wasn’t aware.

“Well, yeah. You wanted me to!” he reminded her, as he kissed her lips.

“What? When did I want you to?”

“Nesta,” he sighed. “I know you are blissed out, baby, but you asked me to,”

“Asked you what?!”

“To come inside of you. Calm down, sweetheart.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. 

“Stop freaking out. It’s going to be okay.”

“When did I ask you?!” she repeated again.

“The cookie.”

“What cookie?!?!” she screamed.

“The biscuit. That you told me to choose.”

“What about it??!!!” she wiped her face.

“It said Breed Me.”

She stared at him helplessly, mouth open.

Cassian kissed her again and pumped into her deeper, making everything seem inevitable.

“So I bred you,” he shrugged, looking proud of himself. 

-

Fucking Elain and her fucking biscuits.

#elriel #nessian #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #nesta and cassian #cassian and nesta #elain archeron #azriel #nesta archeron #my fanfiction #nessian fanfiction #elriel fanfic #my writing

[danikamariewrites]

imagine dark reader who is azriels sister x lucien, she is possessive and obssesed with lucien and has plotted her way into his life. From the second she lied her eyes on him when he and feyre came to velaris she knew she had to have him no matter what. reader goes to great lenghts to make sure nothing stands between her and her precious lucien. She pushes elain towards her brother and slides in comments about how they make a great couple and that the mating bond isn’t really a big deal. She cringes while she says it bc she would kill for a mating bond with lucien, and cannot stand how elain is ignoring him. it enrages reader so much but also pleases her bc now she has him all to her self. Now lucien turns to reader for comfort and ofc reader gives him just what he needs. when they share their first night, she almost doesn’t let him leave their bed, she knows how charming he can be and the thought of someone being on the recieving end is nauseating. and anytime she hears the ic says something sbout lucien she defends him to no end, even with him there, she almost lets her mask slip, she calls mor out calmly when mor says something mean about him being there for starfall. still the next day someone broke into mors house and ruined all her dresses. no one knows who did it👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

please you would write this so good, like i’ve read through everything you’ve written. pls i’m so desperate for lucien being protected, i’d pay so much money for s fic. literally like do you take comissions??? i’d pay frrrrr

Fox Hunter

Lucien x Az’s sister!reader

A/n: As soon as I saw this I put my glasses on and opened my laptop. I love evrything about this and loved writing it. And thank you very much for reading all my stuff and liking it anon, that means a lot.

on the topic of commisions (it's been on my brain for a while), I have been thinking about setting something up to do them for a while now. So if that's something you guys are interested in let me know. I'll probably do a poll or something.

Warnings: dark!reader, manipulation, Elain slander, suggestive

When he stepped through the front door of the Town House for the first time I swear I stopped breathing. Though he was caked in dirt and tired looking, the seventh son of the Autumn High Lord had to be the most beautiful male I had ever seen.

His that tan skin glowed under the Fae lights. The scar over his eye gave him a handsome, rugged look. And that golden eye. Oh how entrancing that golden eye is.

It simply broke my heart when I found out he is mated to the middle Archeron sister. But Elain is a shell of a female now. It would be easy to dissuade her from accepting the bond.

Truthfully, I am jealous of the girl. Jealous and angry. She has one of the most beautiful males in Prythian willing to throw himself at her feet, and she will not give him a second of her time.

I watched as they sat together for the first time. How she reacted when he tugged on the bond. Elain was angry. I couldn't imagine being angry.

I placed my hand over my heart. Hoping against the Mother, the Cauldron, and the Gods that they made a mistake. That I would feel the tug in my chest for him.

I noticed the small glances she and my brother share. Azriel seemed so intent on keeping her from Lucien. Good.

If he kept Elain for himself I could keep Lucien. Another easy task. Azriel is desperate for love. They will not be hard to manipulate.

Lucien broke my heart again when he left for the Continent. I know it is necessary for the coming war, but it didn't hurt any less. I had made sure to say goodbye to him. To wish him well on his journey.

He seemed happy that someone in the court was treating him with kindness. Lucien had kissed my hand, thanking me and asked me to be safe as well. It took all of my power not to lose my composure in front of him.

After the war, after everything with Nesta, life calmed down. It has pained me to wait this long to truly set my plan into action. But good things take time.

I had made sure to spend time with Elain all these months. To gain her trust and show her friendship. "I must admit," She said to me, one afternoon in the garden. "I was afraid of you at first. You and Azriel were so simialr with your silence. Then you opened up to me and I'm so happy to have a friend like you, y/n."

I smiled at her. Although it was fake part of it felt real.

"I'm happy to have you as well, Elain. You can bring anyone out of their shell I'm sure." I smile at her from the stone bench I'm perched on. My wings spread a little to soak up the sunshine. "Well, not everyone." Elain says solemnly, looking back at her tulips.

I gently place a hand on her shoulder, "Keep trying with him Elain. I can tell Azriel is in love with you. You see the way he looks at you, yeah? There's no denying it."

Elain looks back up at me with those hopeful, doe eyes. "You think so?" "I know so." Happiness flashes across her face for a moment. Then she goes back to that somber look.

That look drives me crazy. Elain needs to stop feeling sorry for herself. It's not cute and it is driving me crazy.

"But what about Lucien...and the mating bond?" And there was what I was waiting for. "Your sisters, Rhysand, and Cassian make out to be this glorious thing. For them it may be that way. But you get to decide to do with yours.

"Do you feel connected to Lucien?" She shakes her no. "Do you feel the need to be close to him? To have him hold you?" She shakes her head again.

"Then the mating bond doesn't matter. Reject it of you must, but follow your heart, Elain. Not tradition." The fool smiled up at me again. Standing, she wrapped her arms around my neck tightly. "Thank you, y/n." I hugged her back for the theatrics of it all.

I watched as she scurried off inside. Most likely to fling herself at Azriel. It did hurt a little, telling her to break the bond. If someone had said that to me I'd most likely slit their throat.

The mating bond was something I had longed for since I was a little girl.

I had never had many friends or lovers growing up. It was just me and Azriel in that dungeon for most of our lives. And if we hadn't met Rhys I would be without wings.

When we got older I watched as Azriel had females fling themselves at him. While many of the males in Windhaven showed their intrest in me, I did not return the sentiment. I knew those relationships would never go anywhere.

So, I'd stick around for the fun they'd offer for a week and move on to the next. None of those males ever excited me the way Lucien did. Never made me feel love.

A few weeks later Lucien was back in Velaris. Rhys had sent him to the human lands for emissary duties. I made sure to ask him to lunch before the rest of the Inner Circle tortured him with their questions and scared him off.

We went to a nice restaurant with a view of the Sidra. Lucien pulled my chair out for me like the gentleman he is. Before sitting I gave him a small peck on the cheek. Holding his smooth face in my rough hand.

I could've swore I saw the corners of his lips twitch and his cheeks turn red. I bit my lip, taking my seat.

As Lucien sat across from me we fell into easy conversation. Mother above, he's just so perfect. And charming. Any female would be lucky to have him. And that female would be me.

A lull settles between us and I sip on my water. Lucien clears his throat and I meet his gaze. "Elain has asked to meet with me." His tone changed to serious, leaving the playfulness I love so much behind.

"Do you know why?" I ask, my tone coming out more clipped than I meant. "I have a feeling it's about the bond. I know her and Azriel have been...together." He said that last part like he could feel it. I could sense his discomfort.

I hated that look in his eye. That look of feeling unwanted. I had seen it in my own eyes so many times as I stared at my reflection. I reach across the table to hold his hand with both of mine.

"You deserve love Lucien. If she doesn't see how hard you have been trying for her then she doesn't deserve you. I want to see you happy, fox." He gave me a loving smile at his nickname. "Thank you, little bat. You have always shown me kindness when you family hasn't. I love that about you."

Love. My heart fluttered at the word falling from his lips. It sounds so right. I want him to tell me he loves me. Tell me he'll do anything for me like I would for him.

That night, my fox came to the Town House. I had taken it over since Rhys and Feyre moved to the River House. It was empty and quiet here.

Opening the door I saw the distraught look on Lucien's face. I felt a pang in my chest. I had caused this for him. I have to stop this feeling. Have to make him better. "Lucien," I breathed out, "come in."

I drag him over to the couch and sit next to him. We're so close our thighs are touching. I drape a wing around his back for extra comfort. "What is it, fox?"

Lucien takes a deep, shuddering breath. "We broke the bond." I want to breathe out a sigh of relief, but I have to keep the facade up. "Oh Lucien, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine the pain you're going through."

He looks at me with a pained smile, taking my hand in his, desperately kissing my knuckles. "I am hurting, yes. But Elain made realize something." I held my breath. I could feel my eyes going wide. Could this be it? Could all the work I had planned to do already be done for me by that little fool I call a friend?

"The love I have been searching for has been in front of me all along. I was never meant to be with her." Lucien slide off the couch onto his knees in front of me. My hands still trapped in his. "I love you, y/n. And I curse the Mother and the Cauldron for not putting us together. I need you little bat. I cannot bear another moment without you."

I am frozen in shock by his declaration of love. All this time I thought it would be me on my knees before him. Telling him sweet nothings and saying how we belong together. This is all I needed to hear from him.

Before anything can change I grab Lucien's face, my lips colliding with his in a heated kiss. It's all teeth and tongue. Want and desire. Lucien pulls me to his chest, holding the back of my head.

"Take me upstairs fox. Show me how much you love me." I whisper against his lips. Lucien stands, holding me by my thighs. I wrap my legs around him. I feel his hard cock pressing against my core and grind against him letting out a moan.

Lucien gently places me on the bed, careful of my wings. We undress together. Baring ourselves to each other. Feeling a bond that should've been ours.

The next morning I lay awake staring at Lucien's sleeping form. I trace his scar a few times and play with the ends of his hair that are splayed on the pillow. As his eyes slowly open he sends me a smirk. "Morning my love." Gods I want to keep him like this so I can hear his morning voice forever. It's gravely and deep, sending heat straight to my core.

"Good morning, fox. How are you feeling." Lucien thinks for a moment. "Hurting still. But I feel better with you." My smile widens. It feels genuine this time, it almost brings tears to my eyes.

Lucien moves to get up. My hand flys to grip his bicep, pulling him backdown to the mattress with all my strength. "No," I practically yell. "Stay with me? Let's stay here all day and rest." He lightly kisses my lips and pulls me to lay on his chest. "Ok little bat," he whispers.

We lay in a comfortable silence together. We trace patterns on each others bare skin until I ask, "Lucien, I know things have changed now but I need to know," My heart is pounding so hard. I hate to ask him this but I need him to feel in charge, like he wants me and I need him.

I look up at him as I force tears to line my eyes. "Are we...please say I'm yours now." His lips form a sweet pout I want to kiss. Lucien squeezes me to his body, placing a chaste kiss to my forehead. "There is no one else in this world for me. I love you, y/n. Last night was just the first of many. We have a life time ahead of us together and I don't plan on wasting another moment of it without you."

I cradle his cheek in the palm of my hand. "I love you too, Lucien. And I never want to be without you either."

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien x you #lucien x reader #lucien smut #lucien vanserra x you #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vandaddy #lucien

[mirandasidefics]

But Home Is Nowhere- Part 7

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Reader joins Nesta and Bryce for an experiment at the Prison.

A/N: I'm sorry this is so short and took so long. I had a really tough time writing this chapter after getting sick earlier this month.

As usual now there are some minor spoilers from HOFAS. I have a little head canon that Bryce was able to enter the Prison because she is a blood relation to Rhysand, albeit distant, so that's how she got past the wards without him having to be present.

I'm interested to see what people think regarding how or why Lucien showed up when he did...I'm toying with some ideas...

Part 6 Part 8

*********************************************************************

You were fucking freezing. Teeth chattering, full body tremor freezing. The Prison, with its shores swathed in mist and snow covered peak, was on an isolated island in the far northern regions of Prythian, so of course it had to be cold. Wind and snow whipped around you and your two companions as you all stood on the far northern side of the mountain top. You were still dressed in the Illyrian leathers as you weren’t really given the chance to change after having quickly grabbed your cell phone from the town house at Bryce’s direction. Said female then winnowed you and Nesta directly from your bedroom. Neither female had yet to explain what this “experiment” would entail and why you needed your cell phone, which had minimal power left and no way for you to ever charge it again once the battery finally drained.

You rarely turned your phone on these days, wanting to preserve its power for when you were desperate. Desperate, lonely, and longing to see your loved ones. Every time you looked at the pictures on your phone you would break down crying. You would allow yourself no more than two minutes to quickly scan through the images. Eyes longing to linger and memorize the sleeping features of your nephew and the wide smile of your Father. The candid shots from Christmas morning and the Halloween when your nephew dressed as a Fireman, only for the outfit to be a size too big, always made you smile. Your nephew would be 7 now, and you tried to not think about how upset he must have been that you were not there for his birthday. You blinked rapidly, fighting back the sting of tears. Silver started to line your eyes as you conjured the image of him sitting in front of cake getting ready to blow out the candles. Instead you forced yourself to replace the image of your nephew with that of Nyx. You had promised to bake cookies together with Elain before the family dinner tonight.

Your small group slowly trudged through the snow towards what appeared to be an entrance of a cave. Its mouth was jagged with sharp uneven rocks. Scanning over the area, you weren’t even sure that you would fit through the narrow opening. Hopefully you would not be going inside, not without protection anyway.

“Okay, so this will be a two-part experiment,” Bryce finally revealed before grasping you by the shoulders. “For the first I need you to stand right…here.” She then spun you around so you could peer inside. You weren’t entirely sure what she had planned, but you were certain that you were not going to like it. The darkness that loomed just on the other side of the cave mouth was unnatural, and every human instinct in your body was screaming at you to run away. Run far and run fast. This did not appear to be an official entrance to the Prison. Was it even guarded? It had to be. Otherwise whatever vial things lurked inside would be clawing at the chance to escape through what amounted to be no more than a crack.

A strong gust of wind blew past and a shiver ran down your spine. You chanced a look back at Bryce and Nesta. Both were whispering quietly between themselves. You turned back to examine the stone again. What was so special about this, and why did you-

Hands were suddenly at your back and shoved you hard. You screamed in surprise as your body fell forward having not braced itself for the unexpected impact. Your hands flew forward trying to catch the rock in order to stop yourself from falling right into the cave. However, the rock was slippery and a sharp edge slashed the palm of your right hand. You practically face planted the hard stone that made up the bottom of the cave. One of them had pushed you into the cave, somehow by passing any wards that should have kept unwanted guests out. The darkness came crashing down and panic raced through you. You whipped around and saw that the entrance had nearly tripled in size. The light from the entrance was disturbingly minimal compared to what it should have been given it appearing large enough to have either Cassian or Azriel easily walk through with their wings spread wide open. You picked yourself up from the cold ground as quickly as you could. The space in front of you appeared as if a veil hung from the top of the stone. Bryce and Nesta were on the other side, their eyes surprisingly filled with conflict. You carefully lifted your hand towards the veil. You expected pain or a force that would push you back or even solid wall. Anything that would have kept you locked inside. Instead, your hand passed right through completely unhindered. You hadn’t expected that, but the smile that spread across Bryce’s face indicated that she did. And whatever gamble she decided to make with this experiment paid off. You wanted to smack that smile off her face. Before you had a chance to really think on the intelligence of that decision, you marched right out of the cave and grabbed the collar of her coat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You screamed. “What if I couldn’t get out? More to the point I could have died!”

“But you didn’t,” She reasoned, her smile growing to show off her teeth. “And since I was right… It’s nice to formally meet you, cousin.” You felt your face scrunch up. You were aware of the theory that you may be related to someone who’s blood was attached to the sealed gate near the River House. But to have that be confirmed…No. This didn’t prove anything. As far as you could remember, only the High Lord of the Night Court could open the wards of the Prision. Unless…

“You and Ruhn are able to open the wards here too, aren’t you?” You let go of the redhead, hands dropping to your side. You knew that they had explored the island more than anyone in recent years during their visits to Prythian. “The three of us and Rhysand…we’re all descendants of Queen Theia and…” Bryce nodded.

“We can. Although I do have to admit that reason dictates that Ruhn and I shouldn’t be able to since the Prison was created by Silene. It should only be her direct descendants only with that ability. My brother and I do not fit that bill being the descendants of her sister that had remained on Midgard.”  You let out a breath.

“It probably goes without saying, but I would suggest that this information not get back to Rhysand,” Nesta spoke up.

“No shit,” You agreed.

“That means no telling Lucien,” Nesta gave you pointed look. Her steel eyes cold and filled with warning. You tried not to back away from the look, but the disapproval in it brought up a feeling of embarrassment and shame. You almost got the impression that she didn’t approve of your friendship with the courtier. You didn’t want to think on the reasons as to why, but you hazard a guess it had to do with Elain. You wondered if the middle sister was aware of the frequency of which you and her mate spent sharing a bed over the past year. Nothing inappropriate ever occurred, but the two of you had just grown used to falling asleep in the same room. 

“Then neither of you can tell your respective mates.”

“No shit,” Nesta threw your words back at you.

“Alright. This revelation stays between the three of us,” Bryce agreed. “But if you ever join us in Midgard we can always do DNA testing. It may help shed even more light onto how you got here.” You nodded, recognizing that it would take more energy that you had right now to convince Rhysand to allow you to travel to the other planet.

“So, what’s the second part of the experiment?” You asked changing the subject.

“The next part is where your phone is required. Do you have any picture of where you lived? Either your apartment or your parent’s house?” Bryce inquired. You nodded.

“I do, but I’m not sure how much battery life I have left,” You slowly pulled out your phone. “What happens if it doesn’t turn on?”

“Just try it first,” She encouraged. You pressed the power button and within a few seconds the screen lit up. The welcome message popped up and soon after your phone was ready for use. You quickly opened the Gallery App and began to search through the images for a picture of your parent’s home. You found a short video you had saved of your nephew dancing along to a TV show he was watching. While it wasn’t a picture, it was the best image of the entire living room. You handed the phone over to Bryce, who pressed play. At the sound of the music Nesta stepped closer and peered over Bryce’s shoulder.

“The picture moves?” She breathed. “How is that possible?”

“It’s a video. I’ll explain it more thoroughly later.” You offered. Bryce replayed the two-minute video before returning the device. The battery was at 15%. You quickly powered it down.

“Okay, I’ll need you to hold my hands and picture that living room in your mind,” She instructed. “I’m going to try and open a portal using the Horn.” She took your hands in hers and closed her eyes.

You swallowed, unsure if her plan would work. From what Bryce had mentioned to you previously, she had only ever been able to open portals to either people or places that she had known personally. Never to a place she was unfamiliar with. And your world was a place that you were certain magic did not work the same way as it did here. However, you were desperate to find out if the Horn would be successful. If this worked, you could go home. And while you would be unable to say your goodbyes, you attempted to justify to yourself that it would be best for all involved. Nyx was still young enough that you would be easily forgotten with little risk of abandonment issues popping up in later life. It would be the adult males in your life that would make leaving more difficult. For a brief moment you genuinely wondered if Ruhn would insist on going with you. He had recently started alluding to possibly staying in Prythian. If he ever did decide to stay, you knew- deep down you knew-that it would be for you. However, if he did follow you, life in your world would be incredibly difficult for him. He’d lose his magic and likely his immortality. Finding work would be nearly impossible without legal documentation and getting that would be expensive. Not to mention the plethora of questions that would arise when you returned after missing for a year, only to show up with a strange man on your arm. He’d come up with some rational as to why he should accompany you back. There had been no significant changes in Midgard with the Asteri, so Ruhn along with his sister and Hunt were all still considered fugitives. They returned to Midgard on occasion to continue their efforts in fighting the good fight, they always returned to Prythian when various authorities got too close to finding them. So perhaps the most convincing argument would be that you wouldn’t need him, but his friends and family sure as hell did. He was needed for when things did finally go south.

Settling on your decision, you closed your eyes and pictured your parent’s living room. Flashes of memories crossed your mind. Birthday parties, holidays, and sleepovers with friends. Anything and everything that allowed the image of the room to stay strong. Soon after you heard a faint whirring sound that reminded you of the opening of portals in Doctor Strange. You stopped breathing. Your ears listened for any familiar voices or sounds of your former home. The only sound was the wind as it continued to whip around you. You cracked open an eye and your heart sank. Before you and Bryce, was a black void. An open portal that led to nothing. No sound could be heard, nor light appeared to indicate that any life existed in the emptiness. You fought back the tears as your hope shattered.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N),” Nesta’s voice was soft. You couldn’t take your eyes off the portal as it slowly closed. Bryce squeezed your hands before letting go. You shook your head in an effort to fight off the negative thoughts that you knew were on their way. The attempt had failed, and you had gotten your hopes up. You knew that you shouldn’t have placed too much on to something that sounded too good to be true. You guessed that it would have been too easy, too simple, for her to open a portal. Nothing in your life could be that simple. 

“We should get back,” You finally looked at the other females. “Nyx should be finishing breakfast soon and we’ve got a full day of activities planned.” Nesta set her hand on your shoulder.

“Take a minute,” Her voice was surprisingly soothing.

“I don’t…”

“Yes, you do.” Bryce insisted. “We’ll go back when you’re ready.” The two females walked a few steps away from where you stood. Your eyes returned to the spot where the failed portal had closed. Your mind grew quiet as your vision lost focus. Tears burned at the back of your eyes. You tried to fight off the emotions as they spiraled down, scared that if you allowed yourself to feel them that it would take too long to come back up. You couldn’t afford to be in a fog. Not when you had to care for Nyx. Not when seeing him would just force the image of your own nephew, now fresh in your mind, to surge forward. You blinked rapidly, but that didn’t stop the liquid that brimmed your eyes from spilling over. The hopelessness crashed into you like a tidal wave. You wrapped your arms around yourself and sunk down onto your knees. Your chest felt like it cracked in two. The wind picked up, capturing your cries and carrying them away. You couldn’t see through the tears as they continued their relentless streams. You sobbed into the frozen mountain side. Your lungs began to burn and your vision tunneled. Your frozen limbs began to shake violently. Just as it all began, a warmth enveloped you. A warmth you felt you would recognize anywhere.

“It's okay, sweet girl,” Lucien held onto you tightly. “You’ve got time to cry. I’m right here.”

********************************************************************

Part 8-Coming Soon

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Crossed out names wouldn't let me tag you

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[separatist-apologist]

Buried Alive Inside My Dreams

Summary: An evil enchantress has locked Princess Feyre Archeron in a tower, secluding her from her family and removing her entirely from the outside world. Trapped and alone, Feyre turns her gaze to the stars, dreaming of returning home to her sisters- of finding peace. She's determined to escape before her birthday and the annual starfall that marks the occasion just as soon as she can figure out a way down.

When a thief breaks into her tower, Feyre takes her chances and leaves with him, unaware of who this man is and the price freedom will try and extract from her

Happy @officialfeysandweek2023

Read on AO3

PROLOGUE: 

And at last, I see the light. 

Feyre Archeron was ten years old when she was locked up in that tower. Ten, because she was already a threat with her bow and arrow, and too clever for her own good. She’d been caught hiding in alcove, spying on her wicked step-mother. She’d seen the spell cast over her father, but when Feyre tried to intervene, two blackguards tossed her in the dungeon while Amarantha decided what to do with her.

Perhaps killing felt too messy. Or maybe she didn’t trust the servants not to spill her secret. Some lie was made up about Feyre needing a governess because she was so miserably behind her sisters. Her father, enchanted to do nothing but agree, signed off on the entire thing. Feyre was whisked away without so much as a goodbye from her sisters.

There had been a time when Feyre was sure Nesta and Elain would figure it out. Feyre was content to wait…and then she wasn’t. Days became weeks, became months….became years. Feyre began to forget the faces of her sister. She forgot her father, her home, the palace. 

She might have gone insane in that tower too tall to leap from had a little basket of supplies not been sent up, complete with a paint set. It was practically nothing—twelve tiny tins of paint, three brushes, and no paper. What she did have was the empty stone walls of the tower and her imagination.

And so Feyre Archeron, still just a child, began to paint. All the while, dreaming of the day she might finally get back home.

- - -

Combing out Feyre Archeron’s hair was a task that took the entirety of the morning. Every night, before she fell asleep, she’d braid it loosely hoping to avoid tangles and knots and every morning she woke half trapped in the floor length hair she was desperate to cut. It left her to the chore of washing her hair with the scant bucket one of the black guards occasionally sent up—their once imposing, constant presence had lessened over the years to the point that Feyre was lucky to see them once every two weeks. 

Today was lucky. There, at the bottom of the large window she often sat in, was a bucket and a basket of provisions. And more paint—she’d left a note for more and whoever oversaw her imprisonment letting them know she needed water more frequently, which didn’t come, and that she was running low on paint.

At this point, Feyre barely had space left on the walls. Nearly every inch, from the pointed ceiling to the floor beneath her feet, was covered in her drawings. Sighing, Feyre turned her attention toward a piece from years before, back when she’d still been struggling to find a style that worked for her, and too angry to paint anything truly productive. She could cover it in white and start again. It would take a day to dry, but that meant tomorrow would be filled with nothing but menial chores and painting—the only thing that made her still feel sane. 

But, first—her hair. Feyre dragged out the little, porcelain tub she typically kept propped against a wall. It was built for the child she’d once been, forced to fold her body uncomfortably in order to get clean.

Feyre scrubbed her body with a cake of violet scented soap before quickly rushing from the cold water and dunking her thick, long hair into the water. It took an hour to carefully wash through it, carefully combing out little tangles and burs that accumulated thanks to the length. Getting it out and wrapped in a threadbare towel was another challenge, and by the time Feyre had managed to brush it with a comb made of bones, her arms and neck ached. 

Water sloshed over the edge of the tower, spilling to the vibrant grass made newly green in the open spring air. Feyre sighed, even as a lilac scented breeze caressed her cheek. Oh, but what she wouldn’t give to be out there. She’d thought of jumping more times than she could count and knew if she didn’t immediately die, she was likely to break both of her legs which would make escape useless. The black guards would find her eventually and were just as likely to cut off her legs as they were to help her. 

Sighing, Feyre turned back to the tower and the mural she was working on.  Inky night, with flashes of purple and green and blue—starfall. In Feyre’s mind, it was so vivid, so real. Every year on her birthday, showers of light fell from the sky, illuminating the world just for her.

Well—not really. But when she’d been a child, it certainly felt that way. Feyre had been isolated for so long that she’d take anything, and to comfort herself, she’d spun a story that someone was looking for her. Someone so powerful they could pull the stars from the sky.

At nineteen, she knew that wasn’t true. No one was looking for her, no one was pulling the stars from the sky and no one was coming to rescue her. Feyre was on her own with no idea how she might get herself out. Sighing, Feyre turned to her paints, wet her brush, and began working. It was the only thing that made her feel human anymore.

The loneliness was starting to wear on her. Feyre often found herself talking to the lizards that ran the length of the tower, peering in with jewel bright eyes. They didn’t stay long, but when they did, Feyre unloaded her every thought.

She would have given anything for conversation that didn’t exist in her head, though.

Feyre got her wish three days later. Sitting on the edge of the tower, one leg swinging over the side while her purple dress caught in the breeze, she was carefully braiding her thick hair as three black guards approached. That was unusual in and of itself. The fact that they were armed, and headed right for her?

She supposed it was going to happen eventually. Feyre had no weapons of her own—only a heavy, cast iron skillet she was allowed to cook in. How many could she take out with it, she wondered? Maybe one, before they stabbed her in the back? 

“Princess!” one of them called from the ground, his reedy voice grating on her senses. 

Examining her fingernails, Feyre replied, “Yes?”

“Are you alone?”

She paused. Why wouldn’t she be alone? Her reaction must have betrayed her, because all three guards slowed their steps, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. Feyre turned to look in the tower where no one but an errant bird remained. “As always,” she replied with a heavy sigh. 

“A criminal is on the loose,” another informed her, his voice somehow more awful than the one before. “Your safety is of the utmost importance. Please go inside and close the shutters.”

“I won’t,” she replied with all the haughtiness she could muster. Truly, Feyre was channeling her elder sister as she remembered her. It was a perfect day—not too hot, with a nice breeze. Feyre wanted to feel the sun warm her skin, wanted to indulge in her daydreams of running across the hilly countryside and vanishing into the forest in the distance. 

“Princess—”

“Run along, now,” Feyre dismissed, waving a hand while turning her eyes back to the sky. They grumbled, but as long as they were forbidden from killing her, they were forced to obey. Her mind shifted to the criminal. If her step-mother was chasing this person down, Feyre very much doubted they were much of a criminal at all.

Feyre watched the black guards return to the forest they’d run from, intent on hunting down their missing criminal. “Good luck,” she whispered into the world. Foolish, to wish someone on the run any luck at all.

But Feyre knew better than most what Amarantha was like. 

It took three more days for Amarantha to show her ugly face. She merely appeared while Feyre was in the middle of painting, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “Filthy as always, dear.”

Feyre’s heart immediately picked up. “Is it that time, again?”

“How compliant you’ve grown. What happened to the little girl who bit?” Amarantha crooned, tucking a piece of ruby hair behind her ear. Feyre indulged in a fantasy in which she bashed Amarantha’s face in with her skillet until her blood dripped through the cracks of stone floor of the tower and Feyre was left with nothing but a rotting, sneering corpse. 

“Just get it over with,” Feyre said, thrusting out her wrist. It was the same story. Something in Feyre’s blood slowed Amarantha’s aging, and something in her hair made her step-mother eternally young. It had to do with her mother, and how she’d become pregnant.

A prick of her finger, and three small drops of blood against the snow, promised three beautiful, magical daughters. Amarantha had told her this, once—as a child, sobbing in the tower and begging for her sisters. 

“This is where you belong, pretty Feyre. You were nothing but my magical little tool.”

Feyre sometimes wondered if Amarantha wasn’t responsible for her mothers death. If everything that happened to her hadn’t been planned before Feyre had ever been born. She did feel like a pawn in Amarantha’s game, with rules so complex it would take Feyre a thousand lifetimes to untangle. 

Reaching for her wrist, Amarantha dragged one long, blood red nail against the delicate, fair skin and the blue vein pulsing just beneath. Feyre hissed, turning her head while Amarantha lowered her mouth and drank her fill. She didn’t need much—a few drops at most—but Amarantha liked to torment Feyre by taking whatever she liked. 

“That’s enough!” Feyre hissed, yanking back her arm when it became too much. There was nothing pleasant about it. Just the feel of Amarantha’s teeth biting hard, leaving another crescent shaped scar on Feyre’s body.

“Someone is in a mood today. And here I thought you might like news of your sisters.”

Feyre’s head snapped up. “Are they well?”

“Hair, first,” Amarantha replied, tutting softly. Reaching for the end of her thick, long braid, Feyre raked her fingers through the ends until she had a few golden brown strands. Amarantha took them, pocketing them in her velvet, black dress. 

“Your sisters are well. In fact, Nesta intends to visit you soon. That’ll be nice, don’t you think?” 

The way her step-mother said those words, with that sharp, gleaming smile, made Feyre’s stomach sick.

“I don’t want to see her,” Feyre lied. She wanted nothing more than to see her sisters. And if Nesta came, it meant that Nesta would learn the truth of things—Feyre would tell her everything, would beg her to take her out. Had Nesta changed so much that she’d leave Feyre behind? It was her biggest fear, that her sisters had become poisoned the way their father had, and didn’t care if she was alive or not.

“Oh, don’t be so petulant,” Amarantha crooned, caressing Feyre’s face. Feyre jerked back furiously, her rage threatening to drown her. “All you ever want to talk about is your sisters and now you don’t want to see them?”

“Take me home, then,” Feyre pleaded.

Amarantha only laughed. “Feyre, you amuse me. Wild animals don’t belong in the palace.”

Her words were a kick to the gut. Feyre halted, eyes wide. Don’t cry, don’t cry—It didn’t matter. Amarantha’s loud, shrill laugh floated through the air as she vanished like smoke, leaving

Feyre standing in the middle of her tower with a bleeding wrist and a bruised heart. 

Screaming at the top of her lungs, Feyre made her way to the window. She was going to jump, she swore it. Jump and see what happened, see—

A twinkling star overhead caught her eye, settling her for just a moment. Head inclined, Feyre whispered, “Please, save me.”

But she suspected, as the wind carried away her wish, that the stars weren’t listening.

And they’d never answer her. 

Feyre woke to the sound of someone swearing. Without light in the tower, all she could hear was thudding coming from beneath her feet and a masculine voice—deep and rich like the night around her—cursing softly. Heart thudding, Feyre didn’t move, waiting to see if it was just another dream. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d hallucinated company only to realize it was her lonely mind playing tricks on her. 

“Fucking kill me,” that voice whispered again. The sound of grinding stone propelled Feyre up, racing for her skillet and then, realizing she was just standing there in a thin night dress, for the closet to hide. Just in case this was a blackguard come to kill her in her sleep—she’d have the upper hand. 

She left it open just enough to peek through a crack. Dust erupted from the floor as a large stone shifted. Feyre hadn’t known that even existed. Certain she was about to see a blackguard, Feyre gripped the handle of her frying pan with clammy fingers. Nerves were threatening to get the best of her, heart pounding so hard it was all she could hear.

The man who wedged his way through the tight hole was not a blackguard. Even in the dark, he was far too beautiful to work for Amarantha. She would have leached away his beauty before discarding the husk of whatever remained.

“The Mother fuck me,” the man whispered, shaking dust out of his midnight black hair. How he’d managed to get his broad shoulders through the opening was its own kind of magic. He seemed tall, muscular beneath the blue vest and white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. A bag was slung over his chest, hand protectively touching it as thought to reassure himself it was still there.

“Hello?” he called, violet blue eyes finding her murals on the wall. “What the fuck is all this?”

Feyre waited until he was right against the mural, brushing his stupid fingers through her still-wet paint. She didn’t trust him, creeping through the dark unnoticed. 

“What the—”

Feyre swung hard, hitting him upside the head with her pan. The man crumpled to the floor with a woosh of air, eyes rolling up into his skull. She waited a moment before a hysterical laugh exploded out of her. 

“I did that,” she whispered, crouching beside the stranger's lifeless form. A quick touch of his neck revealed he was still alive—merely knocked out for the time being. He was far too heavy to move, though Feyre did manage to get him into a chair. She bound him in thin rope that wouldn’t hold him forever—just long enough to get some answers.

And then, waiting for him to wake, she decided to rifle through his bag. Inside she found some food, a couple gold marks, a folded up piece of paper, and a small, silver ring with a blue gem encircled by pretty white diamonds. Feyre pocketed the ring, intending to hold it hostage for the time being, before unfolding the piece of paper. 

Wanted! Dead or Alive For Crimes Against the Crown! 

There was no name, and the picture didn’t quite line up with the beautiful man in front of her. His nose was off—crooked and overly large for what was staring in front of her. But the image was close enough.

Feyre had found her stepmother's criminal.

And, perhaps, a way out of her tower once and for all.

RHYSAND:

It was not the worst week Rhys had ever had, all things considered. Being on the run was nothing new—he’d been running since he was a teenager and his father’s kingdom had toppled under the hands of a fucking witch, who had been looking for Rhys ever since. Ever the chameleon, he’d taken to crime like a fish took to water.

She’d come close a couple times, but Rhys was always one step ahead. At least, until he started circling back to Illyria, looking for the so-called bastard prince that supposedly commanded an army of dragons and monsters. They’d been allies once upon a time—Rhys hoped they might be, again. 

Her blackguards had been hunting him through the woods for a good two weeks, trying to corral him away from the valley, which only made Rhys curious. What was she hiding? What secrets did the witch have? Exploitable secrets, he hoped. Something that made her vulnerable. 

Killable. 

Which was how he’d found himself tied to a chair, head throbbing, while a pretty young woman held a skillet in front of his face.

“Where…” Rhys blinked, his mouth sour. “Who are you?”

The woman blinked starry blue eyes at him. Who was she? Young, no older than twenty two if he had to guess, and so beautiful it made his teeth ache. In a different world, he would have wanted her. 

In this world, he wanted her to untie him. 

“Who am I?” she asked, shoving that stupid fucking skillet further beneath his throat. She could absolutely kill him with it, given his hands were tied behind his back and no amount of working them against the rope was freeing him. “Who are you?”

Time to turn on the charm. “Hi,” she said, offering her his most dazzling smile. “I’m Rhysand.”

She blinked and then, the little shit, pulled out the folded wanted poster he’d had in his bag.

His bag. His mothers ring. “Where is my bag?!” he demanded, wrestling against his bindings while the woman looked at him smugly.

“I’ve hidden it! Somewhere you’ll never find.”

Rhys glanced around the room before returning to her lithe, curved frame. “It’s in your pocket, isn’t it?” he growled, holding her gaze. Her cheeks darkened and gods, was it her first day holding someone hostage? Sweeping his gaze over her, he thought she seemed just a little too thin judging from the way her collarbones jutted from beneath the pretty lavender dress she wore. Her hair, too, was braided and rebraided, likely hiding just how long that thick mass of golden brown strands truly was. 

No shoes on her feet, no jacket hanging on a hook. No fireplace for warmth. “How did you get here?”

She blinked. “Don’t try and change the subject. Why are you here? What do you want with me? Is it my hair? Do you want to cut it?”

“What?” he asked, genuinely stunned.

“Sell it? Sell me?!”

“I don’t—I don’t care about your or your hair!” he insisted, finally snapping the bindings holding his wrists. She skittered back when he stood, rubbing his raw skin. She was far shorter than he’d first realized, a fact he wished he didn’t care about. “Give me back what you stole from me, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Or what?” she challenged. 

“Or—” she’d removed his dagger. Reaching for it, Rhys only found an empty pocket against his chest. She grinned, so obviously pleased with herself. “Feeling me up while I’m sleeping, darling?”

“Don’t be disgusting,” she snapped, but Rhys was a little too intrigued by the idea of her hands on his body, even if he’d been unaware of it. “I’ll give you back your ring if you do something for me.”

“I’m not in the business of taking maiden heads anymore, so—”

“Shut up,” she hissed, fingers curling to fists at her side. “Stop talking. I don’t want you, and if you touch me, I’ll turn your face into pudding.”

Rhys thought he might be in love with her. Maybe that was just the concussion talking, but anyone else would have backed down. He was bigger than her, stronger than her, and had her trapped in a tower he didn’t think she could escape from. All she had was his dagger, which he suspected she’d hidden somewhere other than on her person, and a skillet he could have easily pulled out of her grasp.

And yet she wasn’t scared. She was mad. Crossing his arms over his chest, Rhys arched a brow. “Well. Go on, then. Tell me what it is you want from me.”

“I want you to take me to the Ellesmere palace—”

“No.”

Fuck no. There was no way in all the seven hells he was going anywhere near that cursed place. Amarantha would have him before he got halfway and would kill him for it.

“Then you’ll never get your ring back.”

Rhys took a threatening step toward her. “I could just take it from you.”

“I dare you,” she replied. Rhys took a breath, trying to calm himself down. His cock had responded to that bratty tone and the flash of defiance in her eyes. Who was she? What was so important about her that she needed to be locked away? 

Maybe she was dangerous. Hadn’t she immediately assumed he wanted to sell her? Perhaps she was another enchantress. That might explain his inexplicable attraction to her, despite not liking her. 

She took a healthy step back, still holding that skillet. Rhys sighed.

“What could you possibly need from the palace?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Revenge.”

Intriguing. “Care to share?”

Pressing her lips together, the woman shook her head back and forth. Rhys sighed. “Look. I’m not going within a hundred miles of that place. Pick anywhere else and I’ll do it—but not Ellesmere.”

The woman considered this for a moment. “Because you’re wanted?”

Because their queen is a witch and she’ll kill us both. “Sure. Let's go with that.”

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she asked, “Would you take me to Avalon?”

Right to the border, he thought darkly. He didn’t trust Beron Vanserra, either. Still, it was a week of walking to get her there which seemed a reasonable price to pay to get his mothers ring back. Besides, if this woman turned out to be working for Amarantha—and Rhys suspected she might be—he’d have some leverage.

Or he could kill her and wound the witch. 

“Fine. I’ll deliver you to Avalon and in return, you’ll give me back my ring.”

There was a question there, gazing back at him. Rhys had no intention of admitting the ring had any amount of sentimental value. Let her think it a stolen trinket he intended to sell. Anything but the truth. 

She extended one hand, the other still clutching her frying pan. Rhys grasped it, shaking those delicate, paint splattered fingers beneath his own rough, calloused palm. She smelled like violet and pear, and a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose were reminiscent of a constellation of stars. 

“After you, princess,” he said, trying to put emotional distance between them. That did little to settle his racing heart.

“I’m not a princess,” she snapped, tossing an errant strand of hair over her shoulder. “My name is Feyre.”

Feyre. Why did that name sound so familiar to him? It did little to calm him down. Feyre, Feyre, Feyre.

Her name felt like the answer to a question he’d been asking his whole life. She wasn’t a princess she said, and Rhys believed her.

But as he moved that slab of rock to the side again, and watched her gingerly lower herself within it, he couldn’t help but wonder if she wanted to be.

What was wrong with him?

#feysand #pro feysand #feypunzle!