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#acowar
kayla-2 · 2 days ago
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High Lady Feyre
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Credit: jessdraw.s
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gothicbabydollz · 2 days ago
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Can you do an Azriel pwp plz :)
ofc ofc :)
pairings: Azriel x gn!reader
warnings: 18+, smut under the cut, dom/sub dynamics, dom!az, rough sex, pet names (little one), Az having a sir kink ;)
a/n: this isn’t proof read so forgive me if there’s any mistakes
~~~
your knuckles had turned white from how hard you were gripping the headboard, desperately needing something to hold on to as Azriel took you how he wanted
he was relentless and rough
each thrust sent the bed slamming loudly into the wall, combining with your lewd moans and Az’s grunts
your head spun with pleasure, your eyes fluttering and jaw hanging open.
sweat, drool and tears wet your face
azriel succeeding in fucking you completely dumb
“you take me so well, little one”
he groaned lowly, eyes glued to where you two were connected, watching your tight hole sucking him in
you clench around his cock in response, a small fuck slipping out from under his breath
azriel’s grip on your waist tightened, using it to pull your hips back to meet his thrusts
you already knew his fingerprints would be staining you for days
his cock barely grazed a sensitive spot inside you but still, it had you keening
azriel grinned, pausing to grind his hips against you, pushing the head of his cock into that spot
“right, there?” Az practically cooed
your breath had caught in your throat at the overwhelming pleasure, unable to do more than nod
he wrapped a strong arm around you and pulled you up, back flat against his chest, slick with sweat
you held onto his forearm to keep from wobbling
ou whined loudly, grinding your hips back when his own remained still
his deep chuckle sent a shiver through you
“need something, my little one?” he asked, breath fanning the side of your face
you only pushed back against him further
Az growled, “Use your words.”
looking back at him, the sight almost had you coming undone alone
messy hair damp and falling over his forehead
hazel eyes peering at you from under his narrowed brow
tongue darting out to wet that bottom lip you loved to bite so much
he really was the most beautiful male you’d ever laid eyes on
“fuck me, sir,” you panted, “Please.”
his grin returned
azriel drew his hips back to rut into you, moans falling from both of you
you let your head drop back onto Az’s shoulder as he began fucking you again
the noises of skin on skin is music to your ears, you tugged your lip between your teeth at the downright filth and lewdness of it
having been on the edge for a while, it didn’t take long for Azriel to bring you back to it
your stomach was coiling but you needed and wanted that extra push
you turned your head, nuzzling your nose against his neck and inhaling his scent
“mm, sir…”
azriel let out a hum, his breath coming out in harsh pants while he moved his hips into yours, “yes, little one?”
you kissed his neck, nipping at the skin
“harder.”
the noise Azriel released was sinful as he pushed you back onto your hands and knees
“you want it harder, little one?” he mused with a harsh thrust that had you lurching forward to grip the headboard once again, “as you wish.”
he pounded your poor hole just as you’d asked, putting his weight behind each deep thrust
“azriel!” you cried out his name, the only warning you could manage to let him know how close you were as
he already knew, of course
you were like a vice around his cock, pulsating around him so much, he was amazed at how he was able to keep fucking you
“that's it, take it…” Az’s words were barely more than a mumble, he too ready to burst from pleasure, “take my cock little one, it's all yours!”
“now, cum”
one last snap of Azriel’s hips sent you both spiralling
a faint splintering sound could be heard over the ringing in your ears
not that you cared, even when your bodies toppled to the side
azriel was spilling into you as you came with an shout, your own release staining the sheets beneath you
his arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding your trembling body against his
the two of you panted heavily, coming down from your highs
azriel began pressing his lips to your shoulder in featherlight kisses
soft praises tumbled from his mouth
you’re okay, little one
did so well for me
i’ve got you
you almost whimpered when Az pulled out from you,
cursing under his breath as he caught sight of his seed dripping from your abused hole
it took all his might not to scoop it all up on his tongue and fuck his cum back into you
“Az…”
he tore his eyes up to your face, “yes, little one?” he ran a scarred hand soothingly up your back
you smiled softly at his change in demeanour before gesturing to the slant in the bed
“we broke the bed” you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Azriel study the snapped wood that would normally hold the right corner up
he shook his head, “you can explain to Rhys.”
he laughed at your reaction to that before pulling you into his arms
both of you laying in awkward comfort due to the new positioning of your bed
you practically limped into the dining room the next morning
Azriel gladly let his proudness slip knowing he did this to you
Cassian’s face said it all, he was holding back a shit eating grin as he watched you and Az take your seats
Nesta simply looked at you, “You’ve made your point. We’ll keep it down.”
her words set Cassian off earning a vulgar gesture from you as you groaned, heating with embarrassment
“bullshit, you’ll keep it down.”
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valquirye · 22 hours ago
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☃️ valkyries at christmas ☃️
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Art by me
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hellogoodbye14 · 12 hours ago
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Rhys: Am I supposed to deny that I find you attractive?
Feyre: You’ve never said it.
Rhys: *internally* Woman, I’ve been picturing you sitting on my face until you pass out since the day I met you.
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theladyofbloodshed · 2 days ago
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Au acosf - part 28
it's full of neris and sadness
@sv0430 @mis-lil-red @confusedfandomslut @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @a-court-of-valkyries @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury
Fionn, hair touselled and drenched with sweat from training, met Nesta on the stairs of the manor. He wrung his hands together as she approached.
‘My lady,’ he said, dipping his head into a bow. ‘If I may be so bold as to request more of your generosity…’
‘Speak it.’
‘My wife is struggling with her pregnancy. She is sick throughout the day, and struggles to sleep. My daughter is restless. It is a few hours travel for me to my home. May I move my family into the barracks – only until the babe is born – then we shall return home.’
‘The barracks?’ Nesta blinked. ‘She is your wife not a common soldier. I will have the servants prepare rooms for you in the manor.’
‘My lady, forgive me, but no. That is too far above our station.’
Nesta frowned. Once, she might have agreed with it. Although he was high fae and spoke politely to her, Fionn’s tongue slipped amongst the sentries giving way to his common birth. Her mother’s poisonous words about social standing were a hard lesson to forget, but Nesta was trying. Their steep descent into poverty had been the beginnings of the change.
‘Nonsense. There are more rooms in this manor than I know what to do with. I will have a carriage sent for your wife and daughter. I daresay Zasha will be glad of a companion to play with.’
The general thanked her heartily then rushed to the stables. He had not passed a comment about how tired and pale she seemed; Nesta had spent a good deal of time staring at her reflection, comparing how she had appeared in her dream so full of life to now – drawn and bloodless. As if the monster in her dream, when he had forced his tongue down her throat, had taken part of her.
‘The meeting,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Prepare for that. Do not break.’
A task that would usually have taken less than half an hour was drawn out in her glazed tiredness. Nesta struggled to focus. Every noise that sounded outside of the office was imagined as Koschei or Briallyn coming for her. The only saving grace was her relentless organisation. All she needed for the high lord’s meeting had been prepared prior to the dispatch of invitations.
All courts, except one, had responded that they would attend. Helion had even dared to request a dance from Nesta. The one court who had not responded, was the one with a flair for the dramatics. She had no doubt that Feyre and Rhysand would arrive shrouded in shadow – and likely late for effect – wearing enough jewels to make a dragon jealous.
‘Knock knock lady death,’ came a familiar drawling voice.
That flame haired male had a habit of wandering into the house. Nesta would alert the sentries to it, to ensure it no longer happened. She had given Eris enough chances; the lies he span weren’t only a web to catch Beron – she herself was in danger of entrapment too.
There was a shared exhaustion in his expression. His amber eyes gleaned over the piles of documents neatly laid out on the desk. ‘Ready for tomorrow?’
Nesta nodded sharply.
‘My father has sent me to extend an invitation. The generous high lord of the Autumn Court has asked whether I should winnow you both to Dawn?’
‘Not to Briallyn?’
Eris blinked then mastered his expression. ‘My father has not ordered that yet.’
‘When did you plan to tell me about your soldiers being under her control? Or indeed that you command your father’s armies?’
‘I don’t command them,’ he said flatly. ‘I merely tell them where they should be and the generals lead them into battle.’
There was a good male locked in there – a considerate one – but he was trapped within the prison he had created to protect himself. He had perfected the art of speaking only the amount of truth the question required.
‘How do you remember what lies you’ve told each person?’
Eris did not respond. Nesta expected maybe a snide remark or even a yawn, but nothing came from him. He set his jaw and turned his eyes to her. They were as bleak as her own, no sign of the cold, sneering male she had met in the Night Court.
‘Practise.’
‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Something is the matter,’ Nesta pressed. There was a sudden worry that his soldiers were not the only ones under Briallyn’s control. But this was different to a lack of response, this was as if his fire had been extinguished. ‘Eris,’ she said, rising from her chair to go to him.
Eris swallowed. She watched the bob of his throat. He blinked a few times before he could look at her again. ‘Vytor died in the night.’
At once, Nesta had crossed the room and snaked her arms around him. Her ear pressed against the throb of his pulse in his neck, hearing it quicken when their skin touched.
‘It’s silly,’ he said, fighting the quake from his voice. ‘I’d just had him such a long time. He was old. It was coming. I tell myself not to get too attached to them. Their lives are so short.’
His arms wrapped around her in turn. They stood for a while. Nesta swallowed her own sadness, thinking of that gentle dog and how he’d plodded around the grounds with her in the evenings like an old grandpa. Of the night Eris had let the dog sleep on her bed to comfort her. Eris kissed her temple. He would never admit that he had only come to the Spring Court to seek comfort when he was hurting; would never confess he was a male who needed softness as much as cruelty.
‘He was just a dog,’ he said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. ‘Just a dog.’
Nesta caught his hand with her own. Beneath his nails were smudges of soil where he’d been digging the dog’s grave.
‘Where did you bury him?’ She asked softly.
Eris sniffed, his eyes rimmed with silver. ‘By the orchard. That tree that had been hit by lightning and stands wonky. The evening sun catches on it.’
‘That is a lovely place for him to rest,’ she said, voice thick with emotion.
‘It was his favourite tree to piss on.’
They both laughed quietly. Eris settled into a chair, pulling Nesta onto his lap.
‘I’m so cross with you for keeping secrets from me.’ Her voice didn’t match the anger she’d been holding for him since the bat had told her the truth. ‘If we are to be allies, I need to know. When would you have told me about Briallyn and Koschei?’
Eris drew his thumb in a circle on the back of her hand. ‘Never. I hoped to have eliminated that threat without it worrying you.’
‘It does worry me, Eris. These sentries are untested. Your own soldiers have fallen under her control. A mortal queen with powers is bad enough, and now she has allied herself with an immortal being. Eris, I am in danger. Your omission of the truth leaves me vulnerable. I vowed to myself as soon as I saw you, even if it was at the meeting, that I’d send you flying into the wall.’
‘What’s stopping you?’
It was better to keep Eris on her good side than burn that bridge. Beron could dangle her in front of Briallyn at any moment. She needed Eris as the buffer that kept Beron placated. She could not kick this male when he had lost his companion either. Eris loved those hounds more than he had ever loved anything. She had seen it enough when he trained them. Always, their training was strict and structured, until the final moments when the hounds leapt all over him and Eris would laugh with pure joy.
‘Who is Nuan?’
Eris’ breath tickled the back of her neck as he drew her closer to his body in the arm chair.
‘You’ve met her. The female who replaced Lucien’s eye.’
Nesta had a hazy recollection of the female. She had not been from Prythian – which had been a point of contention amongst some of the fae present. A tinkerer who had been able to produce Lucien’s mechanical eye. She was also responsible for creating the antidote to the poison that smothered a fae’s magical ability.
‘Do you plan to use faebane on your father?’
The sudden tightness in Eris’ body was the giveaway. If she hadn’t been flush against his body, she’d not have been given that gift of a reaction.
‘The less you know the better,’ he said, smoothing her hair down.
Beron was the weak link; the one more likely to hand her over to the vicious mortal queen with a grudge against Nesta. If Eris could guarantee his ascension to the throne, she would have no need to fear the Autumn Court. She had to place her bets on the son, not the father.
‘I will distract your father.’
‘No. Not now. It’s too much of a risk. I’d rather keep you far from him. I don’t doubt he offered up my soldiers to Briallyn as a test of her power. I’d rather go up against that bastard bat for you than leave you in my father’s vicinity again if he’s aligned himself with her.’
‘Eris,’ she said, peeling herself from him so she stood upright. ‘It is my decision.’
‘I wish it was different,’ he said, smiling sadly from the chair, ‘between us. I wish I could let you into my heart like you deserve without the shadow of my father’s wrath looming over us. I wish you did not have a mate – one I have a history with too. I wish so many things were different.’
Nesta unscrewed a bottle of wine. It was almost midday, but after the night she had had – and the male too – it was necessary. She poured them both a generous glass of fruity white wine as the noise of the sentries carried in the open window from outside.
‘To Vytor,’ she said raising a glass.
‘To rotten luck,’ Eris added.
They both drank in a melancholy quiet. Zasha had curled up beneath the desk, his chin resting on the front two paws as he snored softly. If that dog had not been with her to rouse Tamlin with his barking, she’d have burnt the house down.
‘Are you ready to face your sisters?’
Perhaps yesterday, Nesta would have said yes. That she had weathered every storm she had encountered and come out stronger. But after last night’s horrid dreaming, she needed time to lick her wounds rather than face them in already weakened state.
‘I get to face my sisters, the high lord, his bats, his demonic cousin, his miniature demon, and your father all in one go. I’m positively brimming with optimism.’
‘Stick by me and Tamlin. Mor won’t dare say a word to you if I’m there.’
‘What do you have over her?’
Eris smirked slightly. His finger trailed a circle around the rim of the glass, lost in a memory. His betrothed. Had Mor loved him – given him the chance – Nesta knew he would have done his best to protect her from his father and brothers, would have removed the armour for her, just as he had for Nesta.
‘Just the truth.’
Amber eyes flickered over her skin, a small smile appeared as he tilted her chin to look at him – then he raised his glass again.
‘To being allies.’
Nesta tipped the glass to her lips, letting the wine wash into her mouth.
‘And to ejaculating over your sister’s mate again.’
Nesta spat the mouthful of wine over her dress then spluttered with laughter. ‘Eris!’
‘You looked as if you needed a laugh.’
He bit his lip, a faint blush blooming across his chiselled cheekbones. Eris fingers’ clasped around her own. ‘Many will wear masks tomorrow, myself included. I’ll support you as much as I can in front of my father. I’ll nudge him in the right direction. But this,’ he glanced down at their hands, ‘this tenderness must be hidden. My father will weaponise it. I am sorry.’
Eris stayed. Nesta did not tell him to go. Her heart still fluttered uneasily from the threat of Koschei and Briallyn. Eris might not raise a weapon on her behalf, but if he could winnow them to safety she’d take it.
Nesta curled up with a book on a blanket in the shade of an ancient oak while Eris trained Zasha. The male volunteered, perhaps realising the dog did not respond to any command of Nesta’s unless food was involved. Sentries strolled by on their patrols, paying them no heed. Nesta was glad for it. Her mood was crumbling with every inhale. Each breath caught in her lungs as though her ribs were jagged things. She had said such a horrid thing to Cassian because she knew it would wound him. Then she had suffered for it with her nightmares. Nesta knew he’d gone back to Velaris; for all his vows of protecting her, she had hurt him so badly that he had left. Their bond was taut and muted. How quickly had he told the others of her cruelty? Had he flown back to Velaris for them all to share stories of how she failed all of them? Nesta imagined her father there, as he’d been in her dream, stood with his broken neck sharing his own tale that she hadn’t managed to kill the king before his neck was snapped.
‘Do you think me horrible?’
Eris lounged onto the blanket beside her. A flop of red hair fell into his eyes which he huffed away with a sharp breath.
‘No worse than myself.’
From his pocket, he retrieved a brown leather ball and tossed it between his hands, ignoring Zasha’s barks. He feinted a throw which sent Zasha scarpering into a flowerbed. The dog came charging back, leaping at Eris on the ground until he dashed it through the grass.
‘I’ll pay for those flowerbeds too,’ he drawled. When he threw her a grin over his shoulder, his face fell. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I’m cursed,’ she said. ‘Cursed to never hold anything good in my life. Ash and dust is all I leave in my wake.’
‘Nesta, Nesta.’
Eris slunk an arm around her, drawing her in close while her composure broke. Once those wrenching, gasping sounds broke free of her throat, there was no stopping them. The male let her cry. Let her sob even when her tears had soaked through the collar of his shirt. And it all came out. How she had failed her sisters. How cruel she had been to her father in her anger. How she wounded Cassian because she never wanted him to know how much power he held over her. How she had never once fitted into the Night Court and none had ever tried to welcome her. She gave Eris too much information, too much he could use against her, but her heart was sore and she needed a friend.
‘Where has all this come from?’ Eris murmured with his lips pressed against the side of her head as she curled her body against his, letting the cool spring air roll over both of them.
So Nesta told him the truth of everything. That she dreamt of Koschei claiming her. Of how she had blazed while she slept. And it had been more than a dream; it had been the immortal’s vow. The queen who was promised. He would use her powers of death for his own to conquer. Eris inspected the raw skin of her hands where the nails were steadily growing back thanks to her fae blood.
‘I saw through Tamlin’s glamour as a mortal, Eris. Maybe I was born different. Maybe I was born with wickedness.’
Eris shook his head slowly, stroking a hand down her bare arm. ‘I don't believe it. How old were you when your mother died?’
‘Eleven.’
‘That’s very young.’
‘She was the type of woman your father would have admired.’
‘Ah,’ was all he said. It was understood by the male that neither of them had ever been gifted with love from their parent; they saw their eldest as a chance of elevation.
‘Imagine the blade I could have been if she had finished sharpening me,’ said Nesta bitterly.
‘When you lost your wealth, who took care of the home?’
Nesta laughed once. ‘It was hardly a home, Eris, it had two rooms. But me. I was the lady of the house once my mother died.’
‘And I presume you taught your sisters about… female things.’
‘My father was unlikely to.’
That cool hand remained tracing patterns onto her skin as they watched the carriage return to the manor house.
‘Are you expecting visitors?’
Nesta wiped her face, rubbing away any remnants of her tears then brushed down the wayward strands of her hair that had come loose with her pathetic sobbing. Zasha remained at the foot of the blanket, doing his best to chew the ball into pieces. That hound was the only thing that would not be revulsed by her. Her words couldn’t hurt him.
‘No. It’s the general and his family. His wife is unwell. They’ll be staying until their babe comes.’
Eris shook the smile from his face. ‘Nesta Archeron, there is no other female like you.’
‘Thank the Mother for that.’
Fionn was apologetic when he explained that his wife had headed straight for the bedroom after a long day travelling in the carriage, their daughter, Nuala, with her. Nesta brushed away his apologies. She still had memories of one of her mother’s friend’s heavily pregnant and trying to waddle between rooms at a party to keep up appearances despite being in immeasurable discomfort. The sentry returned to work with a bow of his head – and he thanked her and the high lord once more for their generosity. The high lord was nowhere to be found. No wallowing or bangs were heard from the manor, so she supposed he was out somewhere. As long as he returned by morning for the meeting, he could be rutting in the hay for all Nesta cared.
‘Would you stay for dinner?’
For a moment, she thought Eris might refuse her. He was poised on the doorway as if he wanted to return to the Autumn Court. But something in his expression softened. ‘Absolutely.’
It was almost like it had been in his home as the servants laid their dishes before them, both murmuring thanks. Apart from the few mouthfuls of porridge she had vomited back up in the morning, the meal was the first thing she’d eaten that day. Nesta did not fail to note the heavy set of eyes ensuring she at least ate something; Eris would not pick up his spoon until she had at least a few spoonfuls of her own soup.
The same elderly servant whose ears heard every piece of gossip that passed through the court and whose own tongue spread it swifter entered the dining room. Upon a wooden tray was a cake decked with cream and berries. Nesta’s throat tightened at the sight of it.
‘My lady, one cannot be without a cake when it is a time for celebration.’
‘Noele, you did not need to trouble yourself,’ Nesta began.
‘Trouble? My goodness, a cake is no trouble, my lady. I daresay that little lass slumbering now with her mother will be glad of it in the morrow.’
Nesta dipped her chin, fighting back another wave of unwanted tears.
‘What are we celebrating?’ Eris asked with his chin propped on his knuckles.
‘The lady is celebrating her birthday.’
Nesta blushed. It had been a throwaway comment when she had first spoken with the servant. Noele’s own daughter had had a birthday three days earlier so Nesta had shared her own date. She hadn't known the servant remembered it.
‘It’s not important,’ Nesta said.
‘You’re as young as a lamb,’ the servant clucked, ‘once you’re my age, you’ll no want to celebrate.’
The servant departed, leaving the cake in front of Nesta. When she made no move to touch it, Eris took charge and sliced them both a piece.
‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘I’ve not celebrated since my fourteenth. They’re inconsequential.’
‘I’d have brought you a gift had I known. A large one. Very expensive. That's what females want, don't they?’ He grinned.
Nesta place a hand on her heart in a mocking gesture. ‘Your presence is a present.’
Eris sketched a bow. ‘It has been said.’
Long after it had gone dark, they remained in the dining room. The large double doors stood open allowing moths to flit in and out chasing the dancing flame of the candles. Eventually Tamlin returned. He did not appear shocked by Eris’ appearance in his home, but it was clear there was little warmth between the two males. Lucien was their bridge and their war. The male that both had a bond to and the one both had wounded. They condemned each other for the sins against Lucien the other had committed.
To Nesta’s surprise, Tamlin accepted the slice of cake offered by the red haired male, but took the plate off to his own quarters rather than remain with them. It was a slight flicker of hope that he might attend the meeting in the morning.
‘He seems improved.’
‘Good days and bad. Like myself.’
Before he departed, Eris wanted to see the damage inflicted during her traumatic night. She pleaded with him not to view it, ashamed that she had lost control.
‘Open the door, Nesta.’
‘Don’t. Eris. I don’t want to see it.’
The male leaned over her to shove the broken door back on its hinges, exposing the burnt room to his eyes. Nesta held her body tightly, awaiting the anger that would come that she had not managed to master her magic. But Eris’ hand, still poised in the doorway, dropped to his side. His breath came heavy as he pulled Nesta to him.
‘Look at me,’ he said, cradling her face in his hands.
A muscle worked in his jaw. Nesta could feel the conflict within him.
‘I can’t protect you against Koschei,’ he admitted, rubbing his thumb across her soft skin.
‘None can,’ she said, swallowing.
‘I should have told you that Briallyn was in his thrall. Why do you give me more chances when I disappoint you with every one I’m given?’
Nesta tried to pull away, tried to tear her gaze from his, but Eris held her firmly.
‘Because you are good, Nesta. Despite the narrative the world tells of you, you are so good, so kind.' He breathed in her scent. 'I must forfeit the place in your heart because I know I’m not worthy of it. If I cannot love you like you deserve, I should not have you at all.’
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘We are still allies. I’ll fight for you. I’ll win for you.’
‘You are my friend, Eris. More than an ally.’
‘Friends,’ he said, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. ‘See you in the morning.’
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alaiashchastya · a day ago
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I can't decide if this sounds more like Rhysand, Nesta or Amren 😅😅
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cascadingmoon · 9 hours ago
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I have no idea if someone has already said this but...
Enchanted by Taylor Swift is 100% Helion and Lady of Autumn’s song when they first met at the ball. 
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Theres a post where someone says Tamlin wasnt a sexist or misogynistic. And that his comment towards feyre at the lords meeting was okay because he was mad. And that his problem is his need to control but his problem has never been with women or thinking them lesser than men. I am honestly blown away at this take of theres, especially from someone who claims they care about these topics and makes such a show at pointing out the sexism in the other male characters but refuses to admit Tamlin has problem with how he treats women. Im starting to think this person will just love and defend anyone who has hurt Feyre because of their hatred for her. Next thing you know, they’re gonna say Ianthe’s and Amarantha’s treatment toward Feyre is justified. Anyways I just needed to let this out. I was so saddened when I read this post. Feyre deserves more from the fandom.
Oh I’m so sorry anon, that’s so gross! I hate seeing people make these kind of takes, especially towards Feyre who is a huge comfort character to me. Just because Tamlin doesn’t have the same level of misogyny as one of the illyrians, doesn’t take away his internalized sexism.
Just look at his response to Feyre in the first acotar when she asks if there are any high ladies and he literally gets offended and then proceeds to try to distract her from the topic.
Men always do shit like what Tamlin did at the high lords meeting, they love fucking women and having sex with them with it’s convenient and pleasurable for them, but as soon as that same woman defies them and no longer wants the intimacy, their sexuality is something to be weaponized and used against them. Men in the real world will have sex with their girlfriends, save their nudes to their phone, and then when the relationship ends they leak them online and slut shame them.
Rhys antis can say what they will about what Rhysand did UTM, but he never EVER used Feyre’s sexuality as a way to hurt her and make her doubt her self worth. He has never shamed her for finding him attractive or for enjoying sex, and neither has anyone in the inner circle.
@dreaminginvelaris Look at what some of these antis are saying 🙄🙄😐
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lala2sstuff · 2 days ago
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Burn and Fade, pt01
Everyone has a breaking point—a moment where it all becomes too much. It’s one thing too many, one mistake or burden more than can be handled. One truth more than should have been revealed. One betrayal more than can be forgiven. For Cassian, it’s probably this moment. Two souls meeting on a battlefield, two former lovers with a connection that neither of them wants to acknowledge. Two opposing families fighting for control in a world that is growing smaller by the second. Because Nesta Archeron, enemy of the Night Court, is standing before him with her sword drawn, and the only way that Cassian is leaving this place alive is if Nesta leaves with him.
OR, that AU I decided to write for some reason, where the Archeron sisters are fae and raised in the Night Court until Mama Archeron decided to start a war to take over and everything went to hell. Mentions of blood and violence, implied character death (spoiler--I can't bring myself to kill my babies), tons of angst, kind of dark, Nesta almost kills Cassian, and oh yeah, where did Feyre and Rhys run off to? And where did Lucien take Elain? Story will look at all three sisters, but starts with Nessian.
Read it on AO3 or Check out my Masterlist for more chapters and stories
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Pt01 behind the cut
Everyone has a breaking point—a moment where it all becomes too much. It’s one thing too many, one mistake or burden more than can be handled. One truth more than should have been revealed. One betrayal more than can be forgiven.
For Cassian, it’s probably this moment. Two souls meeting on a battlefield, two former lovers with a connection that neither of them wants to acknowledge. Two opposing families fighting for control in a world that is growing smaller by the second.
“Nesta,” Cassian can barely catch his breath to force her name out, his voice ragged and pained. He’s holding his side where he’s already been stabbed by an enemy blade, nearly run through, the warm blood seeping through his fingers and caking in the lines of his hand. If he somehow manages to survive this, if he somehow makes it back to Velaris, it will take hours to scrub his palms clean, and probably even longer to clean the blood from around his fingernails. But it’s hard for Cassian to imagine that far ahead right now, harder still for him to contemplate what it would mean.
Because Nesta Archeron, enemy of the Night Court, is standing before him with her sword drawn, and the only way that Cassian is leaving this place alive is if Nesta leaves with him.
Her blue-gray eyes are cool and distant as she gazes at him, but Cassian knows it’s only for show. He’s seen Nesta when her guard is up, when she’s determined to keep her emotions at bay for the sake of whatever task is at hand. He fought side by side with her once, years ago, to help protect the humans and find freedom for them on the other side of the wall. He knows that she’s trying to distance herself from what has to be done.
“Nesta,” Cassian breathes, barely able to speak at all. At this point, he’s not sure how he’s still standing. The battlefield has grown cold and quiet. The world around him is dimming. Even in the coming darkness, however, he can still make out Nesta. “Nesta, don’t—don’t do this. You don’t want this.”
The problem is that Nesta really doesn’t want this. Maybe, once upon a time. So long ago, now, that she can barely remember where the idea of it started. Two powerful fae families, the Night Court split between them, and each vying for control. Power. 
Where had the idea for war come from? Was it her mother? Was that how it had happened—her mother, beautiful and cruel and filled with ambition, whispering quietly in her father’s ear. Her father, desperate to please a wife who would never be satisfied. Like Feyre and Rhys, she and Cassian fought together, killed together, bled together. In those days, they had gone into battle as if they were born to fight, feeling fully alive. It was like a game, then. To see who could fight the longest, who could survive the worst, who could kill the most. In the hours and days after a battle, they’d come together and compare their wounds, counting the bodies of those they’d slain without any thought of what it truly meant—the lives they had ended, the families they’d destroyed. It was a heady rush of violence and sex that was deliciously distracting in the face of whatever it was her mother had been planning.
A political marriage between Feyre and Rhys, one meant to end in murder. Instead, the lovers disappeared. War began.
The Court of Nightmares was bathed in blood and Velaris was in shambles.
And for what—Nesta stares at Cassian and wonders. What is all of this for?
A court that Nesta never wanted? Revenge for a sister who wanted to escape? 
Blood drips from the tip of Nesta’s sword, the sound carrying to her ears over the quiet breeze that sweeps the battlefield, and Nesta can feel her heart keeping pace with each droplet that falls. The blood belongs to Cassian. Her former lover. The beautiful male who once stood by her side through unspeakable darkness, when it felt as though all the world was ending and she would cling to anything, anything, to feel grounded. To survive.
Cassian had once been her survival.
No, she doesn’t want this. But she doesn’t know how to walk away, either. “Give up, Cassian.” She takes a step forward on blood soaked ground, the dirt caking like mud around her heels. She’s wearing the Illyrian leathers she trained in so long ago, the same ones that still bear the scars from when she’d practically been cut open in the last war. She was certain that she was going to die. Cassian had rushed to her side. He’d cradled her in his arms. He’d spoken things...things he hadn’t meant for her to hear.
She’d heard the word that neither of them wanted to say, the truth that neither of them could bring themselves to speak. It quietly whispered to them, then, a gentle tug in the back of their minds, the same way it whispered to them now in a strangled sort of agony. Mate.
“Nesta…”
“You can’t win this.” She closes the distance between them, trying to ignore the something inside of her that’s screaming with panic at the scent of Cassian’s blood, the sight of him barely standing, the knowledge that time is running out. She watches Cassian fall to his knees, wincing as he does, and crouches down beside him so that they’re close to eye level. He’s in so much pain. She can hear the thought as it passes through her mind, as if someone else is speaking to her. He’s in so much pain. He’s not going to make it. “Give up, Cassian.” 
It’s hard to keep his eyes open. It’s hard to keep his hand in place. It’s hard to hold onto his sword. Cassian can tell that his siphons are beginning to dim. He can feel his wings drooping lazily, splayed on the ground behind him. The walls are closing in. He can still see Nesta clearly, her golden hair bright even on such a cloudy, bloody day as this. The blue-gray in her eyes is thawing. 
Good, he thinks softly. He prefers when they blaze, when all her fire and passion is on display instead of hidden behind that practiced indifference that she worked to master all those years so she could please her mother. He likes it best when they blaze at him, bright and unyielding, filled with humor or hatred, or desperate need, anything but that cold look. “I can’t.” He pants, sword falling from his hand. It barely makes a sound. “I can’t.”
Nesta wants to be angry. She wants to scream, to cry in frustration, to tear this godsforsaken world into two. She wants it to end—all of it. She can’t keep fighting. She can’t keep killing. She wants to see Feyre, to know that she’s okay. She wants to find where Lucien has hidden Elain, stolen away in the night to try and protect her from watching her friends and family destroy the only home she’s ever known. She wants to go back in time and stop all of this from happening.
She wants Cassian to live.
Mate.
He’s in so much pain. He’s not going to make it.
“Velaris is gone,” Nesta can hear her voice cracking, the sound of her heart finally beginning to break. “There’s nothing left. The Court of Nightmares already belongs to us.” Us, Nesta thinks. Her. Nothing has ever belonged to Nesta, not really. Nothing except what she once shared with Cassian. “You don’t have anything left to fight for.” 
She hates to see Cassian so weak, pulling his hand from his side to reach out and support himself as he falls forward. She rushes to catch him and prop him up, silently hating herself for making him so weak. She hates her mother, for raising her to fight and scheme and envy power. She hates Prythian for not stopping any of it from happening. She could destroy everything, everyone, for what this fight has come to.
He surprises her, though. He smirks. It reminds her of the first day she met him, when they were barely more than children and he and Rhys were still fighting with each other more often than not. He’d made some smartass remark about Nesta then, about how she’d never be a good fighter with all that golden brown hair of hers always getting in the way. It had only taken one hit for her to knock him on his ass. She’d come back to training the very next day, her long hair pulled up into a braided crown. He’d said she looked like a queen, then. A goddess.
His voice had been mocking, but they both knew it was sincere.
He smirks and looks up at Nesta through eyes that are half-open and drifting closed. “I wasn’t fighting for Velaris.”
Cassian and Azriel had already saved everyone they could. Everyone, Cassian had thought, except for one person—the one person.
Mate.
Cassian had been fighting for Nesta. To stop the war. To save her from her mother. To save her from doing anything else she would regret.
Nesta. How strange it is to be at the end of the story, to know that you’re dying and to feel the life leaving your body, and to hear that small voice, that gentle tug. Mate. It was terrifying that first time he’d heard it, still barely more than a child. She’d knocked him to the ground when they were sparring together, taunting him with a kiss. The thread between them had snapped into place, pulling so sharply that it had stolen his breath. He hadn’t been ready to acknowledge that voice then, the quiet whisper in the back of his mind, even as that thread kept pulling them together day after day, night after night. 
Mate. It’s not frightening now. It’s soothing. It’s comforting. If Cassian has to die, then at least he’ll die for something good. For someone, Cassian thinks, that he loves.
But Nesta is not comforted. She is not soothed, nor placated, nor appeased or satisfied. Nesta Archeron is furious and panicked. Mate. It’s not a whisper for her now but a scream, sharp and unrelenting in her ears. Her heart is pounding so fast that it aches, the adrenaline flooding her body so quickly that her hands are starting to shake. Cassian’s eyes close and his breathing slows, and Nesta can’t ignore the truth anymore. She can’t pretend that it isn’t Cassian’s blood on her sword, that she hasn’t brought destruction to the home that she loved, that she wasn’t complicit in unforgivable atrocities. She fought in her mother’s name. She destroyed everything that mattered to her.
Including Cassian.
Including, she thinks, her mate.
The sound that escapes her then is something she can’t comprehend. It’s too filled with pain and terror, with knowledge of what she’s done and who’s become, and everything she’s lost. 
Her home is destroyed. Her sisters are gone. Her mate is dying.
Everyone has a breaking point, that moment when you can endure no longer. For Nesta, it is this moment. All thoughts of war forgotten, she cradles Cassian in her arms, the last few moments of his life slipping away. She closes her eyes, silently praying that there’s still enough time. 
She thinks of the farthest place from this wretched court she can, holding Cassian tightly, and winnows them away from the battlefield to find a healer.  
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kayla-2 · 2 days ago
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I’m sorry but I need feyre to stay nosy and in peoples business, that’s the only time we get the juicy gossip..nessian in acowar, helion being Lucien dad, all the autumn court drama, whenever tamlin’s destroying his life…I need her to continue to know what’s going on. You see, nesta wasn’t nosy enough for me. I can’t deal with that, Especially with Eris and the autumn court and whatever reason he’s now keeping in contact Lucien, Vaasa and Jurian. Feyre would’ve been all over that…She probably knows who Azriel and elain are going to end up with right now.. I need her.
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maryberry · a day ago
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I just reread A Court of Silver Flames cover to cover and...
I know that it is quite a while since it's release and a lot of people have probably moved on. I've been spending a lot of time on Tumblr and tik tok recently, a lot of people really hate this book. I decided to reread to see if I actually like it as much as I thought I did. In conclusion, I love it even more now. Honestly in my top 5 books of all time. I feel like I can better articulate why I love it so much now as opposed to when it came out, so hear are my thoughts:
I think that one of the reasons I love it so much is because I see a lot of my family members reflected in Nesta. My sister and I are very close now, but for a really long time she was so angry and we had a relationship similar to Nesta and Feyre. I really relate to that aspect of the storyline.
Cassian may have not had as big of a character arc as Nesta, but he still grew and overcame his deepest insecurities. He proved to himself that he has more to offer than battle strategies and fighting, that was a big thing for him.
I feel like the people who are mad about the inner circle giving Nesta an ultimatum and then Nesta apologizing to them later in the book have never been in a similar situation. They decided to no longer enable her, and they tried to help, which they did. And Nesta did need to apologize, she was terrible to them and made sure they didn't like her. Asking for forgiveness was needed and I have always thought the moment of her kneeling in front of amren was beautiful.
The scene where Nesta discovers the heart of the house, the 3 valkryie deciding to climb the mountain, and Nesta finally making it to the bottom of the stairs only to decide to go back up all had me crying. Like literal sobs, those are my favorite parts.
Nesta isn't fully healed or "better" by the end of the book, but she's trying. And that matters. Her not being fully done with her journey is such a beautiful way to show that it takes time, and that's okay.
Nesta never liked her powers, throughout the entire book she was terrified of them. They never felt like a part of her, I'm not upset that she lost them.
The only thing I think could have been handled better was Rhys and the whole not telling feyre about the wings thing. It just felt really out of character for him to keep something like that from her.
I love Nessian, they are so good for each other.
I don't think Nesta is a "good" or "bad" person, I think that she is a person who has real emotions and deals with them in a very real way, even if it isn't always the most healthy or productive way.
In conclusion, I love this book. Everyone is entitled to their opinions. If you didn't like the book, that is super totally cool as well.
As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!
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I swear to god if SJM pulls Gavriel on Helion, I am gonna throw all of the books
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hellogoodbye14 · 14 hours ago
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Feyre: *yelling in anger from somewhere in the estate house* Rhysand!
Nesta: *In the distance* I’m going to kill him.
Azriel: *Watching Rhys panic*, What did you do?
Rhys: I might have added purple hair dye to Nesta’s shampoo.
Azriel: Rhys….
Rhys: What?! She put laxatives in my drink!
Feyre and Nesta: *Storming in*
Rhys and Azriel: *Laughing at Nesta’s hair*
Nesta: *Coming in with death in her eyes*
Feyre: *About to rip Rhys a new one*
Rhys: *Quickly picks up Nyx and cuddles him against his chest as if somehow his son would protect him.*
Rhys: Shhh…. You’ll wake him up.
Feyre: *Whisper yelling* STOP USING OUR SON TO GET AWAY WHENEVER I YELL AT YOU.
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yazthebookish · 5 months ago
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Helion is having the time of his life 🤣🤣🤣🤣
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romaisamaria · 9 months ago
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Cassian: Doesn’t count when you use your hands to do most of the work.
Nesta: I bet that isn’t what you’ve been telling yourself at night.
Cassian: Is that what those smutty books teach you? That it’s only at night? It could be anytime—dawn’s first light, or when I’m bathing, or even after a long, hard day of practice.
Nesta: Sounds like you have a lot of time on your hands, Cassian.
Azriel:
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