#also Nesta: even more affectionate when no one is watching

[flowerflamestars]

Your Heart snippet

Nesta had not, for a second, regretting slitting Tomas’s throat. She did not need to ask, to know that Eris would have done the same. More, worse, if she desired it- it was no difficult thing, to picture his cruel mouth soft on her skin, tasting mortal blood sweet as wine.   A monster, and all Nesta could think all night, wrapped round in Archeron red, was: mine.  “Keir’s fucking with us,” Nesta sighed, and let herself sink back, careful, into the towering cushions.   “Blood is enough for most,” Eris said, glint of a there-and-gone smile lighting across his face, “We do not smell enough of each other. He’s testing it.”   “After my bath, all either of us will smell like is shitty Night Court perfume.”   Brighter than the sad, dreamy lights, Eris laughed. “No night blooms, for my bride?”   Nesta met his gaze. Lifted her chin. “No. I prefer roses.”   To press was nothing when there was nothing to trespass through- a breath of memory, and Nesta could practically see Eris inhale the thought, iron blood sunlight burning rose sweet- berry pie and the smoke haze brilliant burn of triumph.   Red, as their wedding had been.   Eris’s second laugh was louder, and suddenly the room felt warm. The dark less heavy for all that it seemed to getting closer, dense shadow settling around them.   “I’ll wear white tomorrow,” he promised, in a flash of teeth. “They do fear you so keenly.”   What her mortal veil might have been, her human name, the color of death to even these immortals- and he did, truly, relish wearing them so.   Nesta could taste it.

#NERIS IN THEIR (PSYCHIC) FLIRTING ERA #god these absolute assholes #going to the Night Court and having FEELINGS #catch Smeris saying some iteration of 'my bride' #the same way one might evoke god #just. #over and over and over #he's having a moment #Nesta! admitting she liked their wedding #Eris: already losing his entire mind because they are sitting on a bed together #in their murder (trial run) but also their frothy affectionate nonsense peak #Nesta: this is a Perfect Preformance #also Nesta: even more affectionate when no one is watching #I cannot believe how long this update has taken and i am so sorry but it is coming! #fix-it fic #your heart as it was will be on fire

[fawnandshadows]

Fawn Fest - interceptions

Prompt: Hi!!! How are you?? I would like to request a prompt from the Fawn Fest list. I would love a football-themed Elriel fanfic. I really hope you agree to write it!! ☺ for @bookstaninthesoul

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: none! Just a bit of fluff :)

“There is no easy way to say this,” Cassian said gruffly, his dark hair clinging to his sweaty skin. He had one arm heavy over Elain’s shoulder and the other over Rhys as all three huddled together. “But we’re losing.”

“How is that hard to say when you have to say it every year?” Rhys grumbled as he leaned closer to them — His black hair pushed back off of his face, and his violet eyes constantly glancing towards Feyre, who was in her own huddle with Azriel and Nesta.

Elain felt slightly dwarfed by Cassian and Rhys, who were bending at the waist to get to her level, and she bit her lip to keep herself from smiling.

It was very obvious why they lost almost every single year.

Cassian, shirtless as usual, was constantly peacocking for Nesta — and Nesta would intentionally distract him and use Cassian’s attraction to her advantage, which was very effective. And Rhys, well, Rhys used every excuse to touch Feyre. Ever since they had gotten together Feyre and Rhys were the most affectionate couple that Elain had ever seen. So affectionate that they would both forget that they were in the middle of a game and Elain would look down field and catch them locking lips as Azriel grabbed the ball from Rhys.

Elain wasn’t completely sure if Feyre was getting lost in her boyfriend, or if she was also using his adoration to her advantage. Either way, Elain was happy for Feyre. Her sister had spun into a depression from her last boyfriend, Tamlin, and Rhysand was there to help her through it. For whatever reason, Rhys was the only one who was able to reach her.

And then there was the obvious reason as to why the other team was winning.

Azriel.

Elain wasn’t exactly sure how he did it, but she was certain he was responsible for their success. Yes, Nesta and Feyre were both physically fit and active, but he was the one coming up with all of their trick plays, his eyes were constantly watching their team to discover any weaknesses, and he was the one who stood there quietly while Nesta and Feyre would be gloating at the end of their game — Even though Azriel was always quiet, she could feel the pride radiating off of him after a win, somehow his smirk was louder than both Feyre and Nesta combined.

Cassian played every sport known to man, and every year he grew more frustrated when the other team would win their family's football tournament. Yes, their team could crank out a few wins every year, but it was always Azriel’s team that won the tournament.

“Maybe,” Elain said, drawing the attention from both Cassian and Rhys. “You can throw it to me, since they won’t be expecting it?”

Elain didn’t really care about winning, but it was obvious that Cassian and Rys both did. She enjoyed playing it, and watching the game on tv, but she was mostly here to spend time with her friends and family. She wasn’t super active or coordinated, so Cass and Rhys mostly used her to get in Azriel’s way and slow him down.

They knew she was his weakness. Even though Elain didn’t quite understand it.

Azriel had no qualms about tackling Cassian and Rhys, and all three boys would be beaten up and achy by the end of the game, and even Feyre and Nesta would be sore from Rhys and Cassian’s attention, but Azriel was always gentler with Elain. He would place his large hands on her shoulders or waist to move her out of the way, and if he had to tackle her it was in a way that almost always had him falling on the ground first and then swiftly rolling her off of him so they could both scurry away like nothing happened.

Feyre smiled when she saw it, and she would playfully nudge Elain in the ribs which caused Elain to roll her eyes. Her sister seemed to think it was because Azriel had a crush on her, and Elain would remind Feyre that Azriel was a gentleman, to which Feyre would say, “That’s not what I heard,” and then they would both blush and drop the conversation all together.

Cassian and Rhys both looked at her, and Elain smiled broadly at them.

“I promise I know how to catch a ball.” Elain said, which caused both them to grin.

Cassian nodded his head with a wide smile and said, “Alright, Lainy,” His big hand squeezed her shoulder as he said her name. “Will go long, right down to the end zone by the tree. And Rhys, you’re going to throw her the ball after pump faking it to me. Lainy, you go right down the center and I’ll go right.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“You losers ready?” Nesta shouted from her side of the field. Elain could see a bit of bike shorts peeking out from the sweatshirt Cassian took off and handed to her the second Nesta said she was cold. Her hair was loose and wild and somehow looked incredibly chic on her.

Feyre was standing next to Nesta, excitedly shifting her weight from side to side without lifting her feet. She was dressed in yoga pants and a cropped hoodie with her brown hair braided down her back.

She wondered how her sisters looked so good in athletic wear — not that Elain looked bad, per say, but the cropped t-shirt she was wearing stretched around her boobs in a way that Elain tried to ignore, and her yoga pants clung to all of her curves in a way that Elain quite liked except for when it came to her hip dips.

She envied her sisters just a bit for their lean limbs and long statures because they made the most casual outfits seem effortlessly cool and put together, whereas on Elain she either looked frumpy or overly sexed up.

Elain wished she looked frumpy today.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian said as he grinned wolfishly at Nesta. “Just line up.”

Cassian crouched with one hand one the football, prepared to snap it back to Rhys who was standing behind him.

Elain was more than aware of Azriel lining up in front of her, and she took great effort to keep her eyes averted.

Azriel had presence — even when he would just stand quietly with his arms crossed, Elain could feel him.

“Good luck.” Azriel said softly, and Elain’s eyes shot to his.

He was already looking at her, his hazel eyes intense as they both ignored the calls that were being shouted to their right.

Eventually, Elain snapped out of it and ran when she was supposed to. Right down the center and Cassian broke right, and Elain ran with her eyes focused on Rhysand, her hands prepped to catch the ball and cradle it to her chest. And they did, right after Rhysand faked to Cass, he sent the ball spiralling right into her hands. Her short legs put a small amount of distance between herself and Azriel…and then they put a greater amount of distance between them…and then she had crossed into the end zone while Azriel reached his fingers out to grab for her.

She could hear Cassian and Rhys hollering and celebrating from downfield, but she let the football slip from her fingers as she turned to face Azriel.

Hints of dimples appeared on his face as he congratulated her.

“You did that on purpose.” Elain said as she glared at Azriel, her arms crossed over her chest, and she ignored the way it made her breasts strain against her shirt. Azriel, ever the gentleman, ignored it as well.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He said, placing his hands on his trim hips.

A blush scorched her cheeks — He was really going to make her say it outloud. Cassian and Rhys were too far down field to hear their conversation, and they were too busy celebrating to care. Feyre and Nesta stood next to them rolling their eyes.

“You could have tackled me and you didn’t,” She said in a low, furious voice. “You let me have that touchdown,” Azriel’s face remained impassive, but something shifted between them. “And you never,” Elain bit her lip. “You always go easy on me…am I that bad?”

“Of course not,” Azriel said quickly, and Elain raised her eyebrow and he unintentionally confirmed what she had said. He sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair, the dark curls falling against his forehead as he looked at her. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.”

“And you know what I’m thinking?” Elain asked, her voice raising just a bit. She continued before Azriel had the chance to respond. “Your brothers don’t go easy on my sisters, so I don’t understand why you treat me with kid gloves… I know I’m not the best, but you don’t have to go easy on me.”

Her gaze was locked on the ground, onto the large pile of leaves that Cassian had raked up for them earlier in the week.

“Fine,” Azriel said in a low voice, and he leaned forward just a bit, forcing Elain to meet his eyes. “I won’t hold back anymore, Elain.” The way he said her name caused her to hear thunder.

Azriel walked away before she could respond, and Elain was left feeling breathless and slightly threatened as she bent to pick up the football.

It turned out Azriel had been holding back more than she had thought, or maybe he was just doing it to torment her, but now Azriel was always on her. His hands gripping her waist as he moved her out of the way, as if she was a ragdoll he had to move out of his way…and his grip, it was different. Before his hands dropped away before Elain could register his light touch, but now — now Azriel was using his hands to get her attention.

His hands were heavy and rough on her form, as if he was no longer afraid to touch her.

His hands lingered and gripped in a way that caused her blood to sing as it rushed through her, and Eain wondered if he even knew about her body’s reaction to his touch. She was sure the soft gasps that escaped her whenever he touched her gave her away, but his face betrayed nothing.

And now he tackled her.

Not the way he tackled her before, when he ensured that his body cushioned hers as they fell, and when he would untangle them as soon as they landed. Now, Elain landed on her back with Azriel’s body on top of hers, pressing her body into the cold ground.

And even though the ground was solid and cold beneath her and the air chilly around them, Elain felt unbearably hot every time they fell together.

And he didn’t jump away as soon as they landed, no, he made sure that Elain felt him. Felt the hard planes of his muscles, felt his breath on her sweat dampened skin, and felt the weight of his knowing eyes. And once he finally pushed away from her to stand again, Azriel would extend an outstretched hand to her as an offering, and Elain felt how perfectly her small hand fit in his rough palms.

He was on her. Constantly. So much so that everyone else started to notice.

Her sisters started shooting her knowing smirks, and Rhysand gave Azriel a warning look — one that had more meaning than Elain could decipher — and Cassian’s mood turned a little sour, and Elain didn’t know exactly why…it could be because Azriel’s newfound attention made it even harder for them to score, but every time Azriel had Elain on her back beneath him Cassian grew a little more bitter and a little more impatient.

“Do you guys have any ideas?” Cassian grumbled the next time they formed a huddle. This one was more tense than the others, Cassian’s heavy arm wasn’t over her shoulder, and Rhysand wasn’t even bothering to hide the love struck looks he was shooting towards Feyre.

Elain chewed on her lip thoughtfully before raising her eyes to Cassian’s sullen face.

“I have any idea…”

Elain faced Azriel, her eyes trained on his face as Nesta prepared to hike the ball to Feyre.

As soon as the snap happened Elain launched herself at Azriel. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms went to his neck, and it was really a leap of faith because she had no guarantee that he would catch her, but Elain decided somethings were worth the risk.

Azriel didn’t even hesitate to catch her. Elain wasn’t even certain he thought about it, but he reacted. His hands landed underneath her bum, and while he took a step back to catch himself, he didn’t let them fall. And he didn’t drop her. Despite the hustle coming from their brothers and sisters, their attention didn’t move from one another.

Their breaths merged into a tiny cloud between them, and their eyes were a bridge of connection between them.

“I like this new strategy.” Azriel whispered, pressing them closer together which caused Elain to gasp.

“I thought it would surprise you,” Elain said, leaning forward to press her forehead against his… she had never really thought of Azriel in this way…as someone she would be touching, as someone she would let touch her. “Did it work?”

Elain could hear his breath catching in his throat.

She has always thought that Azriel was exceptionally handsome, the kind of handsome that was almost painful because it didn’t seem real, the kind of handsome she would see in movies and magazines — and Elain had always quietly admired him like she would a piece of art.

“In the best way.” Azriel said, his golden eyes dropping to her lips.

Elain was vaguely aware of cheers coming from down the yard, and she thought that her sisters had scored the winning touchdown, but the only thing she knew was how perfect she felt in Azriel’s arms.

tagging: @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @alwayssara @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes @magnolia-blossom87 @sheena-beene @nivem565

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing #pro elain #fawnandshadows fawn fest #fawn fest 22 #fawn fest

[unhealthyfanobsession]

My prompt is Nesta flirting with Cassian in front of the IC and making him blush with happiness. It could be after or before the Mating Ceremony, it's also about the IC getting used with Nessian as an affectionate couple, the kind of always kiss when they meet and say goodbye.

Ok I went a little different with this one, but still a fluff bomb which I think was the assignment.

“Wait!” Feyre raised her arm high enough to slam into Rhys’ chest. Her other hand lifting a finger to her lips as she turned a sharp look in his direction.

Rhys raised his eyebrows as if to ask what? Feyre pointed to the room just around the corner.

Both of their eyes wide in abject wonder, they watched their siblings.

Nesta was curled up in Cassian’s lap on an overstuffed gray arm chair, head tucked into his chest. Her legs dangled off one arm of the chair, Cassian’s broad hand splayed across her thighs. His own head bent so that his chin rested atop her braided coronet.

“Do we have to do the ceremony?” Nesta mumbled softly, fingers fisted in the fabric of Cassian’s shirt as if it was the only thing anchoring her to the universe. His wings furled inward, cocooning her. “I feel like this is ceremony enough,” she sighed. “Just me and you and our hearts beating together.”

“You were the one who wanted the ceremony, love.” Cassian’s voice was light in a way Feyre - and from the look on his face, even Rhys - had never heard it.

“I wanted to show you off,” Nesta mumbled quietly. “I always knew I’d have a big wedding. Something elaborate and grand. It was just what I was raised to expect. I was raised to show off wealth and prosperity. But I never thought…” Cassian’s arms tightened around her and Nesta nestled even closer into him - if that was possible. “I never thought I would be proud of the person I was marrying. The title, maybe. The money if he had it. But not… not the person.”

Cassian’s fingers started to trace light circles around Nesta’s thigh and Feyre could tell that Rhys was about ready to break up the moment. So she dug her nails into his chest. He raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Well, I do have money and a title as well, Sweetheart.” Cassian teased.

“I’d have rejected the bond of you didn’t.” Nesta deadpanned. Cassian huffed a laugh. “Strange to think that there was a time when you believed that of me,” Nesta said gently.

Feyre went still. Suddenly guilty at her eavesdropping. She wasn’t in their minds, and they were talking loudly, but still…

“No,” Cassian pressed a kiss to Nesta’s forehead. “I thought you were proud and cunning and a little shallow, maybe, but I never thought you were heartless. Everything you do is to hide how much you care.”

“That’s not fair,” Nesta sighed. “How you get to be inside of my head.”

“I don’t need to be inside of your head to know you, Nes. I don’t need a bond to know you. To love you.”

Rhys made a gagging sound inside Feyre’s mind and she tightened her nails yet again.

“So we can stay here all day instead of going to the ceremony?”

Not after how much it cost me, Rhys scoffed into Feyre’s mind.

“I’ve never been wrong before,” Amren crashed through the beautiful moment before Feyre could snatch at her back. “I thought surely there was no way I could end up putting up with fools in love more insufferable than the high lord and lady of public eye sex, but here I am, proven wrong. This is SO much worse.”

Elain giggled where she stood slightly behind Amren, a garment bag clutched to her chest.

“This is unnatural,” Rhys shuddered, finally allowed to step out of his corner. “I was promised Lady Death and the Lord of Bloodshed, not sappy and sappier.”

“I’ll show you Lady Death,” Nesta glared at her brother-in-law.

“No murder on your mating ceremony day,” Elain trilled. “It’s bad luck.”

“So I can murder Rhys tomorrow?” Nesta asked.

“No,” Cassian said firmly, hands squeezing her waist tightly. “You’re all mine for at least a week after today.” Nesta pouted and Cassian pressed his lips to her forehead, “After that, we can murder Rhys together.”

“Best mating gift ever.” Nesta nodded.

“Now this,” Amren nodded, “is love.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #feysand #cassian #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #nesta and cassian #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar #feyre archeron #rhysand #elain archeron #amren

[shadowsingerspriestess]

so... I was not supposed to have worked on this yet here I am.

This is a headcanon inspired by THIS post.

You can also READ IT ON AO3 if anyone would rather do it there.

TRUST ME, I AM TRYING

Gwyn wiped the sweat off her brow, her breath slowly steadying. Training has been brutal, and the impossible exercises the Illyrian men put them through were not the primary cause.

When the shadowsinger took off his shirt, grumbling about the fucking hot weather, Gwyn was completely lost. Unlike his brother, who paraded more without a shirt on when they trained, Gwyn could count the times she had seen the shadowsinger bare-chested on the fingers of one hand. Yet those times had been brief. Barely seconds. That day, however, the weather forced him to train them shirtless.

Praise the Mother and the hot weather for it because what a sight was he to the sore eye…

Cauldron boil her, Azriel’s body was magnificent. Carved by the gods themselves. Muscles atop of muscles. Taunt and glistening from the sweat. Tattoos inked his powerful chest, and Gwyn wondered how it would feel to trace them with the tip of her tongue.

He looked straight out of one of Nesta’s erotic novels.

The sight had been so distracting she hadn’t seen the blow Nesta struck with enough force to send her toppling. Gwyn had no way of justifying her defeat without admitting the truth. Yet her sister guessed what got her so distracted by the knowing grin on her face.

“Maybe Azriel should train us shirtless more often.” Nesta winked, playfully patting Gwyn’s backside. She winced at the touch. The previous fall straight on her ass left a burning feeling, and her sister’s gentle spank only added to the aching.

Azriel was watching them, no emotion on his face. Yet Gwyn swore she caught his eyes on her backside moments before they flitted to her face. She tried not to think of what it could mean.

Nothing, of course. He must’ve noted Nesta’s gesture. That was all. Nothing more.

Emerie stared with an amused grin. The Illyrian female glanced at the shadowsinger, then back at Gwyn. The priestess gave her a warning look; her face flushed. Yet Emerie ignored her. “Who would’ve thought all it took to easily defeat you was a shirtless Azriel?”

Mother, spare her.

Gwyn groaned. “That’s not true! I thought I heard something. That’s why I didn’t pay attention.”

The blatant lie couldn’t have fooled anyone. Not even Nyx, who was hardly one year old. Yet Gwyn wasn’t out of her mind to admit Azriel’s shirtless form was, indeed, the reason she had been out of focus. Especially when he must monitor every word, every gesture around him.

Nesta returned with a glass filled with water. Gwyn’s throat was burning. She extended a hand in a silent request, hoping her sister would let her have a sip. Nesta’s grin told otherwise. Mirth danced in her grey eyes when she dipped her head in the direction of the water station, where Cassian and Azriel were quietly chatting.

“Nesta, please.” Gwyn pleaded, but her sister didn’t budge.

Gwyn hissed in annoyance, flipping Nesta off. She strode to the station, doing her best to keep her eyes on the glasses there. Not on the still shirtless shadowsinger.

She could faintly hear their mutters, and with her enhanced hearing, she caught something that involved Eris, a name she was well acquainted with now.

Gwyn glanced at Cassian, grateful he was there and she wouldn’t be all by herself with –

Oh, he had to be fucking kidding her.

Cassian clapped his brother on the back as he started walking away. As he passed by Gwyn, he flashed her a grin and affectionately tugged on her braid.

By the time she reached the station, Azriel was grumbling, and it most likely had to do with his previous talk with Cassian.

“Fuck me.” Exhaustion and exasperation crept into his tone.

She knew the true meaning of his words. Yet, with how hot she felt because of him, she couldn’t stop the bold thought as she filled her glass with water.

Trust me, I am trying.

The loud cough was enough to make her snap out of her thoughts. She looked at Azriel, the back of his hand covering his mouth as he coughed and coughed, his face turning red. He stared at her, his jaw slacked.

“What?”

Gwyn’s brow furrowed. “What?” She didn’t say a word to him. All she did was think about…

Utter terror flashed across her face as the realization settled in. Oh, Mother, did she say ‘I’m trying’ after Azriel said ‘Fuck me’ out loud?!

“What?” Gwyn’s voice got weak, a slight tremor in it. Shame crept into her already flushed cheeks.

Could things get any worse?

She got her answer the following second. Yes, they could.

“She said she’s trying to fuck you!” Nesta called out from the other side of the ring.

If looks could kill, Nesta would be dead by now. Gwyn’s eyes were burning, her teeth ground as Nesta simply smirked, knowingly.

Cassian’s eyes almost bulged out, yet the general looked at Gwyn impressed. Emerie was unashamedly laughing, swatting Nesta’s arm.

Gwyn was stuck, watching Emerie nod her farewell. She stared at Cassian as he flew Emerie back to her place. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the tips of her ears burning.

Nesta looked between them, grey eyes sparkling. Gwyn prayed to all the gods above she would leave them, too. She’d rather face the awkwardness with Azriel alone than have her big-mouthed sister with them.

Her prayers had been listened to because Nesta winked and turned on her heel, heading back inside. Her whistle cheerful, her braid bouncing against her back.

Gwyn took a deep breath through her nose and looked at the shadowsinger.

“I did not say that!”

Azriel’s shocked look was gone, his expression unreadable. Yet she didn’t miss how his amber eyes were twinkling with mirth. “What did you say, then?” Azriel asked, serious.

Now, fuck her. And not with the meaning of her fantasies with the hot, brooding shadowsinger.

“I am… tired.”

Yeah, because tired was close to trying.

“Tired, huh?” Azriel repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

“Scandalously tired.”

Gwyn was aware her words made no sense at the moment, but…

His lips tipped at the sides, an arrogant smirk spreading across his face. “That explains the lack of focus, and how effortlessly Nesta knocked you on your ass.”

Azriel knew why she had lost. That handsome, insufferable man knew very well he was the one to blame for her earlier defeat.

“It’s funny,” Azriel continued, tapping his chin with a gloved finger. “I thought you said Trust me, I’m trying.”

“Must be the old age.”

He regarded her with an amused look. To which she shrugged, irreverently. “You are old.”

“We are fae,” Azriel replied. “Over five centuries are a mere blink of an eye.”

Gwyn huffed, although she was glad for the change of topic. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Her relief soon disappeared, though. “Let’s say I am old, as you’re claiming. What of Nesta? She is younger than both of us.”

Again, fuck her.

“It’s Nesta,” Gwyn said, matter-of-factly. She crossed her arms over her chest. “She does stuff like that to tease us.”

Azriel hummed. “So, you did not say you’re trying to fuck me?”

“No.” She didn’t add ‘to fuck you’. “Why would I say that?” She scrunched her nose. “I don’t want to do it.”

“You don’t?”

“I do not.” Gwyn lied, her lips set in a firm line. “So don’t get your hopes too high, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel chuckled. “I will do my best not to.” He bent enough to whisper in her ear. “Too bad I wouldn’t have minded if you actually said you’re trying to fuck me.”

Gwyn tried to swallow against the dryness of her throat, desire coiled low. She kept telling herself it was just him teasing her. That he could not possibly mean it. Yes, they have flirted before, yet it had never gone this far. He had never shown any signs of desiring her in that way.

Or so she thought.

Because the deepening shadows circling his lower body, the faint foreign scent mingling with his night mist and cedar were telling her something else.

Gwyn’s hand trembled, water dripping onto her skin.

Oh, right. The water. She downed her glass as quickly as possible. Aware that her own scent of arousal was easily perceptible. She didn’t comment on it, though. Nor did Azriel.

Gwyn thought she’d melt when her eyes met his burning gaze. She shuddered, her toes curled in her boots. She didn’t say a word as she walked past him, the leathers clinging to her sweaty, hot body.

“Berdara.”

She threw him a curious look over one shoulder. And this time, she did not imagine it—he really was looking at her ass.

“Will I still see you tonight?”

He was talking about their private training session. Yet his voice dropped an octave, and there was more than a challenge in his eyes. A silent promise there would be more than just training.

Thank the Mother.

Gwyn grinned, flipping her braid over one shoulder. “Don’t get your hopes too high.” She mocked again, smiling as the shadowsinger’s low chuckle followed her inside.

Her heart almost jumped out of her chest as she saw Nesta waiting for her. She was leaning against a wall, a smug grin on her face.

“You listened to the whole thing, didn’t you?”

Nesta wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “And what a delight it was.” Nesta threw a wink her way. “You are welcome.”

Maybe she should thank her one day.

taglist: @trashforazriel @trashforazriel (as you requested, I tagged you twice, lol) @the-hospitality-of-knives @vikingmagic33 @meher-sumedha @lifelessdollinthesea @kimstclair @shisingh @booksmorebooks2301 @feyretale @imsointobooks @silverflameataraxia @julemmaes @almosttenaciousmoon @gwynrielsupremacy @sv0430 (if you wish to be added/taken out, please let me know! <3)

#gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel supremacy #azgwyn #gwyn x azriel #gwynriel headcanon #gwyneth berdara #gwynriel fanfiction #ao3 #gwynriel fic #pro gwynriel

[gwynrielsupremacy]

one shot prompt -

gwyn at training, purposely being more affectionate towards his shadows than him because she knows he wants it so she's teasing him but also, why should he always get the attention?? and az being pouty because he's a simp and he knows it and he can't do anything about it in front of cass and rhys and he has to quietly be jealous the rest of training and watch his shadows hang with their mum because she's cooler.

Gwynriel One-Shot: "Shadows and Training"

So this is my first attempt at an one-shot, inspired by this ask @deardiarystuff sent me! Hope you like it <3 It was so much fun to write. Feel free to submit more prompts in my ask, and I'll check them out as soon as I can :)

“This is not funny.” Azriel muttered to himself, watching Gwyn as she smiled and played with his shadows, which couldn’t stop encircling her.

She likes us a lot, master. And we like her better.

He rolled his eyes at the ones still in his shoulders, crossing his arms against his chest.

“What’s not funny, brother?” Cassian had just approached him, following his gaze to the young priestess on the other side of the training ring, engulfed by a large part of his shadows. He snorted. “Wow. What are they all doing over there?”

“I could ask them the same.” He grunted in response.

“It seems to me your shadows are growing fonder of your mate than of you, Shadowsinger. And vice-versa, may I add.” Cassian switched his stare from the scarce tendrils behind his brother to the majority of Azriel’s mighty shadows hanging around Gwyn, creating a sort of cape around her as she exercised, focused on her movements. But that constant sly smile on her face was driving him insane. As if she knew exactly what it was doing to him.

It’s been no more than a year since they discovered about their mating bond, and since then, Azriel’s life gained a new meaning. It was months and months of getting to know each other, slowly solidifying that bond with each day and night they spent together. And it was the happiest Azriel had ever been. Even the rest of his family noticed it; the way he was easier around others, made more jokes and comments than he usually - well, than he ever - did. All because of Gwyn, and what loving and being truly loved and cherished by the one who was meant for you entailed; the way she was helping him through his darkness, just like he was helping her.

She is teasing you and enjoying it. Go talk to her.

And so he went over to where she stood, alone and panting after she finished one of her sets: “You might hurt yourself if you keep doing it like this.”

She turned her face to him, narrowing her eyes, her beautiful freckled face flushed from training. His shadows were still hovering around her, like a dark cloud. She raised her eyebrows, reading right through him. She wasn’t actually doing anything wrong. Her feet could be spread a little wider, but it wasn’t necessary to her stance. He was just blabbing anything so he could have her attention.

It started a few days ago. They were having dinner together, and then he said something particular that bothered her. An opinion about a book she liked and he didn’t. He couldn’t exactly remember it now, to be honest. She disagreed with him, and argued back. So they found themselves immersed in a discussion about plot lines and poorly developed characters, in their usual bantering. But when they were over, his shadows unexpectedly crossed the small distance between them and went to stay with her.

And then Gwyn started talking to them. Bragging - seeing the expression in Azriel’s face - about how her point made much more sense than his, a victorious smile spread across her face. She talked to them with such fondness he couldn’t help but feeling some kind of jealousy, as ridiculous and irrational as it sounded. His shadows were a part of him, and he was well aware of that fact, but even so.

The way he reacted that night, knitting his brows together and shaking his head slowly, with a slight pout, was enough for Gwyn to notice the effect it had on him; and then she burst into a fit of laughter, her melodic voice easing him almost immediately, and leaned over to give him a soft kiss. And that was all it took for him to keep repeating his reaction every time that interaction happened again. Just like it was now.

“How come, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn teased, returning to her stance. Waiting, he could see, for him to correct her. And knowing for a fact she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“You could open up your feet a bit more, to improve your posture and give you more balance.”

“I thought my balance was quite well as it was, like you mentioned yesterday.” She turned her head away from him, preparing herself.

Azriel grunted, to which she smirked playfully.

“You know” She kept staring ahead of her, and swiftly twirled her body to bust a kick in the air “It’s not necessary for you to be jealous of me. After all, your shadows are bound to you; it’s not like I could go on and actually steal them.”

We would be happy to test this possibility.

He ignored his shadows, quietly admiring her quick and clean movements as she kicked the air again and again, huffing with each strike.

“Unless…” She trailed off, finishing her set and facing him at last, bracing her hands on her hips and lifting an eyebrow “Unless you’re not jealous of me with your shadows, but of your shadows with me.”

Azriel couldn’t help it, then. Mother, he was so fascinated by her; that challenging look when she assessed him, her clearly amused smile and that twinkle in her teal eyes. Her constellations shining bright with sunlight and sweat, making her face a sky he would happily look up at for the rest of his nights.

“I’m not jealous, Berdara.” He declared, in a low tone.

She nodded delightedly, eyes narrowing. “So you wouldn’t mind if I kept them for now, then? We’re having so much fun together”

He watched as she smiled charmingly at his shadows hovering around her, embracing her shoulders and hips and arms, and then stared deep into his eyes. All he could do was shake his head half-heartedly, in a quiet act of defeat, knowing full well he should let her get back to training.

Before he turned to leave, though, she grabbed his arm, and with a graceful movement she leaned on her toes and kissed him lightly. Quickly, because well, there was still an audience around them – Cassian and Nesta included, whom Azriel could practically feel the stare from across the room – but enough for him to close his eyes and savor her lips, breathing in her scent. Their kisses, they took his breath away ever since the first one, hesitant and soft. And Azriel had a joyous feeling it would always feel like this.

“Thank you” She whispered cheekily and winked when they parted, face mere inches away from his.

He couldn’t help but smile then, the grin that was only meant for Gwyn. After all, she was the reason that made him remember how to do it once again. He was still grinning when he turned away to join Cassian, and it spread as Gwyn hummed a gleeful “’love you!” at him.

When he stood by his brother’s side he was greeted with a laugh from the General, who scanned him from head to toe.

“Damn, brother, you’re such a…”

“I know.” He interrupted, never taking his eyes away from his mate and his shadows as she resumed her practice. “I’m a fool for her.”

And he didn't mind.

No, he didn't mind one bit.

#aaaaaaaa #my first one shot #gwynriel one shot #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel and gwyn #gwyn x azriel #gwynriel headcanon #azriel #hope you like it #pls let me know what you think <3

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

[rayonfrozenwings]

Just read your recent Nyx headcanon and now it's all I can think about!!

Could you please do one for when Feysand and IC meet Nyx's girlfriend/boyfriend for the first time?

ummmm...

ok

So Nyx is very old when he brings home a serious girlfriend. Hes arty and a little shy but buff as and super sweet - so a total hunk and his partner cannot believe that this Nyx's first serious relationship and is terrified to be meeting his aunts and uncles even tho Nyx says its fine

For the purpose of this I will use the pronouns they/them because I just don't yet know in my head what Nyx likes.

So Nyx brings them in and their eyes are like sauncer - this house is massive and nothing like the arty studio Nyx owns in the rainbow.

They knew Nyx came from money and a prominent family but not "the family".

So there's the big hall, nyx is wrapping his arm around them and squeezing their shoulder. Seeming calm - but obviously knowing what his family is like.

Nyx sees cassian waving from the mezzanine floor saluting at him before turning Nesta around and walking back down the hall. Checking out the couple but also knowing how Feyre and Rhysand will react if anyone other than themselves greets them first.

Feyre and Rhys walk into the main foyer, Feyre in a long gown and hair up and Rhys in his usual black suit - wings hidden away for convenience.

Nyx smiles at his parents and they smile back looking to him and his date.

The evening is supposed to be a semi-formal affair, Emerie and Mor are celebrating their anniversary in style and doing a tour of Prythian - they arrived yesterday and today is a celebratory dinner at the house. Nyx was unable to hide his date from his family anymore and he knew Aunty Mor and Em would get mad if he didnt let them meet his date while they were in town.

Feyre steps forward for a big hug and becomes overly affectionate with Nyx and his partner. Rhysand nods his dad like the proud dad and introduces himself like the person standing before him wouldn't have a clue - but they do, Rhys is a celebrity in Velaris.

Rhys escorts Nyx's date down the hall and they chat and his date and Rhys are both smiling and laughing.

Nyx watches from behind as him mum puts her arm in his and walks behind them.

They are lovely Nyx, we just want to see you happy - you know that right.

Nyx nods his head and pats his mums arm realising he still has paint under his fingernails - but its ok because Feyre has some pain spots on her wrist where she hasn't quite scrubbed hard enough.

They enter the main living room, lots of guests are already there from around Prythian and Velaris. Nyx scans the room, jumping over auras and reading energy. The red and silver of Cassian and Nesta is by the temporary bar set up leading to the gardens and main lawn.

Elain and her baby pink glow flecked with golden sparks is vibrating as she talks with other esteemed members of Velaris.

Nyx looks for more faces he knows but gets distracted as Rhys leaves his partner at the bar with Nesta and Cassian.

"Well done my boy they seem lovely" he says to Nyx passing him a drink, and Nyx responds with a smile and a "of course" he's always learned to keep his heart tucked away under many layers even with his family.

Feyre pats Nyx on the back and says "I'm glad they make you happy and you should bring them round on Sunday for brunch - we aren't that intimidating" she finished off the sentence with a wink.

Nyx signs and says"I know mum, I just find it hard being the centre of everyone's focus - at least tonight I know everyone will be focusing on Mor and Em."

Feyre leans in and hugs him. Rhys pulls Feyre off of her son and says "enjoy your evening" and whispers in Feyre's ear.

Nyx moves towards the bar hope to dear god that Nesta and Cassian haven't scared them with tales of sexual exploit.

"Are the drinks good" he opens with a a swave smile. The charm offensive coming on now he is in public. He is rewarded with a kiss and a whisper "I really like your family - everyone is so kind".

Cassian says that he has had better but he can't really complain if the drinks are free - Nyx can tell it's going to be a long night.

The festivities move on throughout the night - eventually Em and Mor turn up - matching in iridescent green and gold outfits mimicking the summer moment.

Dancing starts and Nyx retreats to drink in peace. His date flits around the space - meeting people and enjoying themselves.

And Nyx just sees the picture before him - the splashes of colour and aura's of people and the night sky a backdrop for the entire thing. He sees the painting in his mind and sends the image to his mother.

She smiles and looks to him. A soft sad look. so they aren't the one? no golden thread yet. no. it seems not. its not always needed my love - mates are rare - you can just enjoy your time with the people you love. but I see all the threads mother, I see all the strings, and it would just be nice to know my own was out there. Feyre walks over to him and hugs him in the biggest bear hug she can muster. Rhys is soon there as well encapsulating them in wings and darkness.

funny that your darkness is the only time I find peace, Nyx whispers to his father, chuckling and taking in another drink.

Rhys pulls it back - ah but without it you wouldn't see all the colour my son. Your gift is the most special.

Nyx sees a tear on his face, his mother has probably already told him the realisation he has had this evening - that it just won't work out this time.

"What do Mor and Em look like to you?" Rhys asks Nyx.

"Happy" he replies.

"What do they look like in your mind?" he tries again.

Nyx shifted focus, the hazy glows of people coming to the front. "Happy and in love" he replied.

"Do you see a string of fate?"

"Do you want me to?"

Rhys shook his head. "No I just wanted you to remember that not everyone is fated or connected with the golden string of fate."

"I know dad. There's is pure light, not the same as the others but more pure - it might not be the same mating bond that pulls you to mum of Nesta and Cassian but its something powerful. I would even guess its connected to auty Mor's powers."

Rhys nodded - "I wish I knew if they always had that for you so put your own worries at ease but I don't know. Only you can see these."

Nyx went silent. Looking out at the lawn and gardens outside. The soft glows behind hedges and the many people thinking themselves hidden in the shadows.

"I think it's time to call it a night - I'll let you know about brunch on Sunday" he went over to the dance floor had a few twirls with his date, whispering in their ear as his parents watched.

Not a bad evening, best to enjoy the present because nothing was set in stone and everything could change at a moments notice. They left and went back to Nyx's place for a long awaited rest.

#nyx #headcanon #innercircle #idk where i went with this #for some reason i made nyx tortured and im sorry #acotar #ask

[danydragons21]

The Shadows That Sing: Chapter 14

Read it on ao3 here.

Chapter 14: Warnings

Elain knew fear. Intense, soul-shaking, debilitating fear. She might even call fear an intimate friend of hers. 

The night Tamlin stole Feyre from the cottage. When she was thrown in the cauldron. Her capture and short lived imprisonment in Hybern’s camp.

But none of those frightening experiences could compare to the absolute horror she felt now. 

Koschei was here. And he was standing right behind her. 

Her breath would have been coming in short gasps, if she was able to breathe at all. 

In front of her, Phillip’s lifeless form lay sprawled on the earthy conservatory floor. She wanted to close her eyes. Wanted to block out the horror of seeing the deep gash in his throat and the glazed look of fear in his eyes, forever frozen. But she kept her eyes open. She deserved to see the tragedy that had befallen her friend. She added him to the list of people she had failed to save.

“Nothing to say? Come now, Kingslayer. It’s rude to ignore a guest,” the Death Lord mocked. He was so close to her she could feel his breath against the back of her neck, cool and cruel as a winter wind. 

Say something. The thought cut through her paralyzing panic.

“This is not my home. I have no authority to give you guest rights here.”

A slight pause, then Koschei laughed lightly. The sound sent chills down her spine. A moment later, with a sudden rush of air, he was in front of her. For a moment, all she saw was a monstrous shadow, an ever-twisting, ever-morphing figure shaped like a man — but he was no man.

Then, the death lord stepped out of the shadows surrounding him. 

***

It was afternoon and the Velaris sun burned bright as Azriel stood on the roof of the House of Wind.

He had not seen or heard from Rhys since their argument atop the mountain, and that was fine with him. He did not know if he wanted to see or speak to the High Lord ever again; as melodramatic as that sounded, it was also rooted in truth. Something had broken between them, and he was not sure how to fix it. Was not sure he wanted to fix it.

Nuala and Cerridwen had found him the evening of the fight. “The High Lord asked us to take over Elain’s training,” they said in unison. It was clearly an order given by Rhys in the most cowardly way possible. But Azriel was emotionally drained, more so than he had been in years, and so he nodded his agreement. Better for the twins to train Elain than him, especially in his current state. 

So the last few days, to stay busy and to avoid Rhys (and everyone else), Azriel had alternated between spying on the Mortal Queens, Beron Vanserra, and looking for any trace of either Koschei or Bryaxis. None of his efforts yielded any solid results, though he did take note of yet another one of Beron’s visits to the Dawn Court Priestess. Perhaps the High Lord was having an affair. He wouldn’t put it past the old bastard. 

But this morning, Cassian had asked him to visit the House of Wind and help oversee the Valkyrie’s training. Though Cas claimed that Azriel would be doing them all a favor —

 “Your expertise and input would be greatly appreciated, even Nesta says so” — he was not fooled. It was nothing more than a poorly-disguised excuse to get Azriel to stop isolating himself. As much as Azriel preferred to brood, he knew Cassian was worried. Besides, he’d always had a difficult time saying no to his warm and affectionate brother. 

So now Azriel was at the House of Wind, watching as Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie led a group of Valkyries-in-training through a series of exercises. 

“Impressive, right?” Cassian was standing next to him, arms crossed and eyes bright as he too observed the female warriors. Azriel nodded his agreement. The Valkyries were certainly impressive. 

“That’s it for today!” He heard Nesta shout from across the training ring. The females started to split off, some leaving, some staying behind to chat. Perhaps Azriel could leave now too? He started to turn to Cas, an excuse already on the tip of his tongue, when Gwyn appeared in front of him. 

“Hello,” she said. Her teal eyes, like always, were stunningly bright.

“Hello,” he replied. He smiled as his shadows encircled Gwyn for a moment before returning to him. 

“Hello, little shadows,” Gwyn cooed, making his shadows bounce excitedly. When she met Azriel’s gaze, the smile slid off her face. “We need to talk,” she said seriously.

***

The Death Lord was utterly horrific. What was incorporeal had become solid, but there was a blurred effect to his body all the same; no matter how hard you focused, you could never quite see it clearly. His hands were spindly and elongated with dirty fingernails, sharp and long as talons. The smell of death and decay emanated from him in sickening waves. The plants around them began wilting from his mere presence, and Elain felt something cold twist her insides. Felt like she’d never be happy again. 

But the worst part about him was his face. Sickly gray, horribly malformed, it looked like a corpse in the early stages of decay. Huge, beady black eyes sat in the center of his ovoid head. Every other feature — a crooked mouth, lips thin and cracked; uneven ears, one smaller than the other; a long, hooked nose with a small chunk taken out of the tip — each physical attribute appeared rotted and ruined. So warped and wicked was his countenance that Elain felt physically ill.

Nesta may have had Death as a power, but the being in front of her was Deathless. 

And he was a nightmare.

The screams and shouts from within the Manor grew louder. Cut through her petrifying fear. Cleared her mind enough that she was able to focus on her next step.

“Why are you here?” She had meant for her voice to be strong and forceful, like Nesta and Feyre and Vassa’s would have been. But the words were as unsteady as her shaking hands. 

Oh gods, my hands. What if her hands started to glow? They glowed whenever she felt intense emotion, and as this fear was as intense as anything she’d ever felt before, she knew it couldn’t be long before the terror overtook the temporary, numbing shock she was experiencing. And if he saw her hands, he would know of her…well, she wasn’t sure what exactly her glowing hands meant, but she was certain that it was nothing she wanted the Death Lord to become aware of. I cannot let him see my hands. 

Casually, she clasped her hands behind her back as Koshei began to speak.

“I already told you,” he answered. “I was looking for you. I wanted to see you.”

“Why?” she breathed.

Koschei shook his head in what she thought might be amusement, but it was hard to tell, seeing as his face and expressions were as insubstantial as the rest of him. “Don’t play dumb with me, Kingslayer. You have something I want.”

Beneath the waves of fear, Elain felt a surprising rush of annoyance. Why did he keep calling her Kingslayer? She had a name, after all. More intense than her annoyance was her confusion. What could she possibly have that the Death Lord would want? Her first thought was that he must mean Vassa, but that didn’t make sense. She wanted to know what he was talking about but did not want to ask. Did not want the Death Lord to think she was “playing dumb” or lying. And if he truly believed she held something of value…then perhaps she could use that to her advantage. Think, Elain, think. 

“Even if I did have this — object — that you seek, why would I admit it to you?” This time, her voice was stronger.

“I heard you were spineless, but it appears you do have a little fight in you after all,” he crooned. If he had a face, he would have been smirking at her. “Such a beauty, too…perfect skin, perfect breasts…” Elain shuddered as Koschei looked her up and down. “It’s a shame I can’t take you to my lake. You’d be the shining gem in my collection.”

Elain remained silent. She would not dignify the Death Lord with a response, would not rise to the bait he was so obviously throwing her way. Behind her back, she felt her hands begin to glow slightly, incited from a mix of fear and anger and humiliation. She clenched her fists together, praying to the gods he would not notice.

Koschei sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately, you’re much more useful to me here.” Those sunken eyes appraised her, and a disturbing fervor overtook his face. “Where is it?” He whispered. 

Elain swallowed. “I cannot tell you.” She still had no idea what he was talking about, but better to pretend that she did.

The Death Lord’s eyes flared in anger, and he became nothing but shadow again, an intangible, swirling vortex. “I will find it eventually, you know. Not even a seer, with a soul and mind as protected as yours, can stop me forever. I am more powerful than you can imagine. And I always get what I want. Just ask Vassa --  I do hope she’s enjoying her brief vacation away from The Lake, by the way. She’ll be back where she belongs soon enough.” 

The arrogant, misplaced ownership Koschei flaunted over her friend made Elain’s hands glow even brighter, and she was about to retort when from the other end of the conservatory, she heard the doors open. A smile, wicked and cruel, appeared on Koschei’s rotted face. 

“Perhaps my friends can help convince you to acquiesce,” the Death Lord crooned.  

And then, around the corner, by the exotic plumerias she’d planted just that morning, Koschi’s “friends” appeared. Elain gasped and instinctively stepped backwards. 

***

Hiding his surprise, Azriel followed Gwyn to a secluded corner of the roof. They stood in silence for a brief moment, Gwyn twisting a lock of red hair around her finger and biting her lip. He was quite confused. He had no idea what she could possibly have to say to him that was causing her to act so strangely.

“Listen,” Gwyn said finally, “I don’t know why you gave me that necklace last Solstice. I mean, it’s beautiful, it really is, and clearly it was specially made, but I just think I need to make it clear that I’m not interested in you.” 

Azriel’s mouth dropped open.

“Not that I don’t think you’re great! I think you’re awesome and, you know, I would like to think we are friends, but I just, I just don’t feel that way about you. I don’t even know if that was your intention, but I know you didn’t give a necklace to Emerie or Nesta, so I just wanted to bring it up to you and make sure we were on the same page.” She said this all very fast, her pale skin bright red. Though not as red as Azriel was sure his own face was at that moment.

“I’m not interested in you,” he finally managed to reply. “I mean, I think you’re great too, but…not like that.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Then why did you give me a necklace? You do realize that jewelry is often a present males give to females they are romantically attracted to, right?”

“Yes, I do know that.” Even Azriel’s ears were burning now. “If I’m being honest…” He cleared his throat. “That gift was originally meant for someone else. But they did not want it. And after I saw you on the roof the night of Solstice, I don’t know, I just thought you would appreciate it. I suppose I just wanted to do something nice for you.” 

Gwyn smiled slightly, then frowned again. “Wait. You got a necklace custom-made for someone else…who?”

If possible, Azriel grew even redder. If the red-haired female continued to call him out like this, he might just spontaneously combust from embarrassment. 

“It doesn’t matter,” He mumbled. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think I deserve to know, seeing as I was re-gifted this necklace.”

He groaned and put his head in his hands. “I’m never buying another gift for as long as I live.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Just tell me. Who would I tell?” 

This time, it was Azriel who looked at her skeptically. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Nesta, your best friend?”

“I wouldn’t tell her. I am a very good secret keeper. But why would you care if Nesta knew? Unless…” Her eyes widened. “The mating ceremony! The reception! It’s Elain, isn’t it?”

“Lower your voice,” he whispered forcefully.

“Aha! I knew it!” she said triumphantly. 

Azriel sighed, resigned to the fact that his adoration for Elain Archeron would probably be the death of him, one way or another. “Please don’t say anything.”

“Of course not,” Gwyn replied. “What are friends for if not keeping each other’s secrets?” She grinned, then shook her head bemusedly. “Damn. You Illyrians really have a thing for the Archeron sisters, don’t you?”

“And on that note, I’m leaving,” Azriel said. He was about to walk away, when Gwyn said, “Wait!”

Out of her pants pocket, she pulled the rose necklace. 

“You should give it back to her,” she said. “And if you really care about her, you should let her know.”

Before he could do more than blink in surprise, she walked away, rejoining her warrior sisters. He stood in the corner a moment longer, watching the beautiful stain-glass pendant swinging from the delicate chain. 

If you really care about her, you should let her know.

He pocketed the necklace. 

***

Azriel left the House of Wind shortly after his conversation with Gwyn, feeling lighter than he had in days. His friend had given him hope, of a sort. Hope that perhaps the necklace would be returned to its rightful owner.

Flying over the city, Azriel decided to go to the River House. He knew Rhys was at some meeting with Helion today, so he wasn’t worried about running into the High Lord; however, it had been a while since he’d seen Feyre and Nyx. 

When he arrived at the River House, he found Feyre in her art studio painting while Nyx crawled on the floor and tried to knock over every easel in the room. 

“Az,” Feyre cried happily. “You haven’t visited in forever,” she scolded after giving him a one-armed hug; she held a paintbrush in the other. 

“I’ve been busy, High Lady,” Azriel said. 

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure. Too busy to see your nephew and your favorite sister-in-law?”

Az grinned, then glanced down when he felt a slight tug on the string of his boots. Nyx was pulling at the laces, his tiny wings bobbing with each movement. “Hello, sweet Nyx,” he murmured. The baby babbled happily and raised his chubby little arms. He grinned wider and began to bend down to lift him up when he suddenly remembered his shadows. Awkwardly, he straightened up. Feyre looked at him questioningly, and he was about to come up with some half-assed excuse when, simultaneously, the back of his neck burned and the heaviness of horror filled his chest. 

Immediately, he knew what it meant. 

The bargain tattoo. 

Elain.

She was in danger. 

“What’s wrong?” Feyre asked, noting his sudden discomfort. 

Azriel was about to tell her; he didn’t even care if she found out about the bargain tattoo. All he cared about was getting to Elain. But as he opened his mouth to speak, there was a sudden flash of light. A red feather, alight with flames, spun in mid-air for a brief moment before burning entirely. The ashes fell to the ground like rain, and all was normal again.

“It’s Lucien’s warning,” Feyre said, her face white and stricken. “Something is wrong at the Mortal Manor.”

***

The creatures looked like they were once human, but were certainly not now. Each had the same decayed look as Koschei, the same gray-tinted skin, but their eyes were dull and lifeless; some were even missing eyes. Or ears. Or hands.

Or heads.

She’d heard of creatures like this once before, in a grisly bedtime story Nesta had read to her and Feyre many moons ago. Deceased mortals reanimated to do the bidding of an evil spirit. What had Nesta called them?

The Walking Dead. Walkers. 

Ice froze in her belly. The small fire of bravery Elain had felt just moments before was snuffed out entirely. Behind her back, her hands stopped glowing. 

“What’s the matter, Kingslayer? Death is nothing to fear. If you’re me, that is.” Koschei cackled. The army of the dead were coming closer and closer, and as Elain took another step back, she backed into a cold, hard body. She screamed out loud and spun around.

Walkers were coming in from every direction, from every corner of the conservatory, circling her, closing in. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Her thoughts were coming in rushing waves, uncontrolled and crushing. She wished her hands would glow again, not that she knew what to do with them, but it was something, the semblance of power an inexpressible comfort, and she wished she had Truth-Teller, but what good what that do when she had barely any experience wielding a dagger, and most of all she wished Azriel was here --

Azriel. The bargain tattoo. How could she have forgotten? She raised a hand to the back of her neck and was about to press down on the inked rose when --

“Not so fast,” Koschei snarled. The Death Lord was next to her again. One cold, slimy hand snatched her wrist; the other wrapped around her neck. She gasped for air and clawed at his hand, but his grip was unmovable. She met Koschei’s gaze through watering eyes. 

“You have three months to tell me where it is. Three months -- no more, no less. If you choose not to, then this,” he gestured to the Walkers around them, “will be the fate of everyone you love and hold dear. Your sisters. Your brother-in-laws. The shadowsinger, the Morrigan, the Made one, and the Lord of Foxes. Your nephew.” Bile rose in Elain’s throat at the mention of Nyx. 

“Don’t you dare touch them,” Elain rasped, still struggling against Koschie’s chokehold. The Death Lord ignored her entirely.

“Do you see what I can do?” he asked, softer now. “Do you see the magnitude of my magic? Do you see the inevitability of my reign?” 

Suddenly, he released her throat. She gulped in air as he reached up and lightly caressed her cheek. The intimacy of the gesture, so gently threatening, was perhaps the most disturbing thing he had done yet. He was so close to her she could taste his putrid breath.

“It is your choice, Kingslayer. Give me what I want…or face the consequences.” Beady black eyes penetrated her for a moment longer, one hand still cupping her face. 

Then, swift as a breeze, he was gone. And in his wake, every plant in the conservatory, from the smallest tulip bulb to the tallest sunflower, withered and died. All of the Walkers fell to the ground immediately, no longer animated. They were as motionless as Phillip, whose corpse lay in the center of what was now a mass grave. 

The only living thing in the conservatory was Elain Archeron.

Feeling as though she was living outside of her own body, Elain took a step forward. Crunch. She stepped on a rose, dead now from Koschei’s cruel magic. Bending down, she gingerly grabbed it by a dry petal and placed it in the palm of her hand. It looked so sad there. 

All this death. All this decay. How was she supposed to stop it? How was she supposed to save her friends and family when she could not even save this rose?

Sorrow and rage and frustration alike pulsed through her body. She gnashed her teeth together and squeezed her eyes shut, telling herself not to cry, but angry tears slipped through the cracks anyway. She clenched the rose in her fist, and then stopped when she felt something smooth and soft against her palm. 

She opened her glowing fist to find a fully live rose, dark and red as blood.

#elriel #pro elriel #elriel forever #elriel fanfic #elriel fic #elain archeron #pro elain #pro elain archeron #elain x azriel #elain acosf #Azriel #azriel x elain #acotar #acotar fic #lucien acotar #vassa acotar #gwyn acosf

[likeiwishiknew]

Azriel x Gwyn - The Jump

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716227/chapters/73319802

He was not a fan of birthdays. 

He certainly never celebrated his own. 

But the Night Court, his family, enjoyed them plenty. Though, admittedly, they enjoyed any occasion where they could all gather together for good fun and good wine. 

Tonight was Nesta’s birthday, and Cassian had gone all out on decorating the House of Wind. Rhys had gifted the place to Cassian and Nesta in honor of their mating, but Azriel still kept rooms here. The pair had insisted upon it, saying that it was much his home as it was theirs. 

Azriel wasn’t so sure about that. Home...he didn’t quite know what that was supposed to feel like. 

He stood off to the side as he always did, watching the revelry. 

Mor was speaking to Emerie. There was an ease between them that he was quite certain he’d never before seen from the female who’d once consumed his thoughts. 

It was no question that Mor was beautiful. He would always acknowledge that, would always care for her, but after centuries of pining after her, he found, in recent years, she no longer affected him the way she used to. And in truth, he was grateful for it. 

Over the centuries he’d tried to convince himself to be content with what they had. That her companionship, her friendship was enough. But that was the thing about one-sided love. No matter how hard you might feign contentment at being able to remain by their side, a part of you would always hope for more. And a heart that yearned for someone who showed no reciprocation was bound to become bitter. 

He was no exception.

One would think it would’ve made him wise enough not to ensure he never fell into the same pattern again. But he damn near had. 

Elain Archeron was lovely, gentle, and seemed to have shared his attraction. 

She was also another’s mate. 

He and Rhys had almost come to blows over Azriel attraction to the middle Archeron sister. His brother had gone as far as ordering him to stay away. An order that had irked him and had the dominant side of him almost determined to go against his High Lord’s order, if for no other reason than to prove his will was no one’s to command. However, time and some distance had given him perspective. He’d come to realize that perhaps it wasn’t so much Elain that he wanted but the idea of her. The idea of belonging with someone so beautiful and soft. The idea of being made whole, the way his brothers had when they’d found their mates. 

That was what he wanted, to feel whole. To be unbroken. 

His quiet introspection was interrupted by a burst of laughter. His eyes darted across the room at the almost musical sound. He caught sight of Gwyn speaking to Nesta and Cassian. Her face alight with happiness.

He hadn’t seen her since their uncomfortable encounter at the shop.

The sight of her put him in good spirits. Until he noticed the excessive rosy tint to her complexion. It took him a second to realize the issue. 

She was drunk, or at least well on her way to it. 

What the hell? 

He headed to where she was, eating up the distance in a few long strides. 

Cassian was the first to notice his approach. His brother gave him an interested look. Perhaps, surprised to see him headed toward people rather than away from them. 

He came up beside Gwyn, something she would normally detect immediately. But with her dulled senses she took far too long to notice. 

When she finally did she only looked up at him in confusion, like she did not know who he was. 

“Are you drunk?” he asked concerned. 

A mischievous smile crossed her face, recognition in her eyes at the sound of his voice.

“Maybe just a tiny bit,” she admitted, raising her fingers to emphasize how tiny. 

Nesta spoke up, “It hadn’t occurred to me how low her alcohol tolerance would be. Though, in retrospect, it should’ve. I doubt she grew up drinking much at the temple.” 

“I feel great though,” Gwyn interjected. 

Cassian gave her an affectionate smile. His friend looked as though he found this amusing. Azriel did not. He wanted to insist she go rest and sober up, but he knew in his gut she would not appreciate being ordered about. 

“Perhaps, you should like to get some air,” he offered instead. 

Her smile grew wider and she nodded, “That is a most excellent idea.” 

She turned to Nesta and Cassian, “Would you the two of you like to join?” 

Nesta smiled at her friend.

“I think we’ll stay inside, mingle with the others. But you’ll be safe with Azriel,” his brother’s mate started saying, only to meet his eyes, “Right, Az?” 

He returned her stare, “Of course.”

Nesta gave an approving nod and took Cassian by the hand, leading him away. 

Azriel offered Gwyn his arm, uncertain she’d be able to make her way to the balcony without some assistance. He waited for her to scoff, offended, but she took it with no protest. 

He led her over to the double doors leading to the balcony and pushed them open.

Releasing his arm, she rushed to the edge. Her face was awash with wonder as she took in the light of the stars, almost as if seeing them for the very first time.

He quietly observed as she took a deep breath, taking in the cool night air. 

“You know I never knew how much I missed the sky until I saw it for the first time again after spending nearly two years locked away in the dark,” she confessed, a smile on her face, “I thank the stars, that I found the courage to meet Nesta and Cassian up here that first day.” 

He did too. 

In moments like this, he was in awe of her. This young woman, whose soul remained bright, whose heart still managed to be grateful, even after all she’d endured. 

Gwyn spun back around to him, “Shall we play a game?” she teased. 

He smirked at her, “What sort of game?”

“A trust game,” she hopped up onto the ledge, sending his heart damn near leaping out of his chest.

“What are you doing?” 

She stood facing him and shot him a playful smile. 

“Game starts...now!” she called out, letting herself fall backward off the ledge. 

Fuck. He cursed. 

He spread his wings and jumped after her. 

She was falling fast, but he was faster. He swept her up into his arms and pulled her close. Moments later, he had them touching down gently on the ground below. 

“What the hell was that!?” his voice near shouting. 

Gwyn tapped her chin in thought, “I believe humans call it a trust fall.” 

His brows furrowed in annoyance, “You could’ve been hurt.”

She stared at him, looking genuinely surprised at his frustration, “I only did it because I knew it was safe.” 

“Jumping off a balcony when you cannot fly is hardly safe,” he admonished.

“It is when I know you’ll catch me,” she all but sang back, grinning up at him. 

He fell silent at her admission. He wasn’t sure how to respond. 

So, he shook his head and changed the subject. 

“Let’s get you back into the house.” 

As he readied to fly them back up, she spoke. 

“About the necklace...” she started. 

He winced that the mention, uncertain he wished to discuss it with her in her current state or any state. 

But she was too drunk to pick up on his mood.

“I want you to know I was never angry I was...hurt some. But mostly I was...embarrassed...I think...I don’t...it doesn’t matter,” she trailed off, “I know you didn’t have ill intentions. I’m the one who made assumptions.”

He paused. About what?

“So it wasn’t you who hurt me. It was me. I - never mind, it is silly anyways.”

“No. It’s not. Tell me,” he insisted. 

She hesitated, “I was silly for thinking someone like you would like someone like me.” 

Her admission floored him. Why would she think that?

Any male would be so lucky to -

He stopped himself. He couldn’t have this conservation now. Not when she likely wouldn’t even remember any of this come morning. 

Tucking her close to his chest, he went ahead and winnowed them back upstairs. 

Gwyn glanced around, clearly not understanding how she’d gotten from one place to the next. 

“I’m taking you back to your room,” he declared. 

She shook her head, “You can’t enter the dorm area, priestess’ only.” 

Damn, that was right. Funny how she happened to remember that little detail. 

As though summoned by her sister’s presence, Nesta appeared.

“She’s a bit of mess so it probably would not be wise to bring her downstairs,” the female pointed out, “I’ll take her back to my old rooms, that way if she needs anything I’ll be close by.” 

“It’s alright. I’ll bring her,” he insisted. 

Nesta raised a single brow. 

“I want to make sure she’s fine,” he defended, holding the female’s stare. 

“And you don’t trust that I’d make sure of that?” Nesta returned, with the barest hint of offense. 

“I - Nesta, please, let me do this," he requested. 

She took him in with her all too seeing gaze. 

They stayed like that. Assessing each other, until she realized he wouldn’t yield on this. At which point, she only nodded her assent. He gave a single nod, passing her to take the stairs up. 

Reaching the room in little time at all, he opened the door - taking care not to jostle Gwyn in his arms. 

With steady footsteps, he headed over to the large bed. Kneeling on the edge, he laid her down as gently as possible. 

His shadows danced around her, kissing her skin as though wishing her good night. 

She curled up with his arm. He tried to pull away but she held on tight. 

“Gwyn, Gwyn,” he whispered, to no avail. 

He brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into her face, and she nuzzled his hand. Her hold on him loosening. 

He was about to pull away again when she whispered his name, “Azriel.”

The sound was so faint he wondered if he’d imagined it. He stared down at her, trying to discern if she was awake. But she did not stir. 

His name on her lips brought the tiniest smile to his face. Carefully, he extracted himself from her hold and reluctantly got off the bed. Something inside him calmed at the sight of her peacefully sleeping face. He stared down at the hand she’d held in hers. 

“If there’s anyone who isn’t good enough, it’s me,” he whispered, eyes returning to her.  

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, “Goodnight, Berbara.” 

- - - 

Her head was pounding. 

She had a sour taste on her tongue, and she was unbelievably thirsty.

Turning over in bed, she opened her eyes. It took all of two seconds for her to realize this was not her room. She sat up and frantically looked around. Absolutely nothing looked familiar. 

Staring toward the door Gwyn willed herself to remember how she’d gotten here. 

She took a deep breath and counted down from twenty. By the time she reached ten, everything from the night before came flooding back. Her face heated from embarrassment. 

God, she could not believe she’d done and said those things. 

Glancing on the nightstand she realized someone had placed a jug of water there, along with a glass. She smiled at the thoughtfulness. 

Filling it to the brim, she took a large sip. When she suddenly remembered she had morning plans. 

With Azriel. 

Oh, gods. 

She was never drinking again.

For a brief instant, she considered not showing up. But that idea went as quickly as it had come.

She was a grown woman. She would not hide from her mistakes and avoid Azriel when he’d been nothing but good to her. Despite her ridiculous behavior. With that in mind, she jumped out of bed and quickly hurried back to her own room, to change out her clothes, before heading up to meet him.

Gwyn had just made it past the archway when Azriel turned. He looked almost surprised to see her. Which was strange because surely his shadows had warned him of her approach. 

He watched with keen focus as she approached.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admitted.

She met his handsome gaze head-on, “I wouldn’t miss this. I know how busy you are, and I’m the one who asked you to teach me the technique I found in the old tome.”

For a moment, Azriel said nothing. She started to grow a bit anxious, but thankfully he put her out of her misery. 

“Shall we get started then?” he asked. 

She nodded, getting into a fighting stance. 

And with that, they fell into familiar territory.

- - -

Any unease and tension between them had faded with each calculated movement.

He would have to leave soon. Spymaster business. Nesta mentioned it to her the other day in passing when she’d visited her in the library.

In one final attempt to take him down, she darted forward. But just before her hit landed, he stepped out of the way. Her momentum had her tumbling forward, but before she started to fall Azriel caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

Still off-balance, she didn’t catch herself in time and wound up crashing into his firm chest.

Palm pressed against him, she pulled back. Praying she managed to keep from blushing, she looked up into his warm hazel eyes. 

“Thank you for catching me,” she voiced, and then, remembering events of the night before, she added, “Both times.”

A smile slowly curved his lips. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’re welcome, on both counts.”

She knew she was doing a piss poor job of not blushing.

“Oh, also, I meant what I said by way. I know you giving me the necklace didn’t mean what I thought it did. So you don’t have to worry about me having any silly ideas.” 

Gwyn felt him stiffen. Turning her head, she saw his expression had shuttered at her words. Which left her a bit confused. 

Perhaps, her words hurt because they made him think of his own situation. How he pined after a female who already had a mate. It pained her to see him this way, but it wasn’t her place to address it. He wasn’t hers to worry over. 

“Right...well I should go. I mean, I know you have somewhere else to be and so do I so...”

When he said nothing to stop her. She turned to leave.

His voice was so quiet, she almost didn’t hear him, “Gwyn...are we okay?” he asked hesitantly.

She looked over her shoulder at him. She was the one who’d made a fool of herself yet he seemed to be the one beating himself up over his own mistakes. 

She smiled, meaning every word, “We’ll always be okay.”

~~~

Author notes: I thankfully have not been privy to much the fandom drama that apparently has been occurring as of late, and for that I am grateful. But knowing that it is happening somewhat inspired the ending for this chapter. The reminder that no matter the drama: We will be okay. I genuinely enjoy this series, and I obviously ship Gwynriel. But I know that at the end of the day, this is a work of fiction. We’re meant to get enjoyment out of it. Not start petty wars over it. Anyways, that’s all I have to say on the topic and I promise shall not bring it up again because I don’t like to invite negativity into my life. I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter, and if so do please like and comment =D

Bonus notes: 

Me: You’ve determined a schedule Cindy. Do not post until Saturday.

Also me: The world needs more Gwynriel / Azriel x Gwyn content now!

Me:...

Me: Random whims you win again! 

So yeah, let’s just say I’ll post once a week whenever I fancy the chapter complete 😆

~~~

@azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @bittermuire @ofstarsanddreams @corrdolium

@brucexselina @inejjg @rhysmoira @gwynnight @fairytamy @bluegold08 @amandapearls @highqueentaey @lioness-says @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens​

@my-fan-side​

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #acotar #acosf #azriel x gwyn #azriel #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #fanfiction #read on ao3

[ratabrasileira]

Period

OneShot

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Sarah J. Maas.

Note: This is my first fic that I write in English, so any grammar mistakes, please call me out!!

“Shit” She exclaimed when her body was unconsciously dropped to the floor due to the intensity of the pain.

She felt the blood slowly run between hers contracted limb, trying to contain the uncontrollable spasms that hit her hard. The torment was endless; the pain didn’t had beginning neither end.

Shit, Feyre. Don’t stay here laying as an incompetent weaky.

She said to herself while tried to raise her body. The effort was useless. She felt her vision darken as her arms trembled at the weakness that she found herself. When was the last time that she ate something? Through the affliction, she could listen to a door being opened and footsteps echoing through the place.

The door was open when Lucien stepped into the hall of the sinuous River House.

Of course, yes.

He thought while was closing the polished door behind him. He still wasn’t used to being part of the High Lord of the Night Court’s family.

Although both had some things in common, which was summed up only in impeccable style and a good taste for affairs (mainly wine), it still did not accommodate the fact that, by law, they were brothers. An idea that was quickly spent on his worries when he thought that the law also made him brother of Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court.

He wouldn’t deny that he was proud of her.

But the sound that came from the dining room dispelled any thoughts that were in his head: his focus was caught in that familiar sound. For a moment he remembered her. The anguish was the same that had come out of Jesminda's lips when she was being beaten by the man who he thought that was his father.

No, he couldn’t let himself be distracted by something that only bring sorrow, fear and guilt. Retaking to his surround, he heard the moan again as he took long strides on his way to the dining room. What he had to do at River House had long since left his mind.

Entering the room, he found her. The smell of blood was tangible in the air. She was lying between the feet of the table, seemed to be trying to shrink her body as much as possible while sweat soaked her clothes. The last time he saw her like this, so vulnerable and withdrawn, they were in the place that he never wanted to be again.

Under the Mountain still plagued his dreams when he least expected it.

"Feyre!" He exclaimed as he ran to help his friend. Her face was pale and her eyes were full of pain when she looked at him.

"By the Cauldron, what the hell happened." Lucien continued to ignore the moans and murmurs that came out of the High Lady's mouth. "Are you okay, where's Nyx? Rhys?”

Feyre tried to speak, to emit something coherent while her friend helped her to get up, but the pain was still acute, and it seemed to get worse as she was lifted off the floor. However, by the time she was seated, both her vision and mind cleared.

“I’m fin—” She tried again, but a wave of pain emerged from her core to her hair. She moaned as she leaned forward.

“Mother above, is this any side effect of the baby's birth? Did anyone come in here, Feyre? Where the hell is Rhysand?” Lucien, desperate for his friend's distress, didn’t know what to do. The lack of a sign; a broken flower pot, anything that could at least give some idea of what had happened. He did not know how to deal with his current situation.

Feyre, however, just wanted his friend to shut up for at least a minute. A little minute so she could breathe, so she could process what her body asked for. As if she had spoken, or perhaps she had indeed spoken in his mind, she could not say, Lucien called himself to the kitchen.

"Wait a minute, I'll be right back" he said before heading to the room to get a glass of water for his friend. Perhaps she had eaten something extremely indigestible and that, in a way, had caused her tremendous pain. With that thought he also took a banana from the fruit basket.

"Here, drink, eat and explain me what happened." Said the redhead, placing the glass and fruit on the table.

The High Lady at least had the strength to be able to spill the water in her mouth and drink it as if she depended on it, which in fact she did. After taking the last sip, the banana, already peeled, was waiting in his friend's hand, so she chewed, chewed and chewed until her pressure relatively rose, her stomach satiated from having something to cover.

"Better?" Asked Lucien, sitting down at the table and stroking his friend.

"Gods ... Yes, thank you." Replied Feyre, resting his head on the back of the chair.

"What happened? Why the hell were you— ”

But a howl of pain interrupted Lucien from his shifting question. Feyre leaned over again, now with a slight green tinge in her face.

“By the edges of the Cauldron!” He exclaimed, standing up suddenly as he stroked his friend.

The pain again became acute, radiating throughout her body. The blood now bothered her between her legs; a slight trickle was felt on one of her inner thighs.

"I-I’m fine! Fine ...” Feyre grunted. She was bad, it was a fact, but she didn't need to bother her friend, besides, she was strong! How much did she suffer to worry about something like that? "It's just— Shit!"

"What? Is your stomach?" Lucien questioned.

"My fucking uterus, Lucien!”

“Is it because of the baby?! Mother above, I will call—”

"Period, damn it!" Exclaimed Feyre, more out of pain than anything else.

For a moment, Lucien stood and watched Feyre squirm. Never in more than decades of existence has he seen a woman suffer so much because of a period. Part of him thanked the Mother and the Cauldron that Elain is not as unlucky as her sister in this regard. No, hers was a mild pain, there were no chills and nausea as apparently the High Lady was having. The other part of him regretted his friend for going through this twice a year.

"Ok, do you want to lie down ... something like that?"

“No need to worry—” Feyre howled in pain when he felt another sharp twinge in the right part of her womb.

"Gods, are you expelling your uterus?" Lucien teased as he took Feyre in his arms and carried her to the comfort of the couch, located in the living room.

The atmosphere was as comfortable as the rest of the house. A well-lit room with natural light. Perfect for painting, Lucien thought, accommodating his friend on fluffy pillows, trying his best to avoid making her feel even more uncomfortable.

When Feyre adjusted to the new position, she was able to feel, even if very little, a momentary relief. She didn't remember feeling that way the last time she had her period. Yes, it was turbulent for her body, but never that intense. She hoped that after having her anatomy altered by Mother or the Cauldron (anything Nesta did), her cramps would not be as intense as they were before she got pregnant. She saw that she was very much mistaken. She had moments when the blood came and it seemed, as Lucien had said, to expel her uterus out, others came with less severe pain.

But of course, compared to the traumatizing pain she had had at Nyx's birth, it didn't handle a candle. Watching the blood flow quickly between her legs knowing that her firstborn, her baby, was dead not only shattered her body, but also her heart; everything that she is.

She deviated the subject. She couldn't be reliving the moment when she almost lost everything she loved most. Your partner, your life and especially your child.

She only noticed that she had rambled on for a while when Lucien appeared holding what appeared to be a soft, thick towel.

"Here" He put the fabric over her belly as he sat on the floor in front of her. The fabric was quite too warm, but Feyre didn't complain when she felt some of the tension ease. He had made a “lukewarm” compress for her. “My mom used to do this for me and my brothers when we had colic. It wasn't my body creating life to torture me, so I don't know if it will do any good.”

"Prick" muttered Feyre as he closed her eyes, losing the affectionate smile that appeared on her friend's face. No, the compress didn't help much, but the comforting warmth and the little pressure that the empty tissue made on her womb got her relaxing a little, although her entire body was still sore and tired. Still, she murmured a thanks.

“Nah, but I'm a little relieved that Elain’s is not the same as you. How does Rhysand take it?” The question elicited a chuckle from Feyre.

"He can't take it." The day that Rhysand will stop caring about the least discomfort his mate feels is going to be the day when both of them will no longer be in the world.

“Speaking of him, where is he and Nyx? Didn't he feel anything in the bond?” Lucien asked her again.

Feyre sighed. In fact, she was partially alone in that gigantic house. Her son miraculously slept upstairs while the mother almost passed out from the pain. This thought made the fear visible in the atmosphere of the room.

“Rhys is solving that project that I told you yesterday; about Cesere. Nyx is up there, sleeping like an angel, thankfully.”

Lucien understood the line of reasoning when he caught the scent of fear wandering over the air between them. If something had happened to the child while Feyre was incapacitated by something natural in her body ...

"This ... This whole pain .... Is it been since he ..."

“No, my periods have been like this since my first time. In fact, I hoped this would end after my birth.” Replied Feyre. They both knew they were getting into a sensitive subject, both Feyre and Rhysand did not mention the birth of their son, who turned 1 years old last spring.

"No wonder you have masochistic tendencies." Lucien joked; humor is something that has become a comforting good among them.

"Prick"

"Yes, yes, and you miss me when I'm not here to piss you off"

"Oh, relax I have others"

"Are you calling me replaceable?" With that Feyre opened his eyes. Partly because he knew that maybe it had affected Lucien, partly because he would never be replaceable for her, her first and best friend, now her brother.

"No, Lucien, never ..." Denied the High Lady "I miss you to bring me sanity." She stated with a simple smile on her face.

"I think I'm forgiven then, for the witchberry." The comment made Feyre laugh tiredly, as well as a groan of pain.

“No, I'm still planning my revenge. I wouldn't sleep peacefully if I were you.” She replied, closing her eyes again.

"Nah, I think living at the Day Court protects me a little."

"A little?"

"Yes, I will not take Elain's credit for completely protecting myself from you"

Feyre let out what appeared to be a laugh along with a hiss. Lucien stroked his friend's hair again. He could see the pain in the wrinkles caused by the way her brow twitched on her face.

The two spent the minutes like that, in a comfortable silence that they both knew very well, thanks to the moments they spent together "hunting" in the Spring Court, when Feyre was still a human. Lucien rambled on about those moments he barely noticed when his friend's breath had become something heavier and deeper.

He watched the female's rested face before him. A pinch between the eyebrows was the only sign of persistent discomfort. But at that moment, he felt a tightness being slacken, and did not even know that he needed that loosening so that he could perceive that something was holding him back. Perhaps it was because he finally felt that he had a place, a family that would make him happy and support him regardless of his choices.

And looking at Feyre Archeron, the human girl who killed his friend, he felt grateful and content. Grateful for what she did in the world in such a short time, with her human longing that still enjoyed that heart so generous and simple. Content, because in times, he felt really loved, not only by his mate, but also by those who one day he thought he would never be able to return the feeling.

Lucien, Heir of the Day Court, was proud to be able to consider himself brother and friend of the woman who had emerged Under the Mountain.

#my writing #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #feyre archeron #lucien vanserra #feyre #lucien #brotp #feycien brotp #friendship #my fic

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {21}

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

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

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

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Can you tell I love movies from the 80s? Also, reread warning above. This chapter says “cock” a handful of times...so....you know...warning. 

ps i love how everyone’s on edge, even though things are going well....it’s almost like y’all don’t trust me or something.....

“As you wish.” - The Princess Bride

Azriel held Mila’s hand as they walked into the prison. 

She didn’t get as nervous, not any more, wasn’t so scared of the looming building or the guards inside. It was becoming their norm - as much as Azriel hated that fact.

At least Amarantha had been pleasant when they visited. 

The moment she walked into the visiting room, Mila was jumping up and down. “Mama!”

She smiled, surprising even Azriel with her gentleness. “My baby.”

She gave her daughter a quick hug and kiss before sitting on the opposite side of the table. 

“Tell me what’s happened since the last time I’ve seen you,” Amarantha said, smiling brightly.

Mila thought about it for a minute. “I got a pretty dress for Rhysie and Feyre’s wedding!”  

“Oh?” Amarantha asked, then looked to Azriel.

“They’re getting married,” Azriel clarified.

Amarantha rolled her eyes. “I picked up on that, thanks.” 

“And I learned new songs at school,” Mila began, before diving into a deep, never-ending, extraordinarily detailed story. 

Azriel spaced out. It had been a long week.

Elain was pregnant, and had woken up the last four days puking her guts up. He was staying with her at the townhouse, or she was at his apartment. They had lied to Mor, who asked her why she had been getting sick so much, saying that she was still getting used to her new diet.

It was a shitty lie.

But Mor had bought it, no more questions asked. 

“Azriel, I’m talking to you.”

Azriel came back to the present, brows raised. “Sorry, what?”

“Next Monday, I won’t be here. I’ve been called to court Monday morning, to testify,” Amarantha said. 

“Alright,” Azriel said, sighing, rubbing the back of his neck. 

He glanced at the clock. He must have been in his own mind longer than he thought. It was nearly noon. Visiting hours were almost over.

Mila was in the middle of a sentence when Azriel cursed. “I can’t come the Monday after, Elain has a doctor’s appointment.”

Amarantha raised her brows. “Now you’re bringing her to the doctor? Surely your little girlfriend can take herself.”

Azriel hesitated. “No, she can’t, I have to go with her.”

Amarantha watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“None of your business,” Azriel snapped. “But I can’t bring Mila when you want me to. It’ll have to be the week after.”

“You expect me to go three weeks without seeing my daughter?” Amarantha scoffed. 

“You signed up for that shit when you landed yourself in here,” Azriel said, voice low.

“Don’t piss me off,” Amarantha warned.

Mila sat, perfectly still, staring at the table. 

“I promise to bring her the week after the appointment,” Azriel said, voice gentler, feeling guilty at Mila’s reaction. “I have to go with Elain to this appointment.”

Amarantha leaned on the table, eyes lit with curiosity. “Shit, she’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Azriel didn’t answer.

Amarantha shook her head. “Looks like you’re not so different from me, after all. Knocking up some poor-”

“It’s not like that,” Azriel said, trying to keep his calm for the sake of Mila. “Keep your mouth shut on matters you know nothing about.” 

“Don’t speak that way to me in front of my daughter,” she whispered, voice hard. 

Mila climbed onto Azriel’s lap.

Her place of comfort. 

“Speaking of, what will happen to Mila once this baby comes?” Amarantha asked.

Azriel stilled. “What do you mean?” 

“Mila is not your child,” Amarantha went on. “Surely this baby will push her out of the picture.”

Azriel pulled Mila closer to his chest. “Don’t say that shit in front of her. It’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Amarantha shrugged. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

“Uncle Az,” Mila said, lip wobbling. She may not have known exactly what was being exchanged between her uncle and her mother, but she knew something wasn’t right, and she knew they were talking about her. 

“It’s okay,” he promised. “Just a misunderstanding.”

Amarantha rolled her eyes as the guard by the door announced it was noon.

“Bring her to see me the week after next,” Amarantha said. “If not you, ask Rhysand. It’ll be good to see him again. We can….reminisce.” 

She didn’t give him an opportunity to answer.

She stood, kissed Mila’s forehead, and was gone.

~~~~~

Elain pulled out an unopened bottle of champagne from her refrigerator along with glasses for all of the girls. They had been all over the map lately, unable to all come together at once, but now, on a Monday night, Mor, Amren, Feyre, Elain, and Nesta gathered together in Elain’s townhouse for dinner. 

“Everyone grab a glass,” Elain announced. “We have a lot to celebrate. Feyre’s getting married and Nesta’s almost a full month clean!”

Nesta rolled her eyes, but Feyre nudged her in the ribs. “Yes, that is something to celebrate.”

“I agree,” Amren said, winking at Nesta as she grabbed a glass. “Um, Elain, you’re one glass short.”

Elain hesitated. “Oh, no, I’m not drinking.”

“Why?” Mor asked, popping open the bottle and filling everyone’s glass.

When Elain didn’t answer, Mor slowly set the bottle on top of the table.

“Elain,” Feyre began.

Even Nesta was looking at her, curiously.

Elain took a deep breath. “I’m….pregnant.” 

No one spoke.

The room was completely silent. 

“Is this a joke?” Feyre asked. “Because if this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

Elain shook her head, and her voice was quiet when she said, “It’s not a joke.”

All at once, they stood up from the table and were hovered around Elain, wrapping her in a massive group hug. Everyone began talking at once, and Elain’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red. 

“You little liars,” Mor said, grabbing her glass and taking a sip. “I knew something was going on!”

Feyre grinned, kissing her sister on the cheek. “Not to bring up Azriel’s penis again, but, apparently, he’s got fast swimmers, too-”

“Please, no,” Elain begged.

Amren howled.

Even Nesta cracked a smile. 

“It’s amazing,” Feyre said, smiling at her sister. “Really. Congrats.”

“Thanks,” Elain said, sighing. “Azriel’s been really great about it.”

“Of course he has,” Mor followed. “He’s madly in love with you.”

Elain rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop her smile. “Don’t tell, though, no one else-”

Elain’s front door was thrown open and Azriel entered, Mila sound asleep on his shoulder. Mor, Amren, and Feyre were instantly on their feet, running toward him, all talking at once - even though their voices were hushed, careful not to wake Mila.

He stilled, looking overwhelmed, but then he laughed. “I see the secrets out.”

“Sorry,” Elain muttered, as Azriel carried Mila up the stairs.

“What secret?” Rhysand asked, stepping through the front door, Cassian just behind him.

The moment Cassian entered, his eyes caught Nesta. She smiled, softly. 

Elain hesitated. “Maybe we should wait until Azriel comes back down-”

“Elain’s pregnant!” Mor said.

Rhysand and Cassian froze in the entryway. 

Azriel was coming back down the stairs a minute later, having laid Mila down. 

Both Rhysand’s and Cassian’s eyes shot to him as he entered the living room.

Azriel blinked. “What?”

Rhysand and Cassian didn’t explain. Instead, they were running into the room, tackling Azriel to the floor.

“Savages,” Nesta muttered.

“They really are children,” Feyre agreed.

But Elain was laughing, watching as Cassian and Rhysand loved on Azriel.

“You’re going to be a dad,” Cassian said, holding Azriel down to the ground. “Fuck.”

Rhysand was smiling broadly as he rubbed his fist against Azriel’s head, leaving his hair in disarray.  

Azriel was letting them do it. Elain thought he secretly liked the weird, man-ish show of affection. 

The night went on like that, everyone celebrating and congratulating them, giving them hugs and affectionate kisses on the cheek. 

Elain slumped into the kitchen, filling up a glass of water. 

Azriel followed her in, a soft smile on his lips. 

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he said back.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “How are you feeling today?”

“Honestly?” She asked. He nodded. “Tired. Nauseous. Like I’m growing a child inside of me.”

Azriels eyes softened as he brushed her hair back. “What can I do to help?”

“Kick all these people out of my house then rub my feet,” she said, laughing.

“I can do that,” Azriel muttered, pressing his lips to hers. 

Elain wrapped her arms around him, breathing him in. The last week had been better than she could ever imagine, since Azriel found out they would be having a baby.

Elain was caught in a dream.

“I’m serious,” she muttered, and Azriel grinned.

“How about you and I just go up to bed?” He asked. “They’ll leave when they’ve drunk all your liquor.”

Elain laughed, and nodded. “True.”

He took her hand and led her toward the stairs, telling the others to keep it down as they trailed up the staircase. Elain was exhausted, but she was too nice to tell everyone to go home. She was grateful to them, after all.

They had made her feel loved within the chaos.

~~~~~

“I can’t believe Az is gonna be a dad.”

Rhysand and Feyre were driving home. He had one hand on the wheel, and one hand in Feyre’s draped across her lap. 

“He’ll be great,” Feyre said, eyes bright as she watched him drive. “Elain will, too. She’s always had motherly qualities. The most out of any of us.”

Rhysand looked at her, quickly, before moving his eyes back to the road. “You have motherly qualities.”

Feyre snorted. “Sure.”

“I’m serious,” he said, fingers tightening around her hand. “You take care of me.”

Feyre nodded. “You are practically a child.”

Rhysand chuckled. “Not the point I was trying to make, but I’ll go with it.”

Feyre grinned as she pressed her mouth against the back of his hand. “I do wanna have kids. Someday. Not too soon, though. When it happens, I’ll be glad, but I want it to just be you and me for a little while longer.”

“I like the sound of that,” Rhysand replied. “Maybe we can travel the world first. Oh, speaking of travelling, I booked our honeymoon shit today.”

Feyre lifted a brow. “Our honeymoon?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at the look of utter surprise on her face. “Yeah. Honeymoon.”

Feyre looked out the front window. “I...hadn’t even thought about the honeymoon. I’ve been so focused on the wedding.” She reached over to smack him in the chest. “You could’ve talked to me about it first!”

Rhysand laughed. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

She waited for him to continue.

He didn’t.

“That’s all I get?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Rhys.”

“Yes?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “I can’t go months without knowing where we’re going!”

“You’re gonna have to.” Rhysand winked. Feyre scowled.

“Fuck you,” she muttered.

Rhysand took her hand in his, once more. “Please do.”

“Oh, no,” Feyre began, although she didn’t take her hand out of his. “Not until you tell me where we’re going on our honeymoon.”

Rhysand stilled. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh yes it is,” she said, satisfied with his reaction. “No sex until you spill.”

Rhysand opened his mouth to reply, but he was speechless.

As Feyre leaned back, smugly, into her seat, Rhysand took his hand away from hers.

Then he pulled into a parking lot at the last minute, making Feyre yelp as she held onto her door.

“What are you doing?” she yelled.

Rhysand put the car in park. “Take it back.”

“No,” she said, humored, arms crossed. “Tell me where we’re going.” 

“No,” he shot back. 

“Stubborn ass,” she said, shaking her head.

“Me?” he laughed. “You’re way more stubborn than I am.”

“Am not.”

“Then take it back.”

“No. No sex until you- Rhys!”

He was climbing over the center console. Feyre laughed as he straddled her waist.

“Get off me, you brute!” she said, hands on his chest. “You’re a giant!”

“Take it back,” he crooned, pressing his mouth to her neck.

“We’re not in high school anymore,” she giggled, “you’re going to get us into trouble.”

“Take it back,” he said, again, pulling the strap of her tank top down with his teeth. 

“I’m not taking it back,” she said, running her hands up his back, beneath his shirt. 

“You can’t keep your hands off of me,” he muttered, kissing down her chest, between her breasts. 

Feyre pulled her tank top back up, and Rhysand frowned. “I’m serious.”

“You’re smiling, you’re not serious.”

Feyre shook her head. “Tell me where we’re going...Please.”

Rhysand raised a brow. “Feyre Archeron using manners? Oh, she must be desperate.” 

“Fuck you,” she laughed, fingers looped into the belt loops of his jeans. 

Rhysand groaned. “I’m trying to fuck you but you’re not making it very easy.”

“We’re in a parking lot.”

Rhysand looked out of all the windows before looking back down at Feyre. “An abandoned parking lot. Trust me, the cops in this city have a lot more to worry about than two grown ass adults doing a quickie in an abandoned parking lot.”

“Doing a quickie?” Feyre repeated. “My future husband is so romantic.”

Rhysand laughed, quietly, as he took her face into his hands and kissed her lips. 

“Take it back,” he said, once again, against her mouth.

“No,” she said, palming the hardened bulge beneath his jeans.

He groaned. “Cruel, wicked woman.” 

She nipped at his lip as she unzipped his jeans, and tugged them down, just a little bit. She reached into his briefs and wrapped her fingers around his cock as his head fell back, his eyes fell shut. His fingers gripped the passenger seat behind her to keep himself steady as she stroked him, gently, teasingly. 

“Tell me where we’re going,” she whispered, voice laced with amusement. 

Rhysand hesitated, then shook his head. “You can’t go without sex from me for that long. I’m winning this battle.”

Feyre barked a laugh. “Why do you think that?”

“We haven’t gone a day without it since we started,” he laughed, putting his hand over hers, begging her to stop with the teasing. “You’re just as bad as I am, Feyre, darling.”

Feyre pulled her hand away.

Not exactly what he’d had in mind.

But all she said was, “Damn it,” and pulled him down against her. She kissed him, passionately, slipping her tongue between his lips. Rhysand flipped her around, so she was sitting on his lap.

She sank down to the floorboards, onto her knees.

Her mouth wrapped around his cock as the radio played softly in the background.

Rhysand let his fingers tangle into her long, golden-brown hair as he watched her head bob, felt her tongue slide across his dick. He cursed, quietly, voice low and breath hitched. 

He yanked up her head, by her hair, so that she met his eyes.

She was smirking.

“Fuck me,” he breathed, begged.

Feyre crawled on top of his lap, skirt hiked up as her knees settled on both sides of him. She moved the thin layer of her panties aside before pushing herself down upon him. He held onto her ass as she rolled her hips. His grasp grew tighter at the little sounds that fell from her lips. Her fingers clung to his shirt, just over his chest, as her head fell back, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders.

Rhysand’s eyes stayed open, his breathing unsteady as he watched her, lost in her own little world. Her eyes were closed, tightly, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Her eyebrows were furrowed as the sensation of making love took over her body. 

Rhysand had never seen anything so beautiful.

She was ethereal, wild and free, lost in a moment that they could only be lost in together. 

Nothing else mattered.

The world faded away.

Until a fist pounded on the passenger side window. 

“Fuck,” Rhysand spat, as Feyre, his dick still inside of her, fell into Rhysand, planting her face in the crook of his neck.

Rhysand rolled the tinted window down, just a smidge, to meet the eyes of Beron Vanserra.

Surprise lit his brown eyes as he said, uncomfortably, “Was passing by when I saw your car. Just making sure it’s not two teenagers getting themselves into trouble...or, you know.”

Rhysand cleared his throat. “Got it.”

Beron nodded, slowly, then said. “Go home, Rhys.”

“Yep,” Rhysand said, quickly.

Beron said nothing more as he shook his head and walked back to his patrol car. As Rhysand rolled the window back up, Feyre broke into a fit of laughter.

“The cops have better things to do, do they?” she asked, leaning back.

“Apparently not,” Rhysand laughed, running his hand down his face. “I guess we should...”

His words broke off as Feyre ran her fingers through his hair. She didn’t move herself off of him.

“Beron can kiss my ass,” she muttered, eyes bright. “You started this, and I’m not done with you yet.”

Rhysand grinned as her lips found his.

~~~~~

Cassian set a stack of DVDs on top of Nesta’s dresser. He picked up The Princess Bride and turned to Nesta. “You have to start with this one.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her legs beneath her on her bed. “Looks weird as-”

“Fuck, I know,” Cassian said, finishing her sentence.

She smiled. “Fine. Put it in.”

“Now?” he asked, brow raised. She nodded, and he opened the case and slid the disk into the DVD player beneath the little television. 

“How are you getting home?” she asked.

He and Rhysand had ridden there with Azriel, who was sound asleep with Elain in her bed. Rhysand went home in Feyre’s car, Amren had left with Mor without a second thought, leaving Cassian to take public transportation. “Bus. Bus stop is only a block away.” 

“Stay for a while,” she said, voice quiet. “Watch it with me.”

Cassian didn’t need convincing. He nodded, kicked off his shoes, and sat on the opposite side of her bed, leaning back against the headboard, one ankle tossed over the other. “Alright. Only to convince you how incredibly awesome this movie is.”

“I doubt that,” she murmured, then picked up the remote from her nightstand and pressed play. The minute it began, Nesta cursed. “This is another fucking movie from the 80s, isn’t it?”

Cassian just grinned. “Give it a chance, damn.” 

Nesta sighed and settled back into her pillows. They watched the movie in silence, Cassian glancing at her every so often to check her reaction. She could bash on his movie suggestions all she wanted, but he could tell she was enjoying it from the light dancing in her eyes. 

“This one’s better than the Lost Boys,” she whispered, about halfway through. 

“The Lost Boys is a great movie,” Cassian muttered back.

She just rolled her eyes.  

It was quiet for a moment before she said, “You can stay here tonight, if you want. I can drive you home in the morning. So that you don’t have to take the bus. It’s getting late.” 

Cassian looked at her, but she was still watching the t.v. 

“You can sleep on the couch,” she continued. “Or, in here, if you want.”

Cassian nodded, slowly. “Yeah, okay, thanks....the couch sounds nice.”

Nesta’s body tensed, and Cassian laughed, quietly. She reached across the bed and shoved him in the shoulder. She shook her head, lips tight to keep her smile from spreading. “Ass.”

Cassian took off his socks - sleeping in socks was the worst - and put them on the floor next to his keys, his wallet, and his phone. He flopped himself back on the bed, pulling the comforter over his body.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I regret this already.”

“You should,” he said, making himself comfortable. “I sleep spread-eagle.”

“I know,” Nesta said, laughing breathily. “Control that. Try to keep the blanket hogging to a minimum, too.” 

“No promises,” he said, an arm slung beneath his head.

Rolling her eyes, Nesta crawled under the blankets beside him. At first, she laid against her own pillows, keeping the distance between them.

But as the end credits began to roll, she closed that distance and laid her head against his chest. He put his arm around her, holding her close.

They both fell asleep, just like that, and when morning came, she hadn’t moved an inch. 

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

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

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@empress-ofbloodshed​  @starkovsnesta​ @nickjgoodsell​

Prompts:

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

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

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

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

[emdythewriter]

In my dreams | chapter two (elriel)

A few days after she had woken up in the hospital Elain was heading to Nesta’s house in the heart of Velaris, in fact they all lived in the area. Feyre and Rhys still owned the original townhouse they all had shared through their college years, it was only a few blocks away from where Nesta and Cassian lived now. A street over from the townhouse was where Azriel had an apartment, which they were all currently crowded in to pack Elain’s belongings up.

“I hope you’re not upset about this,” Elain said as she folded up a shirt and set it in a suitcase. She had been apologizing to Azriel since they left the hospital. Even though she didn’t remember their relationship or friendship she still felt a sense of guilt for leaving. But he was smiling, even now and Elain couldn’t understand why even after explaining his side.

“It’s fine Elle,” he was saying for the hundredth time and she was sure he was growing tired of it. “I want you to recover and if that means you’re not living with me anymore than that’s okay.” Elain smiled as she zipped the suitcase up and set it on the floor. She sat on the bed where it had been with a sigh, looking over at the picture on the nightstand.

It was the two of them, a selfie that she had taken. Her smile is overtaking her face and her eyes are crinkled shut as Azriel kisses her cheek. It looks like they’re on the boardwalk at the beach, the ocean visible in the distance. Strands of her light brown hair that had fallen out of her braid flowing in the wind. They both looked so happy, so in love she almost thought.

“That was the day I finally asked you out,” Azriel said coming to sit at her side, gaze on the picture. “You had been upset because you had gotten into a bad fight with Lucien earlier that week and so I decided to take you to Adriata for a beach weekend. It was Saturday and we had spent the whole day on the beach and shopping, then I took you out to dinner and asked if you wanted to go on a date when we got back to Velaris. You smiled so brightly, the brightest I have seen in a while. We took that picture after dinner just as the sun was setting. It was the best day.”

He looks like he’s in a trance as he tells the story. There’s a smile on his face like he’s been transported to that exact day captured in the photo. Elain wishes she could remember that moment now, something that seems so important to their history. “Would you tell me other stories about us, if I asked?”

Azriel takes her hand and she feels a shock go up her arm at the skin on skin contact. “Elain I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” He’s so serious, she knows by the look he’s giving her and she feels all warm and safe inside just looking into his hazel eyes. She scrambles for a thought, a moment in time she can ask him about, hear and watch him tell the story.

“What about the first time we met?” Elain asks deciding it’s best to start at the beginning. Hoping for some insight on the rest of their relationship.

“It was at Rhys and Feyre’s rehearsal dinner funny enough,” Azriel says with a smile on his face, a light in his eyes as he talks animatedly. “That was also the night you met Lucien, actually you were dancing with him when I finally noticed you. You were laughing like you were on cloud nine or something and I was mesmerized. I wanted to ask you out then and there but Cassian told me you had already agreed to go on a date with Lucien, so I let you go. The next week you were officially Lucien’s girlfriend.”

“You should’ve asked me,” Elain says, bumping him with her shoulder. “I probably would’ve said yes.”

“If I asked you now would you still?” Azriel asks curiously.

“Sounds like a song,” Elain responds immediately causing Azriel to chuckle. “But ask me anyways.”

“Elain Archeron,” he starts, turning to face her fully. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“I would love to,” and she’s smiling as she says it, feeling like herself for the first time since waking up. She feels a little freer too, like an invisible weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

“What are you two doing?” Nesta says from the doorway, cutting off whatever further conversation the pair might have. She’s leaning a hip against the frame, arms crossed over her chest like they always seem to be. “Are you ready to go Elain?”

“Yes,” she answers hopping up from the bed and picking up her suitcase. “Just um,” Elain looks to Azriel hoping he can read the words she’s trying to say but isn’t so sure she should in front of her sister.

“Don’t worry I still have your number and you know where to find me,” he responds with a smile, getting up from the bed to follow them out.

___

Back at Nesta and Cassian’s home Elain is in her new room unpacking with her sister while Cassian is laying Nathan, their three month old son, down for a nap. Most everything from when she first left Lucien is still in its place, the only thing she needs to take care of is her hospital belongings and what she took from Azriel’s.

“So what were you and Azriel talking about earlier?” Nesta asks as Elain stores her suitcase on the floor of her small walk in closet. When she turns she finds her older sister sitting on the bed, leaning back on her hands.

“Oh he was just telling me a few stories about our history,” she answers with a shrug as if to say it was no big deal when in reality it meant a lot to Elain. The chance to peek into her past, who she is or was made her feel less anxious about recovering her memories.

“What stories?” Nesta asks, digging even deeper and for some reason Elain is not at all surprised. She gets the feeling that this is her sister’s typical habit, prying into her siblings lives.

“How we met and when he first asked me out,” Elain answers, standing in the doorway of her closet and findling with a ring on her finger. She was sure it wasn’t her wedding band considering it was on her left middle finger, but she still wondered who it was from and if there is meaning behind it.

“Did it click anything for you?”

“No, but maybe hearing stories will help in other ways,” Elain says as she moves to sit next to Nesta on the bed. “Hearing the stories raised some questions sure but I think it also gives some insight to who I am or was.”

“So you want to hear stories?” Nesta asks. Elain nods her head with a smile across her face. “Well I could tell you about how you raised hell when you found out Lucien cheated again. Or I could tell you about the first moment you held your nephew and how you denied crying. Or about how you got so wasted at Feyre’s wedding that Cassian had to drag you out over his shoulder kicking and screaming.”

Elain laughs with her sister at that last one, really wishing she could remember that moment, though even if she had her memory she was probably too far gone to recall it. Hearing about it though was nice all the same.

“Or,” Cassian says stepping into the doorframe of her bedroom. “The time we all went to Rita’s and Elain and Az got on stage and sang a Beyonce song just because Rhys dared them to.”

“I forgot about that,” Nesta says looking at her husband.

“You were pretty drunk,” Cassian responds coming over and kissing his wife’s forehead. Nesta smiles up at him loving the affection.

“Nathan okay?”

“Out like a light,” he answers. “Which means I’m going to start dinner so I hope you ladies are hungry,” he kisses Nesta’s cheek this time before leaving the room and Elain wonders how affectionate both Azriel and Lucien had been with her.

“I think I’m going to rest a little before dinner,” Elain tells her sister between a yawn, stretching her arms out and falling backwards.

“Alright,” Nesta says getting up from the bed. “I’ll come wake you when it’s ready.”

“Thank you,” Elain says and Nesta know is for more than just waking her up for dinner. It’s for giving her a place to stay and helping her today. It’s for sharing a few memories with her and laughing with her. It’s for simply being her sister.

Elain falls asleep with a smile on her face.

Tag list:

@chemicha @sleeping-and-books @nightcourtstarlight @ifangirlninja @feyrecursebreaker @acotar-and-tog-for-life @eloeloeheheh @sezkins79 @tswaney17

(Let me know if you want to be tagged!)

#acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #acofas #a court of frost and starlight #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #elriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #sjm #sjmaas #sarah j maas #sarahjmaas #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #nesta x cassian #feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand #feyre x rhysand #lucien vanserra #elucien

[wingsofanillyrian]

Guys and Cars: Chapter 1 (Nessian AU)

@spegetty asked: “ “Oh, to Hell! That wasn’t supposed to happen!” “You dimwit, what do you know about anything?!” with nessian ok thank u jaclyn”

Modern Nesta would totally be a gearhead just to piss men off fIGHT ME

Chapter Masterlist

Music up, windows down, shades on.

That was Nesta Archeron’s summertime motto. If the sun was up and the sky was clear, you could find her on the highway, cruising along the oceanfront. The salty breeze of the Pacific called her home, the purr of her 1969 Charger’s engine was as familiar as her own heartbeat.

There were few things she loved more than her car, which she had affectionately named Bertha. Nesta cared for it, kept it clean, and fed it only the best fuels.

The only reason she’d bought the car was to piss off her good for nothing father. It had been his dream car for years, and in between his drunken fits it was all he could talk about. “I’ll have that Charger one day,” he’d say before taking another swig of bourbon.

Nesta had saved every penny she’d earned from her shitty waitress job at the only grimy pub in their tiny town. The day she’d seen the ad for a mint 1969 cherry red Charger in the paper, she’d withdrawn half of her savings to pay for it and used the rest to move to the Pacific Coast.

She considered it her petty revenge.

She had never intended to keep it for very long, but she ended up loving it. The rush of adrenaline when she dropped the clutch and slammed the gas had become addictive. She took pride in the way the pearly paint shined in the warm summer sun. She relished the way her car turned heads, and absolutely lived for watching men’s jaws drop when they glimpsed a woman in the driver’s seat.

Of course, there were also days that her precious Charger turned heads for a completely different reason.

Nesta had been roaring down famed California State Highway 1, enjoying the euphoria of the drive. It was soon dashed when the engine sputtered in an all too familiar way, floorboards shaking under her feet and tailpipe coughing black smoke. She groaned, cranking the wheel and pulling off onto the gravel shoulder just as it died completely.

“Great,” she muttered, hastily tying her chestnut waves up in a messy ponytail. “Every time I get it over 70, I swear!” Cars continued to zip by, some slowing to see what the commotion was, but never stopping, thank goodness.

That was the kind of attention Nesta didn’t like the Charger to attract. The cherry red paint job was practically a beacon saying look at me! Look at me! And often times when creepy middle-aged men saw her, an attractive female, poking around under the hood, they’d stop and offer to “help” her.

Most times they really just wanted to check her out.

But she already had an inkling of what the problem could be. Black smoke indicated that the engine was running rich, burning too much fuel and flooding itself. It would work itself out in time, but she wanted to see if she could figure out a more permanent fix. She slid out of the driver’s seat to investigate her suspicions.

No sooner than she’d popped the Charger’s candy-apple red hood, a sleek black Audi pulled off ahead of her. It was hard to see much through the darkly tinted windows, but the driver was definitely male, and definitely bulky.

Nesta smirked and turned back to the engine compartment. This should be fun.

The door of the Audi opened and closed, and she kept her eyes trained on the engine as the stranger approached. She was fully aware that he was taking his sweet time, probably checking out her ass.

Creep.

“What seems to be the problem, sweetheart?” A pair of scarred, dirty hands draped over the hood, not at all looking like the pristine manicured ones she’d been expecting from the owner of such a posh car.

Normally, she wouldn’t deign to give him a reply. But his hands weren’t those of the self-entitled executive type that usually stopped when Bertha broke down.

She took the bait.

“Black smoke from the exhaust,” she stated simply, straightening up and wiping her greasy hands on a rag as she inspected the man.

Hazel eyes stood out sharply against his bronze, California sun-kissed skin and dark shoulder length hair. She was further off-put by his modest, casual attire. Wearing cargo shorts and a muscle tee, he looked more like he should be driving a Toyota rather than the sparkling Audi he’d pulled up in.

The thousand-watt smile he gave her meant that he’d noticed her lingering attention.

“Ah, that’s never a good sign.”

“Happens quite a lot, actually. Tried a few different things, but can’t pinpoint the problem.”

He scratched his stubbled chin, frowning at the mystery. “Interesting. I’m Cassian, by the way,” he said, sticking his hand out.

“Nesta.” She shook his hand warily.

“Mind if I take a look? I know a thing or two about cars.”

Quirking a doubtful brow, she gave the dark-haired man another once over. She knew enough about cars to be dangerous herself, and she knew her car even better than most others. Plus, she didn’t exactly trust just anyone off the street to be near Bertha. But in the end, she relented with a nod.

“Yeah, go ahead.” She stepped aside, letting him lean over the substantial 426 Hemi engine. As he peered and poked around, she took the opportunity to eye his Audi.

It was a few years old, a cute little thing that was surely quick and speedy off the line. She’d noticed that it was a manual transmission when he’d pulled over.

She grinned. It was a sport model, but not sporty enough.

Her Charger could smoke that any day.

A sizzling sound drew her attention back to the present. “Oh, to hell!” Cassian hissed, snatching his hand back from the radiator and shaking it out. He inspected the calloused flesh of his palm for burns, and finding a ripe blister, he blew out a breath through clenched teeth. “That wasn’t supposed to happen!”

This was precisely why she didn’t like letting other people near Bertha; she had a mean bite.

“You dimwit, what do you know about anything?! My little sister could’ve told you that engines get hot!”

“No shit Sherlock,” he bit out, voice dripping sarcasm as he nursed his hand. Nesta only shot him a cruel smile, stepping in front of him and effectively dismissing him.

He stayed put as she carefully reached to adjust the air filter. She smiled triumphantly when she pulled it out. Clogged with dust and dirt, just as she had predicted. She brushed out some of the dirt before replacing it and jutting her chin at the dark-haired man.

“Turn it over.”

“What?”

“Start it up,” she repeated, pointing to the driver’s seat. Cradling his burned hand to his chest, he did as she asked, the engine turning over a few times but not catching.

“I don’t think that was the problem-“

“You’ve gotta pump the clutch,” she snapped, annoyed that he was doubting her. He turned the key again, this time following her instructions. The engine roared to life with a satisfying growl, spitting and popping with renewed life.

Man, she loved being right. Nesta slammed the hood down and mockingly addressed the broody, defeated male.

“So you’re a car guy, huh?”

“Well, I thought I knew cars,” he mumbled, a hint of a blush creeping into his tanned cheeks. “But it would appear that knowledge flies out the window when in the presence of a beautiful woman.”

Oh, he was a charmer.

“Or maybe you never had it to begin with.” She smirked, reaching through the open passenger window to retrieve a napkin and a pen from the glovebox. She scribbled her number on it before handing it to an astonished Cassian.

A very un-Nesta like action.

“What’s this?” Glittering hazel met steely blue in an epic matchup that made goosebumps rise on Nesta’s skin. She wanted to know more about this man; figure out what made him tick. Already she could tell that he wasn’t like anyone else she had ever met.

“You’re gonna take me on a date,” she explained, striding back to the driver’s side and climbing inside with feline grace. He stood outside his car, gaping as she slid her sunglasses back on and mouthed, call me.

He was still trying to pick his jaw up off the ground when she peeled of the shoulder and back onto the highway.

Men, she thought with a loopy grin. So easily impressed.

#nessian #nessian au #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #my writing #guys and cars

[sarah-bae-maas]

A Court of Hearts and Darkness Chapter Twenty Four

It’s been over a century since the epic and bloody war against Hybern, but a new, unprecedented horror lies in wait to threaten everything the Inner Circle holds dear.

At a mere 17, it seems that the only one who can save them is the Heir to the Night Court, Feyre and Rhysand’s daughter Eleana, but as a creature so vile promises to kill everyone she loves, she must combat the urge to succumb to the darkness herself. The key to success lies hidden within her mate, the bastard born Kaden, who is as oblivious to the bond as her Court is oblivious to the war on the horizon.

With the help of her cousin and warrior Felix, the son of the famed Nesta and Cassian, they will try to save everything they hold dear, hopefully before the darkness takes them all.

(This fic was written pre-acowar, so please bear in mind there are some small differences but it can still hopefully be enjoyed!)

Link on Ao3 Masterlist

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***

-Chapter 24-

One map.

Two soldiers.

Three mistakes.

The first mistake, carelessly leaving their squadron to have a romantic rendezvous in a volatile area. The second, discarding their bags full of sensitive information the way they discarded their clothes. The last, trying to scream as it ran its claws over their tender necks, making their deaths all the more painful.

These Illyrians were so soft, so pudgy. You touched them, and their flesh would just concave in.

Spread out before it, its lovely creatures, crafted from the darkness in corners and fallen stars from the night, guarding it faithfully, was a map of the expanse of Prythian, a name it struggled to hiss with its inhuman tongue.

With its books and maps now in its possession, it had learned a great deal. It had learnt their worst fears thanks to a leather-bound book with illustrations that would garner fear even from its home realm. It had discovered, and abused, their most scared spaces. It had used spells previously only possible with world-creating relics. Most importantly though, it had learnt their language.

It had learnt that they would refer to it as a Queen, maybe a Princess, maybe an Heir, maybe a Ruler.

In their world, it was a she.

And they should fear her a great deal.

For when she started all those months ago, slaughtering that troupe of rowdy Illyrians, she was as far from her most sought after need as the moon was from the sea, and now, and now, she was as close as a willow tree to a creek.

And she was ready to get her body.

____

Eleana was practically skipping as she ran to Felix’s. She knew Thea was going to be there, and honestly? She was in the mood to snuggle with a baby.

Even after her romantic day with Kaden had been completely and utterly spoiled, the night hadn’t ended as badly as it could have. Right now, her mother was working on something to do with the share-houses, and Eleana had it on good authority that her father was likely going to come see them again today, so Eleana wanted to take this time to, yes, cuddle with a cute baby, but to also debrief Felix on everything that had happened.

She walked right in the door and squealed when she saw Thea in her eldest cousin’s arms, and without acknowledging anyone else in the room, swept her away from him and clutched Thea to her chest.

“Hello,” she cooed.

Felix snorted from where he was standing and crossed him arms. “I’m going to assume you weren’t talking to me.”

“Or me,” Cassian scoffed.

Eleana simply smiled at them and turned her attention to Quathryn, who had been holding tight onto the Felix’s pants, leaning her head against him. Quathryn must be very tired with the new baby around, and you could see it in her heavy eyes and the way she swayed against her brother.

“Hello to you, too, Quathryn. I’m so happy to see you.”

Quathryn gave her a smile in return, and upraised her arms so that Felix would pick her up.

“She’s exhausted,” Cassian sighed. Her uncle approached Eleana and ruffled her hair affectionately, and peered over her shoulder at all three of his children. “We all are. The girls and I came to visit so that Nesta could sleep without being interrupted, and the little ones were desperate for some time with their big brother. Quite the set of lungs on this one.”

Cassian did look weary, and Felix noticed too. “Why don’t you rest, Father? I’ll take care of the girls.”

Cassian shook his head. “I have to watch them. I love you two dearly, but taking care of a newborn babe and toddler isn’t fun or easy.”

“We’ll stay here,” Eleana said as she started running her fingers through Thea’s spikey hair. How do baby’s hairs just stand on end like that?

Before Cassian could say any more, Felix prodded him in the shoulder towards one of the bedrooms. Quathryn, forever mimicking her beloved brother, reached out and did the same.

“It’s nap time for Papa, isn’t it Quathryn?”

“Yes!” she squeaked.

“No,” Cassian yawned. “I have business to conduct while I’m here, none of which I can do if I’m sleeping.”

“I’ll do it for you, or send Kaden too. The bastard would be happy to help.” Felix was offering anything he could to possibly help him.

Cassian hesitated. “Kaden is actually the only thing I need to take care of.” Cassian looked Eleana dead in the eyes. “Rhys came to see me yesterday, and a decision was made.”

Eleana reeled internally, but she only let a small amount of shock register on her face. “What decision?”

“Call him here and you’ll see.”

____

Kaden was there in a literal minute. The moment Eleana said she needed him, he stopped what he was doing and came to her right away. With Kaden completely unaware of it, she had been using their bond a lot more lately. He chalked it up to her being a daemati, but really she was just speaking to him through the invisible tether that joined them.

Kaden stormed through the door, and upon realising that nothing was wrong and she just wanted him with her, he greeted her with a kiss to the cheek.

In front of Cassian.

Because that was something they could do now. No more hiding, it was all out in the open.

“Hey.” Kaden turned from her and also greeted Felix and Quathryn, the latter also receiving a kiss to the cheek.

“Where’s mine?” Felix joked as Kaden turned to also say hello to Cassian.

“You don’t deserve a kiss.” Kaden winked at him and returned to Eleana’s side, his hand casually sliding around her waist.

Eleana saw Felix and Cassian share a sly look at the sight, and she let it go. Let them think it was funny, she had her mate’s hand around her waist in front of everyone, not that Felix really counted, but she was still beyond happy about it.

“There’s actually a reason you’re here.” Felix said. Quathryn has her head rested against his shoulder, and her eyes had finally closed, small snores emitting from her.

“Why?”

“Because of this.” Cassian reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope as he came towards Kaden. He held it out, and As Kaden took it he scooped Thea up and tucked her into his arm. Thea was so small it was possible to hold her in the crevice of your arm. That is, if you had arms as muscly as the Illyrian males in Eleana’s family did.

Kaden looked at the envelope curiously, and tore the top open so he could pull out a letter.

There were two letters in the envelope, one small and one large. Eleana watched as he read the small one first, a restrained smile on his face as he did. When he read the second one, he froze, and looked at Cassian in disbelief.

“This – this can’t be real,” he stuttered.

“It is.” Cassian was smirking.

Eleana peered at Kaden, Felix equally as curious. “So?” Felix questioned. “What is it?”

Kaden handed the first letter to Eleana, who sprung to Felix’s side so they could read it together.

“This is an invitation to Velaris – for tonight. Everyone will be there, even Elain and Lucien!” Eleana gasped.

Felix just beamed brightly, not wanting to do anything more lest he wake his sister.

“There’s more.” Kaden handed her the other letter.

As Eleana read, tears of joy lined her eyes, and a small whine left her lips as she collided into Kaden’s awaiting arms, hers going around his neck as she clutched him to her.

“It’s immediate the moment you have your tattoos, should you wish to accept.” Cassian explained. “You will live in Velaris and train with the High Lord and I, Azriel occasionally. Within the decade, you will be promoted and likely given a team similar to the Elite, or alternatively, you will work across the different continents as a diplomat or spy. Velaris will always be your main location, and after some time, if you prove yourself worthy, you would become an official member of the Inner Circle.”

Kaden laughed into her neck as he embraced her back, his chest rumbling and warming her to her core. “I don’t know what you said to your parents after I left last night, because I certainly didn’t give that good an impression.”

She pulled back and slapped his chest playfully. “Yes you did.” She hugged him again, and over his shoulder looked at Felix. Felix looked… anything but thrilled.

____

Eleana stood next to the birdbath in her garden in Velaris, surrounded by roses as she waited for Kaden to come. She was wearing the same outfit she had at the bonfire the first time they’d spent real time at the camp together, and she thought it fitting that she got out one of her favourite outfits again for the first time they spent a night out in Velaris. Over the summer, her skin had darkened even more, making the white of her off the shoulder crop and flowing pants accentuate her bronze features.

She was waiting for him here because he desperately needed to tell her something. He was meant to the day previous, before she’d distracted him with tales of love and inappropriate acts, and this morning he had whispered to her that it was imperative she and Felix knew, but he couldn’t tell her with the General around. She was horribly curious as to what it was, and she hoped he wouldn’t take much longer to come to her.

He was currently rummaging through the closet Mor and Azriel had supplied to him, trying to guess what a casual-formal outfit was meant to look like in a city he had been to but never had the change to explore.

So she let herself be consumed by the smell of flowers and the noises of her parents bustling around inside. She was so enthralled by the vibrant colours that she missed so much that she nearly didn’t notice when Kaden crept up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. But she did, she always did.  

“My Dark Rose,” he purred into her ear.

“You’re happy today,” she noted with a smile. She turned so she could cup his face with her hands, and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“I’m very excited about tonight. I also may or may not be overcompensating because I know as soon as I tell you my news you’ll likely start spewing darkness everywhere.”

She rolled her eyes at him and pecked his cheek again. “Have it out then. What could possibly make me that mad?”

Kaden scanned the garden, taking in everything around him: the stone paths, the flowers in full bloom, the balconies in the distance, the trees lining the edge of their land. It was clear he was making sure they wouldn’t be overheard.

“It’s about the creatures.”

Eleana blanched. “What about them?”

“The investigation into them has stopped. Azriel told me yesterday, and I knew it was imperative you also knew. I haven’t told Felix yet, but we should.”

Kaden was correct when he assumed her anger would be significant enough for her darkness to start crawling its way out of her. “Why?” she breathed.

“They think that – that we were reaching in what we presented to them. That there are far more logical explanations and that it wasn’t worth looking into further because they just don’t think there’s anything there.”

“But what about the Impeath? The Colloden? The Mountain?”

“The Colloden they think was something else, and that we just made that connection because of the book. As for the Impeath, they think that whatever attacked Felix that night jumbled you both enough that you’re now an unreliable witness. And the Mountain? They went, and there was nothing. Not a trace of all the things we’ve witnessed there.”

She sighed through her nose. “We told them everything because we weren’t experienced enough to handle it on our own. Felix, maybe, but even he would need a team beyond what the Elite could do. He would need Az, or my father. For fuck’s sake.”

Kaden held her close to him and hid his face in the crook of her neck. “We’ll work this out.”

“But how many people will die in the meantime?”

He ran a hand down her back. “I’ll fill Felix in and meet you tonight for my formal introductions.”

“You need to talk to him about Velaris too.” Eleana hadn’t missed the look of desolation on Felix’s face at the mention of his best friend leaving him.

“I know.” Kaden had noticed as well then. “I don’t know what to do. Leaving is playing into his fears of abandonment, but I have to do this. I know we’ll come to a solution. I wish it was as simple as doing what’s best for me, which is training with the General and High Lord, but I also need him, and you.” He groaned deeply. “Why can’t everything be simple?”

“I’ll see you tonight, and we’ll sort it out after my family inevitably falls in love with you.”

_____

Dusk had been and gone when everyone gathered in the front yard of the townhouse to walk to the restaurant together. Feyre and Rhys were talking to Lucien, who was holding baby Thea, and Mor and Azriel were standing with Nesta and Cassian, the two brothers with their arms around each other’s shoulders. Eleana was standing with Felix, fresh out of his conversation with Kaden, a bristling air following the two eldest children. Quathryn was in the arms of her brother, tugging at his hair and telling him how he needed to get it cut.

As for Kaden, he was standing back after having gone into the house to get a drink, observing the tight-knit family that he was supposed to slot into. They were all so harmonious with each other – well, for the most part. Neither Eleana or Felix had yet to start speaking to Azriel again, which he might need to have a word to them about. He understood where they were coming from, why they would be mad that Azriel had not told him of their relation, but it had gone too far at this point. They cared far too much about him.

“Some might say it’s impolite to stare like that.”

Kaden nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Elain’s voice behind him, and as he turned to look at her he put a hand over his now thundering heart. “I wasn’t staring,” he defended.

“I feel like we got off to a rough start,” Elain said.

Kaden could see Mor prick up at the sight of them talking, but his pseudo-mother didn’t make a start to interrupt them. Instead, her keen eyes observed them.

Kaden glanced at Elain, her smile soft. She had a long flowing lilac gown with embroider flowers covering the bodice on, and her hair was braided with actual poppies intertwined with it. She looked far less frightening than on the only other day he’d ever seen her, but he still had his reservations. As did Felix, it seemed, as he had now joined his aunt in dutifully watching the pair.  

“Do not worry, Lady Elain, what’s in the past can stay there.” He took a step away from her, to go to Felix who was very subtlety gesturing for him to come over, but Elain put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Sometimes, the power and the worry I have for my family consumes me. Without Lucien or Azriel there to reign it in, I can lose control – just like any fae who has too much of one sort of magic. I sincerely apologize for leaving you in the state I did, and for not making sure later that you were taken care of, especially after what you did for my family.”

Kaden gulped at her words. “How many people know what I did?”

“Only the people you’ve informed. They’ll all find out soon enough though.”

“How do you know?”

She tapped a finger to her temple and then walked away, her smile, although still kind, now uptilted like she had a precious secret only she knew.

Left dazed by the short interaction, Kaden went to join Felix, Eleana and Quathryn, quickly explaining what Elain had said to him. They were both as baffled as he, but didn’t let it quash their excitement as the family started walking towards the restaurant. They were going to one of Mor’s favourites, she demanded it saying that she deserved to take her son wherever she damn well liked his first night in the city. She looked slightly taken aback after she’d said it, not intending to use the words my son, and after she’d slipped up and looked to him to apologize, she just saw a happily blushing boy who didn’t know quite how to react to her unconditional love.

Kaden and Eleana started to dawdle behind the others, Eleana constantly stopping him to point something out. The first thing she needed him to see was the clear waters of the Sidra, and how the lights from the buildings behind them made it a lightshow. After that, it was a bridge where she had first started experimenting with her darkness, and she’d carved her name and Felix’s into the stone behind a lamppost. She’d told him about how she’d gotten in huge trouble for vandalism, but the next day Feyre had brought her back with special paints so they could decorate the area around it. Eleana’s whole body shone with happiness when they walked past the rainbow and she’d shown him her favourite alleyway, called Le Clara Avenue. It was lined with tiny little shops, all selling different decorative desserts. The shops themselves were so small that the only place to sit was on the tables and chairs scattered throughout the street, usually placed under the name signs hanging between the two huge buildings that made the alleyway. The last thing she was able to show him on their way there was her favourite bookstore. The shelves spanned every wall all the way to the top of the high ceilings, and the floor was a maze of more shelves. They were all a rich, dark timber and the carpet was a pristine, white marble with rugs of various colours scattered throughout. There were books from every land, from every genre, and Eleana could easily get lost in there for hours on end. It wasn’t unusual for the store clerks to find her cross-legged on the floor tucked into a corner somewhere – that was, when she was in Velaris.

Kaden had to drag her away from there, but with promises that they would return soon.

When they finally made it to the restaurant, Kaden was drunk off of the colourful streets and smell of spices in the air. He wasn’t able to sit next to Eleana, but on his right was Felix and his left Morrigan. Directly across from him was the High Lord, and then Eleana next to him.

“Thank you for the invitation, High Lord. It’s truly an honour.” Kaden inclined his head towards Eleana’s father.

“My pleasure,” he replied.

Eleana glowered at her father playfully. “You can call him Rhys,” she said to Kaden.

“No, he cannot.”

“Yes you can,” Feyre butted in with a smirk.

They continued their banter, but Kaden was more focused on the music he could hear outside. The sliding glass doors to the restaurant made up the whole front of the building they were in, and they were all open, letting in the air and music. Kaden couldn’t see them, but there were fae out there somewhere playing an array of fiddles and violins, and he could hear the light scuffle of feet as fae danced around them. He listened to this music all through the meal, all through the official introductions to High Lord Lucien and Lady Elain, even when Eleana sneakily snaked her foot a bit too high up his leg to tease him.

He’d never heard music like that – never heard people being so carelessly free and felt as though he could join in. It was transfixing.

The food had been lovely, and he’d had to refrain from moaning at every bite. He’d had gorgeously tender lamb with an array of herbs and sauces he’d never had before, and he’d accompanied it with Felix’s favourite wine.

Between the food, the music, and the pulse of happiness he could feel from Eleana, it had been a good night so far.

With all their bellies full, they decided to linger just a bit to take in the atmosphere. Kaden’s mind kept going to that music though, to the fae that were still dancing.

Eleana noticed, and reached across the table to take his hand. “Kaden?” she murmured.

“Yes, my love?”

She bit her lip at the words my love, then squeezed his hand. “Will you dance with me?”

He breathed a heavy, relieved sigh. “Always.”

They both got up without explanation, the High Lord reaching to stop his daughter from leaving, but she slipped through his grip. Instead, she walked around the table and linked her elbow with Kaden’s, and they left to find the source of the music.

It didn’t take long. There was a makeshift stage made from merchant boxes set up, and a wide circle surrounding it for couples to dance. There were little candles dangling on strings overhead, the ropes they were attached to hanging on to all the buildings around them, no matter how far and few between. Past that, there were plenty of onlookers, all clapping and swaying to the instruments.

Eleana stopped at the sight of so many, but Kaden dragged her forward until they were in the centre of dancers. He put one of her hands on his shoulder and then held the other one out next to them, his own arm snaking around her waist.

“Are you ready?”

She closed her eyes. “With you? Yes.”

They started slow, he let her get her footing and then they were off. He twirled her, and dipped her, and had her laughing so hard that she didn’t even notice when she stepped on his toes (which was often but he didn’t mind). At one point, he lifted her up around the waist, spinning her with her head thrown back in pure, unadulterated joy.

_____

Rhys had never been so shook in his life.

He remembered once, months ago, when Eleana had come to the townhouse to show him a dance she had learnt. She wasn’t very great at it, but at least that time she hadn’t broken anything, and he had been so, so proud of her.

And now, he was looking at her actually dancing with someone, and he had to refrain from crying. He remembered all those times as a child when she’d sobbed because she couldn’t dance like the other fae, every time he’d had to heal her or someone else because her flailing was downright dangerous. He blindly grabbed for the arms of his mate, and when he finally got her attention she was just as shocked as him.

“I don’t think it dawned on me until now that they’re mates,” Feyre said quietly.

Rhys wasn’t even ashamed to say, in reality he was exuberant, “They’re perfect, Feyre. She’s – our little girl is going to be so happy with him.”

Feyre clutched onto his side as they watched Kaden and Eleana dance with the other fae as complete equals.

The song finished, and an exhilarated Kaden and Eleana made their way back to the family.

“Don’t you go anywhere, young man.” Mor stepped forward and held out a hand to Kaden. “I want a dance too. I’ve never met anyone as good as me, so let’s put you to the test.”

Kaden smirked competitively, and left Eleana with a kiss to the cheek to dance with Mor.

Kaden was put to the test alright, and he scored perfectly.

He had been holding back with Rhys’ daughter, and watching him dance to his full skill was like watching a storm cloud build a hurricane – effortless yet with the upmost power and control.

The other fae who were dancing stopped, and all joined the crowd of onlookers to watch Kaden and Mor. They were both clearly trying to one up the other, and it made for a fantastic spectacle. Rhys idly wondered where Kaden had learnt to do that if his past was as horrible as Eleana claimed, but didn’t dwell on it. They were all allowed to have their moments of light in the darkness, and this seemed to be Kaden’s. And the fact that he was now able to share his love and gift of dancing with his daughter… Rhys would love him, just for that.

The audience clapped as the dance came to an end, both Mor and Kaden breathing deeply with a fine layer of sweat on their brows.

Although the music continued, the Inner Circle steered their children back home. They all walked along, and Rhys was listening to Eleana as she pointed out every little thing she thought Kaden would like. He risked a glance over at them, but definitely didn’t again when he saw Kaden sweep her into his arms to kiss her. He liked the boy, but he sure as hell didn’t want to see that.

At one point, about halfway back to the townhouse, he and Cassian stood next to each other and watched Kaden and Felix mucking around, pushing each other and jumping over the other’s head, racing around and laughing loudly.

“It’s strange,” Cassian commented, “how the past has a habit of repeating itself.” He was referring to the two young men who resembled themselves so much, and Rhys was inclined to agree.

As they walked up the familiar steps to the townhouse, their family started to bid their farewells. Kaden left first with Azriel and Mor, and Rhys was unsure whether it was going to be Eleana or the boy who ineluctably snuck out to see the other. Then it was Felix, who took Quathryn and Thea with him so Cassian and Nesta could linger and gossip. Lucien and Elain were going to stay in the House of Wind, but as they tried to winnow away a sudden leash was put on them – and not just them, but everyone left.

Rhys, Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, Elain, Lucien – they all turned as one to where Eleana stood on the threshold, her expression dark and her magic keeping them in place.

“The sitting room. Now. There’s things you need to know.” She turned, and they were all compelled to follow her. Not even Rhys could break the spell she had woven around them, and was forced, like his family, into his home.

They all sat on stiff dining chairs that were barely used, Eleana at the head of the table. “I’m sorry for doing it like this,” she said, “but I can’t have you running off without me showing you this.” Her voice turned anguished, and Rhys looked at her wide-eyed.

“Laya?” He reached out to hold one of her hands, but she crossed them under the table before he could.

“They are things you need to know about Kaden before you make any final judgements on him, not that your opinion could change my mind.” She looked them all over then.

Nesta and Cassian, both looking slightly irritated about not knowing what was going on. Feyre and Lucien, scared about the girl before them, and Elain, who didn’t seem fazed at all. Perhaps she knew this was coming.

Without another word, Eleana tapped on all their minds, wanting them to loosen their shields and invite her in. It was politeness more than anything, his Butterfly was powerful enough to force her way in if she wanted.

They all acquiesced, and then it was not through their eyes they were seeing, but through hers.

____

Dark room.

Candle in the corner.

Brute of a man keeping the child down with his foot to the centre of her back as he pulled violently on one of her wings. Her mouth full of gravel, and her screams so colossal her throat had started to bleed, the metallic taste filling her lungs alongside the dirt that had been shoved down her with a maniacal laugh.  

A puddle around her. Vomit. Blood. Piss. Not all her own.

This is the Room. This is her nightmare.

Another day.

The dark the same – swallowing, insistent, terrorizing. Nothing good happens in this Room.

Her gums infected. Her hands trying to push away the pliers that a man is shoving in her mouth to rip out her teeth.

For her good, he claimed.

It was not for her good.

Another day, or maybe night, and she was deathly tired. Her very bones ache like the unoiled tires of a cart, and she wanted to sleep. Is contented to on the cold floor. She is small. She has no choice.

A laugh. A noose. A quashed yell as the air is scraping through her lungs as she loses her breath.

A day.

Different. Not the Room, but a house. A familiar, sneering male leading her and her love into a room full of cocky men with egos that could fuel a war. It doesn’t matter. The golden boy is at her side, and she loves him. She loves him she loves him she loves him. Her mate. Her golden mate, with a heart full of sorrow that she was slowly replacing with felicity.

A tour. Of the house. From a brother.

Bottom to top, is that what he said?

Stairs going down. A basement.

A room. The Room. Never a nightmare, but a memory – a glance through the eyes of a male she hadn’t met yet. A bond so strong it didn’t matter.

A growl. A scampering host. An ashamed Kaden. He had never wanted her to see this.

In response, a kiss. The second of many to come. A good thing in a foul place. A Room neither of them would ever return to.  

A cave.

Nails missing. Wounds a plenty. Skin bare and cold. Hair savagely cut.

She looks up at the creature holding her captive, and is unsurprised to see that there is nothing there. She can’t see it. She will die here.

Her back, her body, is held up by fragile wings that are in tatters and shreds. Tendons in muscles, her own, straining through her body like they might very might rip out through her back and she might slide to the floor. Only flesh and bone with a detached soul, forever meant to blindly wonder through this cave.

A sigh. A loss of breath. Did she have a name? Surely she did once, but she can no longer remember it, that is, that is, until it is muttered in front of her.

Eleana?

A hand around her to hold her up, another on her face. Her name from his lips, a plea. She tries to open her eyes, she can’t, but she tries, for him. She’ll remember her name for him.

The promise of a dance gets her attention. A dance at a wedding.

Warmth, beautiful heat in this icy place as he heals her ever so slightly.

She mumbles his name. He kisses the tip of her nose. She tells him to run.

It’s here and its claws are in her mate.

It doesn’t matter. With a loud thud, its head rolls.

Her golden mate hacks at the chains holding her up, and she is free. She is in his arms, and she is in excruciating pain.

She will never fly again.

Starfall.

Broken body chains from gloriously wondering hands, interrupted by the creature they all thought dead.

A tornado of fire and ash. A golden mat who is the only one that can see it. With her help, he kills it, slowly.  

Relief. It was over. It would no longer hunt her.

Surprise. She’d thought it dead.

Collapsed happily in the arms of her golden mate.

Fury, as he told her that her family knew the creature as alive.

She flees.

The night of a birth.

Her golden mate anchoring himself through their bond without his knowledge. He’s using every ounce of strength he has to put the soul he found trying to go to the Other Side back into the infant body in a room full of desolation and confusion.

He struggles. He collapses. He is looking through the eyes of the woman he loves – not that he’s told her he loves her.

Through her, he guides the soul back into its body

And then

A cry

And she’s alive.

_____

Rhys’ hands were uncontrollably shaking as he was freed from Eleana’s memories, his head laying on the table in front of him. He had drooled slightly onto the blue table cloth, and dazedly wiped his mouth.

Next to him, Feyre was crying, her face in her hands and her shoulders slumped. He pulled her to him and she sobbed into his chest, grabbing onto his jacket lapels for dear life.

Across from him, Cassian was trying to calm a raging Nesta. She wasn’t mad, but she wasn’t in control of her emotions either. What caused her to be like this, Rhys didn’t know, and he was too shocked on his own accord to probe into her reasoning.  Perhaps it was that without Kaden her child would have died, and she had never even had the chance to thank him.

Lucien and Elain looked like they were going to be sick, and the only thing that held them back from vomiting all over the floor was their tight grip on each other’s hands.

And then there was Eleana, calming sitting at the head of the table like she hadn’t just refuted things they thought to be absolute truths.

“So it wasn’t Azriel and Felix that saved you that day?” Rhys’ voice cracked as he addressed his daughter.

“They were there, somewhere, but it was Kaden who saved me.”

“And the Room?”

“Visions I was getting from him.”

“And Th-Thea?” Rhys shakily got to his feet, letting his wife go.

“No medical help in the world could have brought her back. The Cauldron blessed us when I was given Kaden.”

Rhys took stepped towards his daughter, and she rose to give him a solid hug. “Do you see now, Papa? Why I love him so, and would even if he wasn’t my mate?”

“Yes, my little Butterfly, I understand.”

#acohad #a court of hearts and darkness #acomaf #acotar #acowar #feysand #nessian #moriel #fic #fanfic #Eleaden

[moiraineswife]

5, 11, 19, 24, 31, 33 for nessian bc these two destroy me on a daily basis as do your headcanons for them lmao

OMG NO-ONE EVER ASKS ME FOR NESSIAN STUFF THANK YOU. i love moriel and elucien i doooo but it’s exciting to shake things up, I hope you enjoy these OKAY LET’S GO. 

5. Who usually has nightmares?

Oooooh right off the mark with the angst/hurt/comfort. Hmm. I think Nesta’s are possibly more frequent? And they usually don’t wake her up, Cassian has to watch her thrashing in her sleep for a little while before he manages to rouse her. And if they do wake her up she never screams or bolts out of bed or really shows any sign of it outwardly? It’s all very very contained and kept within herself?

 But sometimes Cassian wakes up and she’s not there and he knows exactly what’s happened. He takes the blanket off of the bed and pads into the bathroom where he inevitably finds her curled up on the cold stone floor trying to calm herself down. He sits down beside her and wraps the blanket around her shoulders then he sits a little apart from her. He doesn’t touch her or speak or do anything to disturb her peace until she shuffles closer to him and puts her head on his shoulder. Then he wraps his wing around her and tucks her in close. 

Sometimes she cries. Sometimes she talks to him about it. Sometimes she asks him to talk to her. Sometimes she just sits in silence and lets him hold her and be with her and that helps. Cassian lets her dictate everything, he doesn’t try and push her into talking or touching him or any of it. He just sits and is there for her. When she’s ready she takes his hand and leads him back into the bedroom and they curl up to sleep together. Some nights she can’t face that and instead she takes his hand and leads him out onto the balcony. Then he scoops her up into his arms and they fly for a while until she falls asleep against him. 

Cassian’s nightmares are much less frequent but they’re far more violent and intense. Sometimes it’s his wings being shredded all over again. Sometimes it’s worse and it’s him being too slow, or not acting at all, and instead he’s watching Azriel die right in front of him while he does nothing. Sometimes it’s people he’s slaughtered on the battlefield - in some cases hundreds of years ago - that return to haunt him. But no matter what it is he lives every one of them. He feels every bit of them all over again as though he was there. 

Nesta hates them. She hates what they do to him, how sick they can make him, how much they hurt him and how that pain is one that she can’t easily take away. When he wakes up it usually takes him a moment to realise where he is and sometimes he tries to get away from Nesta when she tries to comfort him, still trapped in the dream. The times he does that ruin her even though she knows it’s not rational. But she helps him a lot. She’s very, very calm and very grounded, her voice is cool and soft and low and it helps to anchor him. 

She rubs his back and holds him and reminds him that he’s okay, he’s safe now, he’s here with her, those things are all in the past. They can’t hurt him anymore. She won’t let them. She says this so fiercely that it never fails to draw a little smile out of him and then he’s kissing her forehead and she’s pressing their brows together and he’s okay again. 

Some nights he needs to just get away. and get away now. That used to destroy her. When he would just lurch away from the bed with his head in his hands and launch himself into the air and away from his pain, from his past, from his memories...but also from her. She understands him more the longer they’re together and a lot of the time he takes her with him but...She knows when he needs space and she gives it to him. She makes sure she’s waiting for him when he comes home and she has a glass of water and a blanket ready for him and there’s a fire burning in the hearth so that he never has to come back to darkness. 

once he crawls back into bed with her she wraps her arms around him and cuddles him so tightly and doesn’t let him go. She watches over him all night and only once he’s been asleep peacefully for a long time does she let herself fall asleep again too. 

I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT NIGHTMARES I’M SORRY. 

11. Who likes horror movies/ Who likes romance movies?

Hmm...I kind of want to be Difficult and say that...neither of them really like either??? Nesta doesn’t like horror movies because...they’re predictable and dull for the most part and she doesn’t have any time for them. Cass doesn’t much like them because they make him jump. And then he has to spend a month insisting that it did not make me jump, Nes, you’re imagining things. Nesta just -_- over romance movies and Cass is too busy teasing her for her repeated huffing and eye rolling to actually watch the thing. 

Nesta is a total Nerd I think she likes sci-fi things and fantasy things but her favourites are documentaries. She’ll just curl up in one of Cassian’s oversized sweaters and sit and stare at them for hours and hours and hours. Cassian likes them too and they sit and snuggle and watch them together. Right i have no idea why like there is no justification to this but I can see Cass having a guilty pleasure thing for like old westerns as well as old black and white movies? He doesn’t let this known to many people and he doesn’t indulge in them very often but..he is fond. 

19. Who loves to call the other one cute names?

Ahem, “Nesta ‘Sweetheart’ Archeron” - Courtesy of Captain Pet Name himself. Cassian. The answer is Cassian. (I feel like if Nesta is calling you a ‘cute’ name...you have fucked up. Like big time. And you’re probably in public with her. and she needs a way to alert you to the fact that you have fucked up big time and that your death is fast approaching but in a way that is socially acceptable? And so she just like, ‘that’s nice, dear’ and Cassian just WELL I have somewhere very important to be. the other side of the country. actually no, no another country entirely, I have to put an ocean between myself and what’s coming to me) 

24. Who is the talker/ Who is the listener?

Oooooh interesting. I actually think this is pretty mutual when it comes to important stuff? If one of them has something they need to tell the other then they take on the appropriate role? Cassian is actually a really good listener like he’s a great person to tell your problems to he will just absorb them all and listen so intently and you know that he cares so much about whatever it is? Like he never makes a problem feel small or stupid or insignificant? If it’s important to Nesta then it’s important to him. Nesta is a very good listener too, she’s more intense than Cassian and sometimes people wonder how much she’s taking in because she doesn’t react that much? But the wheels are turning in her head and she’s already coming up with a half a dozen plans and suggestions and ideas for what to do. She just doesn’t emote as much as Cassian does when he listens? 

When it comes to just casual every day stuff though Cassian is definitely a prattler and Nesta is quieter? If they’re just doing stuff around the house Cassian will chatter away while Nesta nods absently. It always looks like she’s not actually listening to him and is absorbed in her work but...She’s taking in every word her mate says to her. 

31. Who is more affectionate?

Cassian is much more kind of ‘typically’ affectionate? In that he’s much more sort of emotionally/verbally/outwardly affectionate in that squishy loving kind of way? He gives her lots and lots of kisses and makes her beautiful breakfasts in bed and lavishes love and praise on her at all hours of the day and night and he will do anything in his power just to tease a little smile out of her (he lives for her smiles and her laughter is like the fountain of youth to him (I KNOW HE’S ALREADY IMMORTAL, SHUT IT AND ACCEPT MY CHEESY METAPHOR)) 

Nesta...It’s kind of like the talking/listening thing again? Nesta’s is..much quieter, much more reserved, much more subtle and much harder to see? It’s the way she always knows exactly what time he’s going to be home and makes sure there’s a cup of tea sitting waiting for him on the table beside his favourite armchair (even if she’s upstairs pretending that it’s not a big deal) And in the way she’ll lift his book off of him and carefully mark his page when he falls asleep reading because she knows it takes him forever to find his place again. Or the way she can see through his big smiles and false laughter if someone says something that’s upset him and how she’ll look after him afterwards - a soft touch, her hand slipping into his, a gentle squeeze, she’s there, she loves him, she understands. It’s little kisses in public that she uses to surprise him when she knows he needs them or how she’ll go out of her way to find information on this one incredibly obscure topic that’s important to him and then brush it off like it was easy. 

So I think they’re both..equally affectionate it just manifests itself in extremely different ways. But these two were made to love and be loved with every single piece of themselves. And they give and expect nothing less in their partner.

34. Who would wear “if lost return to…” t-shirt/ Who would wear “I am…” t-shirt? 

See you’d think because Nesta’s technically more serious and practical and put together that Cassian would be returned to her? But nope. Nesta gets the ‘if lost’ t-shirt and Cassian gets the ‘I am’ t-shirt because he is both the commander and the mother hen in this relationship (and Nesta has a tendency to wander - like she just vaguely starts ambling because oh look, a rare book stall...oh! they have interesting paints over there I should get some for Feyre, oh flower arrangements- wait where is Cassian? so she gets lost more and is therefore in need of returning) 

ask me for ship headcanons and I’ll answer!

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acomaf #perseusjackson #acotar series #nessian headcanons #my headcanons #acotar headcanons #i've been on a tiny nessian high lately #which is my excuse for these being so long #my other excuse #is that i'm me #and this is just what i do