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femmefatalevibe · 2 years

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Femme Fatale Beauty Playbook: Tips & Tricks To Feel Clean, Confident & Seductive Daily

Some beauty tips and tricks to feel your best daily.

Starting off with some miscellaneous advice: Coconut oil is the most versatile ingredient – for your hair, skin, nails, and even down there. Find your signature scent (apply it to your clothes instead of your skin whenever possible). Sugar scrubs are the answer to most flakiness or bumps on your skin. B vitamins, vitamin D, and omega-3s are essential to healthy hair, skin, and nails.

Hope this helps xx

Hair:

Shampoo your skull, condition the rest: Focus shampoo on your roots and work it through your scalp; concentrate conditioner on the ends and work your way up until you reach the base of your skull - around your upper ear lobe.

Always comb, never brush, your hair when wet: Gently use a wide-tooth comb, from root to tip, on wet hair to prevent breakage.

Use a special towel to dry your hair: My favorite is from Crown Affair (pricey for what it is but worthwhile in the long-term), but a Turbie Twist from the drugstore works infinitely better than a regular towel that weighs down and causes frizzy, damaged hair

Always use a heat protection spray before blow drying or straightening/curling your hair: (Briogeo and Oribe products are my love for all haircare products, including their blowdry creams – also love R +Co. for a heat protection styling mist).

Choose your hair ties wisely: Use seamless or silk hair ties exclusively to prevent breakage or awkward creases on your hair. Wear a silk scrunchie if you prefer. These hair ties from Amazon are my holy grail (only $7 for 100 hair ties!), and they come in a portable ziplock bag.

Skin:

Always use a disposable cloth when washing your face: Regular towels store bacteria and can cause breakouts too easily. These facial wipes from Amazon are my holy grail.

Wear sunscreen daily: Yes, even when you spend all day indoors. UV rays can interact with your skin through windows, too.

Niacinamide, Vitamin C Hyaluronic Acid, & Tea Tree Oil are among the few skincare ingredients almost everyone should consider incorporating into their skincare routine.

Learn the correct order to apply the products in your skincare routine: Cleanser, Toner, Serum, Eye Cream, Spot Treatment, Moisturizer, Sunscreen (or Retinol/Skin Oil at night).

Remember: From a dermatologist's perspective, your face starts (or ends) at your nipples. So, ensure you're cleansing, exfoliating, and applying sunscreen daily to your neck, chest, and décolletage to keep your skin smooth, youthful, and well-hydrated.

Vaseline is a great (affordable) alternative to traditional eye creams.

Sugar scrub your facial hair for a more gentle alternative to waxing (Combine sugar, lemon, and water). Laser hair removal, especially under your arms and your arms/legs is life-changing.

Follow up a warm shower with a dry brush and coconut oil for smoother, firmer skin.

Always apply a hydrating lip balm, mask, or Vaseline, hand cream, and moisturizer to your feet before going to sleep.

Layer complementary scents. Ensure the scents of body wash, lotion, and perfume work well together and don't clash.

Makeup:

Learn your skin undertones and educate yourself on color theory (I can share a post on this on the Post+ feed if you want some more educational content on these types of topics – I write about them for a living!).

Test any foundation, concealer, or face powder on your wrists, too.

Don't forget to color-match your bronze and blush: They can appear orange or muddy if you don't find a product with the correct shade or undertones for your skin type.

Invest in products that go on your face, brow products, and eyeliners. Great mascaras and lip products are easy to find at a drugstore or relatively cheap (I suggest Covergirl and d NYX, respectively).

Apply concealer in a triangle; don't dot it around your eyes for better coverage.

If you have oily skin (or it's humid outside), apply powder before your liquid/cream products. Set them again with a light powder to lock the color in.

Apply mascara from tip to base for the best lashes of your life: One coat on the tip, another from middle to tip, and the last coat from base to tip.

In a pinch, use a fragrance-free moisturizer and a q-tip to remove excess makeup (no more raccoon eyes).

Use a light nude or white eyeshadow underneath your brow to make them appear more defined.

Apply face powder under your eyes to help the eyeliner on your waterline last longer.

Create a simple daily makeup routine formula: 1 skin coverage (foundation/concealer), 1 skin color (a favorite blush or bronzer), brows, mascara, an eye-definer (eyeliner or shadow), and a signature "your lips but better" lip shade (1-2 shades deeper or lighter than your natural lip color): This formula provides you the basics, so you never have an excuse not to put yourself together for the day (5-10 minute routine here).

Discover your day-to-night hero product: Always keep a slightly deeper lipstick, a smoky eyeshadow, or liquid liner in your bag to transition your day look into the evening with one portable product.

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glossamerfaerie · 7 hours

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One aspect of Gwynriel that really excites me is religion. The other protagonists don’t seem to take religion or rituals very seriously? Everyone respects the Mother and acknowledges her power (and the Cauldron), but we haven’t explored faith among the fae. Feyre has a terrible experience with Ianthe (a sadly accurate depiction of corruption within organized religion). But we know that not all priestesses are like power-hungry Ianthe. Nesta is understandably indifferent even though she later has an experience with the Mother during Nyx’s birth. Rhys and Cassian seem respectful but we’ve never seen them pray or attend services. It’s giving “only attending church during Christmas” level of religious commitment.

Azriel, on the other hand… we haven’t had much canon insight in his head, but I firmly believe that Azriel is more religious than his brothers. Like he’s not the type to attend temple services, but he probably thinks about faith and the Mother regularly. Clearly he has contemplated mating bonds and who creates them — maybe he’s prayed for a mating bond? Maybe his mother raised him to be more religious. In HOFAS, after Nesta takes the mask off in a close call, Az’s very first instinct is to thank the Mother. Possibly that is meaningless (like how an atheist can say “thank god”) but idk. Az seems to have more faith than his brothers.

“The Mask fell from Nesta’s face, clattering on the stone.

Nesta swayed, but Azriel was there, catching her, bringing her to his chest, scarred hands stroking her hair. “Thank the Mother,” he breathed. “Thank the Mother.”

A few chapters later, Az describes the Cauldron and what happens after death.

“Bryce nodded to the carving. “What’s the big deal about a cauldron?”

“The Cauldron,” Azriel amended. Bryce shook her head, not understanding. “You don’t have stories of it in your world? The Fae didn’t bring that tradition with them?”

Bryce surveyed the giant cauldron. “No. We have five gods, but no cauldron. What does it do?”

“All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.”

Later in the conversation, Az explains what happens to souls after death.

“When you die, where do your souls go?” Did they even believe in the concept of a soul? Maybe she should have led with that.

But Azriel said softly, “They return to the Mother, where they rest in joy within her heart until she finds another purpose for us. Another life or world to live in.”

The way Az talks about the Mother, with reverence and confidence, makes me certain that he’s more religious than his brothers.

Then, of course, we have Gwyn — a literal priestess who was raised in a temple. She still attends daily services and sings for the choir. I’ve wondered if what happened in Sangravah shook Gwyn’s faith. Maybe she thinks the Mother exists but isn’t a benevolent deity. Maybe she’s bitter that the Mother didn’t save her servants from Hybern attacks. She definitely feels shame and unworthiness — Gwyn no longer feels like she has a right to wear the Invoking Stone. Working through those feelings will be a major aspect of Gwyn’s arc.

“You asked me once why I don’t wear the hood or the Invoking Stone. That stone is a sign of holiness. How can someone like me wear it?”

Within the temple, Gwyn also faces prejudice and discrimination from her fellow sisters. Ianthe isn’t the only asshole within the organization (cough Merrill cough). I’m sure that some people in Sangravah were cruel to Gwyn’s family because of their nymph heritage. I don’t know what SJM has planned, but I feel that religion will play a major role in the Gwynriel book. I wouldn’t be surprised that, like Nesta, Gwyn has a firsthand experience with the Mother. She will definitely use the blue invoking stone for healing (a nice parallel to Az’s blue siphons).

“It’s an Invoking Stone.” Gwyn unfurled her fingers, revealing the gem within her hand. “Similar to the Siphons of the Illyrians, except that the power of the Mother flows through it. We cannot use it for harm, only healing and protection. It was shielding us.”

I’m also curious to see Gwyn and Az discuss their religious beliefs together. Maybe Az gets permission to join the dawn and dusk services. The man barely sleeps, he might as well watch Gwyn during her religious commitments. The shadows are NOT going to pass a chance to hear their girl sing (or watch her glow). Maybe Nesta can talk Az into singing with the choir. 🥹

Nesta could only gape at the lovely melody, the voices from the front of the cavern leading it, lifting higher than the others. Gwyn sang, chin high, a faint glow seeming to radiate from her. The music was pure, ancient, by turns whispering and bold, one moment like a tendril of mist, the next like a gilded ray of light. It finished, and Merrill spoke about the Mother and the Cauldron and the land and sun and water. She spoke of blessings and dreams and hope. Of mercy and love and growth.

Idk, maybe I’m wrong about Az being religious. But it feels like such a wasted opportunity if we don’t learn more about the Mother! At the very least, I do see Az attending the dawn and dusk services if he’s not on a mission. 🎼🩵🎶

#gwynriel #my acotar thoughts #pro gwyn #gwyneth berdara #azriel #gwyn x azriel #nesta archeron #hofas spoilers #house of flame and shadow #acotar #a court of silver flames

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redheadspark · 11 months

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hi! could i request number 14 with azriel from acotar? <3

A/N - I think this is amazing for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Gorgeous

Summary - Azriel knew how to make his mate feel loved

Warnings - Just some fluff

“What a beautiful day for a swim!”

Mor was about to hum in agreement with you when water splashed you both, a pair of squeals came from you and Mor as Cassian broke up from the water and laughed from getting you both doused in water. Although you wanted to glare at him and tell him off for getting your outfit all wet, it was a bit better to be cooled off from the hot sun that was beating down on Velaris.

Summer in Velaris was magic. Pure magic.

Everyone would spend most of their days out of their homes and in the sun, soaking it in for all its worth since Velaris was sheltered and hunkered down because of the recent winter storm. Plenty of wildflowers were in bloom, the summer fruits were ripe and ready for picking in the local orchards, and the rivers and beaches were always popular.

Thankfully, thanks to having connections to the Inner Circle, you knew of the perfect watering hole that only High Lord Rhsyand knew and would use regularly.

It was small little lake that was near his River House, big enough to have all of the Inner Circle enjoy but small enough to not be seen by the naked eye. Well hidden behind massive trees and bushes, it was the perfect place to cool off and unwind when the heat would be unbearable. Rhysand loved using the lake with Feyre, both with friends and in private. But now that Nyx was old enough to learn how to swim, Rhsyand would take his son out there daily to learn.

Today, he invited the Inner Circle to a few hours in the lake, mostly to relax from all of the planning that was going on for the upcoming meeting with Spring Court and the tyrant Tamlin. You were glad to get some time away from your office and desk at the Community Center, knowing it was going to be ran perfectly without you needing to delegate everything. But it wasn’t just you that was looking forward to a dip in the water.

But your mate as well.

“Well I’m glad you’re not getting me wet, my dear,” Nesta said in a grin as she took off her cover up, revealing her two piece set that she was wearing that was a deep blue and showing off her curves. Cassian merely smiled up at his mate, holding out a hand to help her in the water with ease.

“I know better, honey,” he reassured her as he kissed her cheek, the two of them swimming off together with giggles on their lips. You then looked over to Mor, seeing her roll her eyes as she gestured to the small patch of grass to the right of the lake.

“I’m gonna get myself a tan,” She hummed to you, walking off with her own summer dress swishing with her hips. You had to give her credit for her confidence, you wished you had some of that in your own life. Not that you were completely meek and unwilling to have your own sense of confidence about yourself. But Mor’s was more cosmic and organic, seeping out of her as if it was second nature to her.

You felt a touch along your arm, a scarred hand brushing your skin that made your slightly sliver. The scent of citrus was now in your nose as the small sensation of cooling shadows licking our lower back got your attention.

“You not going to join them, dear?”

Azriel. Sweet Azriel the Shadowsinger himself and your mate of 4 years.

“I was waiting for you, Az,” You teased, feeling him smile as he pressed his lips against your cheek while he stood behind you, “You missed Cassian’s cannon ball, it was quite marvelous!”

“I’ve seen him do those cannon balls before. Mediocre at best,” Azriel said in a snort, having you chuckle as he then walked over to stand next to you. You watched him take off his thin shirt, revealing his tan skin along his toned muscle and the swirled of markings that were branded there. Of course you felt flustered from seeing him like this, then again you got to see more skin from him since you two were mates and no ashamed of loving each other behind closed doors.

Then again, that almost made you rethink of how you viewed yourself. Azriel called you beautiful and radiant, and most of the time you believed him. But maybe it was the odd stares you would get from citizens in town when you two walked together or were eating out at Rita’s. Azriel never minded the opinion of others, he simply tuned them out. But you couldn’t help but wonder what they were thinking.

A plain fae with a Spymaster.

“Aren’t you going to come swimming with me?” Azriel asked you in an alluring tone as he eyed you in your own black cover up. You were a bit sheepish, clutching the cover up a bit tighter and shifted back and forth on your feet. Azriel may have sensed that you were holding back a bit, reached over to move his fingers to push back the hair that was on your shoulder, “I know which one you picked out with Mor last week: my favorite one that is green that makes your eyes so bright.”

You are wearing that swimsuit, Mor making you try it out in the shop when you two were shopping. She thought it hugged your hips and curves perfectly, making your skin glow and bringing out the highlights of your hair. So when you showed Azriel the swimsuit that same night, almost like a preview for him to see in your shared home, he looked at you with such love in his eyes. Knowing that you almost made the Spymaster fall to his knees from your simple beauty.

But that just with your mate, not out in public.

“I think you are beyond beautiful,” Azriel reminded there in front of the lake, your eyes moving to look at his hazel orbs, seeing how calm he looked and yet filled with love and emotion, “There’s nothing that you can do that can make me love you any less, right? And I think you are gorgeous in anything you wear,”

His words were laced with truth, and you smiled from hearing the deep tremor of his tone vibrate against your skin. His fingers moved up then to the top of the cover up, touching the fabric and silently waiting for your permission to remove it. You nodded, feeling that small piece of confidence all thanks to your mate.

He pushed the cover up past your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground around your feet.

“Oo la la! Looking sexy over there!” Mor hooted from her spot along the glass, drinking her glass of white wine and one of Nesta’s adult books in hand. You looked down, the two piece that you wore did make you feel rather pretty as the material shined in the sun.

“Very nice! You look great!” Cassian hummed in agreement, his smirk there as Azriel wrapped an arm around your shoulders to glare at Cassian.

“Easy there, Cas,” He warned his friend, then looked down at your swimsuit with looks of love on his face. He leaned over to kiss your bare shoulder and then whispered in your ear, “Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous.”

Leave it to you mate to make you feel loved and whole. He would hold you in his arms in bed early in the morning or late in the night, knowing it was your safe space when you were falling asleep or waking up. He made your favorite foods on your stressful days, delivering them to you personally at the Community Center during your lunch break. He snuck in kissed along your skin when you were feeling down or not yourself, his own way of showing you with the love he always had for you.

The love you had for Azriel never seemed to be enough, but it was enough and more when it came to his love for you.

“Enough eyeing each other like that, thank the Cauldron our nephew isn’t present!” Nesta lightly scolded with a chuckle as she then gestured to the water, “Come join us!”

You were about to say something to her when Azriel wrapped his entire arm around your waist. You looked over at him to see him give you one of his own signature grins.

“Glady,” He replied, then taking the pair of you into the water with a massive jump. You cried out from the sudden jump, but laughed as you both broke up for air from being under water. The cool water felt immensely better from being too hot from the water, and also from Azriel’s compliments about you.

As Azriel kissed you in the water, your fingers running in his dark locks and his fingers touching along your bare waist under the water, you felt that love again the very first time you two met what seemed like so long ago. It felt just the same, the fluttering in your stomach, the running thoughts, the instant smile that never seemed to go away. That new sensation of love never left, all thanks to Azriel and his undying love to you.

Even wearing a simple swimsuit made you feel like a goddess, all because of your mate.

The End

June Summer Prompts

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel #acotar fluff #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #azriel shadowsinger x reader #fanfiction #writing

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 1 year

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chapter vi – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warnings: spoilers for entire ACOTAR series

masterlist

Eris did as he promised to the High Lady and Lord of Night Court: he found their best booze and chugged two glasses before pouring a third and forcing himself to nurse is.

There was a fire already crackling when he entered. Night Court had a subtle chill not so different than Autumn Court. Though Eris wish he had a sanctuary similar to Feyre and Rhysand that could give him such comforts.

What the Cauldron are you doing here? Eris asked himself.

He should be back in Autumn Court by now. This was not part of the plan. He was meant to check on Y/N, instill fear into the hearts of Rhysand and his court, and never to appear again.

But now he planned on having dinner with his mate? His mate who had no idea that they were mates.

Someone finally walked into the drawing room.

Eris recognized her as the middle Archeron sister. His youngest brother’s mate.

Her eyes grew wide at his presence.

But then she blinked and seemed to relax quite a bit. “Oh, I thought you were your brother.”

Eris smoothly took another sip of his drink before he said, “I take that as a great offense. I am far more handsome than him.”

Elain managed to force a small smile. But Eris saw how much effort it took her, more than anything.

“I-I did not realize you were dining with us,” she muttered awkwardly.

Clearly his presence made her uncomfortable, whether he was Lucien or not.

“I was forced,” Eris answered bluntly.

A toddler came crawling after Elain, cooing and trying to climb up his aunt’s legs.

Elain smiled – genuine, this time – and leaned down to pick up Nyx.

“So this is the little prince…” Eris finally spoke, observing the toddler.

“He’s certainly treated like one by all his aunts and uncles,” Feyre joked, finally entering the drawing room with Rhysand right behind her.

She immediately went for her son, who beamed at the sight of his mother.

Eris had never thought much about children. Being the eldest of seven meant he was often asked to take care of his brothers growing up. The last time he held a baby was when Lucien had been one.

He figured he’d have children when a marriage was forced upon him by his father for political reasons.

But with Y/N…Eris doesn’t know if he could go through with such a union now. Even though there was voice in his mind screaming that it would put a much needed chasm between the two of them if he did. Distance from him is what Y/N needed most of all. And an arranged marriage with some courtier or another would do just that.

There was a ruckus coming from the front entrance.

Illyrians, Eris thought. So loud and obnoxious.

The rest of Rhys’ inner circle came waltzing into the drawing room: Cassian with his mate Nesta, then Amren, Azriel, Mor. But it was Y/N who walked in last.

And the sight before Eris made him lose his breath.

Y/N wore a dress of Night Court fashion: a grayish plum color that curved into the shape of her body so naturally. While there was hardly any skin showing, it made Eris’ heart race just a little bit faster.

Her face was painted with rather dramatic makeup. Though it suited her and she looked beautiful, Eris somehow knew that Y/N must not involve herself in such glamour in her daily life.

It also completely hid the bruises that Eris had spotted earlier.

“Y/N, you are allowed to tell Mor no,” Feyre giggled at the sight Y/N all dressed up.

Y/N shrugged politely and ducked her head as she said, “It seems to bring her so much joy. I don’t have it in me to stop her.”

But Mor wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. Because as soon as her eyes had been locked on Eris, she gave him a glare that Eris felt should’ve killed him.

“What is he doing here?” Mor snapped.

Eris had been too busy getting lost in Y/N to even notice that he was someone’s prey.

Rhysand stepped forward. “He is our guest tonight, Mor.”

Y/N watched everyone’s reaction’s to Eris’ presence carefully, and she was smart enough to put together that Eris was no friend to the inner circle.

Then she looked at Rhysand, staring intensely at More, who still glared at Eris. She knew the High Lord must be speaking to her through their minds.

“I’m famished!” Cassian groaned. “Let us eat already.”

And the tension was broken – for now.

Rhysand and Feyre guided them to a formal dining room with a long table. However, at the head on one side were two chairs. So the High Lord and Lady could sit next to each other instead of being separated by a massive table.

Feyre kept Nyx in her lap, seeing no issue with feeding him while she also fed herself and entertained their friends and guest.

Nesta sat on Feyre's left side, Cassian sat next to her, and then Y/N squeezed in between Cassian and Mor. Eris could tell it was purposeful. As if Mor and Cassian were protecting the human girl by sitting on either side of him.

Eris managed to grab the seat on the other side of the table that was directly across from Y/N. If he was going through with this terrible dinner, he was at least going to get a good view of his mate.

Amren sat on his other side, at the corner of the table. Whether it was to keep an eye on him or because she didn’t care to sit beside him at all, he didn’t know. Azriel sat to Eris’ left and then Elaine was between the Shadowsinger and Rhysand.

Feyre noticed the unusual quietness.

Their dinners tended to be chaotic, but full of love and camaraderie.

The tension of Eris’ presence was impossible to ignore.

“Wine,” Feyre blurted out. And everyone’s glasses filled with it.

The High Lady didn’t hesitate to toss the entire glass back. And her mate watched in amusement.

“Y/N,” Feyre called to her politely. “Have you been properly introduced to our guest?”

“No,” Y/N answered bluntly. “But I know who he is.” Then she muttered under her breath as if she were talking to herself.

Eris watched her closely, yet still somewhat discreetly.

She then eyed him right back, as if silently telling him, ‘And I can see enough to know I shouldn’t like you…or trust you.’

“Let us toast,” Rhysand stood.

Feyre joined him, Nyx balancing on her hip and her other arm holding out her wine.

“To Y/N,” Rhys started. “Who risked her life to protect and save my son.”

Cassian pounded his fist on the table, “Hear! Hear!”

Mor bumped Y/N’s shoulder playfully, yet proudly.

Eris looked around to see that everyone was beaming at Y/N, who shrunk at the attention, but still slightly lifted her glass off the table.

“We can never repay such a debt,” Rhys added ever so seriously.

“But he will surely try,” Feyre added with a smile, lightening the mood a bit.

“I could smell the flower shop you put in her room from down the hall,” Nesta commented, pretending to act as if it had been an inconvenience.

Y/N smiled at Nesta, almost gratefully.

As soon as the toast was over, food appeared on their plates with a snap of Rhysand’s fingers.

Eris noticed that Y/N was looking around, observing everyone. It was as if she needed to make sure she was matching the groups etiquette, how formal or informal they ate and talked. He had already assumed Y/N had not been from a wealthy mortal family. But her watchfulness only proved it.

“We haven’t poisoned your food,” Cassian teased Eris when he noticed the male hadn’t started eating.

“Maybe we should have,” Mor snips before taking a bite and added a glare to Eris.

“I neither begged nor requested this invitation. Your qualm is not with me,” Eris cooly answered.

“Did you have fun in the stables today, Y/N?” Rhys asked, taking on the role to defuse any sort of tension aimed at Eris.

Y/N nodded shyly. “I didn’t expect you to have horses…since all of you use…different forms of travel.”

“Do you like horses?”

Eris shocked himself, not even realizing the question had come from him until he saw Y/N’s eyes widen in surprise.

Everyone else had paused for a moment to process his boldness as well.

Y/N lowered her gaze to her plate as she nodded and then muttered lowly, “I don’t believe there’s any animal that I don’t love…”

An image of Y/N meeting Eris’ smoke hounds flashed into his mind.

But Mor wasn’t finished yet. “Have you killed that demon of a father yet, Eris?”

Eris didn’t look up from his plate, but his grip on his silverware tightened so hard that he was convinced he was about to break it in half with just his thumb.

So much scheming and secrecy lingered around Eris’ plans to rule Autumn Court, that to have someone so blatantly speak ill of his father and expose his plans was infuriating.

He glanced to his left to see that Azriel gripped a knife in his hand and his shadows were humming with anticipation. The Shadowsinger was fulling expecting Eris to fling himself across the table and try to strangle Morrigan.

“Mor…” Feyre warned, but she mostly sounded disappointed.

“You wish to kill your father?” Y/N asked ever so quietly, eyes narrowed with suspicion and distrust.

Eris knew what Mor was doing: ruining his image befor he ever got to even have a conversation with Y/N.

In a way, he respected her strategy for trying to protect Y/N.

But Eris couldn’t ignore Y/N when she spoke so directly to him.

“My father is unfit to rule,” was all he told her.

But the answer made Y/N’s face scrunch even further in thought.

Mor continued with, “What’s stopping you?”

Eris ground his teeth before snapping, “I can only assume it is the same thing that’s stopping you from killing your own father, Morrigan.”

Mor shot to her feet, fist clenched at her side. “I’ve lost my appetite suddenly.”

A soft wind brushed through the room.

“It was not him that tortured you,” Y/N mumbled, eyes staring off into the distance.

But it was enough to stop Mor in her tracks.

“He brought you to the border and sent word that you needed saving,” Y/N added darkly.

Then she blinked, as if bringing herself out of a daze.

Mor took a deep breath as she stared at the back of Y/N’s head. But then still continued her exit, slamming the door of the dining room behind her.

Eris’ gaze shot to the High Lord and Lady. “What tales have you been telling her?”

“Y/N has a knack for knowing things that have never been told to her,” Rhysand tried to speak for her, making it seem nonchalant with a wave of his hand.

Feyre managed to shift the conversation to lighter topics. And the Inner Circle was set on helping her as much as they could.

Azriel seemed to be the most annoyed with Eris' attendance. But his stoic silence was the only outward rebellion to their guest.

Cassian joked with both Feyre and Y/N. Nesta pretended to be annoyed, but would give her mate looks of love when she thought no one was watching.

Y/N seemed to lighten as the conversation continued. She wouldn’t add anything, but answered pleasantly when anyone spoke to her.

But every so often, her eyes would subtly move to Eris as if he were a puzzle she were trying to figure out.

Eris mostly ignored the conversations around them. But he held onto every single word Y/N spoke and intended to memorize them within his heart.

When they were all finished eating, Feyre said something about going back into the drawing room for drinks and possibly dessert.

But Eris noticed a door leading into their back garden that eventually led to a river.

Without saying anything, Eris walked out of the home. The fresh air did him wonders. Even with so many other people and a steaming supper, Y/N’s scent had infiltrated his senses.

And his body was screaming at him to just speak to her, to get her alone.

The cold air woke him from his trance.

He leaned his head back and looked up at the sky.

It must be the magic of the Night Court that made the stars and moon seem even more beautiful here. Though Eris wondered when the last time he even looked at the sky in Autumn.

“Are you trying to flee?” A deep voice said behind him.

Eris slightly turned to face the Illyrian General.

It sometimes seemed like Cassian hated him the least. But perhaps Eris was confusing his smugness of winning Nesta as a lack of hatred towards him.

“Never. Though I should be leaving soon,” Eris clipped back.

Cassian still lingered though.

And Eris shifted his weight. His eyes were distant, as if he seemed to be mulling something over in his head.

“Do you wish to ask me something?” Cassian asked.

But he surprised Eris by appearing rather serious, no teasing in his tone.

Eris cleared his throat. “Before your mate was turned fae, did you know?”

Cassian nodded his head slowly. “I had an…inkling.”

Eris only gave a slight nod.

“It is stronger for you?” Cassian asked in return.

Eris didn’t want to share something so intimate with anyone, let alone someone he still considered an enemy. But this Illyrian was the only one who seemed to relate to the turmoil he was going through. To know your mate is mortal... it was a terrifying realization.

“As soon as she–“ Eris cleared his throat. “As soon as she looked me in the eye, the bond snapped into place.”

“Perhaps it’s because she needed saving,” Cassian pondered. “The Cauldron has strange ways of connecting us.”

Then the Illyrian turned and looked at the window of the drawing room. Y/N was on her knees, controlling little gusts that lifted Nyx a foot off the ground with his baby wings. Nesta smiled as Nyx fell into fit of giggles when he slowly lowered to the ground.

Eris inhaled sharply. “She’s…”

“A witch, yes.” Cassian finished for him.

Eris seemed to process this. The eerie knowledge she had on everyone, the dazed look she sometimes got, the muttering to herself, the reason she was able to protect the heir of Night Court against an infantry of fae.

Eris had spent so little time with her, yet somehow he'd sensed from the moment he met Y/N that there was something more to her.

“That is how she saved the boy,” he breathed.

Cassian nodded. “Rhys didn’t tell you?”

Eris’ expression darkened. “No, he failed to share that particular detail.”

“Y/n says people have always just believe she is crazy,” Cassian commented darkly.

Was that a protective tone in the Illyrian's voice?

“The wind,” Eris commented. “It tells her things.”

Cassian nodded again. “For the most part, she keeps it to herself. Y/N’s more than aware that many only know witches as evil beings, drinking the blood of innocents and thirsting for more power than they should ever possess.”

But both males knew there was nothing evil about Y/N.

Eris still watched Y/N through the windows. She now held little Nyx in her lap while softly talking to both Nesta and Elain. Perhaps she liked talking to the them because she could sense that they were once mortal like her.

As if feeling someone watching her, Y/N’s eyes moved to meet Eris’ through the window. They locked gazes only for a second or two. But to him, it felt like an hour.

“I should be going,” Eris declared, forcing himself to break eye contact and fully turn to face Cassian.

Then he was marching back into the house, but made sure not to look at Y/N – or anyone else in the room, for that matter. He didn’t pause in the room, not wanting to ruin the joy and comfort that had built in his absence.

On his way to the front door, Eris lowered his mental shields for the first time in the presence of Rhysand and Feyre.

Thank you for your hospitality, but I must return to Autumn Court, Eris mentally messaged the High Lord and Lady.

You are welcome to visit her whenever you wish, Feyre answered.

But Eris ignored her comment, and put his shield back up before they could say anything more on the matter of Y/N.

“Please, wait.” A gentle voice begged, just as Eris reached the front door and had already opened it halfway.

A chill went up his spine. He took a shallow breath, breathing in her scent now that it was not mixed with anything else.

Eris slowly turned to find Y/N watching him hesitantly.

This was only the second time they had ever been alone.

His back straightened and his face went even colder, even more cryptic.

“S-Sorry,” Y/N stuttered out. “I…I just wanted to know…”

She was interrupted by a wind that rushed from outside, brushing through Eris and Y/N.

It suddenly slammed the door shut that Eris had held half open.

“Shhh!” Y/N muttered, clearly not speaking to him.

Eris could easily see how mortals would call her crazy and think nothing more of it. But faes who have lived for hundreds of years could easily see that there was something more to the young woman.

He tilted his head slightly. “Dare I ask what your little friend tells you now?”

His voice almost sounded bored and disinterested. But his heart raced faster, fearing that perhaps the wind knew what Y/N was to him.

Y/N’s eyes widened at his clear awareness of her gift. “T-They just say you should stay. But…but they won’t tell me why.”

“I must be going,” Eris told her harshly. “Was there something you needed?”

She nodded, but seemed less confident now with his performative coldness and annoyance.

“Why…umm…why did you save me?” She sighed.

Eris’ jaw clenched and he crossed his arms. “You would have died in that forest.”

Y/N blinked at his blunt response.

“And you could have just left me there,” she challenged.

Eris looked around at the house they stood in. The home of the High Lord and Lady of a court that was not his own.

“Do you have family? People in the mortal lands?” He asked, making sure to keep out any sympathy or affection in his voice. “You do not have to stay here.”

But Y/N shook her head. “My cov–” She stopped herself. “My family is dead. I’ve been on my own for years.”

“Your coven,” Eris said slowly, proving that he caught her mistake.

She glared at him. “We are not what you think.”

He ignored her reply. “What happened to them?”

“They were killed by the nearby village.”

“By humans?” Eris persisted.

“We could never settle in one place for long. People always assumed we brought some sort of evil with us. But all we ever wanted was to be left alone.” She shook her head as her eyes glazed over with the memory. “There was a plague going through the mortal realm. We had the pow–“ She stopped herself again, and cleared her throat. “We had the means to cure those suffering. But the village…they thought we had brought the illness.” Y/N’s voice shook as she continued, “The night we were brewing the medicine to save them was the night they chose to come and slaughter us.”

Eris felt his heart drop at his mate’s story.

A silent tension filled the room.

“I-I don’t know why I just told you all that,” Y/N mumbled, clearly annoyed with herself for oversharing with a stranger.

“Yet, you survived,” Eris pointed out, managing to still sound unmoved by her story.

Y/N’s eyes stared at the floor as she whispered, “I shouldn’t have.”

All of Eris was screaming at him to go to his mate, to comfort her, to pull her into his arms. He wished to tell her that nothing like that would ever happen to her again, that he would keep her safe.

But he couldn’t even keep her safe from his father, from his court.

So, instead of doing or saying the things his heart begged for, he cleared his throat roughly and said, “I must being going.”

And he walked down the path, only able to winnow when he finally left the protection wards of the River House.

He didn’t turn back to give her a final look.

Eris heard Y/N’s story... and gave her nothing.

–––––

Let me know if you liked this! I love hearing from readers 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Still think only like 5 people are reading this silly fic. lol

Feel free to send me questions in an ask. Those always making me happy.

chapter vii

#eris vanserra #gust & flame #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra reader insert #night court #autumn court #acotar #a court of thorns & roses #inner circle #cassian acotar #feyre archeron #nyx acotar #rhysand

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achaotichuman · 5 months

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Stupid little headcanon.

As Nyx gets older the people in his life slowly start to come to a realization.

Nyx is not like Rhysand, most certainly not. He gets into arguments with his father daily, he refuses to train at the Illyrian camps and doesn't approve of fighting to kill. He doesn't have the snarky, relaxed, flirtatious personality Rhysand has. In fact, he can be quite cold and very sharp. He has a quick wit and fiery tongue, one could say he has a... forked tongue.

He is nothing like Feyre either. He is not outgoing or highly adventurous, all of his soft spots are carefully concealed. He prefers books to painting or going to meetings. And he prefers tasteful ballroom dancing to going out to Rita's and partying.

Nyx is not Feyre or Rhysand.

Nyx is like Nesta.

#acotar #nyx archeron #nyx archeron headcanon #nyx and rhysand would fight like cats and dog #poor feyre would try to seperate them #nyx would not approve of the treatment of people in the hewn city #but he does love dance lessons with aunty nesta #he sneaks out to visit eris in the autumn court #he does not have bulking muscle #nyx is quite dainty #but he has a mean scowl

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

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𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader's childhood cat suddenly gets diagnosed with cancer, and she has to make a big decision about what to do. this fanfic includes heavy topics like: pet euthanasia, extreme loss/grief, depression, the problems with pet healthcare, and more. there will be some humor/fluff placed throughout, and also smut somewhere along the way. :))

18+ warnings: masterbation. sexual fantasies. kinda perv behavior but not really??

word count: 3.0k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

a/n: i seriously contemplated on whether or not I should post this chapter, after all of the events of this week. I want to make sure that I am cautious and sensitive to everyone during such a painful time. but in the end, I decided to post this since perhaps, it might help a few of you out there who are dealing with so many emotions right now. I cried while I was writing this last week because it brought up so many feelings that I felt when I had to put down my dog almost 2 years ago. so if this chapter make you sad, please don't feel bad about that or think that you're alone, because I swear that you're not. next week's chapter will be a little bit on the lighter side of things (but just barely). take care of yourselves, okay?? take everything one day at a time. allow yourself to feel a plethora of things, or nothing at all. everyone is different and processes things at a variety of paces. this isn't a race, this is life. and as always, my asks/dms are always open if you just need to vent to a listening ear. I love you guys, and... stay strong, yeah?? ❤️

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

You decided to schedule the appointment on a Sunday afternoon, that way you’d be off of work. Since the night you had spent with Dr. Lee in the waiting room after hours three weeks before, he had continually checked up on you throughout the weeks by way of numerous phone calls. And it felt like, with each one that passed, they seemed to grow longer, as the two of you talked about everything and nothing - all in hopes of trying to get your mind off of the imminent date.

From your daily phone calls, you had gleaned some valuable information from Dr. Lee - like the fact that he had been single since he opened up the clinic three years prior since it was pretty hard to keep up a long-term relationship when he was so busy with clients and managing a successful business.

You didn’t even know how the topic of romantic adventures came up in your daily wellness calls, but all at once, you were confiding in Dr. Lee about your most recent boyfriend which had broken up with back in university. But you didn’t go into too much detail about the relationship, and you skimmed over the… bad parts of it all.

You alluded to your horrible breakup with your ex during the conversation, and you briefly mentioned your ex’s awful treatment of you at the very end of the relationship - but you never crossed the line of professionalism and confessed to all the bitterness you still held for your ex. No, you didn’t think Dr. Lee needed to know such intimate details about your life. But also, he probably wouldn’t care. After all, the phone calls were only a means to an end…

And besides, no one else in the entire world knew the extent of your old relationship, so you didn’t see any point in telling a random veterinarian about such a dark part of your past.

The calls seemed to help somewhat - if only to take your mind off of the looming date. But then, as soon as Dr. Lee hung up, your thoughts were clouded with the pain of losing Nyx all over again.

Slowly, you were watching her deteriorate. Dr. Lee warned you that things would go downhill quite fast, and fast they did - since Nyx hardly wanted to eat her meals anymore, even when you’d try to coax her with her favorite treat of a fresh sardine. She was incredibly lethargic and because of the weight loss that she experienced from the lack of an appetite, her thinness only caused more pressure to be put on her legs, which was where the cancer was located.

Throughout it all, Dr. Lee did a tremendous job of preparing you for the day - the day that you were expecting to take the place in your mind as the worst moment in your entire life. The two of you planned it so that his schedule was completely free for the procedure. Originally, he told you that he usually doesn't accompany his clients into the euthanization room, and instead leaves it up to the vet techs to take care of the protocol. But without you even having to ask him, he assured you that he’d be with you the entire time - that he’d be the administer of the drug. Because he already knew, that having anyone else there with you wouldn’t help, not in the least bit. Sure, Yongbok and Hyunjin and Seungmin were good techs, but nothing could compare to the utterly calming presence that Dr. Lee alluded… with his soft, brown eyes and his slight smile and-

You were thinking about him again- damn it.

Because besides being cluttered with the pain of losing Nyx, your mind was also full of so many thoughts about… him.

And how, ever since that night in the clinic, he had continued to call you by your first name. No honorifics, no pretense. And even though he felt familiar and warm to you, you still felt somewhat uncomfortable to drop the doctor title. You wondered if he thought it was odd, how he was addressing you informally, and yet you were still doing the ‘keep it professional’ bit.

When you were busy working at your desk throughout the day, you found your eyes constantly moving over to the side to check your phone. To see if he had called you.

While you were eating your packed lunch by yourself in your office’s break room, your mind kept replaying the way that it had felt, when he had touched you that night - with those slender fingers and warm palms of his.

When you were lounging on your apartment’s small sofa, watching tv before you went to bed, your thoughts drifted off to the sound of his voice, and the way that he always said your name so delicately.

But perhaps worse of them all, is what you would do late at night, when you lay wide awake wrapped up in your duvet covers in bed. Because instead of thinking about Nyx, your musings drifted off to him, yet again.

And perhaps it had something to do with your exhaustion from the end of the day,

Or the fact that it was so very dark in your bedroom,

But more often than not, your imagination would get the best of you, and all at once, things were turning deeper, dimmer…

Flashes of him, and that smile that he always gave you when he first saw you during a visit, danced across your vision,

As you imagined what he’d look like, staring you down, bright eyes glued to your exposed self.

You dreamed about that pretty, red mouth of his, lips turning kiss-swollen and sticky from your very essence.

You wondered how it’d feel, to have him towering over you, whispering sinful words into your ear with that sly tongue of his, as he pressed you further down into the bedsheets.

And when those thoughts came upon you, you just… couldn’t help yourself.

Hand playing with yourself-

Grazing over pert buds,

Tickling a sensitive waist,

Spreading swollen lips,

Brushing against a throbbing knot,

Pushing past folds and curving inward.

And every time, the only thing that crossed your mind, was him.

Him - and his smell and his voice and his built frame.

In those heated moments of twilight, you only ever made one single sound as you thrashed about between your thick duvet covers…

“Minho.”

The name fell from your bitten-raw lips in whispers, cries, and pleas.

Maybe it was because you hadn’t been with a man in so long,

Or maybe it was because you were a grown woman and so naturally, you were extremely horny most of the time.

But all at once, as you delved into such fantasies late at night, you realized that the attraction to him had always been there.

You had just tried to mask it with honorifics and professionalism since you didn’t want to cross any lines. Since you figured that a man of his stature - of wealth and success - would never stoop so low to date a woman like yourself.

Even still, none of that stopped you.

Stopped your midnight explorations or the way that he seemed to inherently infect your very being with every breath that you took throughout the day.

But eventually, the crest of sadness took over everything again, as the day finally came to a head. To your relief, the weather outside on that Sunday afternoon was bright and sunny. You didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if it had been grey and drizzling.

You stopped just outside of the clinic’s doors, forcing yourself to take a good look at it all, as you held Nyx in her carrier at your side. It’d be the last time that you stepped through these doors with her in hand.

And that’s when the tears started. They silently traced down your cheeks, even as you shuffled through the clinic’s front doors slowly. The bell above your head signaled your arrival, and as if on cue, Jisung and Chan’s heads turned in unison from their computers at the front desk to where you stood at the entrance of the clinic.

In an instant, Jisung was getting out of his chair and flitting over to you. “Hi, Y/N,” he said in a soft voice, offering you a gentle smile. “Hi, Nyx.” He bent down in front of you, peering into the black carrier and cooing at your cat.

“How long is the wait time?” You asked, voice shaky as you clutched a little harder on the handle of the carrier.

Jisung peered up at you then, his big, doe-like brown eyes shining with compassion. “About ten minutes.”

You nodded without saying another word, as you began to make your way over to the front desk to check in for your appointment. The entire time you spoke with Jisung, Chan had been watching the two of you in silence, assessing the atmosphere and displaying a compassionate face.

“Ji said it’s gonna be ten minutes.” Is all you said, as you stood in front of the wooden front desk. You couldn’t meet their eyes anymore, your vision too blurry with tears. And frankly, their pity just made you feel even worse just then.

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Chan began, typing away at his computer. Then he slid over a clipboard and had you sign your name at the end of the document. Signing away on the procedure. Signing away on Nyx’s life. “And… I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Me too.” You whispered before you were pulling away from them and taking a seat near the doors to the back of the clinic. Usually, while you waited for your appointment, you’d scroll through social media on your phone or pick up a nearby magazine and peruse the articles.

This time, you just sat there. You sat there in utter despair and silence, before deciding to pull out Nyx from her carrier. She was a little less warm than she had always been, and the thinnest you had ever seen her. Even still, she looked beautiful to you. You pressed your face into her midnight-black fur, taking in the sweet smell of her and nuzzling into her pliable skin.

“I love you so much, girl,” you muttered into her coat, before giving her a few kisses. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you…”

The minutes ticked by slowly after that, as you clutched on protectively to Nyx. As you kissed your childhood best friend. As you fought for the last seconds spent with the single most stable thing in your entire life.

And then, you heard the fateful call of your name ring out across the waiting room. You stood from your chair, muscles moving like they were trapped in a vat of sticky molasses. Your gaze was fixated on the ground at your feet, so you didn’t see who had called your name.

“Right this way,” it was Hyunjin’s angelic-like voice that graced your ears, as you walked through the threshold and into the back hallway of the clinic. You felt his hand land atop your shoulder, his slender fingers gently squeezing there in a soothing gesture.

Then he was leading you through the back hallways, past the examination rooms that you had sat in with Nyx countless times. Finally, he stopped just in front of a door that was painted in a baby-blue color.

“The doctor will be right with you,” Hyunjin began, his tone ghostly-faint and fading away behind you as your eyes locked with the room you were about to be left alone in. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

You didn’t even register the door being shut closed behind you, too focused on the decorations that were placed throughout the room. The walls were painted a sky-blue, with a beautiful stain-glass window in the center of the room. The scene depicted a magnificent sunset, bursting with colors that were burnt cayennes and violets. The room was quite small, but the bright, real flowers placed throughout the area helped to add life to the otherwise depressing atmosphere - with their brilliant yellows and reds. Just underneath the stained glass window was a small pedestal that was covered in a thick duvet and plastic rap, and off in the corner of the room was a sliding glass window with a curtain shielding the other side of the glass.

You sat down on the nearby bench, looking at everything around you. Looking at the pedestal that was before you - where Nyx would be laid to rest. And it felt like your heart was bleeding irrevocably inside of your chest, straining and pumping at the same time as you tried to come to terms with the situation at hand.

At least she was going to join the afterlife in a safe space - at least it was beautiful looking and-

Your thoughts were interrupted by the shutting of the door that you had originally walked through. Lifting your head from Nyx who was peacefully dozing in your arms, you came face-to-face with Dr. Lee. He was dressed in his usual garb of black slacks and a white doctor's coat.

“How are you doing, Y/N?” Was the first thing he asked, as he shut the door behind him and neared you. He knelt in front of your knees, taking both of your hands in his and giving them a gentle squeeze.

That’s when you managed to find the courage to look up into his eyes finally, and the heartache and pain that you found there just made it hurt a little bit more. You felt your bottom lip quake, as the sobs freely flowed from you. You didn’t even have to reply since he already knew how difficult this was for you. So he kept quiet, not moving from his position in front of you and holding onto you as you cried yourself to exhaustion.

“I-I’m ready,” you finally said, roughly scrubbing at your eyes with the palm of one of your hands to try and knock some sense into yourself.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, the concern dripping in his voice from the way that it deepened somewhat.

You nodded furiously, heart hurting so much that it felt like you were going to drop dead from a heart attack any minute. “Y-Yeah.”

Then his hands were slipping away from yours, leaving a fierce shiver to course down the length of your spine at the absence of his touch. He stood close to the curtained window and tapped on the glass once, and you turned your head to the side just in time to glimpse Yongbok pushing the glass aside before he handed over a metal dish that had a small syringe placed in it.

You swallowed around the huge lump that was forming in your dry throat. And when Yongbok offered you a sincere, comforting smile, all you could do was nod once before he was shutting the glass door again, pulling the curtain closed to give you and Dr. Lee some privacy.

Then it was all happening at once - too quickly for you to even grasp - as Dr. Lee was gently taking Nyx from your grasp and laying her down on the cushioned pedestal. She put up no resistance and nudged her little black nose into the palm of his hands, purring in satisfaction. She had always had a soft spot for the doctor.

You stumbled over to her, grabbing hold of one of her paws and squeezing it delicately. You peered up at Dr. Lee through hazy eyes, his face a blotch of color shining through your tear-stained vision. “P-Promise me it’ll be painless, doctor. You- you have to promise me…” Your voice broke off at the end of your words, as you leaned down into Nyx and pressed kiss after kiss into her silky fur.

“She won’t feel a thing, Y/N. I promise.” You heard Dr. Lee say before he was moving again, picking up one of her paws in bated silence. You felt his eyes on you, as you cried into Nyx’s warm skin for the last time.

“I love you so much, girl…” You whispered, voice barely audible to your ears. Cracking irrevocably. “I’ll see you again someday- so... just wait for me there, yeah?”

Then, almost like she could understand your words, Nyx moved her head over to your neck and nuzzled into you, purring lowly. The sobs wracked through your body, as you felt Dr. Lee leaning into her at the same time as you held her close.

You squeezed your eyes shut, like if you closed them long enough, everything would disappear.

The pain,

The loss,

The fear.

And then just like that, Dr. Lee was sighing heavily, a metric ton of agonizing weight in just his breathing alone. “It’s done.”

In the blink of an eye, it was all over.

You clutched onto Nyx’s languid body, holding onto her for dear life. Perhaps, if you held her long enough, she’d come back.

But nothing happened.

There was no more purring,

Or meowing,

Or scratching.

Just…

Utterly nothing.

Silence.

And that was the worst part about it all.

“It hurts,” you began, voice not even sounding like your own from all of the dryness and the crying, “it hurts so fucking much.”

You were shaking your head then, still clutching at one of Nyx’s little pink paws. Then you felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. Hands clutched at your sides, and you all but turned around to bury your face into the warmth of Dr. Lee.

“I know,” he said in a hushed tone, his deep, melodic voice so close to your ear that it sent a ripple of shivers across your skin. “I know it hurts, Y/N, but I’m here…”

And then you could do nothing more,

As a new wave of grief washed over you,

Suffocating the very air right out of your lungs,

Drying out your entire being,

Causing the dull pain of a bad headache to bloom across either of your temples.

All you could do at that point was cry and cry and cry, your entire body violently shaking as you held onto Dr. Lee for dear life. And he made no point of pulling away from you. Almost like, he had planned to be there all along.

To be continued...

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©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

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bittermuire · 1 year

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Be the first who ever did

unhappily married nessian one-shot, angst, hurt/comfort, nesta is sick

“Okay,” Cassian says, brushing by her, “I’m off. I’ll see you tonight at Helion’s.” He grabs his coat off the rack and swings it around his shoulders. “Don’t be late, alright? Six o’clock.”

Nesta leans against the kitchen counter and nods. She’s never late. She’d be excommunicated by her husband’s friends—not that she’d really mind. He puts his hand on her shoulder and brushes a kiss to her forehead. “Bye,” she says, but his back is turned and he’s pretty much gone.

Without him and his interruptions, his footsteps on the penthouse floor, the place is coldly quiet. Nesta pads to the bathroom and starts to run water for a bath. It’s too cold today to do anything, and her head hurts, anyway. Sometimes Feyre will call and ask her to take care of Nyx, but there’s been no hurried voicemail today, no blinking time on the phone, and she knows the rest of the day will pass in the way of most others: slow, like molasses, tired and dripping, until someone cleans it up in time for the party, the dinner, the gala, the whatever. She puts a hand to her head and fumbles around in the cabinet for painkillers. After she takes a bath she’ll figure out what she’s going to wear tonight.

Out of the bath, she only feels worse. She pins up her hair and ties her robe, then goes to the guest room where she keeps all her clothes. There’s a lot of clothes. Being married to the general of the Night Court gives her a lot of money and a lot of time and a lot of clothes. Numbly she looks through the racks, head spinning.

After three failed attempts at putting an outfit together she shrugs on a pair of pajamas and falls into bed. Just a nap. Then she’ll be fine. It’s a party at Helion’s which means she’ll be flirted with relentlessly. Despite having a mate.

She hugs a pillow to her chest. Despite having a mate she’ll have to smile. All the time for hours. She’ll have to drink. “I thought,” she mumbles, in the morning-hazy room, “they’d have to back off once I got a mate.”

Then she drifts off. Ill at ease in some middle distance.

A horrible screeching noise wakes her up—she jolts up, heart hammering in her chest. It’s just her phone. It buzzes incessantly on the other side of the bed. She grabs around for it and mutters, “Hello?”

“Nesta?” It’s Cassian, against the backdrop of a hundred laughing, glittery voices. “Where are you? It’s six-fifteen.”

She sits up with a hiss. Her whole body hurts. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I’m—”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She swallows, her throat thick. “I was taking a nap and I think—I’ll be there in like, thirty minutes. Just need to get cleaned up.”

There’s a long moment of silence, filled in with the clinking of glasses, small greetings, buoyant laughter. Nesta can see it all in her mind’s eye; how she’s going to endure it tonight, she doesn’t know. She skipped the last party, feigning period cramps. She can’t skip this one.

“No,” he says finally. “No, stay there. You don’t sound good.”

She pauses. “You sure?”

“Yeah, of course. Helion can survive a night without seeing you.”

She laughs a little, relieved. “Okay. See you tonight.”

“Love you.”

She pretends not to hear and hangs up. Two words, very rarely three, one of those rare hallmark signs of the absence of the thing it says it is. He says it to her quite a bit, like a punctuation of their daily life. Love you, he says, as he goes out the door. Love you, he says, as he kisses her shoulder. Love you, he says. He just says it. She used to go to therapy to figure out what this horrible blankness in her is. Not even like a black hole, vengeful and destructive, but just nothing. Blank and unwritten and crumpled up.

She has, by all the standards that matter, a perfect life. She has a college degree she’s never had to put to use. She’s married to a wealthy, handsome, talented member of the Inner Circle, who’s also her mate. She has lots of clothes and lots of time. She has a cute little nephew who likes to go to museums as much as she does. She has a perfect life. Sometimes she sits in the searing hot bath and prays it’ll cut through to her blank-empty heart.

Love you.

Something. Something.

She pulls the comforter up to her chin and shuts her eyes, head pounding, head spinning.

She opens her eyes blearily to a warm hand on her forehead, a figure bending over her. “Nesta,” he whispers. Cassian brushes her hair back and drops to a knee by the bed, brushing a kiss to her temple. “You’re burning up.”

She blinks a few times to get the sleep out of her eyes. She feels horrible, much worse than she did before. “What’re you doing here? What about the party?”

“You didn’t sound good. I wanted to check on you.” He frowns, eyes tracking all over her face. “Have you eaten today?”

She shakes her head with a small sigh.

“Okay. I’ll make some soup.”

Dipping in and out of sleep, she barely makes out his retreating figure in the dark room, the sounds he makes in the kitchen, the painful brightness of the lamp he turns on as he comes back in. “Can you sit up?” he asks her quietly, holding a tray. He places it over her lap once she gets settled.

“Thanks,” she says.

If he responds she can’t hear. He hovers awkwardly in the room, eyes darting around. “Want to watch a movie? Or something? Or can I get you a book?”

She blows over the bowl of steaming soup and shakes her head. “No, that’s okay.” It is a little odd to have him around. In the rare instances where she gets sick, it’s a carefully concealed fact, contained to specific hours when Cassian isn’t around. Even her period is something she keeps secret. Not secret, but separate, rather. She doesn’t like to bother him with her vulnerabilities. He seems to share the sentiment. If he ever gets sick, she hasn’t seen it.

But she doesn’t feel good, and the soup is warm. She looks up at him in his dress pants and button-down, suit jacket cast off somewhere, dark hair made a mess by his hands. She pats the bed and smiles a little. “Sit down and tell me about what happened tonight.”

He grins, kicking off his shoes by the door and coming around to the other side of the bed. “Not a whole lot. You wouldn’t have liked it.”

“Really?” She takes another bite.

“Yeah. It was just… loud and busy and—”

“Fun?” She offers, smiling. He looks at her and laughs, a soft sound.

“Kind of. You know Helion. Anything he organizes is a spectacle. But you weren’t there,” he says matter-of-factly, “so there wasn’t much point in staying.”

Nesta blinks. She blows over the spoon.

He doesn’t really say things like that. Sure, there’s the love you, love you, but beyond that there isn’t much love, much affection, in their marriage. The mating bond is an old world mechanism of power and magic, and most power and magic has been collected and put in museums. Just last week Nesta went and saw Ataraxia, the great silver sword. There was once a time when it was wielded in battle, the same time when a mating bond might have been useful—but the bond clicked during her junior year of university, the only battles and woes being long nights and horrid professors.

And what choice did either of them have? To simply move on was unthinkable. Nesta was in the worst state of her life then. And Cassian was older, and rich, and handsome, and had everything. His best friend was married to her sister. They were mates, they were meant to be. He knelt down in front of her with a ring. Maybe it was really love, at some point. Maybe it was real. She had nothing and he had everything, and he had such strong arms she thought could hold her and put her back together. But now—

“I don’t know if this crossing the line,” he says, and clears his throat. He looks straight ahead and leans his head back on the headboard. “But I told Helion to leave you alone.”

Nesta turns and stares at him. He looks at her too, eyes flicking over her face.

“Sorry. I just thought that at the last dinner he was making you uncomfortable.”

“No, that’s okay.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and tugs at it. She didn’t think he’d noticed. Helion, of course, had monopolized her attention as he always did, and though he seemed harmless he was also exhausting. She’d looked for Cassian across the table and had been surprised to see that he was already looking. “He was. A little.”

“Has he always been like that?” asks Cassian, and she’s surprised by the undercurrent of hardness in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shakes her head, starting to scowl. “Because he’s your—friend. He’s always around. You just want me to say that I don’t like being around him?”

Cassian looks at her like she’s grown two heads. “Yes. Why wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t get it. He wouldn’t ever get it. She’s always been the problem: Nesta, with her unwashed hair in her dirty, cheap apartment, with her patchy resumé and hopeless future. Who was going to hire her? Then he showed up. A rare chance, misshapen with reality.

She looks away. “Forget it,” she says flatly.

“No, I don’t—”

“I said forget it,” she snaps, and his mouth shuts quickly before his brow furrows in something like frustration or confusion. She swallows and looks away. They were doing well moments before. “Let’s just turn on a movie or something.”

He takes the remote and puts on the first decent thing he finds. Katharine Hepburn stalks through the house with a face twisted up in irritation and Nesta shovels soup into her mouth, only half watching. She’s seen this one. She can’t remember its name.

For how good the soup is, it doesn’t help much once the credits are rolling. Her skin is hot to the touch and her head is thick and pounding. Seeing her discomfort, Cassian moves the tray off her lap and takes it to the kitchen. She burrows under the comforter.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks her quietly, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you just want to go to sleep?”

She shakes her head irritably. “Can’t sleep.”

“I can—” he moves to the dresser where Nesta keeps a stack of her favorite books, and holds up one. None other than The Hobbit. “I can read to you.”

About to rebuke him, she imagines, for a moment, what that would be like. She’s always liked his voice. Low and even and reliable. Closing her eyes, she sighs loudly and says, “Okay.”

“Okay.” She can hear the smile in his voice, and feels the bed dip as he settles on his other side again. “Chapter one. Here we go.”

But before he can begin she jerks up, fixing him with a glare.

His mouth twitches. “What?”

“You just don’t get it,” she says flatly. Propping herself up on her elbow, she studies his face, the smooth lines, the shadow of stubble, the dark incisive eyes. The mouth, quirked, full and familiar in more ways than one. In her more particularly self-loathing moments, she hates his face. Now she just wants to look at it. “You don’t get it at all.”

“Enlighten me,” he says, letting The Hobbit fall shut.

“People like Helion are everywhere.” The words spill out before she can grasp them back. Only a little of something flickers in his eye, but he puts it out quickly, listening and watching. She looks away and tries to explain. “Everywhere. Nice guys. Fun guys. They throw parties and think themselves superior because they go to the gym and dress well. They talk circles around those of us who are less witty, and enjoy themselves.” She scowls. “And when you’re pretty like me, these guys just swarm. And you, Cassian—” his eyes widen slightly— “you and Rhys and Azriel are surrounded by these guys and because I’m married to you, I see them all the time. I have to deal with them. All the time. And I can’t say a thing because I am perpetually on thin ice.”

He frowns. “What?”

“I’m on thin ice.”

“What does that even mean?” he says, exasperated. “That’s not true, Nesta!”

She looks down, a familiar burning working its way around her nose and behind her eyes. Does he really just not remember? She feels like the one girl in a Victorian novel who spooks at invisible things, the one everyone else whispers about behind their hands. The crazy one.

Three years ago, Nesta’s apartment was in boxes. She was wearing her favorite faded blue jeans, her soft gray shirt. She’d just washed her hair. On her left pinky finger was the ring her first boyfriend, Wil from third grade, had given her. She wore it whenever she was nervous, whenever she wanted evidence that someone loved her, had loved her. It was silly but days like those were all about getting to the end of them. Superstitions and expired memories and all.

Nesta had decided to get married. On her left ring finger was a simple square cut diamond, pretty, elegant.

Technically Cassian had made the decision. He’d picked the ring, decided where to kneel, specified the bush for the photographer to hide in. But Nesta had decided.

That horrible day. Cornered in her own apartment. Her little sister and her too-tall husband, Lord of Night, sitting on her couch. Her stringy hair, unwashed dishes, stacks of books, piles of laundry—Nesta, look at yourself. We’re here because we care. You need help.

I don’t need help, she’d seethed. Certainly not from you.

It had ended, inevitably, with cow-eyes and the mentioning of his name. Cassian—

Something about her being selfish. Him being patient. That he wanted to take care of her. That he loved her and was hurting and it was something she could fix. So when they left she called him and that week she had sex with him after a candlelit dinner and months later he knelt down and held up a ring and put it on her finger.

Nesta, I love you.

Her apartment was in boxes and her hands were shaking, had been shaking for hours. She’d placed a certain dependance on his loving her. She was getting married in three days—the dress was hanging up in Elain’s closet—the ring, the goddamn ring, on her finger—a cracked door in the townhouse, two voices, hushed, angry, low—I never asked to be shackled to her—Just marry her, Cassian, for god’s sake—the swerving drive back to her apartment in boxes and her hands shaking, shaking for hours.

It wasn’t as though she was unwilling to fall in love. She thought she might give it a try after the whole business of the honeymoon was over. She thought the routine of domesticity might win her over, the anti-depressants, the quiet.

And it wasn’t as though she hated him. She liked him from the start, to be honest. In the suffocating dining room he was a rare warm glow, a slow-blinking eye, an unasking gentleness. For a year he stood beside her. Put food on her plate. Filled her glass. Listened to her when she spoke, an unwavering attention on what she offered, when she offered it. God, she was only twenty!—she’d known him only a year, something like care, like tenderness, like fondness, like love, beating in her chest when she saw him—when she tripped on the stairs and he caught her and something she’d only read about in textbooks slammed fiercely into her heart. Mates.

That’s where it all ended, she supposed. And that’s where the budding feelings, the motivation to be better, were stubbed out. What’s the point? she used to think. We’re chained to each other. No matter who we are and what we do.

And his feelings, his motions, his attempts to romance her, went stale. She couldn’t purge the thought that he didn’t actually want her. It was only duty. Responsibility. They were mates, no matter who they were or what they did.

I never asked to be shackled to her.

Nesta married him with a dry throat, with cold and sweaty hands. She honeymooned with him in Adriata, sat on the warm sand and let him kiss her mouth, tangy and tasting of wine. She moved into his penthouse suite. She bought all the clothes she couldn’t before and wore them to dinners and galas and auctions and fundraisers. She became a socialite, just like her sisters, just like her husband. She dealt with their friends. She swallowed all the hurt, all the bitterness, all the anger. She stopped yelling and shrieking and hissing and sneering. The strength to fight went somewhere she couldn’t find. She dealt with it, with being married to him; a tender truce, she knew he felt the same, and that only made it worse.

“It means,” she says, as coldly as she can manage with a wobbling lower lip, “that I’m the rude bitch you had to marry and I have to be reminded of it every day.”

He sighs, brow drawn tight, and looks down.

She clenches her jaw and refuses to cry.

“You’re not a rude bitch,” he tells her quietly, and looks up at her, his eyes piercing. “You’re wonderful. And I didn’t have to marry you, I wanted to.” A tear slips unbidden down her cheek and he wipes it away, his gaze unbearably, burningly soft. “What’s up with you?”

Shaking her head, she sits up and lays her head against the headboard. Her mouth hangs open as she tries to find the words. For so long she’s been angry—at who, she has no idea. She’s never hated him in the truest sense. She’s hated that she can’t hate him. And now he sits here beside her in their bed, her book in his hands, concern all over his face, concern and care; what would it be like to be loved, really loved? To be told the truth?

The truth, dreadful and true:

She starts to cry. Horrible, embarrassing, stuttering sobs. Her chest heaves and her head pounds and her skin burns as she cries, can’t stop crying.

“Nesta,” he says, sounding alarmed, unsure—then his arms are around her and she smells his cologne and it calms her down, somewhat. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.” He says it over and over. He strokes her hair. She hiccups and chokes on her own spit and sobs and listens to his heart.

As she quiets, he pulls her closer, if possible. He holds her tight to his chest. He rests his chin on the top of her head. She closes her eyes, listens to his heart, and tries to breathe.

“I’m fine,” she says, and sniffles pathetically. Her head spins. “I’m fine.”

He strokes her hair, running his fingers through to the very dead ends. “You’re fine,” he echoes, a rumble in his chest. I know you’re not fine, he seems to say, and she’s grateful that he doesn’t.

They sit there like that for a while, Nesta cocooned in his arms, gathered close. His hand rubs up and down her back. He traces patterns. She keeps her eyes closed but feels him press a kiss to her hair, the lightest brush against her temple. All the while she doesn’t move. If she moves the whole thing will break. They’ll never find their way back again and this will be another one of those expired memories, without physical evidence, no evidence at all.

“Will you talk to me?” he asks finally, a hint of pleading in his voice. He doesn’t let her go or pull away. His breath ruffles her hair. “Will you tell me what’s going on, so I can help?”

She tenses and his arms squeeze slightly. Oddly enough, it doesn’t feel like she’s being trapped, forced to talk, forced to be held—it’s something different and maybe better.

“It’s stupid,” she says hoarsely.

“That’s okay.”

She takes a long, shaky breath. “I just wish that you could—” She breaks off, unable to say it. The truth, dreadful and true.

But he waits. But he holds her and waits and rubs her back, drawing pictures.

“I just wish that you could really love me,” she mutters, like it’s some stupid piece of gossip. He goes deathly still.

Looking into his eyes now, of all times, would be the worst. She keeps herself securely tucked under his chin and prays he won’t move.

“I do. I do love you.” His voice is thick. Insistent.

But she’s past believing him and too much time has passed. She sighs and says, “Don’t lie to me, Cassian, not about this.” His arms tighten at that but before he can say anything, she pushes herself off his chest and winces at the tear stains on his nice white button-down. “I’ve ruined your shirt,” she says. “Sorry.”

“Nesta—”

“I’m taking a bath,” she says lightly. His hands drop from her arms as she clambers off the bed. “Thanks for the soup.” She doesn’t look at him.

“Nesta,” he calls, but her back is turned and she can’t look back.

Looking at him now would be the worst thing of all.

nessian angst so true!!!!

I really did helion dirty in this but to be fair I feel like he WOULD take liberties with someone like nesta. men like that😒

#nessian #nessian fic #nesta archeron #nessian angst

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seaofashes · 1 year

Text

This one hurts. This one really fucking hurts

#rest easy Moonbin you will be dearly missed by so many #the mark you left on so many of us will never be forgotten #my heart hurts so much #trying to process it at work is so fucking hard rn 😭#moonbin #daily life of nyx #it's a sad daily life today tho :(

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ishcliff · 23 days

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If its ok whats your biggest peeve with modern persona

this is going to sound so unbearable, i think, but Hear Me Out

to sum it up, i just think the writing is extremely careless and sloppy, and the formula is lazy.

i think i can safely say the only modern persona game i consider myself a fan of is persona 3. haven't played reload, but i love what i have seen and also love FES and portable basically equally. but i think the existence of persona 3 as a good game thoroughly debunks the merit of "auteur theory" because it's only in spite of the misogynistic-tinted ineptitude of the two celebrated/recognizable directors that the experience is so memorable. imagine admitting in a book with your name on it that you could never be friends with a woman without getting romance or sex out of it, and saying this is why you made your protagonist a serial cheater. LOL

this type of careless attitude lacking self-awareness kind of permeates every modern entry. a controversial take of mine that i will live and die by is that the ending of persona 3 is sad because a depressed child with the power of the entire universe uses it to kill his/herself because it would make the lives of everyone around him/her better. i understand the intention of messianic imagery and mythology to it, but it is again just sort of a symptom of that carelessness that i associate the modern entries with.

then, persona 4 takes the narratively focused mechanics of persona 3 and makes it a series staple, thus weakening the entire point of why the calendar/daily life sim exists for persona 3 on a narrative level. i understand this was mostly done for crunch related reasons, but i would argue that makes this happening even worse.

but, at the very least, persona 4 does more with the calendar system tangibly than persona 5 vanilla does, where you essentially clear the main story in a single day and then get messages from everyone saying "yeah we gotta wait for (date) huh." having a major character be potentially in, essentially, a pointless coma for a month is egregiously stupid, among other narrative choices. i cannot speak for p5r because i have not played it, but persona 5 was so middling that i think i would have to lose a bet to go through the main game again just for a few hours of good content.

persona 3's messaging is at least cohesive enough to present a thesis: life is worth living even throughout the pain, so seize every day because one day it will end. but even then, that carelessness is still present with the point i raised above as well as the entirety of 10/4. the aftermath of shinjiro dying actively weakens the narrative because he specifically gave up on his own life – which, again, i understand is a gesture of gifting a future to someone in spite of the fact that even children will one day inevitably die, but shinjiro also just wanted to die himself, which is... exactly why nyx and erebus exist. yet his death is said to be "how it should be", and akihiko evolves his persona by developing even more maladaptive coping mechanisms than he already had. this isn't to say that shinjiro should have lived per se (though i do like p3p's act of quite literally giving him more time in the form of the pocket watch), but rather that the aftermath of his death should have been written from a different angle. his death is sad precisely because it was unnecessary.

persona 4 has absolutely fucking nothing to say. it makes no sense. messages about facing the parts of yourself you deny and overcoming the ideas others project onto you just mean absolutely fucking nothing when accepting their social conditioning as their "true self" is the conclusion of just about everyone. the only exception is fucking teddie, who is the only party member who has an arc that doesn't completely contradict the messages the game is allegedly trying to send out. you can also probably guess my opinion on the bigotry. the symbology makes no cohesive sense mythologically speaking, and the build up to the main antagonist... also doesn't make much sense. not as in it's difficult to understand, but because it's not fleshed out very well and the tie-ins to japanese mythology and folklore may as well be intangible because of how distant they are. it's just bad writing. idk what else to even say about it that isn't "this is a badly written game" over and over again.

persona 5's writing isn't exactly bad as much as it is overwhelmingly lazy. for example, what better way to rebel against "the establishment" by... recruiting a "good billionaire" into your party. it wants the aesthetics of punk without any of the work in the framing of the conflict. it turns real-world political debates into yet another war against god. worst of all, it's just boring (to me). i got nothing out of it. like, i don't even hate the game enough to go into even more detail, because that would imply some kind of passion. which is probably the worst thing i can say about anything, tbh.

so yeah. just laziness and shallowness that permeates every aspect of the presentation tbh.

(general disclaimer that i don't have any interest in debating at all LMAO i'm just yelling at clouds)

#i really am a fan of persona though i promise #atlus critical #persona critical #persona 3 spoilers #persona 4 spoilers #persona 5 spoilers #asks

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thebelladonnamoon · 1 year

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Share your headcanons about Gwynriel children, pretty please??

Yes! Headcanons I have for the Gwynriel babies:

Pregnancy

Despite being the last couple to get together, they are quick to have children.

The first pregnancy is a total surprise and Gwyn finds out one day when she can’t keep her favourite cake down. Azriel is away on a mission and Gwyn is apprehensive as she doesn’t know how he’ll react.

Of course, as soon as he winnows through the door and finds Gwyn cooking an unusual feast of roasted potatoes and stewed apple pie, Azriel just freezes.

He scents it immediately and Gwyn genuinely thinks he may be going into cardiac arrest for how still he becomes.

And then he just… bursts into tears. He runs to her so fast and then falls to his knees and fully sobs. Gwyn follows suit, coming down to the ground with him saying, “You’re not mad?” Az just blinks in shock before replying “Berdara, how could I ever be mad at you for giving me such a blessing?”

The shadows are naturally delighted and instantly turn into overprotective slithery hounds at any opportunity. They also like to wrap around her belly and report every. single. movement to Azriel.

For the first time in his entire life, he takes leave from work to be beside Gwyn through it all. He takes overprotective to a whole new level and whatever Gwyn wants, Gwyn gets. Chocolate cake at 2am? He’s on it. Daily massages and foot rubs? He’s the male for the job.

Gwyn insists on still training, which often leads to Azriel going unnecessarily easy on her, which then leads to her screaming at him.

True to his secretive nature, Az doesn’t tell anyone until she is well into her second trimester and even then, Rhys and Cassian find out by accident. They have a moment, Cassian obviously, is a blubbering mess.

Azriel reads every single book about pregnancy and fatherhood/parenting in an attempt to assuage his anxiety about becoming a father. He is an incredible father because of how seriously he takes the role.

Gwyn sings temple hymns to her tummy every night and whenever Azriel joins in, excited kicks ensue.

Because of his childhood, Azriel is obsessed with the nursery never being too small, dark or lonely. So he paints the nursery in a soft blue colour, builds a massive bookshelf for the whole wall and fills the room with toys, books and musical instruments.

Gwyn gives birth at Rosehall so Azriel’s mother can see her grandchildren being born. There is no shortage of decadent Illyrian food baked everyday for her.

The Children

They obviously name their girl after Gwyn's sister Catrin and the boys are named after their favourite authors because they are forever nerds at heart.

Their kids are genius level smart and can sing, play the piano, read at an adult literacy rate and fight like devils by the time they’re eight years old.

They have three children: twins (boy and girl) first and a baby boy later on.

The Twins: A girl (Catrin) with dark hair and hazel eyes who is cheeky and a total trouble maker and a boy with copper hair and turquoise eyes who is shy, gentle and quiet.

Catrin is a natural at espionage and is known for being able to pick even the toughest locks/break the strongest wards and sneak into forbidden places.

Catrin, Nyx and Nessian’s eldest daughter are best friends and end up giving the bat boys a run for their money with how much trouble they get in. (Whatever you do, don’t bring up the time the trio managed to steal one of Helion’s pegasi and fly to the Middle on a dare and especially don’t mention the time they caught Bryaxis and almost got eaten in the process).

The twin boy, who is very much the quiet/intelligent strategist type, has an academic rivals to lovers relationship with Feysands daughter.

Their joint competitive streaks, differing philosophical outlooks and general poor tempers make for perfect tension. Total Anthony and Kate from bridgerton vibes.

The baby boy is born a few years later and is the spitting image of Azriel - and he has wings! Being the youngest of the lot, he often feels left out and lonely.

He ends up running away to the training camps to have an Illyrian education because he idolises Nyx and wants to prove himself to his father despite Azriel never wanting them near Illyria.

He totally has a friends to lovers romance with a male Illyrian warrior he meets at the training camps and you can’t tell me otherwise. ((Their siphons match))

Azriel’s mother ADORES them and having grandchildren gives her the courage to leave Rosehall occasionally to travel to Velaris for Winter Solstice. Admittedly, she has a soft spot for the youngest, but she’d never say so.

#Gwynriel #headcanons #acotar #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x gwyn

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femmefatalevibe · 11 months

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Hello! I love your blog and would like to ask for your advice. I want to look like an elegant, expensive woman. However, I am having a hard time applying makeup and setting up a skin care routine. Do you have an tips or resources on how to wear makeup elegantly and care for one's skin (for those new to makeup and skin care)?

What are the basic products needed for a dewy, classy make up look? Do you have any tutorials?

What are the basic products needed for healthy, minimal skin care routine?

Thank you for reading this ask! Have a great day!

Hi love! Sharing some of my tips below: