#emerie's wedding dress

[shadowdaddies]

Hellooooo 🫶🫶

I have another request if that's alright :)

Can you do one where Az meets his mate in an Illyrian camp but she's pregnant with another males baby(a male she was basically sold to by her family like a forced marriage) and he finds the guy and beats the ever loving shit out of him and whisks her away to the House of Wind and just worships her? But can you make it like soul crushingly angsty?

Thank you and you don't have to if you have to many reqs rn 🫶🫶

whew this is a long one and tbh it could've been a whole series. It's quite angsty but with a very fluffy ending. It's a different writing style for me so idk how I feel about it but I hope you enjoy it💜

New Hope

Azriel x f!Reader

Warnings: depictions of DV/abuse, some suggestiveness, non-sexual nudity

The first time Azriel saw you was in Emerie’s clothing shop. You had convinced your father to take you to her store for your engagement dress, an agreement he begrudgingly made in exchange for your cooperation in the marriage. 

You were browsing through the fabrics, eyeing a lapis blue silk piece when Azriel entered, the cold air rushing in behind him sending a shiver down your spine. The door closed, yet the breeze continued, whipping around you erratically. Confused, you looked up from the fabrics to see a blushing shadowsinger watching in horror as his shadows swarmed you, dancing and weaving through your hair and clothes. 

The giggle that left your lips at the scene made Azriel’s heart leap in his chest, the male breathless as he was struck by the sight of the most beautiful female he had ever seen. When you turned to face him, the shimmering fabric in your hand reflected the light in your eyes, and time stopped. The world tilted on its axis as a thread in Azriel’s chest snapped, and he understood who he was looking at. His mate.

Just then, your father grabbed your arm, drawing you out of the moment as he tossed the blue fabric to Emerie, declaring that it would be sufficient for the engagement dress. Azriel’s heart sank in his chest. Of course the cauldron would have him meet his mate when she was already engaged to someone else. 

It was then that the shadowsinger made the decision - that as long as you were happy with your husband, he wouldn’t interfere. However, after that day, Azriel found himself inventing every excuse to venture to Windhaven, just to see you and make sure you were okay. 

One day, you approached him in town. He was shocked that you recognized him, both of you unaware of the draw that you felt towards him.

~~~

The marriage was loveless. You knew that your husband didn’t truly care for you from the moment you met, but it was an advantageous arrangement for both families that you be wed. It broke your heart to learn that you would be married for anything other than the love you dreamed of as a little girl, but you clung to hope, and believed that you and your husband might learn to love one another over time.

That never happened. After the wedding, a new side of your husband revealed itself. At first, he shocked you by raising his voice, making callous and cruel comments - but that was nothing new for you as a female in Windhaven. Life was lonely, often times you found yourself crying silently until you fell asleep, terrified as your husband became increasingly aggressive, and sometimes violent. 

It was one day that you poured the milk out of the window at home to give yourself an excuse to head into town for more, when you saw Azriel. You had noticed the shadowsinger around Windhaven far more over the past months, and you were grateful for his presence. Although you didn’t know him, seeing him around gave you a sense of calm that you couldn’t describe - the world was a little less lonely. Unsure of what invisible force was guiding you across the street to where he stood, your feet acted of their own accord as you found yourself standing a foot away from Azriel. 

“Hi, Azriel,” you greeted, a pleasant smile on your face. Despite the freezing temperatures, the feeling of those shadows dancing through your hair brought you a joy like you had never felt before. 

Hazel eyes widened as the spymaster looked at you with surprise. “You know my name?”

You giggled, the sound like music to Azriel’s ears as you nodded. “Of course, everyone knows who you are.” You didn’t include how often you had thought of him since that day in Emerie’s shop.

The two of you started up a friendship after that. The highlight of your day was when you were able to escape your husband, finding your best friend in town - the male in the shadows who always made you feel seen. Azriel was kind, unlike any other male you had known, his warm smile always making you feel safe. 

And then you were pregnant. You cried, unable to find the energy to leave your house for days when you learned you were going to have a child. Growing up, dreaming of having a family of your own, you never envisioned that it would be like this. Your husband came home from the tavern to find you crying, smacking you across the face with the back of his hand. When you cried harder, he hit you again. The tears only stopped falling when your vision finally faded to black, and you lay unconscious on the floor.

You awoke the next morning, pain radiating throughout your body. The glance you dared in the mirror wasn’t necessary to tell you how you must look, but it was confirmation. Dried blood trailed from your nose, black circles under your eyes from the pressure of how hard he hit you. 

Silver lined your eyes, but tears would not fall. A new sharpness edged your expression, mirroring the resolution you felt inside. This male would never make you cry again. You quickly left the house, headed towards Emerie’s shop in desperation for help. You didn’t care what it would cost you - your child deserved a better life than Windhaven.

~~~

Azriel almost fell to his knees when he saw you for the first time in nearly a week. He had accepted the fate that you no longer needed his friendship, that you were happy with your husband. But when his shadows whispered to him that you were injured, cobalt siphons glowed as the shadowsinger barely leashed his concern. 

A lump formed in Azriel’s throat when he took in your appearance. The scarf that you had pulled over your nose to cover most of the bruises didn’t disguise the scent of your blood - or your pregnancy. He hardly registered that you were carrying that male’s child, his main focus on what happened to you. 

His heart might burst at how your eyes lit up when you noticed him in the street - how you ran to him, your body so small compared to his as you wrapped him in a hug. That bursting heart shattered when he heard your wince as he hugged you back. “What happened to you?” Azriel murmured, deathly quiet.

You swallowed, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes that had turned his world upside down that day in Emerie’s shop - those eyes that now seemed so hollow, missing the life they once held. Unable to find the words of last night’s events, you could only manage to tell Azriel, “I need to get my baby out of here. I can’t... my husband will never be near this child.”

The venom in your voice as those last words left you told Azriel everything he needed to know. “Do you trust me?” You nodded, still clinging to Azriel as tight as you could without hurting yourself. He pressed a kiss to your hair, wrapping you gently in his arms. “I’m going to get you to a home and a healer.”

~~~

No sooner had the words left his mouth than you found yourself engulfed by shadows, spirited away to a cozy living room in a large, warm home. “Welcome to Velaris,” Azriel whispered, gently turning you around to face the view of a beautiful city unlike that which you’d ever seen. The sun was setting over the mountains, casting a pinkish hue across the sky and you thought you must be in paradise. “Come on, I’ll take you upstairs to clean up.”

Azriel took your hand, helping as you slowly climbed the grand staircase up to a luxurious bedroom. It was tidy, with a massive bed and a seating area around a hearth, a crackling fire casting a warm glow over the room. The space smelled like rain and cedar, and you realized that you were in Azriel’s bedroom. 

Grief hits at the worst times, and in the strongest waves. And it was grief - for your old home, for your child’s life with a father, for any hope of what you dreamed your life would be - that overcame you as you crumpled to the ground, sobs tearing from your body as Azriel knelt in front of you. 

Finding the courage to look up, you found hazel eyes watching you with a tenderness that you had never felt before, and the breath left your lungs as the cord snapped in your chest. Azriel let out a noise between a laugh and a choked cry as scarred hands held your battered and bruised face. “You... You’re my mate?” The words left you in little more than a whisper, the hope behind them more dangerous than you could allow yourself to feel. 

With a soft smile and a somehow softer touch, Azriel brushed the hair that had fallen into your eyes, tucking it behind your ear as he nodded. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t intervene as long as you were happy, but I will be here for you. As a friend, or whatever you need. I am yours, and I will care for you and that baby as much or as little as you want me to be. I am here for you.” 

His words ignited something in you - a hope that the love and the family that you had dreamed of was possible. Without another thought, you pulled Azriel into a searing kiss, his eager reciprocation the validation you needed as you allowed yourself to enjoy this moment. You pulled away, forehead resting against Azriel’s as you breathed, “I want you. In every way, I want you, Azriel. You are the best thing in my life, and I don’t want to part from you.” 

Azriel’s smile was brighter than the sun. “You have me,” he whispered, “and I will spend the rest of my existence loving you.” 

You couldn’t tell how long you stayed there, holding each other on the floor of the bedroom before Azriel dared to interrupt the moment. “I have a bath ready for you in the other room.”

Looking to him with mock offense, you gaped. “Are you saying I smell, shadowsinger?” 

The laugh that left his lips fueled you with enough joy for years to come, Azriel leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose. “Not at all, but the healer, Madja, is coming soon, along with Rhys and Feyre. I thought you might want to clean up before Madja tends to you, and I will bring you some clean clothes.” 

Azriel helped you up, the male respectfully looking away as you undressed and stepped into the tub, immediately relaxing your aching muscles. You giggled at his propriety, reveling in the twitch of Azriel’s wing at the sound. He cleared his throat, announcing that he would wait in the other room when you winced. 

Azriel whipped around, his eyes wide as he searched you with concern. Giving him a weak smile, you slowly lowered your arm that was reaching for the soap. “I don’t think I can wash my hair myself. Would...you be able to help me, Az?”

He swallowed thickly, giving you a slight nod as he mutely moved behind you. You laughed slightly at his obvious nerves. “I’m not shy, Az. Don’t worry,” you promised. He seemed to relax slightly behind you as his hands lathered your hair with soap, gently massaging it into your scalp. You bit back the tears that threatened to spill as you realized no one had ever taken care of you like this in your life - instead reaching your hand up, Azriel meeting you halfway as he held it, lowering to press a kiss to the bruised skin. 

Angling your head back, you looked up into those hazel eyes, pulling on his hand in silent request. Azriel leaned down to kiss you softly, but you wanted more, deepening the kiss as you pulled him further. Azriel stumbled, catching his balance as he almost fell into the water. 

He chuckled, sitting back up to rinse out your hair. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he scented your arousal, shaking his head at the smirk that played on your lips. “As much as I would love to pleasure you right now, Rhys just informed me that they are almost here.” He walked around to the side of the tub, crooking one finger under your chin. “And when I do make love to you, I plan to worship you until my body gives out.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the promise, your mind struggling to stay focused as you took the towel from Azriel and stepped out of the bath. You got dressed, sitting down on the bed just as a knock sounded at the door. The High Lord and High Lady entered, waving off your attempts at formality as the healer introduced herself.

The High Lady - Feyre - as she insisted you call her, stayed with you the entire time as Madja tended to your injuries and checked on the baby. Azriel stood in the corner with Rhysand, the two males talking in hushed tones. 

Madja cleared you and the baby, giving you several tonics to take for your injuries and told you that she would be back in another week to check on you and the baby. Feyre and Rhysand didn’t linger long, Madja insisting that you needed the rest and that the “chit-chat” could happen later. 

You patted the space next to you in bed, inviting Azriel to come sit, and laid your head on his chest as you let your eyes drift shut. “Az, what were you discussing with the High Lord? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

You felt him tense behind you for a moment, silence hanging in the air as Azriel seemed to weigh his words carefully. “Rhys has been made aware of what happened to you, and we’ve made sure that those responsible will not be responsible for any further pain, to you or anyone else.”

As understanding dawned on you of what Azriel meant, you were surprised at the lack of sorrow you felt for your husband and father. Rather, you felt a deeper peace for the first time in your life, as both you and Azriel brought your hands to rest on your womb, a silent promise that your baby would have a better childhood than you had. That together, you had a renewed hope for a better life.

#acotar #acotar x reader #acomaf #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar azriel #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader fluff #acotar azriel x reader #acotar imagine #acotar angst #acotar fluff #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #azriel acotar x reader #acotar x you #rhys #feyre #emerie #azriel imagine

[maisonaime]

Give and Take

Softdom!Cassian x Healer!Reader

Premise: You get back after a long day of work and Cassian is ready to take over everything, you give him control so that you don’t lose it entirely. 

Splitting this into two parts so that I don't lose my mind over it anymore. Love to all who jumped on this prompt!

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamics, smutty fluff, emotional overstimulation, self-sacrificing, poor self-care (bordering on self-harm), injury and slight gore, 18+ minors DNI

Part 1:

The last flight of stairs up to the rooms you and Cassian occupied in the River House seemed steeper than you had ever remembered, dragging yourself up the stairs was utterly Sisyphean, the last stretch in a long day that had frustrated tears finally pricking in your eyes. You were tired to your bones, fed up with being hunched over a desk, and the day was still far from done over eleven hours after it had begun. You woke and dressed when the sky was dark, and were returning hours after the braziers lining the hallways had been lit.

You had two bags hanging in the crook of one elbow, full of brewing equipment that needed to be polished with a protective tonic before being used in class tomorrow. In the same arm, you were clutching a thick stack of essays requiring grading. Tucked under your other arm was a folio of research on restorative therapies for Illyrians who had their wings clipped. Slung over your shoulder from training was your weapons belt, sheathed with two daggers and a longsword Cassian had wrought for you as a wedding gift.  

The file of research slipped from your arms, scattering down all the steps you had just climbed in complete disarray. You made a small sound of anguish and finally, the tears were flowing freely. You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. You were grateful for the research you were able to do to find a way to reverse the horrors wrought on Illyrian females. You were enthusiastic about teaching your students, passing along ancient knowledge to the trainees who would one day be your peers. You itched for training with Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn; pouring intentional movement into your body after long days of obligatory motion.

Healing people, feeling your tendrils of power sweep over broken bones, seeking out the source of symptoms, touching the broken parts of people’s souls. It was the greatest gift, one that multiplied every time you held a newborn babe, watched someone run or dance on legs that had never worked before, and felt the relief of familial caregivers as you restored hearing or sight or even small amounts of lucidity to their aging parents. It was quite possibly the only gift that you valued more than your precious mate. The one who you had remade and been remade by. 

 You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. But there were some days when you felt the burden of worlds bearing down on you. Days when failed healings left you shattered. Days when there was simply too much to do and not enough hours to do it. 

“What’s all this sweetheart.” Cassian appeared at the top of the stairs, his darkened gaze forcing you to rethink your current predicament. 

Despite his intimidating size and title, the Lord of Bloodshed was as gentle a lover as you had ever known. He had honed his resolve over the centuries, along with all his other skills. Even in the most feral moments between the two of you, lost entirely to the bond in skin and teeth and brutish groans, he would never lose himself. He could balance himself over you for hours with just the head of his cock pressing into your center, and could sit perfectly still while stuffed down your pretty little throat. 

What he couldn’t do was abide by disobedience. And disobedience to Cassian was self-neglect. Disobedience was forgetting to eat, not getting enough sleep. Disobedience was piling too much onto your plate. Disobedience was trying to lug over one-hundred pounds of shit up the stairs after you had left before dawn and were returning long after dark. And disobedience would earn you punishment.

—

Ever since you had helped Azriel rehabilitate his shredded wings after Hybern wrought his havoc, you had remained in close connection with the High Lord’s Inner Circle. Your attentive and tranquil care healed both Azriel’s wings and the lingering horror that wracked his soul in the following weeks as he tried to move on from those paralyzing moments of agony. You treated his flesh and soul with equal gentleness, cementing your regard as a healer with the capacity to treat vulnerability with as much tenderness as you treated wounds and sickness.

When Cassian lay broken and bleeding, of course, it was you who was summoned to the tent. He was like every other patient before in your ability and desire to help him. But he was also like no other patient before because he was your mate. You could still feel his screaming cleaving the air and reverberating through your jaw, dulling all senses to anything but him. His brothers had to hold him down with tears in their eyes; Feyre lost her stomach; Mor just sat in the corner silently shaking. You were cursed to remember every ounce of hopelessness in his eyes as he scrambled away from your hands, refusing any of your help or assessment for fear of what you might find.

You found femur bone shattered like glass, tearing into the muscle and tendon of his massive thigh. You found snapped cartilage, torn muscle, and severe hemorrhaging that nearly cut off blood supply to his entire left wing; the damage so bad it would have resulted in field amputation had you not been there. You found the husk of a man who had been so sure he was going to die without being able to save his family, without even being able to say goodbye. 

You burned yourself out with the raw power that flooded from you as you were confronted with the primal need to save him. You gave yourself entirely to the will of the goddess that had blessed your hands. At one point Rhys had to blanket your mind in darkness so that you wouldn’t drain that well of power entirely. 

When finally, the damage left could only be healed by time, you had collapsed over him and refused to move. Unable to. Gentle, weak arms had dragged you ungracefully to a warm chest, to a beating heart. The only thing you could hear through the thundering haze of your overwrought senses. 

“Don’t you ever do that again, for anyone. Not even me sweetheart.” 

And then it was Cassian’s turn to heal you. To watch over your trembling body as you recovered from the depletion of your powers. He fed and bathed you. Stretched and massaged the muscles that felt as though they had been filleted by lightning. Braided your hair to keep it from knotting during the long hours you slept. 

He poured himself into you in a way you had never had before. In a way you had only ever provided to others, never received yourself. In a way you hadn’t ever known you wanted so badly until you were sobbing hoarsely into his arms, years of self-sacrifice pouring out of you.

It didn’t stop there. Only when you had settled into living together did either of you realize the extent to which overextending yourself had become a way of life. The first time you came home past midnight, Cass was in a panic thinking you had been hurt or taken. When you stumbled through the door on legs bent with exhaustion and informed him that you had eaten exactly three crackers and a handful of berries all day, he just stared at you for a long time.

“How do you expect to save everyone if you destroy yourself in the process? This level of self-sacrifice isn’t noble, it’s irresponsible. Now, get on your fucking knees.” Your head snapped to him, pinning him with a disbelieving scoff. But he was dead serious. 

In a flash he had your hair gathered in a stern but gentle fist, and you had your mouth very, very full. He fucked your mouth with a fervor, his fingers finding the corners so he could pop your jaw open further and push himself even deeper down your throat. 

He came with a hiss, freeing a hand from your ruined mouth to pound in a fist against the unyielding stone wall. 

Then he scooped you up and laid you in bed, pouring water with lemon and honeyed tea down your throat. Leaving your side briefly, only to return with a veritable feast of foods specifically selected to strengthen your body and magic. His care was almost overwhelming, but you found yourself surrendering to his vigil over you.

—

“Put it down” he said, pure authority radiating from him.

“Put what down?” you feigned. 

“All of it, sweetheart. And don’t make me ask again. I’d hate to have to take you down to Az’s workroom. He put up such a fuss last time, even after I cleaned everything in front of him.” There was no room for disobedience in his tone, even if the remark had you chuckling. 

You struggled to unburden yourself, unsure of how to extend your arms and set down one item without imperiling another. You met Cassian’s gaze with pleading eyes that quickly turned fiery at his smugness. You drew yourself up slowly, eyes narrowing…

And dropped everything from your hands, letting the first bag of glassware slide off your arms and crash to the ground – even if the sound of tinkering glass made something in you twist and cringe. 

“Don’t be a fucking brat, you know it’ll only make things worse.” he snapped, lips pulling back in a feral grin as he raked his gaze over your body, your leather-bound dips and curves displayed to him unobstructed. 

The belt you set down gently, minding your beautiful blade. In the middle of the night after your mating ceremony, in the haze of your frenzy, Cassian had marched you down to the deepest chambers of the Court of Nightmares, where the mountain burned nearly as hot as your bond. You had watched with lust-glazed eyes as he hammered out a blade and fused it to the hilt he had already carved and polished—smooth, rounded obsidian imbued with the cavernous powers of the Mountains. 

He fucked you hard into the stone floor and then soared into the night sky with you and the weapon, cooling skin and steel alike. And when you finally touched ground again, he wasted no time showing you exactly why he chose that particular shape for the handle. 

A snap of his fingers had the scattered papers piled neatly beside it. Then you gingerly set down the second bag of glassware, cringing as you considered how your eager disobedience would reflect back in Cassian’s treatment.

“Good.” he crooned. “Now go bathe and wait for me in bed.”

Cass abided by your whims for the most part, always eager to take care of you but never pressuring you to submit. He could always tell when you needed to give away control. When you needed to be told what and when to eat, how to dress, when to speak, and when to be silent. When to “get on your fucking knees” and when to “lay down darling, that’s it, now hush my love and let me work.” And he would give it to you every time without tire, for the rest of his days. 

As you passed him to make towards your suite, he sidestepped into your path and halted you with a hand to your shoulder, the palm of his other hand cupping your face. He looked down at you with gentle eyes. You leaned into his touch instinctively, eager to shove away the pressures of your autonomy, even if just for the next few hours.

“I counted five things that you placed over your own needs today. Your patients, your students, your research, your training, your healing. Then you had to go and double it by bratting off and making a mess of your things.” He glanced around, unimpressed at your display of resistance. 

“It’ll take me time to fix and polish the glassware and reorganize your papers. So you’ll wait. You’ll be doing a lot of that tonight. It only makes sense, I think, that you take ten hard edges before we think about next steps.” His voice was hard, determined, even as his hands were so so soft.

Your eyes widened, head shaking even as his words had your blood thrumming with desire. 

“Yes, sweetheart. Yes, you will. Maybe this time you’ll finally learn your lesson about what happens when we deny ourselves what we need.”

#acotar #cassian x reader #cassian #cassian smut #smut blurb #but like also not #it’s more than that #acotar fanfiction #fantasy #acotar crack #night court #rhysand #azriel #healer!reader #Dom!cassian #illyrian baby #one meaty batboy to go please! with the thickest thighs you can find!

[arinbelle]

Moments V

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

@nestaarcheronweek

Moments Masterlist

~*~

Part V: Shackled

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think we should cancel the mating ceremony.”

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

“What?,” he blurted out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Nesta-“

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

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

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

”Explain it to me” he said simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”I already told-,”

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean it.”

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

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

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

~*~

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

Shackled.

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

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

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

“Go away Cassian.”

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean what I said-”

“But you-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta’s voice broke when she finally spoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d meant every word. 

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

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

[rosanna-writer]

Dress

Summary: Sparks are flying between Mor and Emerie. And fortunately for them, the rest of Nesta's bridesmaids love to play matchmaker. Warnings: None Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~2.7k

A fluffy Emorie oneshot for @sjmromanceweek Day 3: Weddings! You can read it below or Here on AO3.

It started with a dress fitting.

Nesta's entire bridal party—Feyre, Elain, Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor—had squeezed themselves into a dressmaker's shop tucked away in a corner of the Palace of Thread and Jewels, ready for one last round of pinning and hemming before her upcoming mating ceremony.

The dresses matched, a nod to human traditions intended to confuse any faeries who might make mischief for the happy couple. Rhys had chosen them—Nesta had requested a soft shade of violet and instructed her brother-in-law to handle selecting a style that suited everyone and accommodated wings. He'd more than delivered.

Emerie emerged from a dressing room, awkwardly reaching under her wings for the buttons on the back of the dress. "Gwyn, can I get a hand with this?"

"Sorry, still changing!" Gwyn called from another dressing room.

"Mor, go help her," Feyre said, an unexpected note of command creeping into her voice, as if this were a matter of life and death. The voice of the High Lady.

That was odd—Mor would have offered anyway. But perhaps Feyre was just concerned with making sure everything went smoothly for her sister's mating ceremony.

Emerie turned, and Mor stepped closer. She was no stranger to Illyrian wings, but there was something different about standing at the center of Emerie's impressive wingspan.

Something that Mor felt right behind her ribs, almost like a tug on a string tied around her heart.

Emerie twisted her head to peer over her shoulder. "Alright back there?"

"The buttons are just harder to find than I'd originally thought," Mor said, and thank the Mother the words came out sounding cheerful and—more importantly—normal.

It wasn't a lie, either; Rhys had chosen gowns with a hidden button placket. Mor gripped the fabric with one hand, her knuckles brushing Emerie's warm skin. The backless design showed off the swirling tattoos that ran up her spine, over her shoulders, and down the tops of her arms, a new addition she'd earned after the Blood Rite.

It would be so easy to trace them, slowly trailing a hand up the center of her back. Mor imagined the way the other female might arch into her touch, the noises she'd make if Mor dared to caress the membrane of her wings….

But she was supposed to be getting Emerie into the dress, not out of it. Mor shook her head as if to clear it, then kept her fingers steady as she made quick work of fastening the buttons.

"All done," Mor said, taking a step back.

"Need me to do you next?"

Mor flushed crimson, as if she were a schoolgirl and not the seasoned five-hundred-year-old warrior she was. There was something in Emerie's smile that was just a bit too knowing.

Just a crush. A crush. Nothing more, and that tug in her chest had been so subtle that she'd probably imagined it.

Mor had already done up her own buttons herself—it was easier without wings in the way. She tamped down the strange sense of disappointment. "No, but thank you. Maybe next time."

Gods, why had she responded to the question as if it had been an invitation?

Something sparked in Emerie's eyes. "I'll keep that in mind."

Perhaps if Mor hadn't been quite so flustered, she would have noticed Gwyn flashing Feyre a grin and an approving thumbs-up.

And what started with a dress fitting, continued with the invitations.

Emerie hadn't understood why Nesta had been so insistent she needed help sealing envelopes. Apparently it wouldn't do to simply magic them closed, even though most of the guests who weren't family were the priestesses who'd trained with them or the few Illyrians who liked Cassian. The invitations weren't going far. But Nesta was happy, so Emerie would limit herself to rolling her eyes only when her friend's back was turned.

The other two Archerons and Mor were already in the sitting room in the House of Wind when Emerie made her way down after training. A pile of cards and envelopes covered the table.

Elain smiled sweetly at her. "I have seeds for your garden," she said, indicating a packet she'd placed at the chair to her right. The chair across from Mor.

Perhaps Emerie should have been suspicious, but Elain's smile was the picture of innocence. And they had struck up a conversation about the upcoming planting season last time Nesta had them all over for dinner at the House of Wind.

Emerie shrugged off the top half of her leathers, revealing the tight undershirt she wore beneath. Mor's throat bobbed. Or perhaps it hadn't and that was just stupid, wishful thinking on Emerie's part.

She sank into the chair and eyed the size of the pile. "I didn't think the guest list was that large?"

"Official mating announcements need to be sent out, too," Elain said, a bit primly.

Gwyn snickered. "In case you forgot, Em, Nesta is technically a princess."

Emerie supposed that was true—Nesta was the High Lady's sister, and if the mating ceremony was small, perhaps the cards were making up for it. She didn't know how the High Fae nobility did things. Maybe this was just tradition.

Maybe she wasn't actually being set up for something.

Or she definitely was because Nesta smirked, looked her in the eye, and said, "The envelopes won't take care of themselves. Get licking."

Emerie spent the next half hour trying to pay attention to the chitchat about Gwyn's research and Nyx's first words—and not the way the tip of Mor's tongue was repeatedly darting out from between her lips. It was nearly impossible not to stare.

Nearly impossible not to think about what it would feel like to have that tongue against her skin or in her mouth.

Emerie really didn't want to ruin any of this; Nesta had asked Mor to be a bridesmaid to extend a tentative olive branch to one of her mate's oldest friends. It felt like a small miracle that everyone was getting along for once. There might have been a spark between them when Mor had buttoned up her dress, but misreading that could be….disastrous.

It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually, there was a neat pile of sealed envelopes. The group began to disperse, making their way down to the library or readying to flown back down to the street by Feyre. Emerie had just stood up when a hand on her arm made her freeze.

"Are you finding that this is durable? Mine always wear out from the way they rub against the leathers," Mor was saying, fingering the fabric of Emerie's shirt.

Emerie relaxed. She owned a clothing store—fabric care was, at least, familiar territory. "You might do better with something with a tighter weave."

"And the extra backstitching?"

That was a small detail, one that Emerie wouldn't have expected someone to notice unless they knew clothing construction. Which Mor apparently did. "Yes. It makes more of a difference than you'd think."

There was admiration in Mor's eyes, and at first Emerie assumed the other female just knew quality tailoring when she saw it. But Mor didn't move her hand—she squeezed lightly, feeling the muscle of Emerie's bicep beneath.

Emerie stretched her wings a bit, preening. She hadn't misread anything at all. Mor smiled. If Emerie hadn't been so struck by the beauty of it, she might have noticed Nesta and Elain silently bumping their fists together.

And what started with a dress fitting and continued with invitations, all came to a head at Nesta and Cassian's mating ceremony.

Feyre was off somewhere wrestling Nyx into a tiny suit jacket, and Rhys had insisted Elain was the only one he trusted to handle a last-minute problem with the florist. Gwyn was sitting with Nesta, which left just…Mor and Emerie.

Mor emerged from behind a dressing screen. "Does your offer to do me next time still stand?"

"And the time after that if you wanted," Emerie said.

Mor laughed, tossing her golden hair over a shoulder to keep it out of the way. She tried not to shiver at the brush of Emerie's knuckles on her lower back.

It was a easier, though, to speak the truth with her back turned. A bit more softly, Mor added, "You look beautiful, by the way."

For a moment, Emerie didn't say anything, just leaned in, her breath warm against Mor's bare shoulder. Something went tight in Mor's chest as she tipped her head to the side, baring the side of her neck.

"I was going to say that dress looks gorgeous on you, but…" Emerie dropped her voice lower, trailing off as she finished the last of the buttons.

Mor turned around, her smile widening into a grin. "But it looks even better on you?"

"Come to the training ring more often, and maybe you'll have something to show off in a sleeveless dress, too," Emerie said.

She turned around, a wordless request for help with the buttons again, and for once, it wasn't the wingspan that made Mor's breath catch. It had been the implication in those words—come to the training ring and see me again after this.

And somehow, it was the easiest thing in the world to slip into easy banter with her, as if they'd always known each other. "I know it's been a while since I've swung a sword, but be careful what you wish for. Unless you're asking to get pummeled into the dirt."

"That's rich coming from a five-hundred-year-old with creaky knees—"

"—who was gracing the battlefield before you were even born."

"Fine. See you in the ring at dawn."

Mor had spent enough time around Illyrians to know that was as good as asking her on a date. And that Emerie was completely serious about the early hour, even if it was the morning after Nesta and Cassian's mating ceremony. She muttered something under her breath that made Emerie snort, then finished buttoning the dress.

The ceremony was perfect, not a dry eye in the temple as the priestess declared Nesta and Cassian officially mated. When it was over, the guests made their way to the River House—Rhys and Feyre had offered to host so that the House of Wind could remain a quiet retreat for the happy couple at the end of the night.

Mor sat next to Emerie at dinner, and there had been more of that comfortable, easy banter. At some point during the meal, her hand came to rest on Emerie's thigh. But it had still been a shock when the rest of the table had gone to dance or get dessert and Emerie leaned in and murmured something about finding a place they could be alone.

"Nesta's only just started talking to me without flinging insults. She'll kill me if we run off now," Mor whispered. There were few enough guests that their absence would be noted, even with the dancing in full swing.

"I'm one of her best friends. She'll be fine with it as long as I finish first," Emerie said. If Mor had still been drinking the glass of wine in front of her, she would have spit it out. Emerie laughed and added, "Besides, if anyone asks, we can always say I was helping you fix a rip in your dress."

It was a fair point. Mor let Emerie tug her out of her chair and into the garden.

There was a bench shaped to accommodate wings, tucked away in a secluded corner of the courtyard. It was covered by a trellis of night-blooming flowers—Elain's doing, no doubt—but Mor still put up a shield around them as Emerie sat down.

"There's room for you too," Emerie said, indicating the space next to her with a jerk of her chin.

And maybe Mor should have sat, leaned in, and kissed her softly, done this right. But at some point the thread that she felt faintly in her chest had wound itself into a knot of need.

On some level, she knew: after five hundred years, waiting was becoming excruciating.

"Can I…touch your wings?" Mor said, fully aware of what she was asking, that Emerie had every right to be outraged she'd even suggest it when they hadn't so much as kissed yet.

Emerie stared at her, her gaze sharp and assessing, the look of a warrior who didn't back down from anything. Mor held it.

"Yes." Permission, and that she'd given it at all was evidence enough that Emerie knew what they were to each other.

Mor stepped around to the back of the bench, where Emerie's wings were hanging over it. She leaned in, kissing a straight line down Emerie's spine as she knelt in the grass with the other female's back at eye level.

"Tell me if it's too much," Mor said, reaching out a tentative hand.

Emerie's wings rustled at the first brush of Mor's fingertips. Mor's touch had been light, just ghosting across the membrane, but that had been enough.

"Too much?" Emerie said, her voice going rough. "It's not enough."

Mor raised both hands this time, pressing a bit harder against the silky membranes. They were soft in the places that weren't covered in jagged, brutal scars, oddly cool to the touch, and stiff—too stiff, another lingering reminder of old injuries that wouldn't fade.

Emerie sighed—an invitation. Mor pressed a kiss to the central tendon of a wing, where the scarring was concentrated. She paused, waiting for a cry of pain or to be told to stop, but Emerie just made a low, contented sound in the back of her throat.

Mor's blood heated in answer. She'd been sitting back on her heels, but she rose up on her knees, running one hand up, up, up Emerie's back, around to her front, dipping it under her gown to palm a breast.

"Is this better?" Mor said, sliding her finger up the rest of the way to circle a peaked nipple. Emerie's back arched.

"Yes. Don't stop."

"I'm not stopping anytime soon, beautiful. Not when I've thought about getting my hands on you since I saw you at Windhaven." Mor hadn't meant for the endearment or the admission to slip out like that, but both were true. And her gift was truth.

Before Emerie could answer, Mor swept a hand along her wing again. Emerie threw her head back, and suddenly there was no possibility of conversation, not when the Illyrian had been reduced to moans and it took all of Mor's concentration to circle a nipple with one hand and caress all the most sensitive places on a wing with the other.

Mor pressed another kiss to Emerie's back, just as Emerie came with a cry. She stood, brushing grass from her gown, and stepped back to the front of the bench, admiring the sight of Emerie flushed and panting.

Mor extended a hand, and Emerie took it, getting up and stepping closer on pleasantly unsteady feet. As Mor snaked an arm around her waist, Emerie stretched her wings, encircling them both. And finally kissed her.

It was soft, almost chaste. The sort of kiss they probably should have started all of this with. When they broke apart, Emerie let her head rest on Mor's shoulder.

"I meant what I said about doing you next," Emerie said, smiling against Mor's collarbone.

Mor brushed a lock of Emerie's hair back into place. "Then come home with me tonight." Or every night. Move into Athelwood.

"I'd love to."

They stood quietly for a long moment, pressed against each other at the center of twin circles of arms and wings. But there was still a party, and they would be missed. Before long, Mor was casting a glamour to cover the scent of arousal, spelling away grass stains, and making sure no one looked disheveled.

Mor and Emerie attempted to slip back into the party without any fanfare. They'd walked back in together, not even holding hands, ready with a story about a torn strap on Mor's dress and Emerie's emergency sewing kit.

But four heads whipped around at the sight of them. Nesta was sitting at the head table with the rest of her bridesmaids, a glass in front of each of them. The bride winked.

And as a team, the Archerons and Gwyn toasted to the sight of Emerie and Mor together and a job well done.

#sjmromanceweek2024 #emorie #mor acotar #emerie of illyria

[rose-of-the-grave]

Castle

Pairing: Nesta x Eris

Hey all! This is my first official fic of the year!!! This was for a request. As always I'm the author (please no reposting)

Masterlist. Read on Ao3

Warnings: (18+ I think), suggestiveness, allusion to rape, killing, kissing, angst, protective Eris, I swear that this isn't that dark

Word count: 5,919

Description: When Nesta accepts Eris' proposal she had no idea what she was in for during her new life in the Autumn Court.

Taglist: @sylveryfire

“I want you to tell Eris that I accept his proposal.” Nesta said.

Rhysand looked pleased. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll send word right away.”

“What’s going on?” Feyre stood not too far away.

Nesta imagined that her brother-in-law had communicated with her mind to mind because her sister immediately turned to face her.

“Are you sure about this?” Her younger sister asked.

“Yes.”

“What about…?”

Nesta didn’t want to even think about Cassian. Earlier when she had told him that she had decided to marry Eris he had been shocked. He had asked her why and she had told him that it was because she deserved it. It was then that she realized that if she wanted him to let her go he would have to believe that this was what she wanted and that she would not budge.

So Nesta told him what she thought would hurt him most. That she thought she could love Eris if given the chance. He had recoiled, hurt, but hadn’t said anything more. Instead he just walked away without another word.

“I want to marry him.”

“If that’s really what you want…” Feyre trailed off.

“It is.”

“Then it is settled.” Rhysand said.

“Good.” Nesta replied, already walking away. Maybe she would come to regret this decision but for now she didn’t want to think about what awaited her. At least this gave her a way to leave the Night Court behind, even if it meant trading one prison for another.

A week later

I'm headed straight for the castle

They wanna make me their queen

All of the preparations had been made for the wedding, it was going to happen in the Autumn Court. Elain was unhappy with her decision but had said that she wanted to come. Rhysand was winnowing them there. Feyre had also wanted to come but with her being pregnant Rhysand didn’t want her anywhere near the Autumn Court. He hadn’t even wanted Elain to come but she insisted.

Nesta tried not to think about Gwyn and Emerie. It had hurt having to tell them that she was leaving but she owed them a goodbye. She was going to miss them.

Elain was dressed in a pretty pink dress with her hair falling down in loose waves. She looked beautiful. Standing next to her was Rhysand in a black suit, as per usual. The wedding was going to happen right after they arrived so Nesta was already dressed. She didn’t want to wear the Night Court’s colors, nor did she want to wear white. Eventually she decided on a blood red dress that was decorated with rubies.

It shone like fire, perfect for the Autumn Court.

She had braided her hair and twisted it up, securing it with a ruby encrusted gold comb. Walking down the stairs was a challenge. The dress was a tripping incident waiting to happen.

“Come on, let’s go.” Rhysand said, wasting no time for pleasantries.

He seemed impatient, perhaps he was worried that she would change her mind at the last minute and run.

The minute she came within range he grabbed onto both her and Elain, winnowing them all away.

They arrived right on the steps of where the wedding was supposed to be. It was beautiful. There were trees outside that were in a permanent state of changing color. People were milling about outside, about to head in. She wondered if Eris was already inside. 

What did a Fae wedding even entail? Nobody had explained that to her. Were they like human weddings?

“Rhysand.”

They all turned to look at the High Lord of Autumn who was approaching them. In a matter of minutes he would be her father-in-law.

“Beron.”

Beron smiled thinly before shifting his gaze to her, assessing her. The last time she had seen him was during the war. He arched an eyebrow before turning away, dismissing her. Rhysand stood partially in front of Elain as if to protect her.

A moment later, Nesta realized that the four of them were all alone.

Rhysand escorted her sister in, leaving her out there with the High Lord. He offered her his arm, which she took reluctantly. They walked into the building and he continued walking. He went with her all the way past the spectators, depositing her at the front where Eris stood.

A priestess emerged from the shadows and everybody went quiet.

Nesta followed the robed figure with her eyes until she was standing just behind her and Eris. The priestess started saying something in a foreign tongue. Nesta shifted her gaze to the male that was about to become her husband only to find that he was already staring at her. She looked into his eyes, ignoring what was going on until he started repeating something that the priestess said. When it was her turn she did the same. The rest was a blur.

When it was done everybody stood up and went outside. 

Nesta hugged Elain tightly, knowing that there was a chance that they might never see each other again. She smiled, watching as her sister disappeared along with Rhysand.

Eris came up behind her and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Follow me.”

She turned to him, masking her emotions with a smile. If she was going to fool an entire Fae court then she was going to have to appear besotted with her new husband. He showed her the way to a carriage that was going to take them to the castle.

Once they were sitting in the carriage facing toward each other he told her, “I must confess that I was surprised to hear of your acceptance.”

“Then why did you ask for my hand in the first place?”

“Perhaps you enchanted me with your dancing.”

She laughed. “That’s not a reason to marry someone.”

“I was under the impression that that was exactly why people got married, because they had enjoyed dancing together.”

“Normally they spend some time getting to know each other before they propose.”

“You still said yes.” He reminded her.

“Indeed.”

“Why?”

“If you are fishing for a compliment you will not get one from me.”

He clasped a hand to his chest. “You wound me my dear wife.”

“I sincerely doubt that considering your over-inflated ego.”

“I can assure you that that is not the only thing about me that is big.” He smirked.

Her cheeks flushed a light pink at his unexpected innuendo. Deciding to not dignify him with a response she looked around at their surroundings. The carriage was traveling along a road through the forest where the trees created an arch over their heads.

When they arrived he jumped out of the carriage before turning to offer his aid. She lightly placed her hand into his gloved one, pulling it away once she was standing on the ground. Together they walked up the stairs and into a ballroom. There were even more people in the room than there had been at the wedding.

She straightened her posture and lifted her chin before entering with Eris. The entire room went silent, all eyes on them. Someone started clapping. Then they were all applauding, their eyes still on the pair of them. The crowd parted as they passed through on their way to the front where the High Lord and the Lady of Autumn sat.

Eris bowed, greeting them both. Nesta simply shallowly curtsied. She refused to show any weakness.

Beron made a motion with his hand and, perfectly on cue, the music started and the people started to dance.

Her husband turned to her with an outstretched hand. “Might I have this dance?”

Placing her hand in his once more she replied, “You may.”

He spun her out in front of him before following. He kept on twirling her, occasionally bringing her in close to him before allowing her to dance freely. Her dress caught the light, shining brightly throughout the room.

“You are mesmerizing.” He whispered in her ear before spinning her out.

She kept on dancing, letting the music grab hold of her. She was so lost in the dance that she didn’t realize the wide berth people were giving them as they all watched her. When the band played their last cord Eris pulled her in one last time.

Their faces were close, so close that she could see the tiny flecks in his eyes. When the music started to play again people started to dance once more. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips for all to see. Before she knew it he had pulled away and was dancing once more with her.

They continued to dance for several songs before they got tired and he led her off of the dance floor in the opposite direction of his parents.

He showed her the way upstairs to what she assumed was their room. She was fairly certain that, considering it was their wedding night, she knew what was going to happen next. It felt odd to think about considering everything she and Cassian had been doing together up until a week ago.

Eris opened the door, allowing Nesta to enter. The room was spacious and well-decorated. She walked over to the full-length mirror, slightly curious what she looked like after so much dancing. Pulling out the comb, she placed it on a dresser that was off to the side. She was about to undo her hair when Eris came up behind her. He pulled out the handful of pins holding her braids in place before unbraiding her hair.

Out of nowhere he somehow had a brush in his hand which he ran through her hair before setting it down. Sweeping her hair over one shoulder he placed a gentle kiss to her shoulder just to the side of her dress’ straps. Pushing the strap off of her shoulder he continued to place delicate kisses across her shoulder. Unable to resist, she leaned back into him.

He made eye contact with her in the mirror, one hand at her waist and the other holding her dress strap. She turned around in his arms and kissed him. For a moment they both allowed themselves to get lost in the kiss but he quickly put space between them, distancing himself from her.

“Good night my lady.” He bowed slightly before walking out of the bedroom. She watched as he walked away, puzzled by his reaction.

The next morning

I'm headed straight for the castle

They've got the kingdom locked up

Nesta awoke to light streaming into her room through the windows. Looking over she sees a maid standing by her bed holding a piece of paper.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a message from my lady.” She curtsied before handing it to Nesta.

It was a request to have tea at noon with her in her room.

“Can you please tell her that I accept?”

“Of course.” She curtsied once more and left.

Sighing, Nesta got out of bed and got her first real look at her bedroom. It had a fireplace that was already lit and the stone had images carved into it. The entire room was red with gold touches. The mirror, which quickly managed to catch her eye, only served as a reminder of the night before. She was still confused. She thought that she would be relieved that Eris hadn’t expected her to sleep with him but she found that some small, traitorous part of her was disappointed.

Determined to put her infuriating new husband out of her mind she opened one of the dresser drawers. The clothes that they had sent along early had been folded and put away in the dresser. She dug through it until she found a red dress that was patterned with black. Tying a belt around the waist she completed her outfit with a coat to keep her warm.

As a final touch she rebraided her hair. Satisfied with her appearance she put on a pair of boots and walked out of her room.

The halls looked a lot less complicated in the light of day than they had when Eris had been showing her the way. After a minute or two she reached the staircase and walked down. Noticing a door that led outside, she went out through there.

There was a path that seemed to wind around the entire castle. Feeling like a bit of fresh air, she randomly chose a direction and started to walk.

The leaves on the ground crunched under her boots and the wind blew right in her face. It was colder than she had expected. She was glad that she had chosen to wear a coat.

After only a few minutes she realized that she had greatly underestimated the size of her new home. The entire castle was beautiful. There were stone statues and fallen leaves and tall towers. It took a really long time before she finally returned to the door that she thought she had used before.

Unsure of where her new mother-in-law lived in the castle she decided to wander around until she found someone she could ask or until she happened across it.

“Nesta.”

She turned around to find the Lady of the Autumn Court standing in a pale red-orange dress that had a high neckline and a sweeping skirt. It was simple but elegant and reminded Nesta of something she herself might wear.

“I apologize, I wasn’t quite sure where to find you.” Nesta said.

“It is quite alright. Please, follow me.” She motioned to a door to her left. “Right through here.”

She led Nesta out onto a balcony where there was a small table with tea and biscuits laid out on china. Nesta took the seat opposite her companion.

“It is lovely to finally meet you.”

“Indeed.” Nesta responded.

“My son has mentioned you several times since meeting you but I never imagined that we would have the opportunity to meet. I remember you from the High Lord’s meeting before the war but I don’t believe I knew your name back then.”

“To be honest, I never imagined we would ever meet as well.”

“And why is that?” The lady of the Autumn Court took a sip of tea.

“I never expected that Eris would propose, let alone that I would accept. At first I had planned on declining him.”

She smiled understandingly at Nesta. ”I would like to think that he is not quite as bad as people imagine.”

“Perhaps. During my time in the Night Court I spent time with Morrigan. They were engaged at one point were they not? It is quite horrible to hear about everything that was done to her. I hear that he takes after his father in regards to his treatment of others. Have you found that to be true?”

She looked sharply at Nesta. “The walls have ears in this castle my dear. You would be wise to not voice your opinions of my husband or your own.”

Nesta nodded and stood up, leaving her teacup full. “I thank you for your advice. Now, if you would please excuse me, I feel a bit under the weather.”

She walked off of the balcony and out into the hallway. In her time spent exploring she had gotten turned around. She had no clue as to where her room was.

After a while she found herself back in the ballroom from before. Now that it was empty it didn’t seem nearly as intimidating. Before it had been full of people watching her every move but now it was just a room.

It was a beautiful room with gold all around. The ceiling was covered with paintings and the arches that went from one side to the other were all decorated with golden leaves. The floor had an enchanting floral pattern that was entirely gold on a white marble.

Her boots were loud against the floor, the noise echoing through the room.

“Here you are.”

Whirling around she found Eris standing in the doorway across the room.

“Were you looking for me?”

“I wanted to inform you that I will be gone for a day or two on business.”

She nodded and started to turn away when he took a few steps closer to her.

“About last night…” He started.

“What about last night? You made yourself quite clear.”

“No, I don’t believe I did.” He walked towards her slowly as they talked.

“I don’t wish to talk about it.” She responded, turning away.

“But I do.”

“What is there to say? You didn’t want to sleep with me on our wedding night. There’s nothing more to be said.”

“I at least owe you an explanation.”

“Don’t.”

“Look at me.” She didn’t turn around. “Look at me Nesta.”

He was finally within arms reach and, grabbing her arm, he turned her to face him. She looked up at him defiantly, not particularly wanting to hear what he had to say but her curiosity won out.

“Well?” She crossed her arms across her chest.

“You were clearly not over that Illyrian brute.”

“Don’t call him that. And there is no reason for me to be over him, I don’t love him. I don’t even like him!”

“I’m not blind Nesta. I can still smell him on you.” He sneered.

“You’re wrong. I may have fucked him but that was weeks ago. I married you. If that doesn’t prove anything then I don’t know what will. I chose marrying you despite knowing just how much of a prick you are over staying in the Night Court with Cassian. And all for what? To be yelled at for how I smell? I don’t think so.” She brushed past him, walking away.

“I’m sorry.”

She turned around to face him again. “For what? For yelling at me or for marrying me?”

“For yelling. It’s none of my business what you did with him.”

“I’m glad you realize that.” Turning back around, she walked out of the ballroom and followed the same path that she had taken the night before with Eris. Luckily she made it back to her room with no problems.

The next day

And there's an old man sitting on the throne

That's saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean

Determined to learn more about the castle, Nesta awoke the next day with a sense of purpose. She was going to explore.

At first it was mostly boring with long hallways filled with bedrooms. That is, until she reached the library. Excited to finally find something new to read having not managed to pack that many books she decided to look around. She was hopeful that she would find something of interest and that it wouldn’t all be boring.

It took a few minutes but eventually she hit the jackpot. Near the back was a collection of books by several authors that she recognized. Among them were Sellyn Drake’s books. Or at least some of them. Most of them she had already read but there were one or two that looked unfamiliar. Selecting one of them from off the shelf she found a chair and started reading.

By the time she had reached the end of the book the light streaming in through the windows had dimmed. She had been sitting there for hours, she realized. Nesta got up and put the book away in its original spot before taking a few others from off the shelf.

Her stomach grumbled, the last time she had eaten had been breakfast and it was now almost dinner time. Most of her meals the past two days had been brought up to her room so she had had ample time to herself.

She was on her way to the door when she heard something. It sounded like yelling but she couldn’t quite be sure. Following the sound she soon started to hear other noises. It sounded as if someone was having sex in the library. The sounds stopped and a young girl who was dressed similarly to the maids ran from behind one of the shelves and right past Nesta on her way to the door.

The girl had looked terrified and Nesta soon understood why when she saw who she had been with, the High Lord.

“Ah, Nesta. How wonderful to see you here. I had quite wondered where you disappeared to. I see you’ve seen Lyra.”

At Nesta’s confused look he clarified, “The young serving girl that just ran past you. She’s pretty enough but still needs to learn her place.”

“You are detestable.”

“She knew what she was getting into when she started working here.” He smiled darkly, causing Nesta to wonder just how safe she was standing there alone with him. She hoped he would respect the fact that she was married to his son but considering he had no respect for those who worked for him and couldn’t even think about saying “no” she was a little skeptical.

“The poor girl was terrified. How can you not see that?”

“Oh but that’s what makes it all the more fun. Watching them protest only to eventually watch them break.”

She hated him.

That was the only thought in her head when her hand rose of its own accord and slapped him across the face leaving a bright red splotch on his cheek.

“You’re disgusting.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

Realizing just how alone they were she turned to leave but he grabbed onto her wrist.

“With a pretty face like yours it would be a shame if anything happened to it. You’d be wise to not be so unkind to your High Lord.” His grip on her wrist started to dig in. Pulling away from him she ran out of the library, not wanting to remain there another moment.

She didn’t stop running until she reached her room. Once inside she put the books down on the bedside table and sat down.

There was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“Just Greta, my lady. I’ve brought dinner.”

“You may come in.”

The maid entered holding a tray of warm food that had steam rising from it. She carefully placed it beside the books.

“I’m also to inform you that there will be another ball tomorrow to celebrate since the rest of your new family wasn’t able to be there. Lord Eris’ brothers will be in attendance as well as a few cousins who were not able to come for the actual event.”

“Thank you. Will Eris be returning in time for the ball?”

“I believe so, my lady.”

“Greta, would you mind if I asked you a question?”

“What is it about?”

“The High Lord.”

Her smile dropped. Suddenly she was no longer willing to chat. She seemed nervous, scared almost.

“If that’ll be all miss.” She curtsied without another word and left.

The next day

And there's an old man sitting on the throne

That's saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut

The day after her encounter in the library with Beron was a whirlwind affair of trying on dress after dress. She tried to protest but the maids who had been sent to her room insisted. Greta was noticeably absent from the group.

Eventually they settled on a crimson red dress that was somewhat similar to her wedding dress except it was a bit more traditional in its style. The thin straps were replaced with long, fitted sleeves and the neckline was a bit lower. The waist was decorated with a golden belt that separated the fitted bodice from the long, full skirts. Made from what seemed to be hundreds of thin layers of fabric it had impressive volume. It made her feel like a princess.

Her hair had been put in a complicated style that involved multiple braids being woven together and was matched with a gold tiara. She wore no other jewelry and minimal makeup which allowed the crown to be the centerpiece of her outfit.

They left her in the dress once they settled on it to limit the amount of times they had to button up the back of the dress. It took a while to completely button it up but once it was on her it looked beautiful.

As they were all leaving Eris walked in.

He took hold of her hand, bringing it up so he could brush a kiss against her knuckles. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you.”

The sleeves of her dress mostly covered the bruise that had started to form on her wrist but she was still a bit apprehensive. She didn’t want to bring it up to him knowing that it was his father that she was talking about. Nesta sincerely doubted that he would side with her.

He took hold of both her hands and looked like he was about to say something when he stopped. He brought her hand up for a closer inspection. Pulling back her sleeve he finally saw the whole bruise.

“Who did this to you?” He said, his voice quiet but intense. She didn’t want to tell him.

“Who did this to you?!” He repeated with more volume.

“Was it my father?” She finally met his gaze and nodded.

“What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No. I’m fine. I slapped him so he told me to not be so mean. He said it would be a shame if something happened to my face.”

At her words he pulled away and walked out of the room. She watched as he stormed out wondering what he was going to do.

When he returned about an hour later, just in time for the ball, he wouldn’t answer any of her questions.

“Come on, we’re going to be late.” He said, not looking at her. He stood by the door, half facing away from her.

When she placed a hand on his back he hissed in pain. She jerked her hand away but the damage was done. What exactly happened to him?

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

She went to question him further but stopped. He still wasn’t looking at her. She had a feeling that he wasn’t going to tell her even if she kept on asking.

Instead she placed her hand on his arm, allowing him to escort her to the ballroom once more. For once she didn’t feel like dancing. In fact she was dreading this event entirely. She didn’t want to have to see the High Lord again after the night before, nor did she want to meet Eris’ brothers. She didn’t know that much about them but what she did know did not make her want to ever meet them.

Once in the ballroom they walked over to the throne where Beron sat. As much as it disgusted her to say it she could see where Eris had gotten his good looks. Even though he had been alive for many centuries he still remained handsome. Eris’ mother was nowhere in sight. After the other day at tea and the night before in the library Nesta was beginning to see just how dangerous the Autumn Court was.

Eris’ mother was plainly scared of her husband and for good reason. Thinking back on Eris’ reaction to her touching his back she wondered if it was something his father had done.

She was introduced to Eris’ brothers briefly but could not remember their names even moments later. Nesta and Eris danced for a bit before the High Lord cut in.

Eris did not look as if he wanted to leave them alone but he seemed resigned to what was about to happen. At first Nesta and Beron danced in silence and she hoped that he would not bring up the previous night.

“I’m impressed.” He said, breaking the silence.

She looked at him, puzzled.

“I did not think that you would dare to tell my son what happened. It is unfortunate that he took offense, I did not wish to punish him for his insolence.” He did not look as if he regretted it. She had a feeling that he was taking some twisted glee from this predicament.

“I do not wish to have to tell you twice, Nesta. You would be better off keeping your mouth shut in the future.” With that parting threat he pulled away as the song ended.

As more people drifted towards the center of the ballroom Nesta tried to find Eris. Not being able to see him, she decided to leave. She didn’t want to remain there a minute more. If her mother could see her now she would be very disappointed. She had spent many hours drilling her on ballroom etiquette only for Nesta to ignore one of the main rules. It was the height of impropriety to leave a ball after only three songs.

Unable to bear staying she escaped to her room where she pulled the crown off from her head. She unbraided her hair and let it fall down her back in waves. She wiped her face clean before looking into the mirror. Only a few hours earlier she had felt like a princess, now she felt like she was suffocating.

Contorting her body she managed to reach the buttons that held her dress together. Undoing them finally allowed her to breathe fully. She pushed the dress off and pulled on one of her nightgowns. Its soft fabric was a welcome comfort.

She laid down on her bed, looking up at the ceiling for a long time before she heard a knock at the door.

“Nesta, are you in there?” Eris called through the door.

“Yes.”

“May I come in?”

“As you wish.”

He pushed the door open and walked over to her. Sitting down beside her he looked down at her. She sat up and looked him in the eye.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“No.”

“What do you need?”

Looking at him she made her decision. “A distraction.”

He took a deep breath before asking her, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Eris nodded.

Nesta leaned in and kissed him. She pushed him backwards onto the bed, both of her hands holding him down. He wrapped both arms around her waist, pulling her in closer. It was a battle of wills, both of them fighting for dominance. She shifted her leg so that it was on the other side of him, straddling him.

He twisted them around so that he was on top of her, using his strength to his advantage. She gasped allowing his tongue access. He tasted like cinnamon and smoke. When he was distracted she managed to push him off her, rolling him back under her.

He chuckled and she smiled into the kiss. She started to place openmouthed kisses along his jaw before drifting down his neck. When she reached the neckline of his shirt she started to unbutton his top, placing kisses on each newly revealed inch of skin. Before she could undo his belt he pulled her back up.

“Not yet.”

He claimed her mouth once more, holding her against him. Rolling her back under him he started to kiss her behind her ear before drifting down her neck. She moaned as his hands drifted away from her waist. One went up to play with her nipple while the other drifted further south, pushing underneath her nightgown.

However her moan soon turned into a yawn. The past few days had been exhausting to say the least and it was already getting late.

Hearing her yawn Eris pulled away and lifted her off the bed. Holding her in one arm he used the other to pull back the blankets. He then helped her underneath.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Stay.”

He looked at her, surprise flashing across his features before he pulled his shirt off. He also stripped off his pants leaving in almost nothing.

Nesta shifted over to give him space and he laid down in the bed next to her. Turning on his side he wrapped his arms around her before closing his eyes.

The next morning

Nesta awoke cocooned in warmth. Eris’ arms were still wrapped around her tightly as if he was worried she would disappear. Not wanting to get up she closed her eyes, determined to get a few more minutes of sleep.

When she next awoke it was to an empty bed. Turning over she found that the other side of the bed was still warm but there was no Eris in sight. She started to wonder if perhaps the previous night had been a mistake but then saw a note that had been left on the bedside table.

It was from Eris informing her that his father had asked to see him.

Alarmed after knowing what Beron had done to his son the day before she quickly got up and dressed. She rushed through the castle not sure where they would be but hoping she found them soon.

“...you should’ve done better!”

Hearing the High Lord’s voice she knew she must be close. She stopped outside the door, eavesdropping. From what she gathered Beron was berating Eris about the trip he had gone on earlier. It must have been a business trip that had been unsuccessful.

“Perhaps if you hadn’t been so distracted by your wife you would have actually been decent at your role.”

At those words she barged in.

There they stood, facing each other. Both males turned to look at the intruder.

“You have no right to yell at him like that. I’m sure he tried his best. Don’t blame this on me, I wasn’t even there.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge her, simply turning towards his son. “If you plan on becoming the next High Lord you had better learn from my example and keep your wife on a leash.”

“Watch it.” Eris warned through gritted teeth.

Not even registering what she was doing she picked up a sword off of the wall that had been part of the decorations and rushed him. He turned but wasn’t able to react quickly enough before she could stab him right through the chest. The sword pierced right through him and Nesta twisted the sword before pulling it out.

Breathing heavily she met Eris’ gaze as the magic went from his father to him. Eris was the new High Lord of the Autumn Court.

“What did you just do?” He asked, stunned. It was hard to believe that what he had been so carefully planning for had just happened.

Taking a step towards Nesta he pulled her in for a kiss. The sword clattered to the ground.

He pulled away but kept close, his nose brushing against hers.

“You look hot with blood on you.”

She tipped her head back and laughed.

There was going to be a lot of chaos in the Autumn Court but for now she was simply happy that she ridded the world of Beron. And so, staring into the eyes of her husband of only a few days, she kissed him once more. It was a kiss of triumph and relief. While the night before had been all about passion this was a reaffirmation of life. Of success.

When she had first accepted Eris’ proposal she had no idea that she would end up killing his father, making Eris the new High Lord but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#acotar #rose of the grave #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #eris x nesta #nesta x eris #nesta archeron #nesta acotar #eris acotar #eris vanserra #neris #neris fanfic #fanfic #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction

[sunshinebingo]

idk if your request is still open but i’ll try my luck 😭

could you please do a gwynriel angst where they have to attend a friend’s wedding party and their friends didn’t know they have broken up and they were forced into a seven minutes in heaven game but instead of what their friends have expected, the seven minutes turned out to be tears and heartbreak

i’m feeling kinda sad rn and this idea suddenly popped into my head. If you couldn’t do it, totally fine

Hi anon!! My request is always open so please feel free to send me any suggestion you might have.

Thank you so so much for having sent this one. It made me cry a bit ngl 😂 I hope you like it 🤭

Gwynriel - 1.8k - No warning - Angst only

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

*****

Love is a losing game

Some said better to love and lose than to have never known love. Right now, Gwyn wished she had never known love at all. As she watched the two newlyweds dressed in lace and silks whiter than the roses that filled the small garden, their eyes sparkling with happiness and love, their laughs rising above that of the small party who had gathered to celebrate this new step in their life, Gwyn saw what she would never have. And she wished, more than anything, that she had never known what being in love felt like.

Her own bridesmaid outfit was a mockery of it. The ivory dress that Emerie had wanted her chosen sisters to wear when walking her down the aisle had seemed to laugh at Gwyn with every step she had made, blue bouquet in hand, towards the alter. It was all a cruel, sick joke and she hated it. Hated herself for having so stupidly walked into it.

“Hey,” Nesta’s gentle voice broke through her thoughts.

Gwyn turned to look at sister, blinking away the tears of anger that had started to fill her eyes. Nesta narrowed her eyes inquisitively. “Are you okay?”

No.

“I am,” she offered Nesta one the fakest smile she had ever forced onto her face. Gwyn shrugged at her sister’s silent insistence. “I’m just so happy for them.”

Nesta laughed and picked up her crystal glass. “You’ve always been the most romantic of the three of us,” she said, referring to Gwyn, Emerie and herself. Emerie and Nesta. The only true loves of her life besides her twin and her mother.

“And the funniest,” Gwyn added with none of the joy that usually accompanied her sass.

“And the sweetest and the smartest,” Emerie chimed in across from them, fingers entwined in her new wife’s.

Nesta hummed her approval. Gwyn wondered how long it would take for them to notice the walls she had built around herself to hide her misery. She hoped that the cracks forming in this wall as she watched everyone’s happy faces would not make the whole thing crumble before she could get far away from them.

An eruption of voices caused another crack to form. It got worse when Cassian’s boisterous voice called her name on the other side of Nesta, along with another.

“Gwyn and Azriel. It’s time to find out the truth.”

Gwyn tensed and blurted a, “What?”

She felt a wave of panic rising. Gwyn internally added more bricks to her wall. She slammed her hands against the cracks even as more tears threatened to bring it all down. She couldn’t be weak. Not now. Not in front of him. Not ever.

Not now. Please. Please.

“We need to find out if you two can spend seven minutes in heaven and keep things clean,” Rhysand explained across from Cassian, no doubt mistaking her dread for confusion. His words settled in Gwyn before she could sigh at the fact that no one had yet learned the real truth.

Only then, hours after having stepped foot here, did she look at him for more than a second. His hazel eyes were already on her. Gwyn refused to read any emotion in them. She could not bear anymore lies from him.

“Come on Gwynnie,” Cassian went on. “We already placed the bets. And I know I will win because Az hasn’t stopped looking at you.”

Feyre giggled next to Rhys. “That’s nothing new Cass.”

“I know but it’s different today. His stare has been...,” Cassian placed a finger on his chin as though he was looking for the perfect word. “...harder,” he finally added with a wink that earned him a laugh from everyone around the table.

“It’s probably the white dress,” Mor wiggled her perfect eyebrows at Gwyn.

A flush crept up Gwyn’s cheeks. Not because of the insinuation from the beautiful blond, but because there had been a time where she would have believed everything that they were saying. What a fool she had been. What a stupid, romantic, naive fool.

“Oh that pretty blush is promising,” Nesta teased next to her. “Come on.”

Before she could give any response, Nesta was out of her chair and pulling Gwyn up by the arm. Next to her, Cassian had already pulled a semi-reluctant Azriel out of his seat and was dragging him across the garden towards the small shed.

All words evaded Gwyn. All she could focus on was trying to keep herself together. She could do this. Seven minutes. She would be strong. For seven minutes.

“And no less,” Cassian exclaimed after pushing both her and Azriel in the shed. Gwyn stared at the closed door after the loud click of the lock sounded from outside.

The silence in the small dark place was louder than the faint voices on the other side. It stretched on for what felt like ten times more than seven minutes. Everything was so still around her that despite having her back to him, Gwyn felt Azriel lift his hand and reach towards her.

“Gwy-,”

“Don’t,” she took a step to the side before he could touch her shoulder.

“Gwyn plea-,”

“Don’t,” she said more firmly. Though her next words came out in a whisper. “Please, don’t.”

She turned around and faced him. She begged her heart to keep quiet and pleaded with reason to not abandon her. This situation seemed like a mirror of the last time that they had been in the same room. Suddenly, the last month faded into nothing. Gwyn felt like she was still in his living room, staring into his eyes and wondering why on earth she had ever trusted him. It was pity for herself that she had felt before she had stormed out of his apartment that night.

“Gwyn. Please,” he took a step forward and she took one back. “Let me explain.”

“What I saw was explanation enough,” she snapped.

“It’s not what you think.” His voice was laced with impatience. If she believed in his lies, she would have also discerned hurt in it. But it was probably a bit of wishful thinking from her part.

Gwyn let out a sardonic laugh. “And what would you have thought, Azriel,” she spat his name like it had become the hardest thing for her to say, “if you had seen me doing what you were doing with her.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pulling on the dark strands in frustration like he usually did.

“It was a mistake. A huge, fucking mistake. And I regret every fucking second of it.”

“A mistake...,” Gwyn tasted the word on her tongue. It was the same word he had used that day. That same word that she had turned around and around in her head for the past month while she had thought back on the years that they had spent together.

“This should have never happened, you have to believe me.”

“But it did.”

“It was a fucking mistake.” That godforsaken word again. As if saying it enough times would remove his involvement in the act he had committed. “I swear love, I never wanted to hurt you. She - ”

“She what?” her voice rose above his and made him freeze. “Did she force you to do anything?”

Azriel didn’t react. His silence was answer enough. And when he kept staring at her with those deep hazel eyes that she adored so much, with that same intensity that had made her lose her godsdamned mind so many times since she had first looked into them, her wall crumbled. Her strength to keep it up left her, running away to the darkest corner of the shed along with her resolve to keep her mouth shut.

“I thought that you would be the one to finally make me believe that I deserve this kind of love. But y-you...,” she wasn’t sure what to say except that she had to let out what had been plaguing her mind for a whole month.

“I trusted you. I...”

He took another step towards her but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. She ignored what touching him was doing to her. Ignored that she wasn’t the only one that had touched him and kept talking despite her voice coming out as sobs

“I never forced you to stay with me. You always had a choice. And you chose to hurt me.”

“I didn’t want –,”

“BUT YOU DID,” she shouted.

She didn’t notice the sudden quiet of the voices outside nor did she care. Azriel fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. “Please, my love. This will never happen again.”

Looking at him like this made something twist inside Gwyn. Her whole body was trembling with anger and pain. An endless flow of tears started streaming down her face. How dare he make such empty promises after having ripped her heart out like he did.

“I know you still love me, Gwyn.”

She huffed. “Of course I love you.” There was no point in denying it. “I hate myself for loving you so much.”

Azriel grabbed one of her hands and brought it to his lips. “Please let me fix this. I love you more than anything.”

Another sentence that she had heard back then. As if trust could be fixed by simply snapping one’s fingers. As if those images that had haunted her for an entire month would disappear by simply piling new ones on top.

“If this is your idea of love, then it’s wrong,” she said, slowly removing her hand from his. She closed her eyes as she did so, knowing well that this would be last time she would ever let him touch her. Perhaps the last time she would ever let any man touch her. It seemed impossible in this moment that she would ever trust a man again with her heart. Not when it would always remain with the one kneeling at her feet. The sight was another mockery of the future she had dreamed for them. Another sick and cruel joke of life.

A knock sounded at the door followed by Cassian’s deep voice. “You still decent in there? Time’s over.”

Time wasn’t the only thing that was over. Gwyn was almost at the door when Azriel abruptly stood up and grabbed her wrist. Without even thinking, she turned around and slapped him so hard that the incessant knocking on the door stopped.

Azriel released her wrist and brought his hand to his cheek. His hazel eyes found hers again. His eyes were red and filled with tears, his expression full of something that she refused to acknowledge.

Since she had nothing left to say and so much more tears left to shed, Gwyn turned around and walked out, to somewhere she could mourn the loss of her heart.

#ANGST #Warning - No happy ending #I broke my own heart writing this #thank you anon! #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger

[moodymelanist]

♡ SJM Romance Week 2024 Masterlist ♡

Read on AO3 here!

Day 1 ♡ First Date

you look so pretty (and I love this view) — Nesta's Hinge date doesn't show up, so Emerie steps in.

modern au

Day 2 ♡ Traditions

Now That Your Rose Is In Bloom — Lucien buys Elain a bouquet of flowers for every year they’ve been together.

modern au

Day 3 ♡ Weddings

meet me at the altar (in your white dress) — Nesta and Cassian elope to take the edge of wedding planning.

modern au

Day 5 ♡ Favorite Tropes

it’s you (they add up to) — Five times Azriel showed Nesta he cared, plus one time Nesta showed him she cared, too.

canonverse, 5+1 fic

Day 7 ♡ Free Day

Handprints and Good Grips — Cassian and Nesta are absolutely, one hundred percent going to make it to their fancy dinner reservations this year.

modern au, smut

#sjmromanceweek2024 #moodymelanistwrites #acotar #acosf #Nessian #Nezriel #elucien #nemerie #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #elain archeron #Lucien vanserra #Azriel shadowsinger #emerie of illyria

[beansidhebumbling]

Warning: Toxic Relationship

I

It takes weeks before Cassian begins to understand why she left. And if that isn't symbolic of their relationship he doesn't know what is.

Nesta knowing better, being better, as he trots behind. Coated in the arrogance of ignorance, always righteous until he's not, always catching the rhythm a beat too late.

*

He is a goner from their first meeting, leaning against the bedecked wall, grin growing as he watches her rip apart Rhysand's familiar monologue bemoaning the generous Christmas holidays he offers his workers (mostly under pressure from himself and Azriel).

She takes apart his brother's feeble justifications with the precision of a surgeon, irate expression contrasting beautifully with the festive and absolutely horrendous confection of lights and yarn she is wearing.

She is bewitching.

He waits, nursing his drink, quiet for once, eager for a chance to introduce himself.

He is enthralled.

*

It takes three encounters to get her number and an embarrassingly sincere drunk confession to obtain a date.

Then in pieces, in the compounding fragments of the trust he earns, they become a pair.

*

Their relationship, his life's great love affair had always been loud. Screaming, fighting, laughing, fucking. Always wild, careless in their abandon, in their feckless behaviour as they jumped off the cliff, intertwined.

So why was Nesta's departure so quiet?

The muted rolling of a suitcase on carpet barely disturbing him from sleep. The ring left to catch morning light on the side table until he'd copped it on his way to work and rolled his eyes. Nesta is in a huff and he is indignant, ready to whinge to Azriel.

It's six months later, on their anniversary, that he sees Nesta's ending wasn't quiet.

He just wasn't listening.

*

It takes three days for him to realise she isn't coming back.

Convinced she'll return with the bang of a door, with sharp words he'll take and worse ones he'll offer in return. That after some makeup sex the ring will be home on her finger and he'll be thumbing through a wedding magazine before bed.

This misplaced confidence keeps him from calling. To let her cool off. Leads him to saunter to the apartment door Saturday morning only donning grey joggers. Wanting the upper hand, wanting to see Nesta flush so prettily and clench her jaw tightly, seeing right through his feeble tactics.   

Gwyn and Emerie, stony faces and empty cardboard boxes in hand, become a live audience to the destruction of his world. 

He stands stunned, head reeling as Nesta is removed from their apartment. He finds himself carrying out boxes of her books. All he wants is to take it all back - slam the door in their faces like a child - because she can't just do this. But more importantly he needs to find Nesta. So a willing pack horse he becomes, trying to wheedle information from Gwyn.

His voice shaking, tears gathering, bile rising in his throat. 

"Do you know where she is?"

A nod.

"Will you tell me please Gwyn?"

Her red curls shake, a strong refusal. 

"I didn't realise she was being serious, I swear."

 Gwyn stops in her tracks, head turning sharply to bestow a look that calls him an idiot in five languages.

*

When his house is emptied of anything that is her, anything he could not save, he returns to the ring still on the sidetable despite him begging Gwyn and Emerie to return it to Nesta. 

It is the only time they look upon him with an ounce of pity which only makes it worse. Pity is for those who have lost. He cannot lose Nesta. There is not a universe he can fathom where he does not belong to her.

The ring he cradles in battered hands amidst shattered glass and splintered oak.

His blood an artful, awful, Pollackesque smattering over the mess.

Flimsy furnishings seeming a small casualty when his heart is now a necrotic organ burning in his chest.

The ring he picked,

with a white dress,

a honeymoon in Paris,

the rest of their life, in mind.

A silent killing blow.

*

One last blazing row the night before.

Cuts landing too deep this time.

The final fragment of a trust he'd once treasured sacredly, spent so terribly,

"Who the fuck could stand you Nesta when I can't?"

It makes his stomach turn with sickening guilt. He would stitch those words into his skin with wire rather than say them to her now.

He'd like to think he's a different man, maybe a better one, but that's up to her.

She's the only deity he wants to weigh his soul.

He'll come up wanting.

But maybe...

Maybe she'd look at him.

Face him.

Let him burn alive in the grey fire of her glare.

He would delight in his damnation to have her look at him once more.

*

Saturday is a haze. Rhys and Az try to coax him out to no avail. His pain is raw. Anger, frustration, desperation a tumour growing unchecked in his chest. The broken sidetable now possessing a broken vase, two pictures frames and three tumblers to match it. 

She isn't answering his calls, vision blurry from tears and drink, the blue light of his phone is the only thing he can focus on in a world that is swimming. Her contact, Nes 🖤, a beacon, a wavering light, keeping him from going under. 

She isn't answering his calls and so the voicemails begin. 

"I have your ring. Sweetheart I'm not taking that back. It's yours. I'm yours... Nesta please just talk to me. I'm sorry about Wednesday night. Come back and we can talk."

Beep.

"What is this about Nes? We fight rough, always have baby. I'll do anything, say anything, get you anything you want just please Nes don't do this. We can get a fucking dog. I swear. We'll move to a different apartment. We can open a fucking dog hotel if that is what you want just.."

Beep.

"Tell me you're safe. Please. I'm going out of my mind here. I love you. More than anything."

Beep.

"Mor was right, you know you're such a fucking bitch sometimes. I'm trying to apologise when you left without a word. Fuck you sweetheart."

Beep.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That came out wrong, I didn't mean it, just I..I'm beginning to think you're not coming back to me. This isn't goodbye Nes right? Right?"

Beep.

"Just punish me in person, I'll grovel for you Nes, you know that..........It's just a break. It's just a break. That's okay sweetheart you can have it all. Anything you want. Just talk to me first. Talk to me."

Beep.

"I love you. More than anyone else ever has, will or can. Just. If you're going to shred my heart. Do it in person. Do it in person and I'll walk away. Otherwise I'm going to fight you tooth and fucking nail love."

Beep.

The last voicemail a gauntlet thrown by a drunk fool. A sealing of their fate. 

*

She arrives on Sunday. Suitable for it to be a holy day if this is one last visit from his god.

He is relieved to see her.

Drunken promises of walking away temporarily forgotten. She had texted him an hour before to let him know she was on her way. Giving him time to put the house back in order, air out the smell of alcohol, sweat and despair. He's in his nicest jeans, hair tied in a low bun just how she likes. In the bedroom he has candles and rose petals, ready to worship her.

He wants to remind her she loves him, or she at least she did once.

Purple is painted in the hollows under her eyes, a slight tremor in her hand, greasy hair falling limply around her drawn face.

She looks terrible. Still the most stunning person he knows.

This is his doing.

He'd rather Az pummel him in the ring than see her like this. The aching in his chest makes it hard to breathe. He's made a mistake forcing her hand. 

She looks around, avoiding his gaze, eyebrows raising slightly at the very absent sidetable. She'd been so happy when they found that at old flea market off Washington St. when they first moved in together.

He should have thought of that before he left it in splinters. 

"There was an accident. I fell, you know how clumsy I get Nes. The table never stood a chance."

Her eyes land on him, and now it's him that can't bear to look, hand rubbing on his neck nervously, focusing on his white socks.

The silence is choking him.

"It's okay. It's okay. We'll get one just like it. I'll check Ebay. I'll ask Amren, she prowls around all the good antique shops. I'll make a replica if I have to. Lucien knows an excellent carpenter. I can fix it Nes. I promise."

He can fix it. He can fix this.

He meets her gaze and wants to vomit.

She looking at him with care, tears running down her face, voice barely audible.

"Cassian. We can't be fixed."

He can't think, he can't breathe, the world is on its axis and she's going to leave. The distance between them has vanished, he's on his knees, soft carpet beneath them a luxury he does not deserve, burying his face in the cotton of her tshirt hands wrapped around her waist. 

"No. Nes, no. You can't do that. You can't leave. I'm going to convince you to stay. That's why you're here. You want to stay. I love you. I love you. I love you. I can't be without you."

Pulling his hands from her waist she kneels beside him, caressing his face.

"I'm here to end it in person like you asked."

Her voice and his heart break simultaneously.

'I love you too Cassian... I...I can't live like this anymore. I cannot be both your Madonna and your whore. And we know exactly which one your friends think I am."

The words friends is spat out.

'It's either worship or war. So much fighting...a ren't you tired? '

A breath that holds a future.

'I'm so tired Cassian. I need more. I need to be by myself for a while. I need someone you're not Cas."

And on the exhale he sees all his plans dissipate amidst the dust motes that hang in the air.

This is what hell feels like. He's being excommunicated for his sins. She's even doing it in person.

His god, so cruel and alluring.

"I'm leaving now Cas. I'm moving away for a while. A clean break will be good for us. You'll thank me for doing this one day."

She let's out something that an alien might count as a laugh. Nervous and watery, choked and uncertain.

"I'll never thank you for this Nes."

His voice is dark and maybe he knows sin better than he once thought because her flinch in response feels better than he'd like it to.

They are one. No matter what she says. They should hurt as one too. 

She leaves.

He's still kneeling hours later her words a painful, unending echo in his mind.

*

He doesn't go out much now and drinking himself numb in this empty apartment is not who he is anymore.

But on their anniversary he let's himself drown in rum, in albums, in the box of her stuff he managed to keep after Gwyn and Emerie cleared house.

He cries into that stupid fucking Christmas jumper.

He sprays her bottle of perfume, letting the vanilla, blackberry, sage sink into the air, a ghostly embrace. Sitting amidst his shrine to her he allows himself to reflect.

Regret every overlooked sneer and snide comment. He doesn't see any of his friends, his brothers anymore. Nesta doesn't like them.

Rue every time he came home late, missed a date, was too tired to talk. He has a new job now, remote with flexible hours. It pays less but he still has his stocks and the nest egg he built breaking his back working for over a decade.

Rhys was frantic to keep him on. Bullshit talk about how he was spiralling, how she wasn't worth it. Punching that remark from his mouth, in front of the board, forced his termination quite effectively.

He has enough for Nesta to retire in the morning. He has enough to buy that fancy brie she likes, and handpainted books, and enough jewellery to fill a small store. He has enough to stay beside her so she won't have to miss him. 

He's even bigger now, all his free time spent in the gym, ignoring how eating so much protein makes him feel. She always liked feeling safe in his arms.

He's read all her books. Found her Goodreads and follows it like his gospel. Has watched every show, every podcast she consumed on their accounts.

He'll share all her likes. He'll never fight her on anything.

Once he earns her forgiveness they can be happy again.

*

She's coming back to town next month. A flying visit apparently. He's going to change that.

His chance is coming to show her how much better is.

The type of man she needs. The type she'll never leave. 

II

#nessian #cassian #nesta #acotar #acotar fanfic #nesta archeron deserves better #gemwrites

[separatist-apologist]

We Never Go Out Of Style

Could end in burning flames or paradise

Summary: When Gwyn breaks up with her boyfriend on the eve of Nesta's destination wedding, Nesta Archeron has only one objective: set Gwyn up with her high school crush.

Note: Based on this tweet from @heathermcwrites: "One of my bridesmaids just broke up with her bf who was supposed to come to my wedding & I was sad for her for about 3 seconds until I remembered that her crush will also be at the wedding (single) and I'm now more committed to this 2nd chance romance than to my own marriage."

"I should also note that this is a destination wedding so there are EVEN MORE opportunities for uh…shenanigans"

PROLOGUE- ten years earlier:

Gwyneth Bedara stepped beneath the overhead lights of the stadium, one hand raised over her eyes. The roar of the crowd was only dimmed by the unintelligible boom of the marching band sitting in the middle of the bleachers. Cheerleaders waved pom poms from the sidelines of the football field, drawing Gwyns attention to the boys in blue and gold uniforms, tensed as they waited for that whistle. 

Beside her, Nesta Archeron’s silvery blue eyes scanned the football players for the person she’d come to see—Cassian Windhaven. Star quarterback with a full ride to some D1 school that Nesta almost certainly wasn’t attending. Not that Gwyn would ever mention that, of course. She understood what it was like to have a crush. 

Her eyes slid over the crowd, looking for him. This game was important—it was homecoming and against a rival school. Senior year saw even the most apathetic of seniors show up for school spirit and events, and in the case of Azriel Valdez, he was hardly an exception. She found him lounging with Rhysand Darcel. They didn’t know her outside of Nesta, who had been dodging Cassian’s advances since the fifth grade.

This year was different, though Gwyn didn’t know how exactly. In the past, Nesta would have rather eaten dirt than come and watch Cassian play and she certainly wouldn’t have picked a seat close enough that both Rhys and Azriel could see. And they did, eyes drifting towards her with a smirk on their faces. 

“Scoot!” a masculine voice interrupted Gwyn’s thoughts. Lucien Vanserra had come to join, pushing between Gwyn and Emerie.

“Did you bring alcohol?” Emerie whispered, looking at the thermos in his hand. Lucien, their schools best soccer player, snorted a laugh.

“I wish. I can’t risk my spot up at Yale. This is water, you lush.”

Nesta wrinkled her nose, eyes sliding back to the field. For a moment, the four of them were quiet, trying to decide if they were going to pretend football was interesting and Nesta was there for the game and not the man currently streaking across the field, ball tucked beneath his arm.

“So,” Lucien said with a shit eating grin. “Cassian, huh?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. Leave it to a Vanserra to just come right out and say it. “How’s Elain?”

He scowled. Nesta wasn’t the only one with a crush. Gwyn couldn’t help but look back at Azriel, sitting to the left and six rows beneath her. He didn’t notice her at all, too busy staring at something on the field. She noticed him, though. She’d been noticing him since middle school when he’d transferred in and immediately made friends with Rhys and Cassian. Azriel was tall, all dark hair pushed off his face and warm brown skin. He’d been lanky back then but not anymore. He looked like a man at just eighteen, muscular and broad, his chiseled jaw always graced with a five o’clock shadow. Dressed in a black t-shirt and well fitted jeans, Gwyn couldn’t help but stare at his bulging bicep, already tattooed even though she’d heard he’d gotten in trouble with the school for it. 

He’d never noticed her and Gwyn didn’t blame him. Azriel was hot, he was popular, he was all the things Gwyn was not. While he played soccer with Lucien, Gwyn played chess and was in all the school musicals. The only reason he acknowledged her at all was Nesta, who was so stunning it was impossible not to, even if his best friend wasn’t stupidly infatuated with her. 

Still, in Gwyn’s fantasies—the ones she’d only ever dared to tell Nesta and Emerie—he saw her and he liked what he saw. Beneath the lanky frame and the freckles, he could see her instead of the outward dork everyone else saw. 

She realized too late he was looking at Elain Archeron. Fuck me, Gwyn thought miserably. Him and everyone else. He could get in line right behind Lucien, who was in a line behind her actual boyfriend, Graysen Nolan. And behind Azriel was the rest of the school, save for Cassian and maybe Rhys, who was too busy fucking anything and everything that moved to notice one solitary girl. 

Gwyn sighed, looking away before it soured her mood. At least he couldn’t have Elain. That made her feel a little better, but just barely. Gwyn threw herself into the conversation, forcing herself not to think of Azriel at all. He didn’t matter—he was just a stupid boy, always thinking with his stupid penis.  

The game ended in a win and as the crowd pushed outward, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie moved down, holding hands until they were standing at the railing. Cassian was jogging forwards, helmet tucked beneath his arm. He was grinning at Nesta, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. Long, dark hair was plastered on his ruggedly handsome face and without word or warning, Cassian surged upwards, practically throwing himself over the railing so he could grab Nesta and press a kiss to her mouth. Both Gwyn and Emerie slapped a hand over their own to keep from giggling. Behind Cassian, Rhys and Azriel were frozen, eyes wide with surprise. 

“When did this happen?” Azriel asked, his deep voice making Gwyn shudder.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Emerie replied easily, unmoved by his good looks. Nesta pushed, her face flushed but Cassian was undeterred.

“You came. I knew there was something lucky about this game,” he breathed. Sweat rolled off his forehead, dripping against his uniform. Nesta had her fingertips pressed to her lips and Gwyn knew, in that moment, Cassian had her. Her and Emerie reached for Nesta, curling their hands around Nesta’s arm and pulling her back.

It was at that exact moment that Azriel’s eyes slid to Gwyn, pinning her in place for only a moment. His mouth quirked into a smile, lips forming the words, “Hey,” to which Gwyn immediately responded, “Hey,” back.

Only for Elain Archeron to bounce into view. He wasn’t looking at Gwyn at all. Just Elain, in her tiny blue and gold skirt and her tanned legs. Golden brown hair, pulled off her face with a gold scrunchy swayed almost hypnotically, drawing Azriel’s gaze. Gwyn wanted to melt into the floor.

Elain, utterly unaware of how he watched her, smacked Cassian in the chest. “What is wrong with you?”

“She wanted it,” was Cassian’s absurd response. 

“Gross,” Elain replied, eyes sweeping over the three of them. “All of you are gross.”

Azriel’s smile immediately faded and Gwyn decided, in that moment, she liked the cheerleader, if only for making Azriel feel as badly as she currently felt. 

“It’s fine,” Nesta breathed, ending things before Rhys could jump in with his loud, unnecessary opinion. “Really. I uh…I’ll talk to you later, Cass.”

Rhys and Azriel’s faces lit up and the use of the nickname.

“Cass?” Rhys all but choked. “Should we be writing a wedding speech?”

“Shut up,” Cassian retorted, elbowing his friend hard in the ribs. “I’ll catch you around, Nes.”

“Oh my God,” Emerie whispered. 

They pulled Nesta back, Elain bouncing on their heels. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, though they were smart enough to say nothing as they thundered over the metal bleachers and down the steps to the pavement. Behind them, Rhys and Azriel were giving Cassian a very hard, very loud time. Nesta’s cheeks burned, either from humiliation or embarrassment. 

The very first thing Nesta said, once they reached the parking lot, was, “Don’t tell dad.” Elain scoffed but Emerie cut her off.

“What’s going on with you and Cassian?”

Nesta mumbled something hiding her face in her long, golden brown hair. 

“What was that?” Gwyn demanded, a grin stealing over her face. She had absolutely heard everything Nesta said.

“I said, he took me on a date the other night,” Nesta managed, her whole face the color of Gwyn’s hair. 

“And you don’t tell us?!” Emerie demanded, tossing her long, chestnut colored braid off her shoulder. 

“It didn’t mean anything,” Nesta, the liar, said.

“It clearly meant something to Cassian,” Elain interrupted with a sly smile. “If he’s calling you good luck.”

Nesta wrenched open the door to her car, letting Emerie take shotgun while Gwyn awkwardly climbed in the back beside Elain. 

“It’s not a big deal–”

“Does Cassian know that?” Gwyn teased. Nesta glanced in the rearview mirror at her, eyes sharp.

“Does Az know?” Nesta retorted.

“Oh hey, come on,” Emerie interjected as Elain sat forward, looking at Gwyn.

“You like Az?” she asked curiously. Gwyn was staring daggers at Nesta. The last thing she needed was Nesta’s busybody sister telling everyone that she liked Azriel.

Emerie smacked Nesta in the arm. “Way to be a bitch.”

“Elain isn’t going to say anything,” Nesta protested while Elain nodded, hand over her heart.

“I swear. I’m just surprised…he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“What does that mean?” Gwyn replied a touch too defensive.

“He’s—”

“An ass,” Nesta interrupted firmly. “And you’re not.”

“Huge ass,” Elain agreed solemnly. “Multiple girls at once—”

“One night stands only,” Nesta added.

“How do you know this?” Emerie demanded, arms crossed over her chest. Nesta pulled onto the road that would take them back to her house where they would sleep for the night.

“Cassian told me—”

“Oh Cassian?” Gwyn demanded, grateful for the conversation to fall off her. “What else did Cassain say?”

The three gleefully piled on Nesta, letting Gwyn’s humiliation with beautiful Azriel fall by the wayside. As long as he didn’t know, Gwyn didn’t care.

After all. The heart wanted what the heart wanted.

PRESENT DAY- 10 years later

Azriel felt a hand on his shoe, gripping before he was ripped from beneath the car he was working on. He grumbled, staring up into the face of his best friend. Cassian grinned, practically dripping with sweat.

“C’mon,” Cassian complained as Azriel sat up. “You’re gonna miss your fucking flight.”

Azriel wiped an equally sweaty forehead on his grease stained arm. 

“One more quick job,” he said, as if that had ever been true. He owned a string of repair shops around the city and on top of managing his business, he still liked to work on cars. Azriel had never stopped liking that, though he spent more time than he preferred sitting in an office pouring over paperwork. There was something cathartic about fixing a problem.

“Leave it for someone else,” Cassian ordered. He was allowed to be bossy—Cassian was getting married. After ten long years of trying to lock Nesta Archeron down, Cassian had finally managed it. He’d had her their senior year of high school and a semester of college before she broke up with him, citing the long distance. Cassian had never quit, though. While Rhys and Azriel had chased anything that moved on two legs, Cassian had been fixated on his studies and his athletics, determined that when Nesta finished law school, he’d be the kind of man she wanted.

And fuck if it hadn’t paid off. Four years apart had made adults of them both. They dated four years, were engaged for two and now Nesta was getting her two week destination wedding on some beachy little island off Italy courtesy of her younger sister's husband. The whole thing was paid for by Vanserra money so long as they kept it relatively small. It was practically a high school reunion. One Azriel wanted to attend, anyway. He knew Nesta’s old high school friends would be there and obviously Cassian had never grown out of him and Rhys. 

More Vanserra’s, which Azriel could live without, and a few others he ought to have known but didn’t. 

Azriel was also the only person without a plus one, at least in the immediate wedding party. Nesta had all but begged him to bring someone. How did he explain there was no one? Some people were destined for marriage, like Cassian and others were destined for sloppy one nights that ended awkwardly. He fell into the latter camp. 

Azriel slid beneath the car before Cassian could stop him, tightening everything up before he emerged, still filthy on the oil splattered cement floor.

“This place will live two weeks without you,” Cassian informed him, like Cassian had the first inkling of what it took to run his shops. Still, Azriel had agreed and wanted to support Cassian and Nesta, who were practically like a brother and sister to him now. 

“I need to shower,” Azriel told him, offering no more acknowledgement than that. “And get my shit. What time does the flight leave?”

“Six hours, but you know Nes is already freaking out. Shit is already messed up–”

“What happened?” Azriel asked, climbing into the passenger seat of Cassian’s SUV. He coached football for the local community college and was always hauling his gear around. Cassian could have gone pro and Azriel wondered if Nesta knew he’d given that up for her. 

“Gwyn’s boyfriend broke up with her–”

“Who is Gwyn?” Azriel interrupted, trying to keep all Nesta’s friends straight in his head. Cassian glanced over, pulling out onto the street.

“You remember Gwyn. From highschool? She’s got the reddish brown hair, the blue eyes—”

“Oh fuck, the girl in all those musicals. I remember her,” he agreed, though he remembered her just barely. Cute as fuck and so quiet Azriel had never been able to figure out what to say to her. She was overshadowed by Nesta, always half a step behind just watching. Azriel could appreciate that, given how loud Rhys and Cassian had been. 

“Why’d he dump her?”

Cassian shrugged. “She dodged a fucking bullet if you ask me. That dude was pretentious as fuck, thought he was so goddamn smart. Imagine lecturing Lucien goddamn Vanserra on American soccer. Because he did last Christmas. He thought he knew everything.”

Azriel could imagine it, though he wouldn’t have. There had always been a weird rivalry between him and Vanserra in high school over Elain Archeron, as if she’d ever looked at either of them twice. Still, they’d tried, and Vanserra had won in college. Azriel didn’t begrudge him his wife or his nice life but that didn’t mean he liked him, either.

The feeling was mutual. 

“Nesta’s freaking out,” Cassian continued. “She had it all planned on even numbers with her and the girls.”

“Huh,” was all Azriel could think to say. It seemed like Nesta had been freaking out about everything since Cassian asked her to marry him. Azriel wasn’t sure what the big fuss was. How difficult was planning a wedding, in the scheme of things? It seemed like Nesta made it more complicated when, at its more barest essentials, was supposed to be about her and Cassian confirming they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. 

While Cassian unloaded his frustrations about the wedding, Azriel very quickly showered and grabbed his suitcase and passport. Time was ticking and the closer they got to their flights departure, the antsier Cassian became. Four hours. That was the window Nesta wanted them all to be at the airport. To do what, who knew? Azriel wanted to die by the time they got there, rolled out of the uber, and into the modern airport. Cassian had a bag he needed to check but Azriel only had his rolling suitcase and a backpack—more than enough for two weeks. He figured he could iron out his suit when he arrived. He sure as fuck wasn’t risking an airline losing his bag just so it showed up a little nicer. 

By the time they got through security, it was clear he and Cassian were the last ones to arrive. Nesta was pacing, arms crossed over her dark sweatshirt. She relaxed her body, though her eyes stayed tight and to avoid a fight, Azriel held up both hands.

“Blame me,” he told her as she hugged Cassian. “I had to take a shower.”

She exhaled. “No, it’s fine. We’re early.”

Cassian looked over Nesta’s head at Azriel, eyes wide as if to say obviously. 

“Is everyone here?” Cassian asked. Azriel drifted, dropping into an ugly gray chair close to the window. He set his bag just beneath his feet and fished out his phone from his pocket, checking his messages for the first time that day. The girl from last weekend was still texting, so obviously hopeful something was going to come out of it. Azriel didn’t know how much more clear he could be without just hurting her feelings. He’d said he didn’t want a relationship and he’d meant it. She, like too many others, was convinced she could change his mind, if the half naked picture staring him in the face was any indication. 

Azriel’s eyes drifted towards the terminal he was sitting in. Cassian was holding Nesta, her chin on his chest while she rapid fire spoke to him. Not far was Elain Vanserra, head on Lucien Vanserra’s shoulder staring down at her phone while he dozed. How long had they been here, Azriel wondered. 

He recognized Emerie from instagram—he’d been following her since she opened a clothing boutique not far from one of his auto bodies. She had her fingers laced with Rhys’s cousin Mor, knuckles to her lips while she spoke quietly. Feyre Archeron was on the other side of Mor making polite conversation with Rhys, who looked so utterly bored Azriel wondered what Feyre could possibly be saying. 

A few seats away from him, sitting diagonally, was Gwyn. He recognized her, though might not have known her name if Cassian hadn’t told him in the car. Coppery brown hair was pulled off her face in twin plaits. Tight leggings encased slim legs and an equally athletic top gave Azriel the general shape of her. Had she been this hot in high school? He genuinely could not remember. 

Head buds in her ears, Gwyn didn’t notice he was staring but Azriel did. Her teal eyes were glazed over, framed by dark lashes. Her full lips were shiny, her nose covered in the softest dusting of freckles. This was the newly single friend of Nestas? 

She blew out a breath, eyes snagging on his. He raised a hand to say hey, as if they’d ever been that sort of friend, embarrassed she’d caught him. Gwyn pulled her headphones out, surprising lighting over her features.

“Oh hey,” she said, her voice soft and pretty. Could voices even be pretty? Hers was. Azriel stretched out his legs, feeling strangely tight. 

“Hey,” he replied, suddenly unsure what he should even say. “You’re coming too?”

“Gangs all here,” she agreed cheerfully, tucking her own legs beneath her body. Gwyn tapped her fingers against her thighs and Azriel noted they weren’t painted. He didn’t know why, but he liked that. Every girl he spent time with made such a fuss over their nails, but Azriel worked in oil. Was covered in it. Maybe he liked the thought of someone who didn’t seem to mind if she wasn’t done up all the time. Someone he could put his grease stained hands on.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He didn’t know this woman.

“Wish we didn’t have to get here so early, though,” Gwyn added conspiratorially. “I’m more of a running through the airport kind of girl myself.”

Azriel snorted. “Nesta is particular.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” she smiled and Azriel felt stupid in the light of it. “She deserves it, though, so I’ll be on time.”

Azriel nodded. “Cassian doesn’t. He’s still a bastard.”

She smiled again. “Best man?”

“Yup.”

Gwyn grinned. “Maid of honor. I guess we’ll be spending more time together.”

Hell yes.

“Lucky me, Gwyn,” he replied smoothly, privately delighted when she grinned ear to ear. 

“And here I was thinking you didn’t remember my name.”

“I saw Guys and Dolls,” he told her. That was true—Cassian had dragged both him and Rhys because Nesta had some small part and he had just started dating her. “You were Lola.”

Gwyn beamed, an absurd thing given that had been ten years ago.

“What do you do now?”

“Teach,” she replied easily. “College history. What about you?”

“Mechanic,” he replied, wondering if that made him look dumb. “I’ve got a bunch of shops.”

“Oh yeah! Emerie mentioned that, I totally forgot. How cool,” she said without an ounce of smug superiority. Azriel relaxed. Sometimes women liked to act like he was beneath them or they were doing him a favor just because he’d skipped out on college.

“Do you have a good seat?” she asked him. Azriel shook his head.

“I procrastinated. I’m in a middle seat.”

“Sit with me,” she offered. “It’ll make me feel like less of a loser and, as a bonus, you can have an aisle seat.”

Azriel pressed his lips together, eyebrows raised. “Awfully generous of you.”

“You can pay me back later by getting shit face drunk with me when we’re up in the air. We’ll need it given we’re across from Nesta and Cassian. They’re trying to join the mile high club.”

“Jesus Christ,” Azriel swore with a chuckle. “He doesn’t fit in one of those bathrooms.”

Gwyn nodded. “You’d be doing me a huge favor. No one will ask me about Jonathon.”

Jonathan. “Am I allowed to ask?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Maybe a little vodka will change your mind.”

She laughed. “I’ll take that wager.”

Competitive. He liked that. Azriel’s eyes swept over the terminal, catching on Nesta’s for just a moment. She was watching him, some unreadable expression on her face. Did she think he was up to something? Gwyn was nice and he was bored. He could make a friend, surely.

He shot Nesta a look back, one he hoped communicated he wasn’t up to anything nefarious, before turning back to Gwyn.

“If you get shitfaced, don’t ask me to carry your bags for you.”

“It’s gonna be you that’s shitfaced,” she shot back. “This is a nine hour flight. I’ve got nothing but time to drink you stupid.”

“Too late, Gwyn. I’m already stupid.”

She laughed, head thrown back, face filled with amusement. Fuck, but Azriel would have given anything to hear her laugh like that again. It was just a little pre-vacation magic, that was all. 

And Azriel desperately needed a little fun. 

GWYN:

True to her word, Nesta and Cassian were making out before everyone was even on board. Azriel was beside her, shoving his bag overhead since Nesta and Cassian’s things had to join their overhead bin. It was two spacious seats—big enough she could have curled her legs against Jonathon’s if she wanted to. 

She didn’t dare look at Azriel’s, stretched impossibly long into the seat in front of them. He was in basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt. It ought to have looked sloppy at best but with a face like his, he made it look like runway. He ran a broad hand through his thick, dark hair before turning to look at her with exasperation.

“Told you,” she said, pleased to be right. 

“Trade me,” he replied, as if Gwyn would ever give up a window seat. If the plane was going to crash, Gwyn needed to be able to watch the entire time. She could be a control freak that way.

Shaking her head, Gwyn pushed closer to her open window, looking down at the people in neon yellow vests loading up the luggage. She caught sight of her buttery yellow bag moments before it vanished. Good. This was a non-stop flight and she didn’t want to lose her bag. 

She relaxed into her seat. 

“Nope.”

“Tell me about Jonathon.”

She almost choked. As if she was going to tell Azriel, a literal Greek God come to life, anything about Jonathon. Everyone was dying to know and Gwyn had told a little white lie to keep her friends off her back. He dumped me meant everyone offered sympathy and generally didn’t bring him up.

I dumped him because he wanted to get married sounded a lot worse. It made her sound like a bitch even to her own ears. It was just…Jonathon was so pretentious, thought he was better than everyone because he had a PhD in literature, of all fucking things. He couldn’t write to save his life, despite talking about being a writer all the time. And Gwyn was tired of listening to self-aggrandizing lectures, his endless philosophizing, his moralizing. 

Case and point—Jonathon would never have agreed to get drunk on a plane with her. And if he’d caught Cassian and Nesta making out? He would have complained endlessly about how common people were. He couldn’t just have fun.

Scratch that. He wouldn’t have fun. And as the wedding drew closer, Gwyn panicked. She wanted a laid back vacation and when the words marriage came out of Jonathon’s lips, she’d asked to break up. She’d have to face the music and tell Nesta and Emerie eventually. Just not now.

Not when Emerie was showing off her new relationship with Mor and Nesta was focused on her impending nuptials. Gwyn could spend two weeks with her bare ass in the sand getting drunk in the sun and no one could stop her.

“Don’t ask me about Jonathon,” Gwyn replied easily. Azriel smiled—smirked, really—and she wished he wouldn’t. She’d forgotten all about her high school crush on him until she’d seen him in the airport. Azriel was aging like fine wine. He was absurdly attractive, more masculine than he’d ever been at eighteen. He was all broad muscle and smooth, brown skin set against the most incredible bone structure. And when his hazel eyes fell on her, Gwyn wanted to melt into her chair. 

“C’mon,” he cajoled. “If you can’t tell a total stranger something this personal, who can you tell?”

She started to respond, but the captain’s announcements and the stewardess silenced them both. Even Cassian and Nesta pulled apart long enough to watch the safety procedures. Azriel didn’t say another word to her until they were up in the air and that same stewardess was offering drinks. “Vodka sprite,” Azriel said easily, nodding towards Gwyn. “And jack and coke.”

“Are you ordering for me?” she demanded, wondering what it said about her that he’d guessed right.

“We can swap if you want,” was his easy reply. Gwyn had to look beyond him at Cassian and Nesta, back to kissing again. She didn’t know which was worse. 

Gwyn took her soda and her little mini bottles, shooting one back just as quickly as she could get the plastic red cap off. Azriel watched, mouth agape.

“Am I that bad of company?” he asked her, his tone laced with amusement. 

“Jonathon was an asshole,” she said, dumping the other little bottle into her plastic cup. “He wanted to get married.”

“Oh God. Not married,” Azriel teased. “I can see why that would be horrifying.”

“He was arrogant,” she tried to explain, unsure why it mattered if Azriel knew at all. “He thought he was better than everyone else and he never would have dated me if he thought I was smarter and that bothered me.”

“You need to be smarter than your boyfriend?” Azriel questioned, pushing open his soda with long fingers. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“No,” she said a shade too breathlessly. “But I don’t want someone dating me because they think I’m not as smart.”

“Ah, gotcha. So you dumped him?”

“It’s our secret, Az,” she informed him in her bossiest tone. “If Nesta finds out, she’ll try and set me up with one of her friends when we get back and they’re all lawyers.”

“Another unforgivable crime,” Azriel said with mock graveness. She watched, teeth biting her bottom lip, as he took a drink. She could have been eighteen again, if eighteen year old her had been able to string together six words to say to him. 

“I just want two weeks of uninterrupted fun,” Gwyn said, taking her own drink if only to calm her nerves. The rushing air of the plane was soothing, settling some of her nerves while the alcohol made her warm. 

“No strings attached fun? My specialty,” Azriel replied with an easy smile. God, she bet it was. “I’m single too, you know.”

“So is Feyre,” Gwyn was stupid to reply. Azriel scoffed.

“She’s been fucking Rhys for years.”

Gwyn gaped. “Does Nesta know?”

He shrugged. “I don’t partake in the gossip, I only know what Rhys tells me–”

“That’s the literal definition of gossiping,” she informed him. He shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“It’s engaging in a fact based discussion. I know more about naked Archerons than I ever wanted to.”

She didn’t bother asking if he’d ever gotten with Elain. She was very married, curled against Lucien’s shoulder just two rows back. It didn’t matter. 

“Well, if it helps, Nesta once sent us all a picture of Cassian’s penis so we could see it.”

“God, okay, that’s worse,” Azriel agreed with a strangled laugh. “Never do that to me.”

“How would I—”

He turned in his seat, holding his nearly empty cup. “You want no strings fun, right? And to keep your friends off your back? Hello, my name is Azriel. I’m your man these next two weeks.” God, she was going to puke. There was no way he was being serious. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she said before throwing back the rest of her drink. 

He shrugged those broad shoulders. “It doesn’t have to be like that. I’m not immune to Nesta’s antics, you know. Her lawyer friends are…”

“Stuck up?” Gwyn guessed. 

Azriel laughed. “Something like that. It could be pretend but if we’re being honest, I’d like it if it wasn’t.”

Oh God, oh God. She licked her lips. She was hallucinating. The plane was spiraling towards the earth and she’d blacked out due to lack of oxygen. He was—

“We could beat Nesta and Cassian to that bathroom,” he added, watching her carefully. Gauging, she realized. 

Gwyn swallowed. She couldn’t believe she was entertaining this. If he’d been anyone else she would have laughed in his face. “There should be rules.”

“Hit me with them,” he said agreeably, his focus wholly on her. 

“Just two weeks. Nothing else,” she breathed, wondering if the sex would live up to her now active imagination. Surely something had to give. He was compensating somewhere, she bet. Small dick, a quick fuck. She’d do this and he’d disappoint her and she’d be able to relax.

“Works for me.”

“We tell no one that this means nothing,” she added. 

“Who would I tell? My friends aren’t exactly lining up to talk to me.”

“If we get caught I’ll blame this on you.”

“Harsh but I’ll take it. C’mon. Come to the bathroom with me.”

“You know all the right things to say,” she replied dryly. 

But she was going to do it, damn her. 

AZRIEL:

Maybe Nesta was right to be suspicious of him. She was still sucking face with Cassian three hours into the flight. The lights were off, shades closed and the stewardesses had retreated. He and Gwyn had been talking and watching a movie, waiting for the right moment. He’d never done this before and his heart was pounding. If they got caught he was sure they’d be banned and how the fuck would he get home, then? By boat? 

He was willing to risk it. Stretching his legs, Azriel slid into the aisle and walked past rows of sleeping people for the bathroom. It wasn’t as small as he’d thought it would be but was hardly big enough to do anything but hold her up against the sink and fuck her stupid. Maybe, he’d be able to get on his knees and eat her out, but that seemed like it was pushing it. 

He kept the door unlocked and when it pulled open, Gwyn slid right in like she was utterly alone.

“Did anyone see you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Nope,” she replied, so deliciously close he could smell the soft, sweet smell of whatever shampoo she wore wafting off her.

“Good,” he whispered, reaching for her face. He knew they had to be somewhat quick and yet he needed to kiss her, to grope just a little. Otherwise she wouldn’t be wet and it wouldn’t be fun for her. Two weeks of easy pussy was the best deal Azriel ever made. 

Gwyn kissed him back, hands at her sids at that first touch. 

Hurry up, motherfucker, his cock screamed at him. Grumbling to himself, Azriel used that moment to reach beneath her cute ass and haul her up against the sink. Her legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing just enough to make his eyes roll in his head. He was semi-hard just at the thought of fucking on the plane but now he was nearly fully erect.

His tongue swept into her mouth as she slid her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the muscle just beneath. Women liked that which was good, because Azriel liked pleasing women. He swallowed the urge to be noisy in favor of palming her breast through her shirt and bra. 

No time, hurry up.

Gwyn seemed to be thinking the same, yanking his shorts off his hips. She broke the kiss to look, those big teal eyes widening at the sight of his thick, large cock. He couldn’t suppress a grin even as he said, “Hips up, baby.”

She did, letting him shimmy her out of her leggings and striped pink underwear. She was nearly bare save for a neatly trimmed strip of copper hair he immediately wanted to put his face in. There was no way he’d fit, not even if he knelt sideways.

“I’m gonna eat that pussy when we land,” he told her, kissing against her jaw while using his thumb to rub against her clit. She’d taken the base of his cock, stroking it in her soft, small hand.

He just barely fit and the sight was doing it for him. 

“All men say that,” she replied, challenge sparking in her eyes. 

“Trust me,” he whispered, digging out the condom he had in his wallet to roll it over his cock. She was slick enough and he hardly had the time to see her drenched. Six hours and they’d be at the resort Vanserra set up. He’d find her room and put that pretty body on his face for hours. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pushing himself into her. She gasped, nails digging through the fabric of his shirt. “You’re fucking tight.”

She took a breath, licking the side of his neck. Gwyn began nipping little bites before soothing over his skin, the sensation driving him wild. He wanted to fuck this woman with the proper space. There was no time for regret, not when he was seated in her. One palm braced on the sink, Azriel thrust into her tight, wet pussy while his other hand when back to rubbing at her clit. He’d feel her come or he’d get banned from flying ever again.

“That’s it,” he praised when her skin began to flush the prettiest shade of pink. “You fuck my cock so well, baby.”

She curled a hand at the nape of his neck, threading her fingers through his hair to tug. Her breath and the wet slap of their skin was the only sound Azriel could hear as he prayed no one walked by. There would be no denying what was happening in here.

She was panting. “So needy,” he praised, his release pooling in the base of his shaft. “Are you going to come all over my cock, baby? Make a mess of me.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered, arching against him. She tightened and Azriel sped up, thrusting into her roughly, chasing the building pleasure until he was nearly delirious with it. Azriel pressed his mouth against hers, privately impressed he was keeping his rhythm despite all the things he was trying to do with his body. 

Gwyn bit his bottom lip hard, causing him to clench his ass to keep from coming. He was so fucking close, needed to push her over that ledge, too. Gwyn panted, kissing him frantically. He felt her come apart—her clit shuddered against his thumb while her pussy convulsed against him with wave after wave after wave, milking his own release from his aching cock. He jerked into her, pushing further until there was nowhere to go. 

If that's what she felt with a condom on, how would she feel without one? He didn’t think he wanted to know. Still, he kissed her again and again, until his pulsating heart stopped throbbing in his balls and he could pull out of her without wanting to die.

“Good?” he asked her, cupping her face.

“Good,” she agreed. She was quick to pull up her pants and adjust her shirt, look herself over in the mirror before walking right out as if he wasn’t standing right there with a half hard dick wrapped in a filled condom. He admired her confidence. 

Closing the door quickly, Azriel found a little trash can. He wrapped the condom up in a layer of toilet paper, yanked up his own pants, and washed his hands before emerging a respectable amount of time later. Anyone watching them carefully might realize what had happened.

And lucky for them, no one was. When he returned, wobbling against the rocking plane, Gwyn was curled back up, eyes on a new movie starting on the screen in front of her. Azriel grabbed one of the earbuds and jammed it into his own, plopping into his seat with a groan. He’d be asleep in ten minutes if he was lucky.

“Don’t forget,” he murmured, leaning his head close to hers. 

Gwyn smiled.

“I won’t.” 

#gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fanfic #getting the holy ground treatment #never forget elain and lucien fucked on the first date too #not in an airplane bathroom but you know gwyn and az are a different breed #elucien got the boat

[anarchiii]

In holy matrimony —ACOTAR AU (bonus chapter)

Azriel x Gwyn | warnings: fluff | bonus chapter

Summary:

Note: this is an AU, it’s not in the books.

Masterlist

Gwyn’s POV (set in the past)

The day had finally arrived, Gwyn was getting married, and not to anyone—the perfect male, Azriel. They had been in a relationship for a year or two before Azriel popped the question…

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sky quite so bright, isn’t it amazing Az?” She said, Azriel had taken her on a walk along the Sidra, it was their favourite thing to do—especially at night, Velaris would light up under the stars, and it was an extraordinary sight to behold.

When Azriel didn’t answer her after a few moments, she turned around to see him down on one knee, a black box opened to show a silver ring with a sapphire imbedded into it, smiles met both of their faces as Azriel looked deep into her eyes. “Gwyn. I have loved you ever since we met, I might have not have known it at the time but I think some part of me knew, I’m not sure if you are my mate but it doesn’t matter if you are or are not, I’ll still love you no matter what the Mother or the cauldron might say. You make my shadows dance. You make smiles so easy wear.” He whispered to her, pure, unfiltered love swam in his eyes. Before she knew it. Salty tears were spilling out of her eyes. “Gwyneth Beradara, will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, yes” she breathed. The smile Azriel had was brighter than any star could be, she moved towards him and he took her hand softly, he carefully took the ring out of its box and slid it in her finger, “it’s beautiful Az…” “it was my mother’s, she wanted me to give it to my future bride” the sapphire—she realised, was nearly identical in colour to Azriel’s Siphons. She loved that. It was like having a little piece of him wherever she went.

He got up from his position, now towering over her, she bent her head up at met his whiskey eyes, she got on her tippy-toes and connected her lips with his. His tears fell onto her face but she kept kissing him, she wrapped her arms around his neck so they were closer. Yes, she would happily spend the rest of her life with him, without doubt.

“Are you ready Gwyn?” Emerie chirped, startling her, she stood up off the stool she was sitting on, she’d been admiring her hair in the mirror when she had gotten lost in the past. As usual. Her friend gasped as she fully looked at her, “oh wow, aren’t you the most beautiful bride?” She smiled at that, it wasn’t often she looked at herself and thought she was beautiful but this, this was an exception, Gwyn was in a long white dress with flowers adorning her arms like sleeves, matching flowers were braided in her hair. Which was flowing down her back like the Sidra. A gold—almost silver—and pearl tiara lay on her head, she had on a beautiful matching necklace that was gifted to her from Mor. Her earrings were the same as the necklace and tiara. She wore light makeup, not intricate but still elegant, “here” Emerie said, giving her, her bouquet. It was filled with lavender, baby’s breath and mint, wrapped with a silk ribbon. Emerie wore a simple grey dress that had a ribbon tied around the waist. Another ribbon was tied into her hair, her makeup silver themed, she held her own bouquet which was a miniature one of the one she was holding, “C’mon, the ceremony is starting! You don’t want to be late to your own wedding do you?” The Illyrian grabbed her hand and led her to the big mahogany doors that would lead to the wedding. Nesta passed her with a wink and passed through the doors—which were opened using magic—she caught a glimpse of the ceremony but nothing more. The music was starting to get louder, the violin’s melodies stretching across the room’s with every stroke of the bow, Emerie was next, she kissed her cheek before she glided through the doors, when the violin hit its crescendo she sucked in a breath and let the doors open. both of the bridesmaids were through the door it was now time for the bride, it was now or never.

Azriel’s POV

To say he was nervous is an understatement, he was about to marry the woman of his dreams and he could not stuff this up, he kept fidgeting with his bow tie until Rhys had to slap his hand away, he watched the bridesmaids walk down the isle, they both looked beautiful, yes. they could not compare to Gwyn’s beauty, speaking of. The music hit the high note and then the doors were opening once again. But instead of a woman walking out a goddess did, that’s the only way he could explain her. She gracefully walked down the aisle to him, her hair like the finest wine, her startling blue eyes like the rarest gemstones. How did he get so lucky?

He stood face to face with Gwyn, both, looking deep into each other’s eyes, “ahem” a voice said—no, Rhys said. They both looked to their high lord. “Shall we start?” They nodded their heads, Rhys motioned for everyone to sit, he looked back at his fiancé. She met his eyes instantly. A small smile grazed her lips and he returned it with his own, “we are gathered here today to witness the unconditional love between Azriel and Gwyneth, to bond them for life. They may not be mate’s—to our knowledge—but the bond is just as strong.” Azriel couldn’t to stop smiling, from the look on Gwyn’s face, it was the same for her, his high lord turned to him, Violet meeting whiskey eyes.

“You deserve this brother.” Rhys said to him through his mind. “I know” he said back. Yes he did deserve this, he had spent far to long telling himself he didn’t deserve this, but he knew now, Rhys smiled at that.

“Azriel L/N, do you take Gwyneth Beradara to be your lawfully wedded wife? through thick and thin? through sickness and in health? through life and death? No matter what may befall you both?” He questioned.

“Yes, I do” he said, yes, a million times yes, he’d never felt so right about one word. The high lord nodded back.

“Gwyneth Beradara, do you take Azriel L/N to be your lawfully wedded husband? Through thick and thin? Through sickness and in health? Through life and death? No matter what may befall you both?”

“Yes, I do” she breathed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Then by the power vested in me and the high court, I pronounce you both husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.” Rhys said with a smile, but a second later that smile dropped off his face, “wait, where are the rings?”

Panic filled his wife’s eyes—could he even call her that until they had exchanged rings?—where the hel were the rings?

“Right here! I got it!” He heard Cassian call, he watched the lord of bloodshed quickly get onto the alter, pulling something out of his breast pocket and holding out his hand, two rings lay on the pad of his hand.

He plucked one of the rings up—it was a beautiful thing, silver with a pearl in the middle—he grabbed Gwyn’s hand and slid the ring on her ring finger, —he had a sudden Deja Vu moment of him proposing—she pulled her hand away from his and grabbed the other ring, a plain silver ring—simple but so,so, special.—she slid the ring on his hand, meeting his eyes. “Okay, now you can kiss you bride” Rhys said.

Azriel chuckled and pulled his wife—his wife, he could finally call her that—to him and connected his lips with her’s, they pulled away before it became improper.

They walked off the alter and down the isle as they made their way outside, they had a carriage waiting that would take them to The townhouse, where they’d have dinner and dancing, once they were in front of the carriage they both turned around, “throw the bouquet dammit!” Mor yelled. Gwyn laughed before getting ready to throw it. All the women braced themselves, Gwyn threw the bouquet and they watched all the unmarried/not mated females go for it, Azriel turned back to the carriage and so did his wife, opening the carriage door. He stretched out his arm. She placed her hand on his and he led her into the carriage. They sat down on the plush seats, Azriel immediately pulled his wife into his side and kissed her head, “we deserve this, you and I” he told her, she nodded in agreement.

. . .

“Then what happened?” Edven asked.

“What do you mean what happened? I told you, we got married, there’s not much else.” Azriel said.

“We can always tell him about the after party” His wife chimed in. “Yes! Yes! Tell me what happened at the after party!”

“That’s a story for another night, it’s time for you to sleep Eddie”

“But dadddddd, I want to know!”

He just kissed his son’s head and tucked him in tighter, “goodnight Edven.” The child groaned in annoyance in response. Gwyn let out a soft laugh before kissing his head as well “night night baby.” They closed the door behind them, he felt his wife’s arms wrap around his waist, her head on his back, “I love you” she murmured behind him, “I love you too”

The End.

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@illyrianbitch

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#fantasy #sjm universe #books #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #sarah j maas #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x gwyn #sarah j mass #azriel fluff #acotar fluff #gywnriel

[moosekateer13]

Chapter 11: Electric Touch

3 weeks later…

Canyonwood Ridge Chapel

Drippings Springs, Texas

Well, today is the big day Jared and I are getting married. I'm so nervous. 

I look at myself in the mirror. This silk dress with lace overlay and beaded straps is gorgeous. For something old and borrowed I'm wearing my mom’s veil, the one she wore at her wedding to my dad.

My bouquet contains lavender and tiger lilies with ribbons from the dresses Emery and Odette wore when they were little. Lavender is my favorite flower while tiger lilies were my grandmother’s. I remember her planting them when I was a kid. It's a way of having her here; she's no longer with us. Both of my parents will walk me down the aisle. 

Emery is my maid of honor of course I wouldn't have it any other way. Holy, Genevive, Megan, and Hilarie are my bridesmaids. Who would've thought Hilarie would even be one of them? We've grown close in the last couple of years.

Jared’s brother Jeff is his best man. Jensen, Jeff, Anson and Cliff are his groomsmen.

Okay, my dad’s here it's time.

Jared’s smile could light up the room. The loving look he gives me while I make my way down to him makes my heart skip a beat.

My parents hand me off to Jared.

“Okay, we are gathered here today to join Y/N Y/L/N and Jared Padalecki in holy matrimony. The bride and groom have written their own vows.”  Pastor Hudson Cofrancesco said.

“I've witnessed true love once in my life and that is my parents. Who has been married for over 3 decades. I never thought I'd find it but you proved me wrong when you walked into my life. You make me feel loved and cherished. I promise to make you feel the same way as long as we both shall live.” I said.

“It's been a long road for both of us to get where we are now. I'm forever lucky you ended up coming into my life. I will continue to make you feel loved and cherished for the rest of our lives.”Jared said.

“Jared and Y/N will now exchange rings.” Pastor Hudson Cofrancesco said.

“Jared take this ring as a symbol of my promises today,” I said as I slipped the silver band on his ring finger.

“Y/N take this ring as a symbol of my promises today,” Jared said as he slipped the matching silver band on my finger.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife Jared, you may kiss your bride.” Pastor Hudson Cofrancesco said 

Jared eagerly pulls me into his arms and we exchange a passionate kiss.

“Now presenting Mr. and Mrs. Jared Tristan Padalecki.” Pastor Hudson Cofrancesco said with a smile. 

Jared and I walk arm and arm down the aisle.  I feel all warm and blissful. I never thought I would feel this happy.

Our guests blow bubbles as we exit the church as we make our way to the impala.

We head off to our reception at Jensen’s Brewery.

The place is gorgeously decorated in Our colours for the wedding blue with a hint of lavender.

After the speeches are done, and the dinner is eaten. We share our first dance to Taylor Swift’s Electric Touch. It fits our relationship so well since his touch brought my heart back to life. Regarding believing in love.

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch (oh)

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm

#Electric Touch #Jared Padalecki x reader #Former Jensen Ackles x reader #Former! Jeffery Dean Morgan x reader #supernatural fanfiction #moosekateer13 #Warnings: Angst #Smut #Mention of Breakup #Unrequited Love #Fluff #Shaming #Cyberbullying #Harrassment

[climbthemountain2020]

Hope of Spring - Chapter 19

Find this also on Ao3

Ch. 18 here :)

Penny was looking out over the snowy-peaked mountains of Velaris, wondering how the stars managed to shine so brightly here all the time, when she got pelted in the head with a snowball.

“Ow.” She whipped around to Nesta, grinning happily at her with hands behind her back. Penny brushed the snow out of her hair and stuck out her tongue.

“Are you coming inside or not, dumbass?” Nesta asked, hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. Penny returned her smile and walked over to grasp Nesta’s outstretched arm in hers, swaying a bit as the fae wine reminded her it was still swimming delightedly through her veins.

“It’s pretty out here, dumbass. I’m sorry if I wanted to take in the sights while I visit.”

“You’re literally here twice a week. Do you not see the sights often enough? There’s chocolate indoors. And dirty books. And an army of tiiiiiny baby pegasi that may or may not be making an appearance later. It is obviously the superior location.” The two wound through the halls of the House of Wind until they reached the private library. Gwyn, Emerie, Mor, Elain, and Nuala were already there, draped over various couches and pillows, treats everywhere, with a fire blazing in the massive fireplace.

“No Feyre today? I thought Amren and Varian had the kids?”

“They do,” Nuala chimed in. “So Feyre is taking the time to sleep.” She grinned. The children of the Night Court were absolutely wild, and the High Lord and Lady notoriously took every break they could to squeeze in a nap or other activities when they had the chance.

Penny grinned and plopped down in a mountain of pillows next to Gwyn and the fireplace, picking up a plate of macarons and shoving a sparkly purple one into her mouth.

“It’s fucking cold outside.” Penny forced out through a mouthful of sugar. “This fire is nice.” Emerie tossed a pillow that hit her smack in the face.

“Chew with your mouth closed, you heathen,” Mor teased, easing an arm around Emerie’s back, draping it over her wings. “Were you raised with beasts?”

“No, just one that she currently lives with.” Nesta joked, earning the same pillow thrown at her in retaliation.

“Rude.” Penny laughed. She’d never really had girl friends, not like this. In the two months since the High Lord’s meeting, she’d begun coming to Velaris twice a week for training with the Valkyries, as well as the occasional dinner and girls night. At first, she had been nervous to join a circle of so many close-knit friends, but they invited her in as one of their own and she’d found she fit right in with them. In a group so large, there was rarely a chance to feel left out or unnoticed–and someone was always prying about wedding plans.

Penny had been content to simply drag Tamlin to a temple and wed him as soon as they’d returned from the summit, but Feyre and crew had caught wind and decided that absolutely not. So, here they were now, a girls’ night a week away from a wedding ceremony. All the plans had been checked and double checked, the dresses and flowers purchased, the food planned, and the guest list finalized. Penny was just ready to be married, having already been mated for months. It all felt rather like a formality at this point, but Tamlin seemed so excited that she could let him have this. She had already planned on forever, but it was nice to see him looking forward to something with such vigor.

She’d never ask, but she got the feeling with how much effort Feyre had put into the planning of everything, that this was her way of silently making up for the past. She knew Tamlin’s last wedding had not exactly panned out, what with her being the runaway bride, so she was doubling down efforts to make sure this was exactly the kind of wedding he’d always hoped for. Penny could deal with that. In fact, the thought alone warmed her heart, and she missed him suddenly.

Training with the Valkyries had been eye-opening and body breaking. She hadn’t known exactly what to expect, having been doing strength training with both Tamlin and Cassian before, but the first day with the girls had just about split her apart. These females meant business, and now, two months later, Penny was proficient with more weapons than she’d ever known had existed before. The camaraderie had been an added bonus that filled her with joy at every turn, and she knew that she’d forged a lifelong bond with these people.

“Penny, when are you going to cut the ribbon? If you do it before your wedding, you could always wear it in your hair.” Gwyn was always pushing her in that quiet yet fiery way. Penny had learned quickly that people took Gwyn’s shyer nature and immediately underestimated her abilities, making her deadly and efficient. It was no wonder that she and Azriel made such a good pair.

Penny leaned back over the pillows, stretching. “Well, shit. Let’s go do it now.”

Mor shrieked. “Ah! Yes! Now?? Like right now?”

“Yes, right now.” Penny jumped back up. Emerie did the same and stumbled.

“But we’ve all been drinking.” She cackled, righting herself.

“Okay, so if I can’t do it, no one will remember. Perfect.” She giggled and began towards the hallway that would lead out towards the large balcony and training ring. “Fetch my sword, Master at Arms!” She laughed uproariously, vaulting over the couches. Nesta sprinted ahead to grab the swords and set up the ribbon, and the girls all filtered out together.

“What are the odds I do this without injuring myself?” Penny mused as she walked outdoors.

“Non-zero,” laughed Elain lightly, pulling the soft blanket she’d brought out with them to cover her belly, now showing very prominently through all her dresses.

Nesta handed Penny the sword and said “Okay, Valkyrie. Show us what you’re made of.” She stood back with the others, crossing her arms and waiting with anticipation.

Penny sidled up to the arch holding the ribbon, positioned herself and the sword, and closed her eyes as the cold breeze fluttered around her, tossing her hair around her face. Though these were just the drunk antics of friends, she knew how important this moment truly was in her heart. If she failed, she could always chalk it up to a night of drinking and try again another time. But she would not fail.

Penny kept her eyes closed and breathed deeply. Almost nine months ago, she’d been another person in another world. Someone directionless and lonely. She’d longed deeply for the push to be something more–to make all those motionless years count for something. She’d found that meaning–or, rather, that meaning had found her. With this incredible group of people, with Tamlin, she had healed. All the different broken pieces of her, scattered to the wind for so long, had been forged into something new, something stronger. And all these wonderful souls had filled the gaps and made her so much stronger than before.

She was a friend, a mate, a warrior. A Valkyrie.

She opened her eyes and, before she could second guess herself, she slashed lightning-fast across the arch. At first, she thought she’d missed it entirely, but then the ribbon fluttered delicately to the ground beneath the arch.

Silence. Utter silence.

Then nothing but screams and shrieks filled the air as all of the females crashed into her, forming a massive, jumping pile around her. A chorus of You did it! We knew you could! One of us! That’s our girl!

The tears came unbidden to Penny’s face as she grasped onto these people who she cared so deeply for now.

“Oh, Penny, don't cry.” whispered Nuala.

“I am just…so incredibly thankful for all of you. Thank you.” She bowed her head and held them all closely, grabbing onto as many of them as she could hold. They surrounded her as the flapping of great wings filled the air above the ring. The girls split apart as Cassian and Azriel let the night air catch their wings and drop them slowly down, and Tamlin and Lucien appeared in the sky above the wards and slammed down to the landing.

“What are all you lovely ladies doing out here so late?” Cassian asked, strutting over to throw his arms around Nesta and kiss the crown of her head as she leaned in.

“Penny cut the ribbon!” Elain said proudly, picking it up off the ground and pressing it into Penny’s hands. She looked down at it as if she still couldn’t believe it herself. Tamlin’s hands came to gather around hers, holding the ribbon with her.

“My little Valkyrie.” He kissed her once. Twice. “I’m proud of you.” She looked up at him, his eyes staring deep into hers.

“Did you and the boys have fun training?” She elbowed him. She loved that he found such companionship within the Night Court now. He and Cassian, especially, had become close in the past months. She knew he’d been sorely in need of male friends, and every time he came with her to the Night Court, she knew his heart opened just a bit more. They’d appointed a small court at home to help when they left for a day or two at a time, and she could tell the time away was doing him good.

“Yes, though Rhys bailed early to go home and ‘sleep’.” Azriel raised an eyebrow as he said the words. He leaned down to whisper, not so quietly, into Gwyn’s ear. “Maybe you and I should go to sleep, too, love.” Gwyn squeaked, turned the brightest of reds, slapped him on the chest, then grabbed his hand in hers and pulled him towards the house.

“Night, everyone!” She shouted behind her, as she and Azriel ran into the house like giggling children.

“A house of teenagers, I tell you.” Lucien grumbled, halfheartedly. “Though, we should probably head to bed, as well. Elain has an appointment early tomorrow. Nesta, do you mind if we stay in the room here tonight?”

“Not at all, if you don’t mind an earful. You know you share a wall with them now.” She shot a pointed look back at the house. “Amazing there aren't any more bat babies running around this city.”

“You’re one to talk.” Penny laughed. “I’ve stayed here enough to know better.”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of you, Miss Briggs.” She shot a look at Tamlin and pointed. “You, too, you great beast.” He laughed and shrugged, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “You are all, of course, welcome to stay here, but I will be heading to bed. Rhys said he and Feyre will be coming up early tomorrow. He found some additional books in Helion’s library that he thought we might be able to look through for more information.”

They’d been doing a great deal of research on everything from her powers, to Vassa’s curse, to Death Gods and more with very little to show for it. Most of what they found was poorly researched and even more poorly translated, but they pushed forward in hopes they would find anything helpful before war was upon them.

Elain had had another vision of the battle with Koeschi alerting them that he was using a human army, Lord Nolan’s army specifically, as well as cast offs from Hybern. Her vision had shown snow on the ground like Penny’s first vision, so they knew the time was coming soon. After the summit meeting, it had been determined that Vassa would send word when she was summoned back to the lake, and that would be the signal for all the courts to converge into the human lands.

Penny hadn’t managed any more visions of the battle, though she’d seen the original vision four more times. Past that, all her visions were of scattered, scrambled, inane things that no one could make sense of. Sometimes, she’d have visions of events that had already occurred, but that wasn’t very helpful to anyone. She’d seen the second task that Feyre and Lucien had faced Under the Mountain once, much to everyone’s displeasure. She’d also witnessed a vision where Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys were chased through the woods of Illyria as children for prodding a sleeping beast. That one, at least, had been funny.

However, the most interesting development was that Penny was retaining more and more powers between contact with the magic of others. She had fire power almost constantly now, and even when she wasn’t focused in on Elain’s powers, she would have small, fragmented visions of things. She recorded each and every vision she had, nonsensical or otherwise, and she shared them all with the Inner Circle every time she came to the Night Court.

Penny and Tamlin had gotten used to staying at the House of Wind when they visited, having become so close with Nesta and Cassian. And the house adored them both, too. When they returned to the room, it had already drawn Tamlin a warm bath with cedarwood oils, and had turned down thick, soft covers for Penny, with a brand new book and cup of tea on the nightstand.

Penny sighed contentedly. Thank you, house. She settled in with her book, sipping her tea until her eyes grew heavy and she laid down. A bit later, she felt the bed dip behind her as Tamlin blew out the candles and lay down behind her, curled tightly to her back. He wound an arm around her waist and pulled her gently back to his chest, breathing deeply with his nose tucked into her hair. She was so close to sleep, so she let herself remain still and quiet so she could drift gently off tucked against him. Then, quiet as a whisper on a breeze, Tamlin spoke into the darkness.

“I can never repay you for what you’ve given me, Penny. This is a life I never dreamed I could have. I love you.” She let the love flow down the bond and embrace her warmly. In that moment, with the hallowed ribbon resting on the bedside table and her heart resting behind her, Penny knew that this was the adventure she’d prayed for.

______________________

When Penny and Tamlin came down to breakfast the following day, Rhys and Feyre had already arrived with large, dusty tomes in hand, and the house had provided a massive spread of food. As people filtered in to sit around the table, Penny grabbed a pastry and shoved it into her mouth. She’d slept hard, though she’d had a few restless dreams that felt like visions, and hadn’t wanted to remove herself from the warm bed or her mate this morning. She kept seeing bloody hands grasped, fire engulfing them both, and shadowy figures darting around them. She felt a little like her head had been filled with cotton this morning, and she wasn’t looking forward to mountains of research. The pastries and hot tea helped, at least a little.

Penny pulled her legs up to her chest in a chair and stretched to pull a large book that appeared older than the mountain itself to her. “Have you found anything interesting yet?” Rhys shook his head.

“I just started looking through them last night, but no, nothing new.” They’d been searching the last few months for any history of someone with powers like hers, trying to see any additional advantage they could possibly have. They felt they knew about as much information as they were going to get about Koeschi. At this point, they were just preparing as best as they could, and looking for any additional loopholes to help them.

They all sipped their tea and ate breakfast as others came and went as their morning’s allowed. A few times, one of them would pause and write something down, but it was all mostly things they’d already come across by this point. After a few hours, and once Elain and Lucien had returned with a clean bill of health for her and the baby, Rhys sat up a bit straighter and shuffled the pages on his book, which caught Penny’s attention.

“Find something?” She asked, tiredly, stretching her arms far above her head and allowing her back to pop satisfyingly. She slumped over onto Tamlin, who also closed his book and leaned back.

“It’s not exactly like your mirroring, but it is sharing power. It’s somewhat like what happened with Feyre and I when we repaired the cauldron. I can barely make out the translation, but it looks like it’s a process of combining magics.”

“Sharing, or mimicking? As far as we’ve seen, I don’t share or take anything, I just copy it.” Rhys nodded, running his hand over his jaw. Feyre came up behind him and leaned over his shoulder to read.

“This seems more like someone borrowing power from someone they trust, so not exactly the same.”

Feyre put her finger to the page and read aloud. “When one has exhausted all of their own power, their carranam can yield their power to them.” Rhys hummed in response, pointing further down the page.

“This isn’t like Penny, though. See? It says here that the power given does not manifest in the receiver as the giver’s power. It only bolsters the receiver’s own power.” Penny deflated, and everyone else at the table seemed to lose the wind in their sails, too.

“Well, it may be a dead end, but it’s the closest we’ve gotten. I can keep checking,” Feyre offered. Penny pushed back from the table.

“I think my eyes need a break. Plus, we need to get back to Spring soon. The last minute planning has me meeting with people all day at this point.” She rubbed her eyes. “Is it alright if I take the book I was reading? I can try to double down on research home.

Rhys nodded, eyes still on the old book he flipped through.

“We’ll see you both in a few days.” Feyre offered, smiling warmly. Tamlin gathered the book Penny had been reading and tucked it under his arm, leading them back to their room to grab their things. As they left the room, he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Don’t worry, Penny. We’re going to find something. There’s still time.”

For everyone’s sake, she hoped so.

_________________________

Penny snuggled farther into the blanket Tamlin had wrapped around her as she scooted closer to the blazing fireplace in their room. It had been substantially colder upon their return to Spring, reminding them in no uncertain terms that the battle with Koeschi was nearing every day.

She thumbed through the old book aimlessly, flipping through the same few pages that she’d already read over and over. She could hear Tamlin rustling around in the study down the hall, so she shut the book, stood, and concentrated on winnowing onto his desk with a smirk. His startled yelp told her she’d been successful.

“Remind me why I taught you to winnow if you’re only going to use it to scare me half to death?” She laughed at his startled expression, leaning in to give him a kiss.

“Come to bed. If I read any more today, my eyes might fall out of my head.” She slumped back onto the desk dramatically. Tamlin let his fingers ghost across her neck as her eyes met his. He trailed them down her collarbones to her chest and rested them over her heart.

“You found something, didn’t you?” Penny’s eyes filled with tears and her lip wobbled as she caught it between her teeth, nodding. Tamlin gathered her in his arms at once and winnowed them to their bed, holding her to him closely.

“I saw it yesterday. I brought the book hoping it was a mistake. I don’t think it is.” Her breathing turned ragged as the tears streamed down her face. “A Death God can only be defeated by power a match to their own. I think it’s me. I have to get close enough to get his power to kill him.”

To his credit, Tamlin held her and nodded, stroking soft caresses down her spine as she heaved.

“Tam, I’m scared. I don’t want them to know, but I’m so afraid. What if this was the sole reason I was sent here? I don’t want to die.” She clutched his shirt in her fists and sobbed. “I don’t want to die. I want to be with you. I want to be old and happy centuries from now. I know it’s selfish, but I haven’t had enough time with you yet. It’s not fair. It’s cruel. I’m finally happy for the first time in my life, and it’s all going to be taken away.” Deep cries shook her body as she curled into him, unwilling to let even a breath of air separate them.

He stroked her hair, kissing her and sighing. “Penny, I will support you no matter what you choose. We can go tell Rhys right now what you found, if that’s what you want. Or, we can burn this book, claim we lost it in the wedding preparation chaos, and no one has to know.” She gave a hollow laugh and wiped at her eyes.

“It’s the right thing to do. It is. But I need to be sad about it first. I just need to mourn the possibility that this beautiful, wonderful life might end before it ever really gets a chance to begin.” She gasped in a rough breath. “I will be devastated if this was all the time that was given to us. But I am thankful for even that.” She looked up at him. “I will always be grateful for this time with you. Even if it’s all we got.” He leaned down to kiss her, slowly and sweetly and thoroughly.

“I love you, Sunshine. No matter what you choose, I love you. That love is not, nor has it ever been, conditional. But if you die, I will go with you.” Her eyes shot up to his.

“Tamlin, you can’t possib–” He held a hand up.

“Let the magic choose someone else. I never wanted this. All I have ever truly wanted is you. There is nothing worth staying for if you aren’t with me.” She closed her eyes as she let the tears drip from her lashes onto his chest.

“We’ll tell Rhys in the morning, then.”

“Until morning, then, sweetheart.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #tamlin #tamlin x oc #elucien #tamlin oc #feysand #tamdemption #gwynriel #tamlins hea #hope of spring

[aprilchallenge]

Fics of the Week

Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Jane Fletcher

Common Ground 🌸 @inlocusmads

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey McTavish

Crash - Part 1 🌸 @jerzwriter

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Cassie Valentine (F!MC)

Breaking News 🌸 @liaromancewriter

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Meera Bose

Love Again 🌸 @headoverheelsforramsey

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Tatum Erikson-Ramsey

The Easter Magic 🌸 @txemrn

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley

Unspoken 🌸 @storyofmychoices

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey McTavish

Learning Curve 🌸 @jerzwriter

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey McTavish

A Carrick Family Easter 🌸 @jerzwriter

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee

Sweet Reaction: An Ethan and Kaycee Easter fic 🌸 @jerzwriter

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Cassie Valentine

Begin Again 🌸 @liaromancewriter

TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 9 - Edge of the Night 🌸 @karahalloway - mature

Blades of Light and Shadow

Tyril Starfury x Arwen (f!elf!MC)

Nothing is impossible with you 🌸 @missameliep

The Red Carpet Diaries

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer (F!OC)

Happy Easter 🌸 @theartoflovingthomashunt

Artwork / Edits:

Open Heart

Featuring: Tobias Carrick

Happy April Fool‘s Day 🌸 @beyondsimsreality

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Spring Flowers 🌸 @potionsprefect

Pairing: Soraya Auclair (F!OC) x Meilani Leahi (F!OC)

Viva Las Vegas 🌸 @peonierose

Featuring: Sadie Oakley

Sadie’s Self Care Sunday #26 🌸 @peonyblossom

Featuring: Sadie Oakley

Sadie’s Self Care Sunday #27 🌸 @peonyblossom

Featuring: Tobias Carrick, Casey McTavish and Aurora Emery

Enchanted 🌸 @jerzwriter

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Meera Bose

Wrong Number 🌸 @headoverheelsforramsey

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey McTavish (F!MC)

Homecoming 🌸 @jerzwriter

Featuring: Olivia Hadley

Sunshine Pediatrics 🌸 @storyofmychoices

Featuring: Olivia Hadley

Barbie 🌸 @storyofmychoices

Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Max Valentine (M!OC); Cassie Valentine (F!MC); OH Gang

Wedding Traditions 🌸 @liaromancewriter

Blades of Light and Shadow

Geometric Tyril Starfury 🌸 @storyofmychoices

The Red Carpet

Featuring: The Hunt Family

Happy Easter from the Hunt Family 🌸 @theartoflovingthomashunt

Headcannons

Open Heart

Featuring: Dr. Melissa Cabrera

The Hopkins Girls 🌸 @headoverheelsforramsey

Nightbound

Featuring: Alex Fontaine x Nik Ryder

Beautiful Dress 🌸 @ladylamrian

#choices april challenge #fics of the week #Open Heart #Red Carpet #The Royal Romance

[mmvalentine]

Spaghetti (extended edition) pt 4 | Feysand

Single dad AU. Domestic fluff and smut. Read part 1 part 2 part 3.

This is the last one, if you got this far thank you so much!!

They get married in Rhys’s backyard.

It makes sense to them; neither of them have ever dreamed of an ostentatious wedding, and there are two small children to look after so it feels like a waste of both money and- if they’re honest- nice things.

So while they are engaged it’s more about Feyre moving in than the wedding itself, and the day creeps up on them. In fairness, most things creep up on them these days; there never seems to be enough time in the day. If it’s not Feyre’s work in chaos it’s Rhys’s, if it’s not Cassian having a meltdown it’s Az, and so they lurch from one day to the next.

But at the end of the day it’s a good exhausted, a happy exhausted that's heavy in their bones. While on the one hand it is a bit of an adjustment to have another person in the house after all these years with just the three of them, Rhys finds that any compromise he makes- there so many pillows on the bed now, more products cramming around his bathroom sink, more hair in his shower drain- are more than made up for by the delight, and the relief, of sharing this life.

Feyre takes over the boys' night time routine and Rhys can actually clean the house. Rhys does the laundry and Feyre folds clothes. There’s art hanging on the walls, and they go out now. To parks and museums and movies, because if one twin goes rogue there’s someone to chase and someone else to hold onto the other one. When things do go wrong Rhys is actually able to laugh, rather than just panic, because suddenly he knows that they’re going to be alright, now that it’s not just down to him. So the twins thrive and Rhys is confronted with the fact that while he held off on relationships for their benefit, in actual fact they’re doing great with a second parent, and maybe part of what he was protecting was himself. Because the twins’ parents died and he was left behind and he hadn’t want to feel like that ever again.

But he'd forgotten the other things he'd shut out too- Rhys actually gets to talk to someone about his day, they swap ideas and solutions and gripes. And when he crawls into bed at the end of the day and tugs Feyre's warm body against his, when he moves inside her and the stress melts away, when he wakes up with the scent of her hair on his pillow so he knows she's there before he opens his eyes, he wonders how the hell he's been surviving all this time without her. He just hopes that for everything she's given them, their little family has added something to her life, too.

And so the months whirl by and these days Rhys has laugh lines around his eyes but they don’t make him feel old, and Feyre has one or two breakdowns in the middle of the night about whether she’s going to be a good step mother but even these don’t scare him. They just sit opposite each other, cross-legged on the bed and share their fears until they don’t seem so scary anymore.

On the day of their wedding, Feyre’s friends arrive in a small knot, and Mor and Emerie from parenting group come, and the friend Feyre calls Rhys’s work-husband. Feyre’s sisters turn up, and this throws her. She didn’t know if they would come, but she tells them how glad she is to see them and then cries in the bedroom once they’ve wandered off to drink mimosas. Rhys is just leaving the bathroom when she pulls him in and shuts the door.

“Feyre?!” Rhys shoves a hand over his eyes. “I’m not supposed to see you in your dress!"

“Oh don’t be silly,” she says, and drags his fingers down. “I just need to you talk me down because my family turned up and I’m freaking out.”

“Wow they really came huh, I thought- oh.” He's turned reluctantly, wanting Feyre to have at least some tradition since she’s not getting the usual dating- marriage- kids order. Then he sees her, white dress and anxious eyes and bottom lip between her teeth. And she's gorgeous.

“Feyre you look…” he shakes his head, his throat unexpectedly constricting. “You look…”

“What, is it my makeup? I know I've smudged it, I'll fix it before I come out again..."

“No," Rhys laughs. "Sweetheart, no. I just... I didn't think the whole white dress thing would get to me, I didn't think I cared about it. But you just... you're so beautiful."

“Oh..." Feyre blinks. She had been distracted by her sisters and sort of forgot what she was wearing. "Thank you.” She bites her lip again, suddenly bashful that Rhys is in here. But there's still her family out there.

“Rhys, I haven’t seen them in years.”

Rhys forces his eyes away from the where her dress clings to her hips, pools at her feet.

“You did want them here, didn’t you?” he asks.

“I think so. I wanted to have that, have my sisters come to my wedding like a normal family, you know?”

“I know. Are you changing your mind now that they're here? I can ask them to leave, if you want."

Feyre shakes her head. "No, I don't want that. I just… I hardly know what to say to them. And I hope they’re alright, they wouldn’t know anyone here…”

Rhys sighs as he steps closer, and slides his hands around her face.

"My darling girl. Always thinking about others." Feyre opens her mouth to protest, but Rhys doesn't let her. “Shh,” he soothes. “Today’s not about them. Today’s about you. Now take a deep breath for me.” Feyre does, and although it’s shaky on the way in, her eyes focus on his as she breathes out. “Good girl.”

“About us,” she whispers. “Today’s about us.”

“That’s right. I know your family hasn’t always been there for you, but you’ve got another family now and I promise that we won't let you down. Not if I can help it.” Feyre lets out a brittle laugh.

“Save some vows for the altar,” she tells him, and Rhys presses his lips to her forehead.

“Are you okay?”

Feyre nods, and Rhys searches her eyes. “I’m fine," she promises. Her voice comes our muffled when he hugs her tight into his chest. "You can go now.” Still, it's a moment longer before he lets her go.

“See you out there,” he says, and winks before closing the door behind him.

Standing at the altar, which is actually just a spot between two trees and a local minister, Rhys breathes in the crisp Fall air and wonders how he got here. He's got two tiny best men and the best girl on her way to him.

When Feyre appears, she’s taken her hair down and it falls in soft curls around her face and neck. He saw the dress in the bedroom but here in the weak October sun, she’s divine. She walks to him with laughter in the corners of his mouth and she’s an angel.

“Dearly beloved,” begins the minister, when Feyre is standing opposite him and the boys are bouncing up and down by his side. He doesn’t hear the rest.

“Hi,” he mouths at Feyre.

“Hey,” she breathes back. Her fingers brush over his.

“I love you.” He shapes the words silently. She just smiles and keeps looking at him, and then he’s repeating after the minister and the twins, bless them for not screwing this up, they each produce a wedding band.

When it’s Feyre’s turn, she goes off script.

“I, Feyre Archeron,” she begins. But before the minister can feed her the line with Rhys’s name, she lets go of his hands and kneels before his sons. “Take you, Cassian and Azriel, to be my very own children.” Rhys loses it.

He swipes at the tears with the heels of his palms as Feyre promises the twins that she will love them for the rest of her life and never leave them, until death do them part, and then some. He hadn’t known she was going to do this and it’s more than he could have asked for.

The twins, on their parts, get emotional but hold it together. Rhys isn't sure at first how much they understand, but when they tear up and cling to Feyre's neck he knows. They hear her loud and clear.

Feyre stands up, and completes her vows to Rhys. She takes the remaining ring and slides it onto his finger. He only hears “You may-" before he’s got his arms around her waist and he's crushing his lips to hers.

That night they have spaghetti, of course, Rhys and Feyre and the boys and all the friends that came. They had woken up early and spent all morning simmering an enormous pot of bolognese, and now they sit on chairs around the backyard and eat off their laps, and the wine is red and the cake is chocolate and music is perfect. Rhys and Feyre slow-dance in the living room and barely notice when it gets late and the guests file out. Mor and Emerie have kindly volunteered to take the boys for the night, and although Rhys has put new sheets on the bed and gone the whole rose-petals-and-candles affair, they do not make it up the stairs.

There’s the soft snick of the door closing as the last guest leaves, and although the house is now littered with dirty dishes and empty glasses and scraps of paper and ribbon, they make no move to clean up. Not when the song is so good and Rhys can feel Feyre down the line of his body, from her face in the crook of his neck to the curve of her spine under his fingers.

“The house is empty, wife,” he says softly.

“Then kiss me, husband,” she says, and he does.

The first kiss is as slow as the dance, and the slide is warm with wine.

Rhys crooks a finger under her chin, and keeps his eyes open when she opens for his tongue. She tastes like wedding cake, and it’s a quick descent from there to hungry hands and scraping teeth. Rhys pulls her tighter against him, and when his calves hit the couch he lets himself fall into it. Pulls Feyre into his lap so she’s straddling him, pushes her skirt up her thighs so her beautiful dress is bunched up around her hips.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs against her lips. But instead of standing, he drags her hips down over his lap, and when she arches into the friction, he kisses the tops of her breasts.

“Bed,” she agrees after a moment, but he’s slid down the couch a little as he grinds into her so that the hard line of him is right where she wants it, and without thinking her fingers are pulling at his belt. She’s got the button of his suit pants undone and the zipper all the way down, but Rhys suddenly pushes her up onto her knees at the same time as he slides further down the couch. So he’s eye-level with the white lace of her underwear, and then his mouth is covering the heat of her.

Feyre gasps in surprise and her hands fall against the upright part of the couch. Rhys tugs the delicate fabric down with one hand and then holds her skirts up to her stomach. His other hand curls around the back of her thigh and secures her to his face. He licks a broad stroke through her centre and Feyre moans. Rhys drags his tongue up and down, moving his head with the motion and taking his time.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he tells her. Groans it against her clit. "Just waiting for everyone to leave."

He ducks lower so that his tongue is pushing inside her, while the tip of his nose brushes against her clit. Moves in and out while curling his tongue like she’s ice cream, until she's trying to fuck herself on his tongue and then he moves to circle over her clit.

“Bed?” she struggles out, but even as she says it her hands tighten on the back of the couch, and she's leaning into Rhys’s mouth, as he flicks faster with the end of his tongue and coaxes a deep moan from her throat. His hands squeeze over her backside at the sound.

“Soon,” he mumbles, and then he’s pulling her down with him, laying her back on the couch and leaning up over her, and while she’s waiting for him to kiss her, he pushes his fingers into her instead. She moans again, but it’s not what she wanted. She reaches down between them, even as she moves on his hand now that he’s there. He just watches her, curls his fingers while she tugs his cock free. He can wait a bit longer, is enjoying making her writhe, would have waited for her to come first just like this, but Feyre’s not having it.

“I want…” she mutters.

“Want what, honey?” Rhys breathes.

“Want you,” she tells him.

“You have me.”

Feyre frowns, even as her back arches. “No I don’t,” she argues, and then she shoves his hand away and guides his cock over her wetness instead.

Rhys hisses as he slides against the silk of her, his head against her cilt for just a minute or two before he’s notched at her entrance and moving his mouth in the soft part of her throat.

“Still want you,” Feyre mumbles, and now her knees are coming up around his waist to pull him in. Grabby, desperate. Rhys groans and flexes his hips, she’s tight enough that he wants to give her a moment to adjust but how can he argue when she’s pushing up onto him? "Want you now," she insists.

“Okay you win,” he slurs, and then it’s a slight withdrawal before he sinks all the way into her.

It’s a sudden squeeze at his shoulders that lets Rhys know he was right, it was too soon, but neither of them are complaining. Feyre moves up to meet him every time, and Rhys has one hand braced on the back of the couch to get her at a deeper angle.

He wonders, briefly, if it’s a bit obscene to be fucking on the couch in a wedding dress. If she deserved to be treated with a bit more reverence on her wedding night.

Then his wife makes an especially dirty sound when he hits the spot he knows she likes, and he decides he loves her all the more for choosing this. This messy life and the spaghetti reception and the sex in the living room.

Rhys drops down and leans on his elbows, on either side of Feyre’s head. He slows his movements to a deep, rolling pace and strokes her hair away from her as he moves inside her.

“Are you happy?” he asks her.

“Yes,” she answers, and she sounds so sure, beams so widely that he believes her. “Are you? Are you happy, too?”

And Rhys tries to think of a way to answer that, a way to convey just how far beyond his expectations of life he had found himself, and instead of words all he finds is a wave of emotion, that he loves this woman so much it hurts. So all he says is, “yes,” but his body is looking for ways to be closer to her. “Yes I’m happy.”

And maybe she reads the change in his face, because the play fades from her eyes and their hips speed up and gods suddenly every slide snaps electricity between them. They start pushing clothes all the way off, desperate to be naked against one another, and if they tear clothing neither of them are worried because it’s not like they have need for a wedding dress again. Rhys closes his mouth over Feyre’s nipple as she fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, and he moves from her only to get his hands out of the sleeves, his feet out of his pants, and then he’s there again, he’s everywhere and Feyre’s starting to unravel in his arms. She tangles her hands in the back of his hair and soon she’s just holding on to him, barely in control of her movements, while he’s got a thumb on her clit and his teeth on her throat and then he’s whispering in her ear.

“I’m so close,” he says. “Feyre I need you to come.”

The rough of his voice when he’s breaking is enough for Feyre to find the edge.

“Come on baby,” he coaxes. “Come for me, oh please come for me.”

And his fingers have tightened in her hair, his hips have begun to stutter against hers and Feyre knows he’s only holding on because he’s waiting for her. She wonders if he knows that him losing it is the only thing she really needs to come all the way undone.

Rhys moans low and long in her ear, the rumble of it vibrating between his lips and her skin and that’s what does it. She falls over the edge and delights in the way Rhys falls too, hot on her heels and totally hers.

Rhys is pressing kisses across her collar bones while she catches her breath, and Feyre takes a snapshot in her mind of their wedding clothes in puddles on the floor.

It’s minutes later that they leave them there, when Rhys scoops her naked into his arms and carries her up the stairs to the perfectly made bed in their room. She closes her eyes and leans against his chest, but Rhys laughs as he kisses her temple.

“Don’t go to sleep just yet, my love,” he says. “You have to see the bed.”

Indeed when Rhys pushes the door open with his foot, Feyre gasps. The candles are burning low by now but it just makes the glow warmer, and the scent of roses is still heavy in the air.

Rhys lays her down on the new, white sheets.

“How about a massage?” he says, already rolling her onto her stomach. Feyre smiles up at him, loose and sleepy already.

“Sounds nice,” she says, and lets her eyes close while Rhys warms oil in his hands. “I am a little tight in my shoulders- or there, sure,” she grins, when her husband’s hands start on her backside. “Yeah that feels nice too, I- oh…” She’s cut off when his oil-slick fingers slide between her legs, against her clit and back up. She looks at Rhys, but he’s massaging her ass again and looking innocent.

“What?” he asks, and she gives him a look and settles down again. In time for his hands to go wandering again, and this time he slides two digits straight into her.

“Oh,” Feyre gasps again, arching up off the bed.

But then he’s gone, now massaging firmly up over her lower back, the picture of professionalism.  Her head drops down again, but now her heartrate’s up.

The next time his fingers push into her, Feyre says “Rhys I swear-“ but instead of withdrawing, he keeps his fingers moving in and out. Surges up to cut her words off with his mouth, and Feyre forgets what she was going to say as the pleasure coils heavy and tight. It’s quicker, since she’s already come once, and this time when Rhys comes up over her, all hot naked skin and not letting the kiss break, it’s an easy slide for him to be seated deep inside her once more.

They move slowly, languidly, liquidly with one another, his knees bracketing hers and his chest solid and warm at her back. By the time he rolls her over, knee hooked over his elbow to get deeper, it’s just the roll of his tongue against hers that breaks her. He watches the full rise and fall of her climax before he comes this time, moving smoothly the whole time so her orgasm is dragged out and it’s only when she’s boneless that he comes, too.

They barely make it under the covers before they’re aleep.

***

Five years later, the house is a little worse for wear and Rhys has grey in his temples and a tan line where his wedding band sits. Now, when he sticks his head out the window and hollers "Boys! It's getting dark, get in the house!" there are three of them. Cass, Az, and little three-year-old Nyx.

Of course, Rhys is the worrier in the family. The twins grow taller and stronger but that only means faster and more chaotic. Rhys thinks they are a little rough sometimes, but Feyre always tells them that she trusts them implicitly and that makes them take their big brother responsibilities very seriously.

By the time Nyx starts kindergarten, the twins are old enough that they walk him to and from school. They teach him to skateboard, and grow tomatoes, make pancakes. They also recruit him into the pranks they play on Rhys, and show him how to break into Rhys's office where they can sometimes find coins for cornerstore candy. Rhys calls them his "little devils," with equal parts exasperation and affection.

"They're not devils, they're angels," Feyre says.

"They're devils," Rhys argues. "And you're biased because they love you the most."

Feyre shakes her head. "That's not true."

"It is," Rhys insists. "I'm amazed we haven't had any broken bones yet, honestly it's a miracle."

"They'll be fine, my love."

"You say that," Rhys says. "But do you know what I just over heard? That they're going to teach Nyx to fly today. That cannot mean anything good."

Feyre gets up from where she is sitting and crosses over to Rhys. He's perched on the edge of his armchair with his hands flapping about as he frets, and Feyre pushes him back as she folds herself into his lap.

"It's going to be okay." She smoothes his hair back and kisses his nose. Rhys's hands slide automatically around her waist, and it's true that he feels calmer when she's in his arms. "I told you," Feyre says. "They're angels. Don't you know our boys all have wings?"

***

The end!

MASTERLIST

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#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #rhys x feyre #this is the fluffiest most domestic thing i've ever written #and mostly likely will ever write #and i kind of wish it had done better #but if you got to the end thank you!

[theladyofbloodshed]

Au acosf - Chapter 77

As usual, I have written far more than I intended therefore this chapter will end at the beginning of the dinner. Helion is like "i can and i will cause chaos". I hope you enjoy!

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

The shrieking emitted from Emerie when Nesta excitedly brandished her engagement ring in her face shot through Cassian sharper than any arrow. Still, he didn’t mind. He’d never seen Nesta so giddy before. Knowing that he was the source of excitement rather than irritation was a wholly different feeling too.

Emerie held her hand, inspecting the ring, both of them talking so fast and shrilly he could barely understand them. They babbled about flowers and dresses while Emerie closed down her shop for the day.

‘Took you long enough,’ the shop keeper said to him, nudging him slightly with her elbow then blushing that she’d been brave enough for the movement.

‘I had to see how messy she was to live with first before I committed. The snoring, I suppose can cope with.’

‘I do not snore,’ Nesta fumed.

The moment she turned her head in another direction, Cassian mouthed to Emerie that she did. Mostly she murmured unintelligibly, but the snoring did happen from time to time. She’d blamed it on Zasha a few times, but her snores were far lighter and far more permissible than the dog’s.

They headed out of the busiest part of Windhaven, weaving through fighting rings and tents forming the bulk of the camp. Emerie and Nesta had linked their arms with each other, ambling ahead of him. Cassian followed behind, keeping a watch.

‘I have a battle plan for the library.’

‘Did you consult Cassian?’

Nesta gave him a cursory look over her shoulder then shook her head, deigning him unworthy of helping to plan. ‘Em, there’ll be no bloodshed. Brawn is not needed. We will be efficient and focused. There are only two places where Cassian is focused and neither of them are libraries.’

‘I’m stood right behind you,’ he muttered.

‘I noticed. You’re not exactly small.’ If Cassian could see her face, she would be rolling her eyes, he was sure. ‘We need to research binding promises, spell weaving, and – of course – how to kill a death god.’

Emerie snorted. ‘Of course. Do you think there’s a how-to guide nestled on a shelf?’

‘Luck has never favoured me, but perhaps it will today.’

‘You can’t kill a death god, Nes,’ he called.

He heard the sharp inhale of breath. ‘Exactly why I didn’t inform you of my research. The Bone Carver died. The Weaver died. Death gods can and will be killed.’

Nesta had been invigorated by something. He hoped it was their engagement. Hoped it was because their future was no longer a blurry shape far off in the distance. Instead, it was becoming something tangible. He couldn’t help but replay the moment in his mind where Nesta had called him her husband. The words should have meant less to him than her calling him her mate, but they had an equal status now. Nesta had stared with longing at the mortal wedding they’d come across. Marriage was what she understood, what she valued most. It wasn’t until Beron’s funeral when the thought that he could lose her entirely clobbered into him, that Cassian realised, mate or husband, it didn’t matter. All he wanted was Nesta, in whatever capacity she could give him.

‘We’ll be pushed for time. It’s a lot of ground to cover.’

Nesta raised her head a little higher, standing almost as tall as Emerie. ‘We will have help.’

‘Who?’

‘Someone who is easily distracted from their task – and who loves research.’

‘Gwyn? The acolyte from last time?’

‘Yes. I borrowed a book from Helion’s library for her. It will help with her own research for Merrill.’

That crafty witch was always thinking ahead – and Cassian loved her for it. He’d not known she’d made a friend on her few visits to the library. Despite her admissions in the past that she couldn’t make friends, Nesta could definitely carve alliances.

Flying with Nesta was always an intimacy that Cassian craved. She trusted him enough to put her life quite literally in his hands and he cherished being able to cradle her against him. However, flying with two females was far more awkward – and it was made more difficult by Emerie having her own set of wings. He was careful not to touch them. He wasn’t sure how much feeling she still had in them. There were stories of females who’d had their wings clipped so badly that they were completely numb to the touch. From the look of her thick, uneven scars, Cassian imagined they were inflicted by family and she’d bucked and jerked during. It made him sick to his stomach that females had to face that fear. If he lost his flight, he’d be broken entirely.

Emerie looped her arms around his neck, holding herself rigid rather than sinking into his touch. It would make the muscles of her back strain if she kept it up during the flight.

‘Can you put your legs around me? Sorry. I can hold onto you better that way.’

Emerie had turned scarlet and he could feel his own cheeks heating. He glanced at his mate, an apology bubbling on his lips, but Nesta was biting down on her knuckle, chasing away laughter rather than appearing angry at their close proximity.

‘This is so excruciating to watch. I’m rather enjoying it.’

‘You had your legs wrapped around me enough last night. It’s Emerie’s turn.’ As soon as those words left his mouth, he outwardly cringed. Emerie hauled herself out of his grip. ‘I didn’t mean like that. Fuck. Sorry.’

‘Please excuse my soon-to-be husband,’ Nesta said, holding her hand over heart. The soft look she had lavished upon Emerie was whipped away when she focused her attention on him. ‘What is wrong with you?’

‘You’re the one marrying him,’ Emerie snorted.

Nesta threw up her hands. ‘Fly. Let’s fly. We’re wasting precious library time. Emerie, I give you full permission to wrap your legs around my fiancée like a tree trunk. Cassian, it might be better if you stay quiet for the duration of the journey and not make Emerie uncomfortable again.’

Was this marriage? Nesta in charge, dictating every move? He supposed she’d been in charge from the start anyway. He lifted her with one arm, her elbow coming around his neck. Emerie grimaced then did the same. Both females locked an arm together around his front so they were linked like a chain.

It took all of his strength to get them off the ground, but once they were soaring, the flight became easier. It was the sort of flight that would have his wings groaning the next morning with over use. If he could, he’d ask for help transporting the females home.

Nesta’s nose brushed against the skin of his neck. Her eyes were screwed shut; she didn’t like to fly too high. ‘This is terribly undignified.’

‘He’s your mate,’ Emerie hissed, ‘not mine. You’re used to being this close to him.’

‘Cauldron, am I that bad?’   

Emerie hesitated. ‘You’re not my type.’

‘I’m everybody’s type.’

Cassian didn’t know what was worse: Emerie raising her eyebrows in disbelief or Nesta’s little laugh in his ear. Females were cruel and he was outnumbered here skimming over mountains.

‘Just remember who’s holding you above a mountain. Don’t want my grip to slip.’

‘Is it true your high lord and lady once fornicated in the sky?’

Cassian did nearly drop both females then, shocked by the brazenness of Nesta’s question so high up in the air. ‘Mother’s tits, I don’t know.’

‘I don’t want to know,’ Emerie added swiftly.

‘The logistics. I don’t understand. How can he fly and focus and do that? It really can’t be very fulfilling. How do you thrust mid-flight?’

‘Please don’t have this conversation when I am here.’

‘It can’t be a regular occurrence in Velaris,’ she continued, oblivious to Emerie’s discomfort. ‘They’d have a far worse reputation.’

‘Nesta,’ both he and Emerie said in unison.

She had become a different person since that ring had been slipped upon her finger. Or maybe Cassian had never really seen that playful side come out often. It filled his chest with pride that she could be so comfortable – and mischievous – around both him and Emerie together. All those instances where he had rattled her fury were now being turned on him and Emerie. Nesta knew exactly what buttons to push to make them both squirm and she was thoroughly enjoying it. 

‘I’m sorry, but every time I fly, I can’t help but think about it.’

‘Stop thinking about your sister fucking her mate in the sky, Nes.’

‘That’s your brother and his mate too.’

Emerie made a noise like gagging. ‘That sounds incestuous.’

Nesta wrinkled up her nose, eyes still shut. ‘It does sound that way, doesn’t it?’

***

Cassian dropped them on the roof of the House of Wind. He murmured in her ear that they could quench her curiosity by trying to fuck in the sky but Nesta pushed him away with a cruel laugh. He had to be deluded if he thought she might engage in that. Not only would people see, she would have to trust him entirely not to let her plummet to her death.

‘Can’t believe you’re engaged,’ Emerie mused, eyes tracking the ring on her finger again as they entered the house.

‘Neither can I. But I’m happy. I thought it might change something, but I still feel good and happy and calm.’

They had bought better clothes for dinner – at Emerie’s panicked request – to look more presentable to dine with the high lord and lady. They would be dining outdoors later by the river to seize the summer weather, so Nesta had selected a gown that revealed her arms and cut off just past her knees. It was red to align with Cassian’s siphons; she wasn’t a part of this court, but she was a part of him.  

‘Do you remember our battle plan?’ Nesta whispered as they descended the narrow stairs to the library below, the hush making her drop her own voice.

Emerie nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the vast expanse of shelves. ‘Find Gwyn as our first task?’

Many of the acolytes kept their hoods up or covered their head entirely with scarves. Of the few that kept their hair on display, it was easy to spot the copper-coloured head bobbing up and down aisles. Nesta chuckled slightly from their perch by the railing where they peered down onto a lower level as they watched Gwyn engage in brief conversation with everyone she passed.

‘I like her,’ Emerie said fondly.

They descended a level then split between the two aisles to meet Gwyn in the middle as if they were rounding her up. Her teal eyes brightened when she saw them.

‘Hi!’

‘Gwyneth Berdara,’ Nesta acknowledged, stalking forwards. ‘We have a favour to ask of you. We need help with research – if you’re not busy. To sweeten the deal, I borrowed a book about the universe from Helion’s library in the day court.’

Gwyn squeaked with delight before prising the book from Nesta’s grip. ‘Helion? The high lord? You know him personally?’

Ignoring Emerie’s roll of the eyes, Nesta explained, ‘I am acquainted with many high lords. Would it be possible?’

‘What are we researching?’

They split off in different directions – ones Gwyn provided – to retrieve more books for their quiet, little alcove. Emerie was back quickest and already skimming a page with a slender, brown finger when Nesta pulled up the chair beside her.

‘It would be nice if we could have tea here too.’

‘Mm,’ Nesta agreed. ‘And those sticky buns Rovena makes.’

‘Sticky fingers on the pages,’ Emerie tutted. For good measure, she gave Nesta’s fingers a tap. ‘Have you been to see her yet?’

‘Not yet, I’m waiting on Azriel to arrange it.’

‘She’s been coming to the village more and more Bal said.’

Gwyn’s face was hidden by a towering stack of books as she made her way towards them. She huffed out a breath after piling them onto the table. ‘You said magical promises. But there’s a lot of books on them. Anecdotes of how they’ve gone wrong, different ways to cast them including exact language, functionality.’

‘Probably functionality. It’s more for personal use. Since Eris became high lord, my tattoo has been itching non-stop.’

Emerie flickered her eyes over Nesta’s sleeve, as if seeing through the material, where she knew it lay. ‘Have you seen a healer?’

‘It’s not painful, just demands my attention from time to time.’

Gwyn tipped her head forwards so that the hood fell with it. Her nose hovered a few inches from the book as her eyes raced over the contents page. ‘Here. Irritation can be as a result of a breach in the magical binding. Have you breached the promise you made?’

Nesta felt offended at the accusation. She tried to abide by her word always. ‘No. Eris might have. It’s been happening since he became high lord.’

Gwyn scrunched up her face. ‘It doesn’t say what happens if one changes the depths of their magic. I suppose it’s not often that one makes a deal then becomes high lord. What was it? Can you remember the exact wording?’

It was a long time ago. Nesta rubbed at her temples, trying to recreate the scene in her imagination. ‘I had to wear the Autumn Court colours to Tarquin’s birthday.’

‘Name dropping a high lord again,’ Emerie muttered so Nesta subtly nudged her in the ribs.

‘And in return Eris would train me and Zasha until I decided we were trained enough.’

‘Nesta, that’s so open ended. You need to learn how to word them better,’ Emerie chided.

Gwyn shook her head. ‘Maybe it’s because he’s a high lord now and it’s altered the parameters of your deal. Is he still training you? Perhaps the deal wants you to say verbally that it’s done.’

‘He was going to come to Illyria but he’s high lord now and I think slightly too busy.’ Nesta gasped. ‘Spring Court! I said to train me in the Spring Court.’

And her journey in the Spring Court had largely finished. Not only that, but she knew she had closed the chapter with Eris too. Nesta wasn’t sure how to feel about that either. It was a goodbye she hadn’t wanted to make. It left a bitter, lingering taste in her mouth.

Gwyn blinked with her large, teal eyes then said, ‘Perhaps you’ve changed the deal too much then. His powers have changed and you tried to move the location.’

‘Then I suppose it is done. Our promise is fulfilled.’

As those words left her lips, Nesta felt the strange sizzle against her skin. It made her itch harder, wishing she could tear the sleeve off to scrape her nails down it. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to look at it though. Already the knowledge that the tattoo had faded from her skin made her oddly sad. Eris had been an unexpected friend. If she could, Nesta would have had him beside her in the library too. His mind fascinated her – and she’d always liked to discuss ideas with him.

‘It’s gone.’

***

Cassian had strict instructions to have letters delivered to Cresseida of the Summer Court by Nesta. She’d made him tell her three times what he had to do with the letter, ensuring it was ingrained in his mind. By accident, he’d bent the corner slightly as they flew so he tried to press the crease out in case Nesta somehow found out.

Once that was done, he ambled over to the river-front estate from the busiest part of the city. For such a large house, it was unnervingly quiet. Nuala and Cerridwen, if they were around, did not make a single sound. Cassian had let himself in then informed Rhys that a high lord ought to have guards posted outside of his gates at the very least. Rhys seemed to be the only one home, busy in his office overlooking the grounds.

‘Where’s Feyre?’

‘Teaching an art class in the city,’ he yawned, swiping the papers on his desk away in one fell swoop. ‘Nice day. Fancy a bit of flying?’

Cassian gave a groan. ‘I’ve flown Emerie and Nesta here. I think I need to rest.’

Rhys said nothing, but a grin spread across his face that he did nothing to hide.

‘Spit it out.’

‘Cass, I’ve seen you trying to get back into a battle with your guts streaming out of you. What is this? Old age or sense?’

‘I have to keep my strength up for other activities,’ he winked. Unable to hold it in any longer, he added, ‘I proposed to Nesta yesterday.’

‘Because this Court is still standing, I can assume she accepted?’

Cassian kicked the leg of Rhys’ chair. ‘Fuck you. Of course she did. Prick.’

They embraced as brothers. The bond was still there in the back of Cassian’s mind, and likely his family would ask about it again soon, but an engagement was special. Nesta had written her letters about the fund for Cresseida in the morning, but she’d hummed away at the table and Cassian swore he’d even heard her singing to herself in the bathroom. A smile hadn’t left her face all night or morning – so he wished he’d proposed sooner.

Sitting at a table by the curve of the river, Nuala brought out drinks for them both. Rhys poured a glass of chilled lemon water for them but with a wave of his magic, he’d conjured a bottle of whiskey, saying they needed a celebratory drink too.

Cassian tipped his face to the sun, letting the warmth pool over his skin. He gave another hearty groan when his wings spread out, the tendons sprawling as far as they could go.

‘What the fuck?’

At Rhys low murmur, Cassian snapped his eyes open. There, on the other side of the river, Helion was shuffling along.

‘Did you know he was coming?’

Rhys blinked at him. ‘Do I look like I did?’

He flew across the distance, landing in front of the High Lord of the Day Court. Cassian watched their exchange, siphons pulsing, in case he needed to be there and protect Rhys. Helion had never been a threat before, but he’d never shown up unannounced in their court before. There were no others with him – no guards, no Pegasus or golden carriage. How he’d gotten through their wards without any alarms was also another worrying factor.

As they walked together across the river towards the house, Helion seemed dulled. There was no other way to describe it. The male had always dominated a room with his charisma and charm, but further than that, Helion was attractive and ensured everybody knew that. Yet today, he seemed dimmer somehow as if able to blend into shadow. If it wasn’t for the dazzling white robe he wore, Cassian might not have spotted him.

‘Where’s your lovely mate?’ Helion asked, taking a seat opposite him, in a flat voice.

‘My fiancée. She’s in the library with a friend. Where else?’

Cassian exchanged a confused look with Rhys, but his brother didn’t use his daemati powers and inform him why Helion had showed up in their court. One wrong move, one word that unsettled them, Cassian would spring into action.

‘The youngest of the Vanserra clan,’ Helion inquired, eyes trained on the shimmer of the river. ‘Why does he work for the Night Court?’

‘He lost his standing in Spring. He was part of Tamlin’s court for a long time prior.’

Rhys didn’t elaborate further, but Helion had propped his chin up with a hand, showing interest. ‘It is unlike a Vanserra to turn from their court. Conniving snakes the lot of them, but they’re always loyal to Autumn.’

Rhys cocked his head from side to side, stretching the muscles. ‘Lucien was exiled. He loved a lesser fae and Beron had her executed. It was Eris’ actions that allowed Lucien to reach the border. Two of Beron’s sons died in the ensuing fight with Tamlin and Lucien.’

Helion soaked it all in, pursing his lips slightly. Perhaps he wanted as much information he could glean about the newest high lord of the Autumn Court - though Cassian couldn’t help but wonder why he was showing so much interest in Lucien.

‘But why the Night Court? He seems to have other contacts.’

‘He helped Feyre to leave Spring and escorted her safely at great personal risk. Furthermore, his mate, Elain, resides here.’

‘Mated? To the middle, rarely seen Archeron?’

‘She hasn’t accepted the bond.’ Rhys did not look at Cassian. No, of all three sisters, Elain was seemingly the most understanding and gentle. He’d had a battle on his hands with Nesta - but Elain was proving just as resistant and reluctant as her elder sister when it came to fae bonds.

‘Is he like him?’

Rhys cocked an eyebrow. ‘Elaborate.’

‘Cruel. Selfish. Despicable. Is that why she doesn’t want to be his mate?’

‘Lucien is a decent male. As to the question about their mating bond, you will have to ask Elain, Helion. I am not privy to their relationship – or lack of it.’

Helion’s brow still furrowed. A couple of times, his lips opened as if keen to ask another question before thinking better of it, then finally, he said, ‘How does he treat his mother?’

And there it was. The question Helion had been longing to ask. The Lady of the Autumn Court had been tangled into Helion’s life at some point in the past. Either Beron knew and refused to acknowledge it or he had been unaware.

‘I believe the funeral was the first time Lucien had been able to speak with his mother since his exile. His mother is the biggest lure to his home.’

Cassian added, ‘Eris and his mother are very close too. Nesta, after the kelpie attack, was taken care of by Adeline.’

Helion drummed his fingers in a rhythm on the table. ‘Will he be a decent high lord?’

‘That remains to be seen. There are only two people in the world who know truly know Eris. One is his mother – and the other is Nesta.’

Cassian clapped his hands together. ‘Well, he can’t be fucking worse than Beron.’

Although Rhys laughed, Helion didn’t. The male was usually the first to laugh or smile, his grins charming all those around him. His brow knitted together, eyes misty with regret. Lost in thought, the three of them fell into silence. There had been moments in the past where Eris had let his mask slip for his mother. He’d angled his body at the high lord meeting long ago, shifting so she was not in the direct line of attack. If Eris was the sort of male who’d protect his mother, Cassian had no doubt that Lucien was worth ten of him.

‘A mating bond gone to ruin.’

‘Elain had only just come from the Cauldron,’ Cassian said gently to Helion. ‘The first thing she saw was Lucien who’d declared she was his mate. These Archerons all have wills of iron. Nesta still tries to kill me most days.’

There was a strange expression upon Rhys’ face – one that Cassian hadn’t seen since he was a boy. What usually followed that look was a stern telling off from Rhys’ parents for whatever crap they’d pulled. ‘Helion, why don’t you stay for dinner?’

***

‘Just as everything has a beginning, everything has an end. All things must die.’

Gwyn’s mouth popped open. ‘That gave me chills.’

Emerie shook away her smile. ‘It’s your swords, Nesta. They have the capacity to kill a death god.’

Lanthys certainly felt the sting of her blade in the Prison though Nesta doubted her skill would last long against an immortal like Koschei. The Bone Carver had felt the full force of the Cauldron, but the Weaver had been killed by the king of Hybern snapping her neck. It was possible to kill a being that strong. Without the Cauldron, their options were limited though none could wield it anyway.

‘I cannot believe you two had a sword fight with Made weapons.’

She and Emerie exchanged a smug look. ‘Gwyn, you are invited to the next one.’

They had been at it for over an hour; all three had been with their heads bowed skimming and scanning various texts in search of information. Spell-weaving was the most fortuitous avenue with a large quantity of books available about casting spells or cleaving them. They had accounts of the Daglan being overthrown by the mighty sword, Gwydion, and when Nesta had spoken of killing Lanthys, Gwyn had scurried away to fetch parchment and ink to record the account.

A figure dropped into the final chair at their table in the private alcove, making the sconces flicker. His long red hair had been tucked behind the spiked tip of his ear but a narrow braid also ran through it. All three females turned their heads towards Lucien who only smiled politely.

‘Sorry to intrude, but I have a message to deliver from the high lord of the Autumn Court.’

‘Are you his messenger boy now?’

Lucien let out a bark-like laugh. ‘Cauldron, that would be a downgrade, wouldn’t it? Eris would like to know precisely why you have decided your deal has been fulfilled. He was quite irate about it. He also wanted me to remind you that Zasha is a poorly behaved hound who still requires daily training because you spoil him.’

Nesta let out a choking noise. ‘Says the male who walks around with a ball in one pocket and a handful of dried meat in the other.’

‘Adja is with him constantly. I think if Eris could live in the woods with his dogs, he’d quite like it.’ Lucien smiled, the gesture natural on his features. ‘He has said that he would like to see you both as soon as possible. I can take you to the Autumn Court.’  

Lucien leaned over slightly to inspect a few of their books then, from the corner of her eye, she saw his eyes widen in surprise.

‘Congratulations.’

His eyes had fallen upon her ring. Gwyn covered her face with her hands. ‘Nesta! I didn’t notice. Congratulations!’

From the attention, Nesta blushed and tried to hide her face into Emerie’s arm. Her friend pushed her lightly away, chuckling.

‘Sorry, I haven’t introduced you. This is Lucien Vanserra, Eris’ brother and my sister’s mate. This is Emerie.’

‘We did meet briefly last time you were in Velaris,’ Lucien said, reaching out to kiss the top of her hand.

‘And this is Gwyn Berdara.’

When Lucien moved to take her hand in greeting, Gwyn drew her hand away, flexing her fingers against her chest as she murmured an apology.

‘Sorry,’ Lucien said too, voice gentle. ‘Can I ask, are you from the Autumn Court?’

Gwyn’s chin dipped. ‘Sort of. My grandmother was a river-nymph. She had a child with a high fae male from your court. My mother couldn’t dwell in either place, it didn’t suit her. She lived, for a time, in the rivers of Spring and a house in Autumn, but eventually she was given as a child to the temple in Sangravah.’

‘You’re a nymph?’

‘Only a quarter,’ Gwyn replied to Emerie. She spread out her fingers. ‘I had a twin, Catrin. She had webbed fingers.’

Such pain filled Gwyn’s eyes so suddenly that Nesta couldn’t bear it. Changing the topic, she said, ‘I’m still surprised by Prythian. Wings, I can manage. Webbed fingers, some mortals even had those if they married their cousins too many times. I think if I had found a male with a tail or horns, I might have stepped off the roof here.’  

For good measure, Nesta shuddered. It brought a much-needed wave of laughter than seemed to wash away the sadness welling up in Gwyn’s large teal eyes.

‘What about if your mate had a golden eye?’ Lucien asked, gesturing to his scarred, but handsome face, a teasing twinkle in his russet one.

‘Lucien, if I had come out of that Cauldron and you had announced we were mates, you would have two golden eyes now.’

It made Lucien laugh, the noise raising attention. Instead of the shooting looks they’d been receiving, the acolyte nearby actually sighed at the sound of Lucien’s laughter.

‘I do need to see Eris soon. I have a plan for the Wall. My friends are assisting with my research.’ The word slipped out before she’d realised, but Gwyn and Emerie hadn’t protested at being called her friend. It was rare she ever had a friend – and rarer still that she kept them. Nesta had never needed anybody, never wanted anybody.

Coming up from a lower level of the library, Nesta spotted the curled claw of an Illyrian wing. The figure was tall enough for the tips of their wings to be visible above the book shelves. It surely could only be Cassian or Azriel – but Cassian would never come to this library by choice. Fear shone in his eyes whenever the library was mentioned.

The shadowsinger emerged, his expression severe, but Nesta had learnt that was his usual intense look. His eyes snapped to them so she gave a brief wave. Reluctantly, he came over. Their alcove grew more claustrophobic with his large presence.

‘I thought you were in Iron Crest today,’ Nesta frowned.

Azriel nodded. ‘I was. Back in time for dinner.’

Gwyn refused to look at him, feigning interest in her book. Azriel did not acknowledge her either though his shadows hadn’t intervened and blocked him off.

‘And your first stop was the library?’

Nesta pointedly glanced between him and Gwyn, trying to decipher the frostiness growing between them.

‘I was looking for something.’

Lucien shivered. ‘Cauldron, not at the bottom of the library surely? What is there to be found?’

Bryaxis had managed to terrify Cassian. Nesta never wanted to know exactly what her sister had unleashed from the depths of the library – but if anyone could walk through that deep, dank section without crumbling, it would be Azriel. The male was unflappable.

‘Rhys asked me to. Bryaxis has gone besides.’

Gwyn shook her head then unable to help herself, said. ‘There is something still. Other acolytes can feel it. It’s curious, like a kitten. It follows us if we go down there alone.’

‘That’s disturbing,’ Emerie said, drawing her cardigan tighter around her body.

Azriel dipped his head. ‘I have to go. See you at dinner.’

They waited until the shadowsinger had departed from the library then both Nesta and Emerie turned their attention on the young priestess.

‘Has something happened between you two?’

Gwyn’s face had flushed, but her bottom lip wobbled slightly. ‘Azriel asked me if I wanted to see the city. I’m just not ready for it. I think he’s disappointed.’

The way she said it, full of shame, made Nesta reach out her hand and hold the young acolyte’s. Nesta didn’t know the full extent of the horrors that she had been through, but at the mere mention of her twin earlier, Gwyn’s face had been so wrought with pain, it had made Nesta’s heart judder with agony.

‘He’s been a bit off since. Doesn’t want to talk with me.’

A hot burst of anger pierced Nesta’s stomach. She was angry with Azriel on Gwyn’s behalf. She thought he might be more understanding considering his own mother was shy and hesitant about being in society. It was Emerie who was quickest to speak. ‘He’s not worth a moment of your time. Only you can decide when you’re ready.’

The chair next to her scraped against the floor. Sensing the females needed time without a male’s presence, Lucien bowed low. ‘I’ll leave you to carry on with your research. I’m staying in the house tonight. We will be retrieved for dinner so knock on when you’re ready.’

Lucien departed with a soft smile that seemed to warm the library. Nesta couldn’t help but notice that he attracted the attention of acolytes as he nimbly walked back to the staircase. She did not believe that it was the scar that was drawing their eye rather the way he carried himself, with confidence and geniality, that appealed to some of the females.

‘I would like to see the city one day. I’ve only ever been here or Sangravah’s temple.’

‘The first step could be just going to the roof,’ Nesta offered. ‘If you’d like to, we can be there with you.’

Gwyn considered it for a moment, her lips pursing. Then she said, ‘One day. I will try. Not yet.’

Emerie nodded in understanding then she straightened her book on the table. ‘We have a lot to get through before dinner.’

***

Feyre had winnowed the group from the House of Wind – and judging by their expressions, they had all been informed that Helion had gatecrashed their evening. The high lord had seated himself beside Elain at the long table. The middle Archeron had tried to rise, feigning an excuse to fetch something from the house, but Helion pressed her with questions about the garden and her life as a mortal so she had not been able to get away.

Emerie walked ahead making nervous conversation with Feyre, but Cassian’s attention was more drawn to the beautiful female in a red dress ambling behind them. The straps slipped off Nesta’s shoulders, bearing a tantalising strip of skin. Her hair was bound in a loose bun near the nape of her neck with two tendrils curling around her face. Wearing a sack, Nesta could take his breath away, but in a red, summer dress? A goddess.  

His mate had slipped her arm though Lucien’s but it didn’t make Cassian flare with jealousy. After all, he supposed Lucien might one day be mated with Elain – and Lucien would end up as Nesta’s brother. Still, the sight of them comfortable together did send a strange feeling shooting up his spine and Cassian couldn’t name it. Nesta had been Elain’s biggest defender, ensuring Lucien couldn’t get near to her until she was ready. He’d never really seen them exchange more than slightly-frosty pleasantries except for the day they visited the Wall together. Perhaps there had been more time spent together in Spring – or perhaps another Vanserra was their topic of conversation.

‘Busy day at the library?’

Nesta kissed his cheek in greeting. ‘Extremely productive. Where’s my favourite bat? I thought he’d be here already.’

On cue, Azriel winnowed to them, his shadows muted by the bright evening sun then settled beside Mor. Mor’s brown eyes were fixed upon Helion and Elain then she moved her gaze to Cassian and looked equally as puzzled by the exchange unfolding as he felt. Nesta had told him that Elain used to be bubbly and sociable, but he was more used to her preferring solitude or shrinking away. Helion had her locked into an interrogation until the arrival of the others had drawn his attention.

‘Lucien,’ the High Lord of Day called, a glimmer of his brightness returning, ‘There’s a spare seat here by Elain.’

‘What is he up to?’ Nesta murmured, body stiffening. Cassian recognised that look all too well – a viper readying itself to strike.

‘Let’s not interfere,’ he winked, guiding his mate into a seat by Emerie.

The creases in Nesta’s brow formed an arrowhead and her fingers had curled into a loose fist. Cassian leaned forwards to kiss her, tearing her attention away. Whispering into her ear, he said, ‘We have an announcement to make.’

A dragonfly zipped by while they waited until everybody had settled themselves at the table with a drink. Nesta made a motion to signify that he should be the one to announce it, but her mouth was already puckering into a smile that she was trying hopelessly to hold off. He wasn’t one for flowery words – which his family well knew – so Cassian tapped his glass with a knife, drawing their attention with the sound.

‘It took me long enough to realise the female opposite me is the best damn female who will ever be in my life, so I did what I should have done a long time ago and asked Nesta to marry me.’

Nesta’s face flushed at the attention, but the smile she wore was lovely. Elain had come to her side, marvelling at the ring and Rhys was pulling champagne out of thin air for them to have a celebratory drink. Mor’s mouth had dropped, but eventually she followed Feyre to flock around Nesta and marvel at the ring.

Rhys had them all take a glass of champagne to raise in toast. ‘To Cassian and Nesta.’

They chorused his words, Cassian bursting from the feeling of joy emanating around the table. The torches lighting up the ground flickered, scattering light around them as the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon. Nesta clinked her glass with his, her smile running wild on her face. His family were a little taken aback by her expression – and it struck Cassian that they probably had never seen how brightly she could smile. How she seemed to glow with love.

Once they had settled at their seats again, drinks tipping down throats, Helion threw his arms around the shoulders of Lucien and Elain. ‘That will be you two soon.’

#au acosf

[lizzybeth1986]

Tagging @choicesfandomappreciation for Day 3 of Choices Spread Kindness Event!

(Again...REALLY sorry for the lateness of this post!!)

I'm a huge huge fan of fanart...often art was what used to draw me the quickest to a book or character and make me more eager to play it! It was also a great way - like fanfic but differently - to incorporate things you wouldn't find so easily in canon. Here are some of my favourite artists!!

@sazanes - She is not only an incredible artist - she is also a ball of enthusiasm and great talent!! We first met when she sent me Hayden-focused asks after finding out we were both Hayden stans 😄 Her art is absolutely gorgeous and packed with so much fine detail. I still remember being amazed by her while running my first Hayden Young Appreciation Week - not only did she make an art piece for every day...she also ensured that if the character was customisable, she did an art piece each for each face (she did this both for Hayden and Liam). And given that some of those faces have less representation even though they're among the best faces (esp bl!Haydens and bl!Liam) I truly, truly appreciate her commitment to representing them. My favourite art work of hers is this beautiful poster of all the Haydens in kimonos, this beautiful picture of kid!Sloane and Kim, Liam helping the Heir plant her tree, Hana with a teasing mile and her signature hot chocolate, and of course this recent one of Kiara experiencing intense secondhand embarrassment 😄

@cassiopeiacorvus - There's an incredible style, attitude and verve about her work. She's done a depiction of every MC she's created thus far and I find them amazing coz she draws them with a body diversity that you won't often find in canon. Some of my favourite artworks of hers include a drawing of Xanthe and the ACoR MC in their "sexy red outfits", a reworking of Kiara's Costume Gala outfit (which is, btw, FAR BETTER than anything PB came up with for her), Jax and Lily with the BB MC and Leah and LH MC being a "black power couple" as Cassi put it 🤗

@toyhenoctus - I absolutely love their cute and vibrant comics, with cheeky and vibrant characters. Whether it's the gun-toting Siobhan or Effie who wants to declare her love for Aurora Emery to the world, it's always a treat to read them!!

@ohmyblues - She was a recent find, and I absolutely loved her Hana drawings! The first one I saw of hers featured Hana by the Valtoria lake, during the lantern festival, and the use of colours was so unbelievable and Hana looked so enigmatic in the picture. But I think my absolute favourite so far was the one they made of Hana at the piano. The texturing of the silver dress was so detailed and sublime, and her expression of being lost in the music was blissful to see.

@shazrystyles - Shaz is an absolute treasure! I've always loved her work but got to meet her personally when a friend bought a commission from her for me as a gift. Her artwork is so soft and delicate and so fun and fresh at the same time. My absolute favourites include this compilation of Hayden Young sketches, this supercute sketch of Zig performing ballet, this amazing one of Liam as a fencer and here is Hana and her MC on their wedding day 🥹

@burnwoods - Their art and style is so beautiful and interesting, and honestly they depict the characters in such a gorgeous, realistic way. I love the watercolor, stepped-right-out-of-a-painting quality of their work. My favourite was one of the entire cast of TRR/H, a picture of Rafael and the OH MC hugging and looking like the giddy reunited lovers that they are, and this cute picture of the entire ITB crew!

@they-callme-ami - Just the fact that they do such incredible art of black characters brings me so much joy 🥰🥰🥰 Here's their awesome commission page! I'm new to their art so I'm really excited to reblog them and have more people see them!!

@ellezelindraws - I absolutely love their drawings of Hana Lee (personal favourite is the one of Hana in a pink cheongsam) and their lovely cartoons of Hana and the MC as a married couple (like this one of the MC dreaming Hana might be bald, Hana gazing admiringly at a sleeping MC, and goth!Hana). They've done some other incredible art of wlw in particular as well, like Sabina, Annabelle, Ava and Kamilah. I can't wait to see more of their art!!

@danniseyebrows - They make incredible art of a lot of characters but the ones I am most familiar with are her TRR MCs (she has one each for each LI!) My favourite of the lot is her Hana MC Valerie, and one of my most enduringly favourite works of theirs is a depiction of the MC reacting to the dress that Hana made for her (in Shanghai) in a way that truly acknowledges these women as being in love with each other 💗

If any of their commissions are open, please do check them out and consider commissioning art from them...you definitely won't be disappointed!

#choices spread kindness #artist day #day 3 #choices fandom appreciation