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artethyst · 13 days

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~ Shadows Bathed In Moonlight ~

Azriel x Youngest Archeron Sister!Reader x OC

Little Ezekiel was not like his cousins.

Nyx, older only by two years, was cheerful and outgoing, curious like his mother and with an unbridled fearlessness just like his father.

Baby Thena, the youngest of the three, who had only just began to walk- toddle, already had the will of both her mother and father.

Cassian’s mischievous grin with Nesta’s piercing gaze.

Ezekiel, however, was just like Azriel.

He was very shy, in fact, he preferred to hide behind his mother’s legs and cling onto the shimmering skirts that pooled over them than chase after his cousins.

Rest his curly mop of raven hair against his father’s neck who was more than happy to scoop him up and carry him around, protective over the innocent child who had yet to be tainted by Prythian’s cruelties.

It was no secret Azriel preferred it that way, Rhysand and Cassian often teasing his parental axiety and overbearing behaviour, reminding him his son was an Illyrian after all.

Just as Illyrian as he had once been- delicate wings folded against his little back but with unblemished hands and love in his heart.

Azriel would keep it that way.

His Mate knew it was because of the innate fear of the Mother snatching his happiness away- as though he had never deserved it.

Ezekiel was a little miracle.

Not only were Fae children rare, the dangerous birth had put his mother in a coma, and him confined to the Healer’s for the first month of his wavering life.

It was the worst time of Azriel’s centuries long existence.

If he had been protective before, he was a hundred times worse now

When the other children played, Ezekiel was happy to curl up in another adult’s lap, to which many of them had no qualms, as Ezekiel was just the “cutest” according to Mor- a tiny version of his father that the Inner Circle could squeeze and smother with kisses.

Feyre often scolded Nyx for dragging the poor boy around, but Ezekiel held no grudges, a small blush on his face as his cousin tugged him along ranting on about whatever a child of his age had to rant about.

But now it was time for him to leave the nest.

The one his parents has so throughly wound.

“Ezekiel,” his mother bent down to his eye level, twinkling hazel eyes wide and scared. “Mama will be back soon okay?”

The little boy’s lip wobbled and tiny fists came to rub at his eyes which quickly filled with tears. His silent sobs broke her heart, Madja had always said he was an easy baby, like his father.

And even now- when he cried, he tried to hide it.

It worried her- that he would never throw a tantrum or openly seek comfort- but hide it as though he was ashamed to feel.

He choked back little cries as his mother had to force away her own.

She hated to think her little boy felt the need to internalise his feelings- especially from her.

Azriel had assured her it was okay- that he had been that way too, even when his own mother had shown him nothing but love.

“You’ll have lots of fun my Little Shadow,” she pressed a deep kiss to his wet cheek, gently brushing away his tears, trying not only to convince him but herself. “Nyx will be with you-“

“Yepppp! Come on ‘Zekiellllll!” His cousin’s voice sang in anticipation, not understanding why the boy was so reluctant to play with toys and read funny picture books all day.

Ezekiel continued to cry and so his mother picked him up, cradling him against her chest as he sobbed without restraint.

Unusual for such a well-behaved child such as he.

“D-Don’t leave me mama!” He wept. “I-I pwomise I’ll be good p-pwease don’t give me away!”

Her heart broke as he trembled and her free hand came to stroke at his curls, the way she had done to comfort her own husband many a time.

“I would never give you away my darling, and you have not been bad,” she smoothed his raven locks, “you are a big boy now, just like Nyx. You are old enough go and play with all other children-“

“I not a big boy I-I still a baby!” He cried and that was when his father appeared, face just as torn as his mother’s.

The boy did not giggle as he usually did when his father’s shadows came to tickle against his cheek, his cries coming out in small hiccups as she looked to Azriel in pure misery.

He wordlessly plucked the child from her arms, his own chest tightening at the sound of his only child’s pained cries- crying under the belief he was being abandoned.

Azriel had vowed his child would never feel the way he had, unloved and nothing but a burden the Mother was so cruel to burden the equally dismal world with.

His Mate had changed that outlook.

And now his greatest treasure- a part of them both, homage to their fiery passion and proof the Shadowsinger was indeed capable of love.

Ezekiel continued to cry as Azriel’s shadows were equally as unsettled, trying their best to cheer up the little boy who quivered so violently, he might have fallen from his father’s arms had the older male’s grip been so secure.

He would rather suffer burns across his while flesh- take Truthteller to his heart than have his son feel unwanted.

“You know that your mother and I love you- more than anything. More than the sky above.”

Ezekiel sniffed, his little head nodding pathetically as best it could smushed into Azriel’s chest.

“You are our little star Ezekiel. You are the most precious thing to us- in all of Prythian. We would never let anything or anyone harm you, you never have to be afraid of the world as long as I am here.”

Feyre stood in the distance- letting her brother-in-law share the moment with his son, knowing just how heartbroken Rhys was at the same situation.

The difference was, Nyx hardly gave him a second glance- sprinting into the unfamiliar building with a new sense of reverence and promise of adventure.

“D-Daddy stay?” The boy became hopeful as Azriel shook his head, running a hand lovingly through his son’s inherited locks- a sense of pride and indescribable love overwhelming him at the sight.

Before he could come up with some semblance of comfort, Feyre saved the day. Pressing a wet kiss to her nephew’s cheek with an infectious smile on her warm face.

It wasn’t that she thought her own sister incapable, she just knew the poor woman was just as worried as Azriel.

Their forced smiles and glossy eyes hardly convincible even to a child.

“Hmmm, a little shadow told me that Uncle Cass has a surprise back home waiting for his best Spy…”

The boy paused, his little face red and besmirched with tears but an undeniable curiosity to his eye.

“Spies don’t cry Zekie!” Nyx chimed in as his mother sent him a gentle look of reprimand. “Come onnnnn, the faster we get home, the faster we get the suprise!”

“You like painting, don’t you Ezekiel?” Feyre continued, distracting the boy enough for him to perk up in curiosity, loosening his little balled fisted grip on his father’s leathers. “Would you like me to show you the art room?”

Azriel- albeit reluctantly, lowered his son to the ground, gently encouraging him towards Feyre who happily received his little hand in hers.

The Shadowsinger took his Mate into his arms as replacement, the loss of his son weighing heavy even on his own marred heart.

The boy had never once been out of their sight for so long.

And as Feyre guided him into the Nursery, her sister mouthing a watery ‘thank you’ as a tear cascaded down her cheek, Azriel couldn’t help but let one of his own slip as Ezekiel passed through the doors and out of his sight.

Hesitant in his little steps, but with his cousin there to help him along.

Just as Rhysand had done for his father.

#fanfic #acotar #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #azriel x archeron sister #azriel x original character #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #dad!azriel

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lorcandidlucienwill · 5 months

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SJM characters whose hate makes no sense

Lorcan Salvaterre: aight ik he's a cold-ass warrior but that Maeve thing is not as big a deal as it's made out to be ok. Y'all forget that Aelin was stupid hiding her plans from experienced war generals and that Lorcan never pretended to be loyal to Aelin. And he never intended for Aelin to go through that torture. Plus Maeve would've found them anyway! A little slower, yeah, but still. Nesta Archeron: ok, come on man. She said some mean words, get over it already pls. there are so many characters who did way worse and get no hate for it. Eris Vanserra: ok he called mor a slut. so what? he's playing a role, plus that bitch be spreading heinous lies about him. and he has shown more respect for mor by bailing her out of their marriage and saving her from her father keir, than the entire inner circle who subjected her to her abuser without even telling her. he's not sexist, he's a mama's boy! besides rhysand objectified feyre's breasts in front of a high lord so. Chaol Westfall: Aight bruh tf did he do? It's one thing knowing someone is an assassin and another thing seeing someone actually murder people. He had nothing to do with Nehemia's death, so don't even with that. Celaena was the one who tried to kill him after claiming to love him. What did you expect Chaol to be all sunshine and rainbows with her? Pls be fr. Besides he's Fleetfoot's number one protector so. Additionally, if you haven't read Tower of Dawn, you have zero content. Friendly reminder if you hate Chaol, Dorian AND Aelin don't like you. Nor do Yrene or Nesryn. Gwyneth Berdara: It's mainly Elriels who keep making up evil Gwyn theories and...stop. Just stop. I don't even gaf if you ship them, but don't drag Gwyn into this, ok? She's so precious and she's a r*pe SURVIVOR. LEAVE. HER. ALONE. And if you say she's lying about that and it's part of her evil plan, I will become the monster under your bed. Lucien Vanserra: If you call Lucien a pushover or an abuser, I will actually become violent. Stop blaming male abuse victims. Just stop it. It's ridiculous. Lucien did fight for her and got abused. Go back and read. He's a r*pe survivor too, because he took on the duties his High Lord wouldn't for the sake of his court. Also, if you're dragging him through the dirt because you're an Elriel shipper, the door is that way --> Bombastic side eye to haters of these characters. ESPECIALLY my favorite sassy redheads (Gwyn and Lucien). Maybe y'all are just salty all these characters have last names while half of your favs still don't.

#lorcan salvaterre #nesta archeron #eris vanserra #chaol westfall #gwyneth berdara #lucien vanserra #lorcan stan #pro nesta archeron #pro eris vanserra #pro chaol #pro gwyneth berdara #pro lucien vanserra

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nesta-is-my-queen · 23 days

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Mini fanfic I wrote of Mama Archeron’s origin story. About a secret hidden deep in her bones, carried in her soul.

A price paid with her name, her blood, and her daughters.

—

Trigger warning: caesarean section, blood, and medical trauma

***

Aradia Archeron knew she was dying. Rotting away from some wretched human plague that eroded her mortal body. Typhus the healer had said, before scuttling away, a rag pressed tightly over her mouth. It was the same sickness that brought the realm to it’s knees and turned once sprawling cities into graveyards.

Her death had been foretold to her on a night as dark and grim as this one. She thought then too she would die. But a voice inside her, one gentle and kind, said, “not yet, not yet.” So she pushed and pushed, blood spilling out of her.

Nesta had slipped out of her, graceful as a dancer, Elain had been birthed gentle and quiet as a fawn. But this one, this one was undoing, the one that would break her. This one was clawing her way out of the womb as if angry at being held in captivity for nine months. Unlike the first two, this one was the daughter that would finally end everything for her.

The corners of the room darkened and she felt the room spinning. The ripping pain between her legs began to fade. “Not yet, not yet.” The voice urged. But she was so tired, and her eyes were so heavy from the weight of it all, so she succumbed to the darkness as the midwife began to cut.

“Aradia.” Who was calling her voice?

“Aradia.” They sounded so insistent. But what could be so important when she was drifting off into the embrace of her subconscious.

“Aradia! Listen to me!” The voice pressed on. Gone was the gentleness, the sweetness, replaced by a voice made of iron and shields, that pierced through the darkness like an arrow.

“Aradia it is time to pay the price.” After all these years, she had thought—no wished—that the promise wasn’t real. The bargain—no the curse—was part of some distant nightmare.

Her mother had always told her she was destined for greatness. That it was in her blood. That her ancestors hailed from a fae-human king and witch queen from another era. Another world.

At first she didn’t believe her. She refused to listen to such nonsense. She would leave such fairytales for the children of the blessed. She had always considered herself clever enough to spot lies.

But then she began to see things and hear things that had her caught between pockets of space and time. She had seen a vision of three fae females, each one more beautiful and cunning than the other. A vision of a city cloaked in starlight. A castle wreathed in roses and a pool that looked as if it were made up of the stars in the sky. She thought she was going mad. So she went to find the only people with whom she might acquire answers, the insipid wretches themselves—the children of the blessed.

The woman before her was draped in gauzy blue robes, bedecked in silver bangles that chimed as she walked. She arranged her face in a way that made her look both virtuous and pious. She was exactly the type of woman Aradia hated.

“What brings you here child?” The woman said, her voice low and shushed as if in constant prayer.

“I need to see the fae.” She demanded. She wondered if she looked insane. Her hair was a mess, she hadn’t bothered to braid it or bathe in days. Her clothes were sweaty and damp. Her family had once been wealthy and respected, but their blue blood only got them so far. They had lost their money, squandered it on trying to keep up with high society, but did not have the acumen to retain their small fortune. All that remained was the family estate, to be fought over by her siblings and uncles, and an acre of ironwood trees.

It was her mother’s wish for her to marry well, so she had introduced her to society at the young age of sixteen, hoping to ensnare a Duke or a Prince with her beauty. No such thing had happened. They had seen right through her and her out-of-season gowns, her satin—not silk—ribbons, her lack of jewels, and her hair plaited into a simple coronet, not an elaborate spiralling concoction like the ladies of the court wore. She had never felt so exposed—so lost. She promised herself she would never be humiliated like that again. And now here she was, dressed in unwashed rags, looking half crazed, begging for help from the children of the blessed. How the mighty have fallen she mused to herself.

“We do not allow just anyone to see the fae.” The priestess before her said, her voice ringing like chimes in the wind.

“I have money.” Aradia said, handing the woman a fistful of coins.

“The fae have no need for your mortal money.” She replied, imperious and graceful all at once.

“Then tell me—tell me what to do.” She pleaded.

—

Aradia didn’t know where she was. The priestess had blindfolded her and brought her to an ancient sanctuary. The building was made of carved stone, with statues of ancient gods long forgotten. Glittering whirls and markings littered the ceiling, giving the appearance of stars trapped in stone.

Rows and rows of acolytes were lying prostrate on the ground, in silent prayer. Before them stood a fae female, imperious and beautiful as the ones she had seen in her visions. She was tall and slender, her blonde hair fell in waves, framing her angular face that looked as if it too was carved of stone. Her eyes were a piercing blue that looked as if they could see her very soul.

“It has been an age since I have seen one of your kind.” The female breathed.

“Who are you?” Aradia said, meeting that females gaze. She would not allow herself to be intimidated or shamed by the likes of the children of the blessed—let alone the fae.

“I am high priestess of Vallahan, but you child—you may call me Ianthe.” She said, her voice resounding through the cave, even though she remained unnaturally still.

”Tell me child what is it your heart desires most.”

She paused for a second, reflecting on all she could ask for and all she knew of the fae and their wicked ways. Riches could come and go, beauty was fleeting. She wanted legacy—true and lasting power. Something that would carry weight, something even a fae priestess could not twist and turn against her.

”Greatness.” She whispered. “Greatness.”

—

The rest of the night was blur. She barely remembered all the sweet promises and lovely words the priestess has bestowed upon her. She had expected treachery, not kindness, from someone like Ianthe. Instead she received blessings of good fortune, healthy children, and a handsome husband. All in exchange for a drop of her blood.

Her blood.

Ianthe had slit her palm with an iron dagger and she watched her blood trickle down, filling the silver chalice Ianthe was clutching. Her blood swirled and bubbled until it turned blue.

The air around them thickened. The burnt offering and spices stung her nose. It was stifling and hot, so close to the flame lit upon the stone alter.

“The iron brings out what is carried in your blood. A bloodline so old I had long thought it lost to history.” Ianthe murmured as she dumped the contents into the fire. As soon as her blood, her life force, touched it, the flames turned silver. The high priestess’s eyes rolled back as they burned with that same sterling fire, her jaw hanging slack, her mouth agape as a voice that was not hers rang out.

“You shall have three daughters, an heir, a spare, and a sacrifice.” The voice told her.

She felt the blood rushing from her face, the thought of one of her daughters destined to be a sacrifice, like some lamb to the slaughter.

“No—not my daughter. Anything but my daughter.” She cried out.

“Child—it is already written in the stars.” The voice crooned.

“You need not worry child. The mother shall take care of her. Shall take care of all of her children.”

The silver fire seemed to grow and stretch, enveloping both of them in flame and plunging them both into an icy darkness that could only be described as a an endless void. She thought she was dying as her veins turned to ice. As a cold so bitter and a darkness so deep swallowed her. Was this death? Was this the end?

The voice made of swords and shields scraped against her mind, “we will return for what is ours. What is owed to us.”

Then everything came rushing back all at once as everything around her came into focus. And that horrible silver fire and endless void was gone.

Ianthe blinked. Her eyes now a deep shade of cerulean, radiant and cruel all at once as she gathered herself. “Come now.” She drawled as she swished past Aradia, as she placed a golden amulet in her palm. “This belongs to you.”

“Your eldest shall be queen, the spare shall be a beauty, and the youngest, a sacrifice and saviour of all.”

Then she had the children of the blessed drape her in silver jewellery and fine silk robes. “You must be given a queens farewell.” Ianthe said, in that clairvoyant voice, offering the smallest slivers of kindness. Kindness that Aradia seldom received. So she did not know that this—that this was far from kindness.

This was a curse. Her undoing.

“But what about my visions?” She asked, voice quiet.

“Let the iron mingle with your blood and they will cease to happen. The dagger is yours to keep.”

—

She had all but forgotten the prophecy and the visions. Cutting herself with the iron dagger had become a small mercy for her. It was like a drug she became addicted to. Years had passed since she had a vision and she seldom needed the blade, but there was something hypnotizing in watching her red blood bloom across her pale skin and then turn into blue rivulets. There something beautiful about the pain she felt, when she was so used to feeling nothing at all.

But now—now she could not make the pain go away. As she soaked her birthing bed in blood. Red blood. Her dagger nowhere to be seen. She was going to die. This would be her end. Just another woman dying while birthing a new life.

She screamed and screamed until she had nothing but a raw burning in her throat left. The midwife already cut her open to get the babe out of her stomach. The child came out silent and limp, she heard someone mutter, “too late.” While she lay there struggling to breathe, slipping in and out of darkness.

She felt herself being pulled, as if her very soul was being sucked out from her body. The room beneath began to wane, as if she was an observer looking down from the heavens.

“It is time to give us what is owed” a voice thundered, it was that same voice of steel and swords that she had heard all those years ago.

“What is it you want?” She whispered, barely able to get the words out.

“The girl.”

“No! Let her live!” She pleaded, desperate for a sign of life, for the kicking and punching she had felt throughout her pregnancy, for the fire that had burned through her during her labour.

“What would you give us in exchange?” The voice scraped at her mind, as if made of knives, slowly cleaving her consciousness.

“Anything.”

The half formed glittering figure seemed to balk, as if weighing her words. “Long ago, your ancestors promised us a sacrifice. A life in payment for their sins. The price was their name—their life.” The glittering figure paused. Blinking. As if assessing her target—her prey. “Will you pay the price? Give us what is owed?”

“Yes.” The words tumbled from her pale lips. Quiet and muffled, for the effort to speak was too great at this point. The stuffy room seemed to swallow her and the form of the midwife seemed to blur and stretch before everything turned completely dark.

“Yes.” She repeated. Unsure if the voice heard her.

“Say it. Say your name. To seal your fate.”

“Aradia Archeron?”

“Not your married name. But your true name. The one that runs through your blood. The one that cursed and condemned us. The one that broke its promise to us all those years ago. We have not forgotten… And in time, you too shall pay the ultimate price. And so shall those who carry it in their bones—with iron and blood. But not yet. Not yet.”

“Aradia Havalliard.” She whispered, weak and desperate, clawing to the last clutches of life, as even her breathing became rattled and heavy.

“It’sss a bargain. Daughter of no one. Heir of bastards. Mother of the sacrifice.” The voice stated. Aradia could have sworn she heard the faint sound of laughter coming from the figure, but it sounded like swords clashing against eachother.

Suddenly she was hurtling back and her pain was gone. All except for a burning feeling that spread across her right palm, as the form of a golden arrow singed itself into her skin, directly over where the iron blade had cut her all those years ago.

A wail broke through the silence as the blood soaked sheets were hastily stripped and replaced with new ones. Somehow the bleeding had stopped and the midwife muttered something about a miracle. A fat, crying babe was shoved in her arms, kicking and punching at the air.

”What is her name?”

She looked down at that perfect form held against her bosom, hoping that it was all some horrible dream, a terrible nightmare she would soon forget.

“Feyre.” Her saviour. Her sacrifice. Her undoing.

#nesta acotar #pro nesta #nesta #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #feyre acotar #elain archeron #archeron sisters #acotar #acosf #ianthe acotar #fanfic #sjm universe #sjm books #sjmaas #sjm #sjm fandom #maasverse #fantasy

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ae-neon · 7 months

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Okay but I'm so delusional about the Archeron family

Like I just think their dynamic could be so gut wrenching and all their behaviours trace back to each other in that inescapable way of shared blood and shared hell

Like imagine Elain is Papa A's favourite because Feyre and especially Nesta just look too much like their mom. Imagine Elain knows and it's part of what keeps her quiet, it's this strange guilt that drives her not to stand out more so she doesn't "steal" anymore attention from them

Imagine Nesta hates her face for the same reason, sees the woman she hates and loves more than she could ever explain, but it's inescapable when she looks at Feyre

And Feyre who forgives and forgets easier - who moved on from the death and sudden poverty - because she barely remembers living any other way. Because she was always left to grow and adapt on her own and even worse, because she simply accepted it

And it drives Nesta crazy with that poisonous tangle of anger and sadness and envy

When I was reading acotar, back then, I legit thought it was gonna be revealed Mama A was alive since everything around her felt so vague and unresolved and full of potential

But that's everything in acotar - vague, unresolved and full of potential

#anti sjm #wasted opportunities

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 9 months

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SLUMBER PARTY

Pairing: Nesta Archeron x Velaris!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, femxfem, cun*ilingus, hurt&comfort, jealous Nesta, will admit MC is kind of clueless just for sake of story, first story I've done for Nesta's character, might be slight OOC, got a little carried away xDD, I honestly wouldn't mind Nesta dominating me

Words: 5051

Summary: Nesta can’t help the poison that fumed inside of her as she watched (y/n) interacting with every male in Rita’s that sought after the female’s affections.

Nesta didn't mind going out for a drink or two. Hell, it was her favorite thing to do. Or at least it used to be before she moved into the House of Wind. Right now she would very much appreciate a strong fermented nectar. But she had to keep her wits with her. She couldn't enjoy the numbing of the head that drinking brought on.

No, she had the responsibility of watching over you.

Who else would stop you from making a bad decision? If it wasn't for Nesta, more men would be harrassing her for a dance or any scrap of attention they could get from her.

There were two in particular that Nesta had her guarding eye on. And they just had to be the best friends of the night court's high lord. Even if she wanted to rip their linger hands off, she couldn't. There would be a terrible price to pay for that treason. Not that Nesta didn't debate the cost. She was starting to seriously devise a plan on how to get Cassian and Azriel away from you as you blindly giggle and lean against them for support. Azriel wasn't bothered as you bob against him in a drunken haze. He wraps an arm around her shoulders to assist her in standing upright. A few times he tries to coax the young fae to sit down but you weren't having it. To be the only one sitting would be admitting defeat. You'd boasted how you'd be able to drink them under the table. Bragged of your high tolerance (though to be fair, you were already about three drinks in before they arrived) you challenged them. Now your pride would most definitely be injured.

You were a stubborn thing.

It was something that Nesta loved and hated about you.

Cassian dips his head down to whisper something in your ear that has Nesta already making her way across the bar. That was too close for comfort.

Whatever he said made the pointed tips of your ears glow pink. You'd liked what he said and even flutter your lashes at him with your own reply.

"Uh-oh, here comes mama bear." Azriel chuckles at the approaching figure of Nesta that radiated with hostility. He can't take his arm off from you, otherwise you would completely fall into Cassian and make Nesta angrier.

You blink to refocus your sight and turn to where Azriel had gestured his head. Maybe it was all the drinks you had consumed in a short amount of time, but there was something about an angry Nesta that turned you on a little bit. Her eyes were always the lightest of blues but when enraged they intensified into an almost ethereal glow.They reflect the fury inside of her. The cerulean hue seem to dance with an electric energy. You also saw vulnerability in her. A raw authenticity that spoke to the depths of her soul.

"Nes!" The stupid grin you usually had on your face when drunk grew larger.

The spikes around her soften when you address her. Nesta reigns herself in. "(y/n), I think it's time we go home."

You frown at this. "But Az and Cass just got here!"

Ah. It was going to be one of those nights where she would have to be the bad guy and tear you away from having a good time.

Thankfully even Cassian seems to urge you toward Nesta. "She's right. Best to call it a night."

Azriel nods. "Get some rest and drink lots of water."

Annoyed by their sensibility, you grumble and call them a few choice words that only has them laughing as you follow Nesta out. She held your hand, making sure you didn't get lost or fall. Putting one foot in front of the other proved to be difficult in your state. Suppose it served you right for getting so drunk.

The cold Velaris night air is soothing against your warm face. Nesta has you close to her as she slows down for your sake.

"Don't look at me like that." You grumble when you feel her eyes on you.

"You overdid it. Look at you, you can barely walk." Nesta chides.

Hm, funny considering she had been just like you several months ago. Having drink after drink to numb your mind, anything to keep the agony at bay.

You don't give her a reply. Now you make more of an effort to walk by yourself and try to shrug her hand away with a quiet 'i'm fine'.

Your apartment building was coming up anyway and you wouldn't need her assistance from there.

She treated you like a child. You were young for a fae, but in worth of years you were far older than Nesta.

Putting distance between yourself and Nesta caused your unwanted companion to retract her hand as if she'd been burned. Hurt flickers briefly in her eyes but this is soon frozen over into an expression of calm acceptance.

You fish your small brass key out of your pocket and hold it up to the building entrance. Nesta still lingered close behind you. "Thank you for seeing me home, but I've got it from here."

In reply she skeptically purses her pretty pink lips, unwilling to let you go in alone. "I need to make sure you make it up the stairs."

"Nes-"

Her sharp eyes square off against you. "I won't chance you getting hurt. So deal with it."

Bossy. Were all first borns like this? You yourself were an only child and didn't have to deal with pesky siblings, either older or younger.

You knew she wouldn't relent. With a pout on your own face you give in and move so she can walk through the building's front door and help you up two flights of stairs until you were at your apartment door. Your fingers choose to play dumb as they struggle to get ahold of the suddenly slippery key.

Nesta takes your key ring from you and easily finds the one that matches your door's lock. Gently she pushes you aside so she could open the door.

After a long day it was good to be home.

When Nesta was drowning in her own alcoholism, her apartment had been sparse and unfurnished save for a lonely mattress on the floor. No, your apartment was truly your home. You fitted it with the finest tapestries and rugs along with little trinkets that tell the story of your life. You especially like your balcony garden that looks out to the sea of roofs under the beautiful Velaris sky.

Your bedroom is too far away so you settle for throwing yourself on your couch and immediately grab your comfy blanket that you liked to roll yourself in. Vaguely you hear Nesta in the background, most likely in the kitchen.

She sits next to you and offers a tall glass of water. "Drink this."

"I'm not thirsty." If anything you might have to pee soon.

"I'm not cleaning up your vomit again, (y/n)." she hisses. Tough love was definitely Nesta's display of affection. She only acted to tersely with you because of her worry for your wellbeing. She'd seen how violent your hangovers could be. Each time she was forced to nurse you back to relative health you didn't hear the end of it from her. She chastised you along with making sure to show how much of an inconvenience it was for her. She hated missing her valkyrie training. Her move to the House of Wind had been against her will in the beginning. Now she seemed to actually be enjoying it. Not only did she have training to keep her occupied, but also the massive library that lay underneath. Friends were even a staple in her life now. You'd met Gwyn and Emerie. They tried to get you into training too and while you partially entertained the idea, Nesta didn't want you anywhere near the training grounds. She didn't want you getting hurt. That excuse made Emerie roll her eyes and Gwyn laughed at Nesta's painfully obvious protective nature of you. She didn't seem too inclined to treat them like she treated you.

"I'm not your responsibility." You slur and sit up. "You know that right? Before I met you I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I may not know how to fight like you but I can still protect myself if the need arises."

Conflict storms her face, her lips part to say something but she couldn't will her words to come out. Instead she huffs and puts the glass of water on the coffee table. Without anything to occupy her hands, you notice Nesta anxiously toying with her fingers. "I know that." For Nesta, it was near impossible to admit her feelings. A few times you were able to crack into her to see glimpses of the Nesta she hid from the rest of the world. She guarded herself well. But you could tell when something was bothering her.

When you went out drinking (and with the hopes of finding someone to bring back for a quick fuck) you acknowledged the way Nesta glared at anyone who showed interest in you. And when you went off to flirt, there was a brief flash of hurt before she put up her wall. Not for the first time, you wonder if Nesta had deeper feelings for you. Maybe you were reading too much into things and fooling yourself. It would explain her protectiveness toward you.

For the first time in several hours, her eyes turn vulnerable as she looks at the floor. If you still weren't upset with her, you'd most likely be kicking yourself for making her look so sad. "I can't. . . I can't help it. You let those lesser men touch you with their grubby paws. It upsets me greatly." This was all new territory for Nesta but for you she was trying to be open about her true feelings instead of hiding behind her mask of indifference. These moments were so rare and you tried not to blink. In your drunken haze, you sober up slightly and lean into Nesta. At your nearness, you feel her body stiffen but once she accommodates to your close presence she relaxes. She still doesn't look at you but you don't mind.

Tongue loose from your drinking made you vocally question her. "Why do you think that is?"

She huffs impatiently at herself and by the ticking of her jaw you know she's fighting to get the words out.

Thoroughly making up her mind, Nesta lets out a short sigh and finally turns up her blue-gray eyes. How could anyone be so effortlessly breathtaking? Nesta never put on makeup as it was never needed. You'd heard from Feyre that when Nesta went into the Cauldron, she'd already been quite beautiful as a human. But as a high fae her good looks were almost terrifying. Her personality aided in enhancing her austereness. Many were intimidated by her. Even the general himself would admit he would not want to be Nesta's enemy. Especially now that she's been training and getting stronger.

You were never intimidated by Nesta. Not even when you were first introduced to her. Your first impression of her was one where you felt like you were struck by an invisible arrow. She had such an heir of authority around her, forbidding any from getting close to her.

There's a hunger in her eyes as she looks at you now. Her long, black lashes cast shadows over her eyes before she brings her hand to your face. Fingers trail along the line of your jaw, coming to rest on your chin as you stare dumbly at her. You didn't breathe, not even a little bit as the pad of her thumb runs across your plump bottom lip. The trail she'd made from your jaw to your chin burned as did your bottom lip.

"I can please you far better than they ever could." She says finally.

The heat from your face is making your head swim and for a moment you worry that you were actually going to pass out. "You. . ." Nesta had been with plenty before. You wouldn't be her first. But you'd never heard her talk about any sexual experiences with females. She'd only ever bedded males. Yet she was confident in herself that even without any experience with females she'd be able to give you pleasure.

And you didn't doubt that she could, especially if the way you were feeling from just a little touching indicated to how willing your body was toward her. And it would be a lie if you said you'd never had any weird dreams of you and Nesta making out or getting into some real heavy petting. They'd only ever been dreams though with no possibility of becoming real. You never imagined Nesta to be into females, let alone you.

That one word you were able to get out was enough for Nesta to give into her desire and stamp your mouth with a searing kiss. She tasted sweet, so sweet that you wouldn't mind suffocating in the taste of her lips. You never wanted her to stop kissing you. She was all the oxygen you required. Her touches would be enough to keep you sustained for days. You feel yourself becoming drunk all over again, just off of Nesta. She definitely kissed better than any man you'd tasted before. Her lips were definitely softer although her kiss was on the more passionate side. Her kiss held the power of whatever she had stolen from the Cauldron. When she pulls away you're admittedly left delirious.

You're pleased to see that even Nesta's cheeks are radiantly pink as were her newly pointed fae ears. Even she trembled from the intensity of finally giving into her month's long desire. You desire to know how long she'd thought about doing that to you. Or was it simply a spur of the moment thing?

She touches her fingers to her lips, as if to replay the whole thing and reassure what had happened was real.

In seconds she has your lips captured once more, leaning into you with her lean body. She's like a wild cat now that she has grown more confident. You let her do what she wished with you. Falling into her grabby hands that held onto your hips and falling in love with the way she moaned against your mouth. You drank it up greedily and tentative bravery had you placing your own hands on her hips. She freezes but only for a millisecond before continuing with her experimental groping.

Mother above, Nesta's waist was so slim yet her ass was well worked and possessed plenty of muscle mass from her exertions with the rest of the valkyrie. You give it a good squeeze and nearly climax from the guttural sound that is ripped from the female above you. That was all you wanted to hear, morning, noon and night you wanted to hear more of Nesta's moans that were made because of YOU. Your hands scramble for the under curve of her ass cheeks and do the same but while also pressing her closer to you. Slightly she starts to grind against you making you go crazier for her contact. There was a morbid moment where you wanted her to take a bite of your flesh, to get as close to her as was possible.

It's you this time who breaks away from the kiss to throw your head back and moan. She takes this opportunity to rip the front of your dress, her new strength even startles her when it proved to be an easy task. With the action, she frees your tits and by instinct her mouth latches onto your breast. How was it that she made you feel like you were on fire? Like your very veins were melting and your blood as searing as lava. You wanted to combust and Nesta hadn't really touched the part of you that you wanted her to. Her lips make a trail of sharp kisses and nips from your breasts, down your torso until she reaches the extra tender skin of your pelvis. The hair from her immaculate bun is coming loose causing locks of her hair to come free and bounce around her face.

A bad decision on your part for daring to open your eyes and look at her face. No man had ever looked at you the way Nesta did. If she wanted to break you, you would absolutely let her. At that point you would let her do anything to you as long as she kept kissing you with that scorching gaze of her's.

And still she continued her journey further down.

You were a gaping idiot at that point when her nose nuzzles the base of your pubis.

At this Nesta frowns and you're worried that it's something to do with you when she professes "I've. . . never actually done this." That must have taken all of Nesta's courage to utter.

"M-Me neither. I. . . It's okay." You offer her the upward curve of your lips. You move a few of her hair strands away from her face so you could truly admire her. Her skin was smooth like cream and just as silky when your palm strokes her cheek.

Oh.

Your words were like a hammer to a piece of glass. Her face, you'd never seen her quite that naked in her emotions. You felt it from just that simple caress.

Nesta gathers control of herself once more but her smile is beautiful when she kisses the soft inside of your thigh.

Never had you been more grateful to regularly keeping yourself trimmed down there than in that moment. She dives in with her tongue, the eagerness makes you jolt but soon you melt back into your couch cushions. At first her licks are tentative with the tip of her tongue, but once she got a taste of you, you were a goner.

You squeal and arch your back off of the couch. The vibrations of her groans shake you to the core. Using the flat of her tongue she tongues broad laps with her wet muscle. You bit back any noise that would have come flying out. If it had slipped out it would have been absolutely obscene. The urge to buck your hips is a frantic one but Nesta has a controlling hand pressed down on your pelvis to prevent you from moving. You were stuck in her web and at her mercy. Had she really never been with a female before? From the way she was eating you out you found that hard to believe. Even the males who had gone down on you had never made you a sobbing mess in mere minutes. Yet that's where you were right now. Whimpering and crying out to Nesta especially when her lips find your clit and she begins to suckle at it. She took your small bead, rolling her tongue around it occasional before she started sucking again. Now she'd involved her fingers as they prod at your wet opening. Her finger sinks into you with ease.

Nesta is lost in her own little world. She's determined to fill all of her senses with you. To immerse hers hearing with the sound of your moans and the wet noises she made with her mouth on your cunt. All she wanted to touch was your hot skin under her. All she wanted to see was you keening against her every caress. Your lewd blush that spread from your chest and all the way to your face lets Nesta know that you're about ready to explode from her ministrations. Squirming thighs that suddenly seize and quake around her head has her licking and fingering you more furiously. She read each of your cues perfectly. If she sensed that you wanted her to speed up, she did so or if you wanted more intensity, she stuck another slim finger inside of you and started to pump them in and out. No male she'd taken to bed had ever orgasmed as pretty as you did.

Your undoing was a work of art as the coil inside of you had strung so tightly that it snapped. A cry rips from you as the pleasure Nesta gave you drags you down into the depths of your climax. She shows no sign of slowing down even as you're gripping onto her hair and pressing her face closer to your pussy, as if that was possible. A sick part of you wants her to suffocate as well, to be just as swept up in your ecstasy. You want this moment to be the beginning and end of everything. Selfishly you think you don't ever want her to give this to anyone else. Just for you.

You rock your hips back and forth, riding out the last spasms against Nesta's face. Finally, she slows her licks and slowly retracts herself from you. You let out a disappointed whine, half afraid that she would leave now.

Heavily panting, Nesta uses the back of her arm to wipe at her glistening face. You'd made quite the mess on her and you will yourself to feel any ounce of shame. Instead you feel a funny bit of pride. Especially when her striking eyes still haven't left your face.

Now you're grateful for the glass of water she had brought you earlier. From all of your screams and moans, your throat was parched and nothing sounds better than a cold glass of water.

Nesta seemed to be thinking the same thing because she grabbed it before you could even reach over to your coffee table. She takes a long gulp first before generously handing it over to you. You chuckle. Well, she did do a lot more work than you had. She deserved the first sip.

A comfortable quiet wraps the both of you up better than any blanket could. Questions buzz incessantly through your mind but the only one to be loudly expressed was "Did I taste good?"

Your partner burst out laughing. You didn't think it warranted that loud of a laugh but you smile regardless. Any time you were able to make Nesta laugh, whether intentional or not, was a win in your books. "Could you not tell?"

The heat still hasn't left your face when you nod your head. "I...It sounded like you did."

"You were delicious." Nesta tells you seriously this time that it's you whose laughing now. She stretches her body across you languidly.

However, you flip her so now she's the one on the bottom and you on top. She looks stunned for sure as she blinks up at you with owlish eyes. You grin before kissing her.

"Well now I gotta have a taste of you." Even though you were sobering up well, you had your newfound confidence egging you on. You wanted to be the one to taste and touch.

Nesta is hesitant to let you be the one in control but complies and adjusts under you so that the both of you could still be liplocked as Nesta assists you in removing her skirt. It was a tight pencil cut that really showed off her amazing figure. Her teeth nip lovingly at your lips, the nails on her fingers rake against your bare thighs. Her proud and beautiful face all your's now to admire. This was a new side of her that you were enjoying very much. Full lips possessing small bite marks from your own excited bites.

Diving your face to her exposed neck, you bit the vulnerable skin there and she thrusts her hips in an upward motion. You lick the juncture of her neck and jaw before biting down and suctioning a small circle of skin like she had down with your clit. There will be a mark when you were finished. Possibly several by the end of the night but this would be the first of many. You pull your head up to admire your work. A lovely purple and red circle was blooming onto her peaches and cream skin.

Your fingers toy with the edge of the blouse she wore. With coy (e/c) eyes, you look down at her. "Can I?"

She smirks and nods, keeping her attention centered on your fingers as they pop open the many front buttons. When you got to the swell of her tits, you gulp suddenly finding yourself nervous. Slowly they pop each one open to reveal her mauve lace bra that holds up her well endowed breasts. You squeeze your arm under Nesta so you could unhook the back of her bra with a quick pinch. Immediately, her brassiere loosens in the front to where you could finally remove it from her being. Your hands cup under her breasts to weigh them in her hands. She had the definition of abs on her torso as she flexes due to your touch. Was her mortal body as perfect as this one? Yes, most likely.

From her heated eyes, she delighted in your gaze revering her body like a temple. And as any fervent devotee you bow before her. You worship first her thighs as she had done with you. Already you can smell her want and desire from her core, she parts her legs for easier access. You couldn't inhale her essence enough. Now that you were up close and personal with her beautifully pink pussy, you ignore her annoyed hand trying to pull your face back into her. With the softest touch, you part her lower lips to examine the glistening folds. Petting the outer lips with a feather light stroke. The muscles in her thighs have small tremors running through them. Nearly sighing at the sight, you slide your finger between her creases and grin at how wet she was. You gather her slick with your finger and use it to make small, smooth circles over her clit. All of your movements were of the barest pressure which makes her furiously buck against you for more traction. Could you be blamed for wanting to take your time in memorizing her? You didn't know what tomorrow would be like, if regret would curdle when the both of you woke up. That was if Nesta was even going to sleep over. It could be a simple one night stand where neither of you talk about it ever again. For now you'd take extra care to remember what you could.

You give her lower lips the softest of kisses that has her writhing. Nesta's fingers find your (h/c) hair and twist your locks around them for any kind of support as you were sending her mind spiraling. Nesta's past lovers probably had not been as generous as you. From what she'd shared with you, most of her illicit relations were done when she was black out drunk and didn't remember much the next day. Pleasure wasn't something she was looking for, only something to numb her brain and make her forget. You'd make up for the foolishness of males before you. Make her acknowledge that there should be no one else but you when it came to pleasuring Nesta.

Surprising her when you finally delve your tongue inside of her, Nesta's cry has you getting wet between your legs all over again.

Cauldron help you. Was this how you'd tasted to her?

Nesta was absolutely divine in taste. How was it possible for anything to taste as sweet as Nesta? No cock you had ever sucked could compare to the flavors that assault your tongue as you tongue fuck her in between kitten licks and paying attention to the swelling bead above.

Her thighs bracket either sides of your face and she clamps down on you without mercy. That was alright with you. If you died between her legs, it would be the most honorable death you could think of. Your fingers still had her wet lips pulled apart so you could fully consume her.

Breathing became inconsequential. Your lightheadedness was a ramification that prohibited you from noticing the thighs squishing your head were a seizing mess as Nesta came quite quickly, much faster than you had when she was eating you out. You didn't notice the impercetible jerks of her body as her climax ebbed and subsided.

Only when her legs slacken off to the sides and she's pulling your face up do you see her bright red face, her panting chest that made her tits move up and down. With her hand still buried in your hair, she pulls you up her body and smashes her lips into your's. Your face is still a mess from your meal but it didn't seem of concern to Nesta as she's sticking her tongue inside of your mouth. She must have tasted herself on you. It would be impossible.

Deliriously you kiss her back, still trying to get oxygen back into your brain.

Your living room is filled with your combined panting and Nesta's.

Weakly, you lay your head on her chest and her hand on your hair softens as she begins to pet it back into place. "You came really fast."

Nesta chuckles, making your head bob as she did so. "I've had little patience for males lately. It's been a while."

For neither of you having been with a female before, you'd say it was a success.

With a content sigh, you nuzzle your face between her breasts. "Well I guess that's good for me."

"Good for us." Nesta corrects before pushing herself off and out from under you.

Disappointment has your heart dropping to your stomach. Oh, you suppose since she'd had her's, it was time for her to leave.

Sullenly you sit up, ignoring the state of your undress to watch her.

Instead of putting her clothes back on and heading to the front door, she's making her leisurely way to your bedroom and casts a glance over her shoulder. "It's late. Lets go to bed." Nesta's face is uncharacteristically soft as she beckons you to follow her.

You couldn't move fast enough off the couch.

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moononastring · 1 year

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↠ SJM Fanfic Masterlist

Below you will find all my SJM fanfic linked! Thanks for reading and enjoy :) | PLEASE NOTE: All fanfic has been updated and uploaded to @lucienarcheron my main blog!

🌹 A Court of Thorns and Roses

🦊🌸 Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra [ Elucien ]

Bouquet Full of Loathing Rated SFW | Fluff & Humor Flower Shop Modern AU - Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says, “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?” |

Bouquet Full of Love Rated SFW | Fluff & Humor Elain visits Lucien at work, new bouquet in hand.

The Sun Rated SFW | Fluff/Angst Elain has a nightmare and turns to her mate for soothing.

No Place I'd Rather Be Rated SFW | Fluff with a smidge of angst. Elain's visions giving her nightmares that can only be soothed by one person.

A Light Against the Darkness Rated SFW | Angst/fluff Lucien battles his own nightmares with Elain there to soothe him.

Forget Me Not Rated SFW | Fluff Drunk Elain and her shenanigans.

Boys Night Out Rated SFW | Humor & fluff Drunk Lucien and his shenanigans. – companion to Forget Me Not.

Sleeping Beauty Rated NSFW-ish | Fluff ‘Wake me up’ kisses because foxboy and flower girl can't help themselves.

A Fox and a Flower Crown Rated NSFW-ish | Fluff + Humor Elain has a vision and it, uh, has her feeling all types of ways.

Tales of the Fox & the Fawn A series of short snippets to fill my Elucien heart.

Around the World - Part 1 | Part 2 | Bonus Rated NSFW | Prostitute/Client AU for laughs.

An Unexpected Visit Rated SFW | Fluff Drunk Lucien visits Elain at an inappropriate hour.

Quiet Thunder - Part 1 | Part 2 Rated SFW | Angst | Lucien expresses his frustrations to Elain. Elain follows up.

Morning Pranks Rated SFW | Fluff.

First Kisses Rated SFW | Fluff.

Instincts - Part 1 | Part 2 Rated SFW Lucien follows his instincts when it comes to Elain. It's the start of something new.

Frenzy Rated NSFW Elain and Lucien like to spend their yearly mating anniversary fully wrapped in each other, sinking into a frenzy.

A Simple Request Rated NSFW-ish. A still shy Elain finds a different way to tell her mate what she wants.

Inspiration Rated NSFW | Modern AU Aspiring writer Elain Archeron is looking for some inspiration for her new novel when she happens to meet the perfect man for the job.

Oh, What a Night (Elucien + Nessian)Rated SFW | Fluff Nesta and Elain’s first Starfall, the two celebrating it in different ways.

Drabbles

🍂 Eris Vanserra

Spirit Meets the Bones Rated M | Eris x Iris (OC) | Drama & Romance An arranged marriage brought them together and beneath all the hate, the two are more alike than they’d like to be.

✨🖌Feyre Archeron x Rhysand [ Feysand ]

Big Baby Rated SFW | Humor & fluff | Modern AU Rhys gets drunk at the bar and calls Feyre to rant about how much he loves her.

All It Takes is A Wingman Rated SFW | Humor & Fluff | Modern AU ‘Hey I’m sorry to bother you but I’m trying to convince my friends I’m a sex god so can you please write a fake number on this napkin for me real quick’

Do the Do Rated SFW | Rhysand x Reader (but really it’s Feyre) | Fluff & Humor Rhysand taking care of your ridiculously drunk self.

⚔️🔥 Nesta Archeron x Cassian [ Nessian ]

Bouquet Full of Lust (ft. Elucien) Rated SFW | Fluff & Humor Nesta gets a little taste of sisterly revenge. | Read after Bouquet Full of Love and Bouquet Full of Love

Oh, What a Night (Nessian + Elucien) Rated SFW | Fluff Nesta and Elain’s first Starfall, the two celebrating it in different ways.

Banned by the Boss Rated SFW | Fluff & Humor Nesta pulls a mama bear move and bans both mating bonds of her sisters.

Till the Darkness Dies Rated SFW | Angst and fluff Nesta’s battle against her inner demons.

Butter My Muffin Rated SFW | Fluff Nesta being a very soft girlfriend in private with Cassian combined with how I picture Drunk!Nesta.

Protect & Serve Rated SFW | Fluff Nesta has a nightmare and just wants to make sure Cassian is okay.

My Remedy Rated SFW | Fluff Cassian helps Nesta overcome her fear of the bathtub.

Change of Pace Rated Steamy | Modern AU “I chickened out of sex ages ago and you haven’t brought it up since but now I really want it, but I'm terrible at communication, so let me just strip shirtless/model lingerie for you until you snap”

Weakness Rated SFW | Steamy fluff Cassian does love his mate.

My Curse to Bear Rated SFW | Steamy fluff | Modern AU Based on the prompt “Matching couple shirts that say “bearer of the curse” on one of them and, “the curse” on the other”

⚫️ Azriel

Choices - [ Gwynriel ] Rated NSFW-ish. Gwyn makes choices for her happiness.

An Ember Among the Shadows Rated PG-13/M | Azriel x Lucy (OC) | Drama and romance A sibling reunion, new friendships forged, and a possible attempt at finding love. A story about our favorite Shadowsinger. | DISCONTINUED.

A Not So Secret Affair Rated SFW | Azriel x Reader | Azriel slipping up about his not-so-secret love.

💥Crackship: Feyrhycien (Feyre x Rhys x Lucien)

Ice Cream Delights Rated: SFW | Modern AU “God damnit, now all I can think about right now is you licking my cock like it’s that ice cream cone.”

Barbie & Her Two Kens Rated SFW | Modern AU Bored/Drunk Feyre bothering her boys

👑 Throne of Glass

Boner for You - Elide & Lorcan [ Elorcan ] Rated SFW | Humor & fluff Fake Dating AU where Lorcan just wants Elide to be his girlfriend for a party and Elide wants to pretend she isn’t thrilled about it.

✨ Tumblr Prompts ( ACOTAR & TOG )

Masterlist

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moodymelanist · 1 year

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Are you just doing Elucien prompts? Because I had this idea for Nessian where canon Nesta craves physical affection from Cassian but doesn’t really know what to do with it when he is affectionate with her because she’s never had anyone touch her tenderly like he does

nope, I’m taking any and everyone as the mood strikes me! I hope you don't mind that this is a modern au; I really liked this idea but writing in canon isn't my preferred thing to do. tw for discussion of prior abuse (tomas + mama archeron can suck it).

Nesta knew Cassian had noticed the way she didn’t know what to do with herself whenever he wanted to touch her. He was just so giving with his affection, from the easy way he would sling an arm around her shoulders to the kisses he liked to press to her skin whenever he felt she needed one.

Part of her wanted to lean into those touches, to make things easy the way they seemed to be for him, but a much larger part of her didn't know how to trust hands that were reaching for her. She was so used to being hurt instead of being held that her body just didn't know what to do when it was presented with the second option.

"I'm sorry," Nesta said for what felt like the millionth time after it happened. She'd been washing their dishes from dinner when Cassian had come up from behind her to wrap his arms around her, sending her into a stiff panic before she forced herself to calm down. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

They'd been dating for long enough that Nesta hated it was even an issue. They spent endless time in each other's apartments, saw each other multiple times a week, had met each other's friends and chosen families. She knew Cassian would never hurt her, would never even want to, but it was hard to fight every instinct in her body telling her she was in danger when it had kept her alive for so long.

"You don't have anything to apologize for, sweetheart," Cassian replied. He slowly unwrapped his arms from around her so he wouldn't startle her further and took a few steps to the right. "I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"What?" she responded, completely flabbergasted. She turned off the water and turned to face him so they could have what was shaping up to be an important conversation without any distractions. "You're not the one who's fucked up."

"Nesta." He gave her a look that told her exactly what he thought of that statement. "What happened to you was fucked up. That doesn't mean you're fucked up."

"But I am fucked up."

"We're all a little bit fucked up. Doesn't mean I still don't owe you an apology."

"What do you think you owe me one for?" Nesta asked, a little resigned. Her boyfriend was even more stubborn than she was on the best of days, so sometimes it was easier to just give in rather than fight a ridiculous fight, especially for something they'd talked to death so many times before.

"I know you don't like me coming up to you like that, so I'm the one who owes you an apology," Cassian answered. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"It's not that you scared me," she told him honestly. Having conversations like these made her insides crawl, but since they were already talking, she thought she might as well rip the entire band-aid off anyways. "I like it when you touch me, I just... need some more warning, is all."

"Okay," he easily agreed. "I'll try to remember that for the future. Okay?"

"Okay," she mumbled. She turned around and started messing with the dishes again just to give herself something to do, not sure where to go from here.

"Is it okay if I give you a hug now?" Cassian asked after a few moments passed.

"Yes," Nesta answered. She took a deep breath and let it go just as his arms slowly circled back around her, letting herself relax as much as she could into the warmth of his embrace. It was much better now that she knew it was coming, and she found herself able to enjoy the feeling of his warm body behind her instead of immediately going into fight-or-flight mode.

"Better?" he murmured, squeezing her gently.

"Better," she repeated.

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #moodymelanistwrites #tw: abuse discussion #tw: past abuse #nessian prompts #slight angst

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ladyelainaes · 1 year

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Some readers tend to forget that Feyre, Nesta, and Elain are SISTERS

anyone who has siblings or a sibling-like relationship to someone, know there will always be arguments, love-hate dynamic time to time and wanting to protect as well as give each other space. all three sisters grew up together but they were brought up very differently (say thanks to their mama).

as an older sister like Nesta, I understand that burden and weight and protectiveness she put onto Elain (and Feyre, remember that scene in ACOTAR when Nesta went to the Wall when Feyre was taken). i also understand the feeling of wanting to help someone I love because I see them turning bitter and hurting but they keep turning away.

so yes, i respect people’s take on the sisters but just remember that they’re siblings and they would bite your ass if they know someone’s hating and putting them against each other.

I better see more Archeron Sisters bonding Sarah in the next books

#highladyelains speaks #sarah j maas #elain archeron #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #the archeron sisters #archeron sisters #a court of thorns and roses #a court of war and ruin #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury

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ellievickstar · 2 years

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Climbing Out (Chapter 5)

A/N: Totally unrelated, but I just found this new song called Pierre by Ryn Weaver, AND MAMA MIA HOW HAVE I NOT HEARD THIS BEFORE? Anyways, hi loves <3 hope you like today’s chapter. Also if you aren’t up for kinda slow burn enemies to lovers then this series is not for you

Ship: Azriel x Reader, archeron!reader

Warnings: Abuse AKA Violence, if you can’t stomachs someone caving in someone else’s skull with a wall then don’t be here

Official Masterlist

Climbing Out Masterlist

Requested? No. Inspired? Yes! This series is inspired by Just Another Stereotype but the storyline is slightly different.

It was almost like I was there all over again.

Pain. Suffering. Agony.

I was numb with pain. All I wanted was to live a peaceful, normal life. That was all. But no. Sobbing through my teeth, I curled up into a ball as my head was brutally bashed into the wall repeatedly.

“Wake up.”

Using what remaining strength I had, I inched back, cowering as I tried to dodge the next hit. It was all in vain. I braced myself. But it did not stop the stinging pain. I howled. Nor did that agony subside when I felt my father’s nails, sharp and unkept, slit and slice through my soft skin, now red and bruised from the beatings. Something trickled down my cheek — blood. My world went black, and I was falling, falling, falling…

“Wake up!”

I jolted from my nightmare. I shuddered, recalling the memories that I had just gone through again. Blinking back tears, I slowly looked up, and was met with amethyst violet eyes. Looking around me, I realised I was at the House of Wind.

“But- we were just at-,” “Azriel carried you home,” He said, simply. My vision blurred as I tried to glance around the room. There, in the corner, the shadow singer was watching. His eyes darkened as soon as my gaze fell on him. I turned away.

Sitting up, I surveyed the room. It wasn’t my room. Nor was it the healers’ wing. I looked around, a little confused. Wait. That map… those weapons… No. It couldn’t be. This- this was Azriel’s room! And I was on his bed!

I flushed.

“You were having quite the dream, y/n. You almost woke this entire household up,” Rhysand drawled as he lazedon the edge of the bed. I glanced up in irritation — but a closer look let me know that he, too, had nightmares. That they haunted him. That he understood. “Do you need to talk about it?” An offer. A promise — to keep my secret if I decided to open up to him. I glanced at the shadow singer, then at the High Lord. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, understanding cues. He got up and left.

I sighed as I lay back down on the bed — Azriel’s bed.

“It’s him. Again.” My bastard father. “I know I’m far away, that I’m stronger, but it still haunts me,” Tears began to leak out of my eyes at the thought. I tried to swipe at the tears cascading down my cheeks, where the small, nearly unnoticeable scar sat. The only remnant left of him on my face besides the ones on my body. Rhys just hummed, encouraging me to continue. I tried - futilely - to compose myself before choking out, “I used to think that it didn’t hurt, that I could live with being ignored, constantly pushed around by my sisters, beaten by my father, but-” My voice cracked. “I was so, so weak, but I couldn’t, can’t be.”

I wailed as I turned to my side, away from the High Lord. “I feel like I’m breaking inside, but I know I can’t! What should I do? I can’t put more pressure on Feyre than I already have, and I can’t depend on my mate because he’s too busy hating me, and I can’t depend on myself because I feel like there isn’t anything to depend on!” I was tired. So, so tired. Even as I broke down and presented my problems to the High Lord, I could still feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.

The High Lord stilled as he processed what I was saying. Then he pulled me into an embrace, a brotherly, comforting embrace.

“Hey Rhys I just need to ask-,” Feyre started as she walked in but paused as she looked at us. Her eyes widened at the sight. “You back-stabbing bitch,” She breathed as she looked at me as I hurriedly pulled away from Rhysand. I struggled to find the words to explain what was going on, to prove my innocence, to tell her that Rhysand was just comforting me.

But Feyre had already rushed out of the door. Rhysand chased after her, panicked. I understood, however, how he and Feyre felt. They were mates. She was his, and he was hers. She was just struggling to trust people, even me. Of course, that didn’t mean her words didn’t sting, but I just did not let it get to me. For a while, at least. Hopefully until after everything got sorted out.

I knew her words were only out of anger and that she truly did not mean it. She proved it so when she came back minutes later to apologise. I wished I had done more as I could still see the doubt in her eyes, the guilt. Something told me that Rhysand had told her, despite the fact he knew I had opened up to him for a reason he had told Feyre if it meant salvaging their relationship, in this, I could not blame him. I had caused enough problems in the inner circle, burdening them with every turn.

And maybe, just maybe. They would all be better off without me.

A/N: I hope you liked this chapter I tried to make the flashback as accurate as I could but my brain just did not want to function. Before any of you ask what hat means you can refer to the author’s note on the climbing out masterlist because I do not feel like repeating myself. Now, on the topic of “Oh you’re writing about violence and heart break it can’t be that bad” like bro- no. Also props to @moonfawnx for dealing with her haters so well I would be raging if I were her. (Hi Luna big fan of your work :D) Bye my loves! <3

tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @hideing @flightlesslittlebirdie @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter @owllover123 @bookworm-nerd6 @gigisssz @bethany-bee0128 @cityofidek @aetherl0l @valeridarkness @starrstrucked @judig92 @starlit-terror

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