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leiawritesstories · 7 months

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To Honor And Cherish

Rowaelin Month, Day 25: Arranged Marriage

A/N: Hi everyone! If you remember As I Am, it was a Regency AU crossover fic that I started when i was still very much a baby writer. Lol I'm still a developing writer, who are we kidding? Anyway, that fic has a very special place in my heart, but it was...just too much, too complex to properly handle. So.......I did a little mini rewrite with just Rowaelin! because I loved their story and it was an excuse to rewatch Bridgerton S1 😂

All that to say, here's a little mini Rowaelin rewrite of AIA, and i hope you enjoy :))

Word count: 4,670 (oops)

Warnings: none ;)

@rowaelinscourt

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Numb, Aelin stared out the carriage window, firmly refusing to look across the small but opulent vehicle and meet the gazes of her parents--her mother, teary-eyed with wistful pleasure; her father, proud of his accomplishment in achieving the best marriage match of the Season. The lace trim along the neckline of her simple, pale blue morning gown itched at her collarbone, and she focused on the slight discomfort, using it to control her roiling emotions. Before she was fully calm, though, the carriage rattled to a stop, and she realized with a small jolt that they had arrived.

"Aelin, darling." Baroness Evalin Ashryver reached across the carriage and touched her daughter's gloved hand. "Shall we?"

"Haste to the wedding, as it were," Aelin returned, dryly.

Evalin frowned. "It is as if I taught you nothing of decorum." She took her husband's arm and stepped elegantly out of the carriage. "We have but three hours, darling."

"I am highly aware of that fact, m'lady," Aelin muttered under her breath, accepting the footman's assistance as she exited the carriage. As she followed her parents into the west entrance of St. Paul's Cathedral, she spared one final glance at her family's carriage, knowing that it may well be the last time she rode in it.

Baron Rhoe Galathynius allowed his wife to lead the way towards the bridal rooms and fell into step beside his daughter. "The Duke is a good man, Fireheart," he murmured. "I promise, I have never been careless with your future."

A small corner of Aelin's heart softened. "I trust you, Father." She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "I simply feel...well, to be perfectly honest, I feel disregarded by this whole process. I know the conventions of our society, but I thought we were going to be more of a partnership when it came to my marriage." She couldn't help the hint of reproach that crept into her words.

"That was my intention, too," Rhoe admitted. "However, your mother is...a very determined woman, and when she came to me with her shortlist of suitors, it was not in my best interest to reject it outright."

"I see."

"I did my best to investigate each of the men on that list," Rhoe continued. "As I said, I have never been careless with your future, my Fireheart."

Aelin sighed delicately and flicked a grateful look up at her father. "I know." Her posture stiffened, just a fraction, as they approached the door to the bride's preparation rooms. "I quite liked Dorian, you know."

Rhoe's lips twitched with amusement. "I doubt he would have made much as a husband, though."

That brought a hint of a chuckle from Aelin's throat. "I never said I was considering him as a husband, though he certainly did make a clever suggestion: a nominal marriage, in which we were perfectly happy together with our own, ah, partners."

"Ah, Havilliard," Rhoe chuckled. "Dare I say he may not have made the most ideal husband? He'll certainly be a fine honorary uncle, though, I'm sure."

"He will." Aelin squeezed her father's hand. "Oh gods, the door approaches."

"It will be alright," her father assured her. "And if it is not, write to me and I will take care of it." The steel in his eyes drove home his promise.

"I love you, Father," Aelin whispered, rising onto her toes to peck a soft kiss onto his cheek.

Rhoe smiled. "I love you too, my Fireheart." He held the bride's door open. "I'll see you in a few hours."

Aelin took a controlled breath and walked through the door. The instant the thick oak door clicked shut behind her, Evalin was leading her off down the short hallway into a lovely, sunlit room, where a flurry of attendants swarmed around the women already gathered there, busy curling and arranging hair, applying cosmetics, steaming and fluffing dresses, and assuring every lady present that it was going to be a perfectly lovely wedding day.

"I feel as though I may vomit," Aelin murmured.

Evalin waved at one of the maids. "Please bring a basin; the bride has nerves." She patted Aelin's shoulder with a brief, perfunctory attempt at comfort. "It is perfectly normal to feel anxious before your wedding, darling. I could hardly stop trembling on the morning that I married your father."

Aelin cracked a faint smile. "Why, Mother, I thought you were always the very picture of composure."

"Hardly." For a moment, Evalin's rarely-seen softer side made an appearance. "I believe I'd only met Rhoe three or four times before we were married, and we were little more then formal acquaintances when our parents signed the betrothal agreement."

"That's three or four times more than I've met the Duke," Aelin mused.

"I trust your father's judgment." Evalin's tone was noticeably cooler. "You will make a fine Duchess, darling."

Aelin didn't reply, choosing to focus on the sudden flurry of attendants encircling her, helping her out of her dress and into simple undergarments and a white satin dressing gown. She let them lead her to a chair, sat down, and watched in the mirror as her lady's maid twisted her hair into an elegant knot.

"No, no!" Evalin snapped at the maid. "She is a bride! She must wear her hair up higher for the veil!"

"Leave it, Philippa." Aelin held up her hand. Evalin frowned in disapproval, opening her mouth to overrule Aelin's wishes, but Aelin calmly folded her hands in her lap and fixed her gaze onto her mother's in the mirror. "I am the bride, Mother, not you." Steel and flame underlaid her words, a subtle but strong note of command.

Disapproval and shock bloomed over Evalin's feature, but she said nothing.

"Very well, milady," Philippa said quietly. The young, dark-haired lady's maid--only a few years older than Aelin was--tucked the last two pins into Aelin's hair and flicked her mistress a tiny but immensely proud smile. "What do you think?"

"It is perfect." Aelin gave her lady's maid and longtime companion a grateful smile. "Mother, would you please oversee my cosmetics? You know how little experience I have with all of that."

Placated, Evalin directed Philippa to apply simple makeup to Aelin's face, enhancing her clear skin and soft lips and concealing the faint shadows beneath her eyes. Though she was only twenty-one, Aelin had long since struggled with poor sleep, and it manifested in the circles smudged under her eyes.

"There," Evalin announced. "Lovely." She touched Aelin's shoulder. "Has your stomach settled, darling? It is time for the dress."

"My stomach will survive," Aelin returned. She stood and followed her mother into the next room, where she removed her dressing gown and allowed Philippa and two other attendants to busy themselves with arranging her undergarments.

"Deep breath, milady," Philippa prompted. Obediently, Aelin inhaled deeply and held the breath, keeping her face carefully blank as Philippa tugged with practiced ease on the laces of Aelin's corset. "Very good, milady, just another few seconds." With a final sharp tug, she tied the laces into a neat bow. "Exhale, milady."

Aelin released her breath with careful control. The corset was as restricting and uncomfortable as always, cinched tightly around her waist and stomach, drawing her already-ladylike figure into a conventional image of a lady with an impossibly small waistline. "Well, I would prefer to breathe properly, but thank you, Philippa."

Philippa dipped her head. "All things for the beauty of the bride." She helped Aelin step up onto the small, round, raised platform in the middle of the dressing room. "Up you go, milady." She and two other attendants helped Aelin step into her wedding gown--a beautifully tailored spill of white silk that molded closely against her bodice and fell into a cascading, lace-paneled skirt with a cathedral train. Soft cap sleeves laid over her shoulders, paired with matching white silk gloves.

"Oh, my daughter," Evalin whispered, tears misting up her eyes. "You are the perfect portrait of a bride."

"Stunning, milady," Philippa murmured into Aelin's ear as she adjusted Aelin's skirts.

Aelin simply stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, wondering where she had gone and when this porcelain-faced doll had replaced her. She felt oddly separated from her emotions, as if she had somehow stepped out of her own body and was watching it go through the motions of being a bride.

With light-handed gracefulness, Philippa tucked the two silver combs of the lace veil into Aelin's hair and gently tossed the airy spill of hand-wrought lace, allowing the two layers of material to drift naturally down Aelin's back. "Look at you," she whispered.

Aelin looked. "You truly work wonders," she said softly, the corners of her lips curling up.

Philippa smiled. "Hardly. Let's get you to the wedding, milady."

In a rushed blur, Aelin was helped into her shoes, handed a huge, almost cloyingly sweet bouquet of roses and lilies, and led down a series of winding hallways until she stood before the great wooden doors to the cathedral nave where her father was waiting.

"A vision," he murmured, pride and joy shining on his face.

Aelin managed a faint smile. "A nervous vision."

Rhoe chuckled quietly. "Not to increase your nerves, Fireheart, but everyone is ready. They are all waiting for you." He tucked her hand snugly into the crook of his elbow. "Shall we?"

A strange sense of calm descended over Aelin, and she felt her resolve return, turning her spine into composed steel. "We shall." She nodded to Philippa, who stepped forward and draped the upper layer of her veil over her face, arranging the lace so Aelin could still see. "I am ready."

With a great groaning creak and a thunderous swelling of organ music, the cathedral doors were swung open, revealing Aelin and Rhoe to an eager audience of hundreds of society's finest. Rhoe walked Aelin slowly down the aisle, his steady presence at her side keeping her sane, keeping her on her feet.

Halfway down the aisle, Aelin could finally clearly see the man standing at the altar, waiting for her. The Duke of Doranelle. Her soon-to-be husband. He was tall--taller than her father--and broad-shouldered, his perfectly tailored black suit clinging to the kind of well-muscled physique that made her think he'd served in the army. His hair was tied back in a short tail and powdered white, as was traditional, his face had the kind of elegantly structured planes and angles that would make a sculptor cry with joy, and his eyes--pine-green and piercing--were honed in on her.

He looked about as tenderhearted as a block of ice.

Refusing to be the timid, demure bride this duke no doubt expected her to be, Aelin locked her gaze onto the duke's and kept it there for the remainder of her procession down the aisle.

Rhoe stopped at the base of the four steps leading up to the altar, just in front of the waiting duke and the bishop. The bishop, in full clerical finery, opened the book in his hands and offered a polite smile.

"Dearly beloved," he began, "we are gathered here today to witness the divine institution of holy matrimony." He spoke on for another minute, then turned to Rhoe and Aelin. "Who gives this woman to be married to this man?

"I do." Rhoe spoke with conviction. He took Aelin's hand from his arm and, at the nod of the bishop, laid her gloved hand in the duke's outstretched, gloved one.

The duke's large hand closed around Aelin's, and she felt the oddest sensation flicker at the base of her spine. She cast a cool, appraising look at the duke through the lace of her veil, a spark of satisfaction flaring within her at his tiny, well-concealed inhale, and returned her attention to the bishop.

The wedding ceremony droned on and on, and Aelin let the words spill over her, not paying too much attention to anything except the way her corset dug into her ribs and the too-strong scent of the massive bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She snapped back into focus when the bishop directed her and the duke to turn towards each other for the exchange of vows.

Facing her, his deep pine gaze locked onto her turquoise one, the duke spoke first, repeating the bishop's prompted words. "I, Rowan Whitethorn, take thee, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, in sickness and health. I vow to thee to honor and cherish till death do us part. In the presence of God and man I make these vows."

The bishop nodded slightly at Aelin and murmured the words. She spoke, her voice clear and unwavering. "I, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, take thee, Rowan Whitethorn, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, in sickness and in health. I vow to thee to honor and cherish till death do us part. In the presence of God and man I make these vows."

She could almost sense the finality of the words.

The bishop motioned at one of the groomsmen, who stepped forward with a small white pillow upon which laid two gold bands. One was thicker and wider, a man's ring. The other was more delicate, crowned with a square-cut emerald. The bishop spoke words over the rings and then directed the duke--Rowan--to place the ring on Aelin's finger.

With surprising gentleness, Rowan lifted Aelin's left hand and slipped the silk glove off of her arm. Cradling her smaller hand in his large one, he looked into her eyes as if trying to read her soul and slid the ring onto her finger, the coolness of the gold quickly warming to her skin.

At the bishop's prompting, Aelin unbuttoned Rowan's glove and slipped the white cotton material off of his hand. With her still-gloved hand beneath his now-bare one, she returned his searching, probing look and slid the ring onto his callused, tan finger.

The bishop flipped a page in his book. "I hereby pronounce thee man and wife," he proclaimed. Applause rippled through the cathedral in waves, the assembled congregation clapping politely for the newly married Duke and Duchess of Doranelle. The bishop waited for the applause to quiet down, and then spoke the last few words of the ceremony. "You may kiss the bride," he concluded.

Rowan reached down and lifted the veil off Aelin's face. With the lace no longer between them, his keen gaze roved rapidly over her face as he tilted his head down and touched his lips to hers. It was barely a whisper of a kiss, more ceremonial than anything, but in those few seconds of contact, Aelin had the oddest sense that she wanted to know what a real kiss from that man felt like.

As the organ burst into joyous swells of music, Aelin laid her newly ringed hand upon Rowan's offered arm and walked beside him down the aisle and out of the cathedral. Sunlight beamed down upon the newlywed couple, and she blinked at the brightness of its glare.

There was a gentle tug on her hand. "Here," Rowan prompted, leading her down the cathedral stairs towards a waiting carriage. It was simple on the exterior, its boxy frame glossy, the doors engraved with the crest of Doranelle. A footman opened the door and placed a stepstool on the ground, and Rowan steadied Aelin as she gathered her trailing skirts over one arm and stepped up into the carriage. Inside, it was paneled in deep green silk, the seats well-cushioned and comfortable.

She sank into one seat with a suppressed groan of relief. Rowan settled into the seat opposite hers, his brows quirking with something that might resemble amusement if he possessed human emotions.

"What?" she inquired, deceptively polite. "Have you never thought that perhaps a woman grows exhausted after spending hours standing in uncomfortable shoes that pinch her toes and shift all her weight to paper-thin soles and tiny little sticks of heels?"

Rowan opened and closed his mouth several times, struggling for words. "I confess I had never thought about that, no."

"Typical." Aelin adjusted her skirts, lifted her veil over her shoulder so as not to sit on it, and fixed her attention on the city slipping past outside the window.

Across from her, Rowan shifted in his seat. Clearly, he had not anticipated that she would ignore him--typical male arrogance. It was only a few minutes before he spoke. "Aelin."

Though the sound of her name on his tongue did funny things to her heartbeat, she ignored him.

"Aelin," he tried again. She still paid him no heed.

So he turned his head towards the opposite window and set his jaw in a hard line. They passed the remainder of the carriage ride in tense silence, only exchanging looks and a perfunctory touch when they arrived at the Galathynius home in the city for the reception and Rowan escorted her out of the carriage and into the house.

The whole thing flew past in a blur of greetings, pleasantries, gifts, a delicious dinner that Aelin barely tasted because her corset made it nearly impossible to properly eat, toasts, dancing, and finally, being swept off to change into travelling clothes. She blew out a short breath of relief as Philippa helped her out of her wedding dress.

Her lady's maid laughed. "Better?"

"So much better," Aelin groaned. "Do you know how awful it is to walk around with ten yards of silk following you like a stray cat?"

"Sounds horrendous," Philippa agreed. She buttoned up the back of Aelin's simple satin travel dress and laid her lightweight cloak around her shoulders. "Enjoy your journey, milady. I will see you once you reach Doranelle."

"You are the best." Aelin squeezed Philippa's hands affectionately. "I left a little something for you in my dressing-table." Tucked into the drawer was an envelope containing a small sum of money for her ever-faithful lady's maid. "I look forward to seeing you at our new home." She smiled and went down the stairs.

Rowan waited at the base of the staircase, the lines of his face etched in granite. He had changed from his formal black wedding suit into brown trousers, vest, and jacket and a white linen shirt and washed the powder from his hair. She was mildly surprised to see that beneath the powder, his hair was light brown and slightly curled at the ends.

Evalin enveloped Aelin in her embrace. "You will make a wonderful Duchess," she murmured. "I look forward to visiting you once you've settled in." Aelin smiled and turned to her father.

Rhoe wrapped his daughter in his arms. "I'm so very proud of you, my Fireheart," he whispered. "Write me if you need anything. I'll keep your mother from invading, as much as I can."

Aelin chuckled. "Thank you, Father."

Rhoe grinned at her and turned his attention to his new son-in-law. "I will not hesitate to do anything my daughter asks of me," he said, his words edged with paternal warning. "Take care of my Fireheart, Your Grace."

"I will, sir." Rowan linked Aelin's arm with his. "Are you ready?"

"I am." With a final wave to her family, she and the duke left her family home, climbed into his carriage, and began the silent drive towards his estate in the country.

As evening deepened into night, Rowan glanced at his watch. "We should be stopping for the night in half an hour or so."

Aelin raised her brows. "At an inn?"

"No. At Mistward House." He offered no further explanation.

"Forgive me for not memorizing the details of each of your holdings before the wedding, Your Grace," she deadpanned.

His controlled expression did not even budge. "Mistward House was my mother's dowry property. Doranelle itself is another half day's journey from here."

"I see."

Shortly later, their carriage pulled to a stop in front of a brownstone manor house with ivy trailing up parts of the walls and warm golden lamplight shining from a few of the windows. It would have been wonderfully welcoming under any other circumstances, but all Aelin could think of was the very real possibility of what might happen inside that house in not very much time.

Rowan climbed out of the carriage and held out his hand, and she accepted it as she stepped down from the carriage. He escorted her inside and made a brief greeting to the few staff who were there.

"Everything is ready just as you requested, Your Grace," the middle-aged lady who must have been the housekeeper said. "It it so good to see you here again, even if only for the night."

"Thank you, Mrs. Ellys," Rowan returned, a hint of warmth in his tone. "We shall see if we visit Mistward later in the summer." He turned back to Aelin. "This way."

She followed him down the hallways, memorizing the simple path back to the front entrance as they walked. He stopped in front of a dark wooden door, paused for a few seconds, then pushed the door open and led her into a warm, softly-lit bedroom with wood-paneled walls, a large, soft-looking bed, and a small fire crackling behind the fireplace grate. In any other context, it would have looked positively homelike and comforting.

Rowan closed the door with a muted click, and Aelin suddenly realized that despite what she'd wondered, there would be no separate bedrooms, not that night.

"There is a washroom through that door," he said, pointing towards a door near the back of the room.

She nodded, took her small bag of nightclothes, and headed straight into the washroom. The door had a lock, so she locked herself in the small but sparkling clean room, braced her hands on the edge of the sink, and breathed as deeply as she could while still confined by that godsdamn corset. With almost robotic movements, she took off her cloak, dress, shoes, stockings, and undergarments, untied the laces of her corset, and carefully, painstakingly loosened the damned contraption until her lungs were free and she could throw it to the ground.

As always, the corset's boned structure had left red imprints along her sides. She frowned, chose to ignore the marks, and pulled her soft cotton nightgown over her head, letting the comfortable material settle against her skin.

After washing her face, Aelin pulled the pins from her hair and left them beside the sink. If the stone-faced duke took issue with her leaving her hairpins in the washroom, he could stuff the pins up his ass. She ran a comb through her hair, tied it back in a loose braid, and left the washroom, resolved to continue ignoring her husband for as long as possible.

Her husband, in return, barely spared her a second glance as he went into the washroom, dressed in his own nightclothes. He was in there for a short time, the splashing of water indicating that he was washing up like she had. She took the opportunity to drape her dress and cloak over the dressing screen in the corner of the room and take a slow walk around the bedroom, half expecting there to be some kind of secret entrance.

She had already climbed into the (very comfortable) bed when Rowan emerged from the washroom and methodically blew out each of the lamps in the room before climbing into the other side of the bed, his back turned to her.

Perfect. The less contact she had with the man, the better.

Aelin awoke in the middle of the night with Rowan's arm draped over her waist, his hand skimming her hipbones through the fine material of her nightgown.

Blindly, half-panicked, she jerked sharply away from him and his touch, pulled the sheet over herself, shut her eyes tight and mentally screamed at herself to breathe, gods damn it! She managed a short breath, and then another, and a deep breath, and another, and another.

As her head cleared, she opened her eyes, finding her husband awake, sitting upright a full arm's length away, his unfaltering eyes latched onto her. Concern and fear were written written all over his face.

"Aelin?" he whispered.

"I'm here," she croaked.

Worry and rage clashed in the depths of his gaze. "Who hurt you?" he breathed, primal violence simmering just beneath the controlled softness of his voice.

"Why do you care?" she whispered, defensive.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, and when he met her gaze again, muted pain joined the storm of emotions roiling in the depths of his stare. "Because my bastard of a father hurt my mother, and I swore an oath to never be anything like him."

It was the most human she'd ever seen the duke be in their few hours of knowing each other.

A tiny corner of her heart softened at the rawness of his words. "It was...an associate of my father."

Rowan pushed the sleeves of his nightshirt up, exposing his forearms. "Will you tell me who, Aelin?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do not mean to pry, but I...if the man is still alive, I will end him."

"He is long since dead, and he was Lord Hamel," she said, simply.

"Arobynn Hamel?"

"Yes."

He exhaled slowly. "Hamel was one hell of a bastard," he whispered, roughly.

She just nodded. "I've always wondered if it makes me a horrible person for being happy that he's dead."

"It doesn't." The swiftness of Rowan's reply shocked both of them. He sighed. "It does not make you anything but justified, Aelin."

There was that infernal flutter in her guarded heart. "I might just have to admit that you're human after all."

A half grin curved his lips. "How might I prove my full humanity to you, Your Grace?" Gods burn her, the man had a sense of humor.

She shrugged indifferently, tamping down the part of herself that wanted to squeal like a little girl. "You could start with letting me get a full night's sleep." Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the fact that she was overwhelmed from the events of the last day, or maybe it was sheer insanity, but then she let a smirk curve her own lips. "Or, if you intend not to sleep, you could give your wife a kiss."

Rowan inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring with surprise. "Say that again."

"I was under the impression that you weren't the command-giving type." The snarky retort tumbled unbidden from her lips.

In a single, smooth move, he was inches away from her face, his arms braced on either side of her--enough space that she didn't feel trapped, but close enough to feel the heat of him. "And I was under the impression that you wanted a kiss, Your Grace."

A lazy grin unfurled across Aelin's face. "Kindly give your wife a kiss, Your Grace."

"Never stop calling yourself my wife," he murmured, and he kissed her. At first, it was a soft brush of his lips, then he sank one hand into her hair and deepened the kiss, slow and leisurely and unhurried.

After a long, blissful moment, she broke the kiss, leaning slightly back to catch her breath, and a huge yawn split the air between them. She laughed, softly. "Good night, Rowan."

"Good night, Aelin," he murmured. She settled back down into bed, and he tucked the covers up over her. His arm lingered around her shoulders, hesitant, hopeful. "Is this alright?"

The warmth of him was still strange, but comforting. "Yes."

She fell asleep with her duke's arm around her and the warmth of his body behind her, solid and steady and protective, nothing at all like the ice-faced man who had sworn vows to her just that morning.

will there be more? who knows... ;)

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #regency au #rowaelin regency au #to honor and cherish #100000% bridgerton and p&p inspired #gotta cite my sources lmao

88 notes · View notes

writtenonreceipts · 1 year

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#guess who has polls #important questions #i ask this then might not even finish the fic in time

15 notes · View notes

captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship · 1 year

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I posted 4,873 times in 2022

That's 4,873 more posts than 2021!

56 posts created (1%)

4,817 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@shallyne

@separatist-apologist

@headcanonheadcase

@lifelessdollinthesea

@yazthebookish

I tagged 89 of my posts in 2022

#acotar - 57 posts

#gwynriel - 38 posts

#azriel shadowsinger - 31 posts

#gwynriel supremacy - 26 posts

#acosf - 23 posts

#azriel x gwyn - 22 posts

#gwyneth berdara - 22 posts

#azriel - 18 posts

#elucien - 17 posts

#gwyn berdara - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 116 characters

#acotar and your writings helped me in one of the toughest points in my life and helping me find things to love again

My Top Posts in 2022:

Fanfiction really has a hold on me.

I have 51 tabs open on my iPad and another 24 on my computer. All are different fanfictions. They are a mix of gwynriel, feysand, elucien, and rowaelin.

57 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

Gwynriel headcanon

For their mating ceremony, gwyn wants to use her valkyrie ribbon for the handfasting. She looses her ribbon in a battle/fight/mission etc. She is devestated but moves on. On the day of their mating ceremony, Azriel comes up to her and says that he knows how sad she was when she lost her ribbon, but he pulls the other half out of his pocket (the one that was attached to the wooden post) and says that he was saving it for her. They use it during their mating ceremony and as they are binding their hands, a ribbon of shadows also forms around their hands to encompass both of them. Either the acceptance of the mating bond or the shadows binding themselves to their union allows gwyn to speak to the shadows in her own way.

85 notes - Posted December 10, 2022

Anyone else happy that feyre couldn’t fly perfectly right away?

I remember my first time reading ACOTAR, I was shocked and so happy to see that Feyre struggled with flying. I always hated watching shows and this character who just got wings suddenly knows how to fly perfectly.

I love watching her struggle, and even in the end she could barely fly. I love that it felt realistic while also still being a fantasy.

Just my little 2am think session 🙂

116 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

Types of sex each of the ACOTAR couple enjoy

Feysand- they will dabble in a little of everything,but they love their passionate fairly vanilla love making the most. Into props like paint, food, ties, etc. We already know that they use their mind connection for foreplay. Exhibitionists, but in a different way than nessian.

Nessian- rough, hard-core fucking. Exhibitionists. Compete with who can make the other cum first. Fighting is foreplay.

Gwynriel- BDSM. All the way. Nothing is off limits. Will dabble in role playing, mainly student-teacher or sexy librarian. Dagger play, shadow bondage, Az is a pleasure dom and do with that what you wish. Both get off on each other’s intelligence. Def uses private dagger handling lessons and spy lessons as foreplay. Would def have sex in a lake or ocean.

Elucien- 100% role play, pet play, costumes are involved. Once in day court def outdoor sex. Regency-esque flirting as foreplay. Enjoys the soft intimate sex as well as the full on kinky shit. Truly diverse.

191 notes - Posted October 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ACOTAR Fanfic MasterList

I read an ALARMING amount of Fanfiction, and this is the easiest way for me to catalog some of my favorite Fanfiction. I love AO3 but I wish I could put things in categories and separate folders like GoodReads. I will be updating this list periodically and they are in no particular order. However, I will star some of my favorites!

Please note that most of these have smut! These are also all long fics, no one shots in here.

These will just be my AO3 favorite fanfics, I will make another master post for the Tumblr specific fics.

Here is a link to my subscription list on AO3 that is the most up to date.

Color Key:

Gwynriel

Elucien

Feysand

Nessian

*= Favorite, ***************= I have a borderline obsession

Finished Fics:

Call Me home (@propagandaprincess) (gives telenovella vibes)

A Court of Whisper and Song (@mystical-blaise) *

A Mythical Thing (@separatist-apologist) *

A Court of Light and Melody (@daevastanner) *

Trial of the Valkyrie (@daevastanner) *

On My Radar (@vikingmagic33)

Hands On (@headcanonheadcase)

Delectable (@hlizr50, @violet-shadows, @thehaemanthus)

The Capri-Sun Girl (@headcanonheadcase, @hlizr50, @ofduskanddreams)

The Raven and the Songbird (@hlizr50)

These Scars Paint the Map that Led Me to You (@hlizr50)

A Court of Song and Shadow (@justawhore)

Intimacy: A Gwynriel Smut Collection (@tealnymph24)

A Court of Smoke and Shadow (@daevastanner)

Nothing Can Break Us (@thewordnerd)

The Dream (@lady-riel)

Drunk in the Wrong Bedroom (@lady-riel)

Ballad of Shadows (@jennierubyjaner)

See the full post

550 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 3 years

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𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐎𝐧𝐞

full masterlist - fic masterlist

Rowan glanced at his pocket watch and attempted to swallow his irritation.

How was it only nine-o-clock still? He had already suffered through enough social niceties to last a lifetime.

Now, he listened with but half a mind to his cousin drone on about the night's guests. His head was filled with all the tasks he needed to see to, including searching for a new governess for his sons. His boys kept chasing away every woman he employed and he was hesitant to hire a tutor, because he believed they needed a woman's influence too, now that his own wife was too ill. The physician had done all he could but there was not much hope she would wake, loathe as he was to admit it. Perhaps he should have accepted his mother-in-law's offer and send the boys to their her after all?

"--and Arobynn's here too—"

That caught his attention. "He is?"

"Mhmm. Look, over there, no, no, to the left—besides the pretty redhead, yes, just so."

A man stood by the entrance with a red-haired woman on his arm, tall and muscular, with a fine-boned face. His auburn hair were pulled back into a bun, offsetting his pale skin and the fine cut of his suit was a stark reminder of his prominent position in society, despite the whole stigma around tradesmen.

"I knew he was fond of flaunting convention but escorting his mistress to a ball?"

"You haven't heard?" James approached them with a drink in his hand. "She is not his mistress but an adoptive daughter of sorts and his apparent heir."

Fenrys choked on his drink.

"He named a girl heir to his trade empire—and not even his own blood—stupid!"

"Spoken like a man," said the gentleman and shook his head. "He raised her himself, is introducing her to all his associates and she doesn't look dumb either."

James nodded towards the redhead he had seen earlier, dressed in the finest black silk with a neckline low enough, it bordered on scandalous. Her copperish-red hair were pinned into an elegant coiffure with pretty, gold hair combs and a simple, pearl necklace completed the striking picture she made. Her sharp, defined features were barely beautiful until she laughed—a musical sound in itself—and he wondered whether he had seen anyone prettier.

"If hers was the last face I ever saw, I'd die a happy man." Fenrys sighed and walked off.

James rolled his eyes. "He's about to seek an introduction to her, isn't he?"

Rowan's lips twitched up.

He had always liked James. The man was completely without artifice and his enthusiasm for everything was so infectious, no one could remain angry with him. He had spent a few summers with the Galathynius children, until their youngest daughter was abducted and the visits stopped.

"I say you must frown a little less, sir, unless you wish to give offense."

Rowan looked up, startled at being addressed by the object of his thoughts. She looks even lovelier up close, thought he.

"I detest these events."

"So do half the people in this room and yet, appearances must be maintained."

"Deceit is not in my nature."

The lady frowned. "It is not deceitful to pretend you are interested in an event in order to spare your host's feelings."

"Your motive may be charitable but it is no excuse for dishonesty."

The lady looked amused but did not pursue the topic further. "I hope you will forgive me for speaking without a proper introduction, sir. I am not a fan of convention."

Rowan smiled.

An unmarried woman, not even of age, and already a heiress to a trade empire—by all accounts, she did not seem like one.

"I will, if you allow me to remedy the situation now." He bowed with exaggerated formality. "I am Mr. Rowan Whitethorn of Harcomb, in Doranelle."

Her cheek dimpled. "Miss Celaena Sardothein—my father—"

"Mr. Hamel, yes, I know." He almost cringed at how rude he sounded. "He and I, we are—"

"—business associates, yes, I know," she teased with an impish grin, replying in a poor imitation of his own deep voice.

Her eyes twinkled with amusement, filled with laughter and mirth—turquoise orbs, ringed with brilliant gold.

All of his resolve flew out of the window. "Miss Sardothein, will you allow me the pleasure of leading you into the first set? The dancing is about to commence."

"The pleasure will be all mine."

In hopes of starting a conversation, he said, "You are a fine dancer."

"I would have believed you to be a liar if we hadn't already established that deceit of any sort is your abhorrence."

He smiled. "And if I were being insincere?"

"I would take it as a compliment to myself, for it will mean that you are acting on my advice from earlier about lying for the sake of appearances."

They fell silent again.

"We must talk some, you know," said Rowan. "For someone who claims to be concerned with appearances, do you not think it would look odd for us to spend a half hour together but in silence."

She startled at the sudden statement. "Introduce a topic then and I will do my poor best to maintain the conversation."

Rowan complied and was pleasantly surprised to find her lively and good-humored and well-informed on most subject from current fashion disasters to books to political bills and movements. Her arguements were passionate and far from taking offense at his dry humor, she matched it with witty quips of her own; and to top it alll off, she was as skilled a dancer as a conversationalist.

Rowan was almost annoyed when the song came to an end. He could not recall the last time he had been half as well entertained.

"You will be the death of me, you foolish, foolish chit!" screeched the old matron.

Fenrys had allowed himself to be dragged into a bookstore, which happened to be one of his least favourite places, by his cousin, James—the second son to his uncle, Lord Rhoe, the Earl of Narrowcreek—and was now eager for any sort of amusement. He turned towards the high-pitched shriek with interest.

A young lady stood near the shelves, tall and proud, even in the face of her mother's ill-bred manners.

Her blonde hair fell down in waves, half pinned by dragonfly-shaped hair combs. The fabric of her dress was fine enough for her to belong to the first circles and yet, he could not recall seeing her—or her mother—anywhere.

"Ungrateful child! Wait until I tell your father what you did; he will be most displeased."

She bit her lip to contain her mirth, though her cheeks flushed with embarassment. Her eyes flitted to the door and back, as if she was looking for some escape.

"Poor girl," the bookshop owner murmured.

The following words had the unfortunate attention of drawing the mother's attention towards the owner.

Lord Fenrys almost laughed at the alarmed look on the owner's face when she began lamenting to him instead and then looked over at the lady who was staring at the door with a thoughtful look, as if wondering whether or not to attempt an escape.

She must have decided in it's favour because she gathered her skirts and made a mad dash towards the door.

Fenrys realised he was standing in her way and hastened to move but it was too late—

"Darn!" cried she.

The commotion drew her mother's attention and upon spotting her wayward daughter lying on the floor with a grimace, she rushed over with a whole new litany of complaints.

Fenrys could have sworn the lady cursed under her breath.

"Stubborn, stubborn child! I told you not to run off without me but oh, how you love vexing me," shouted her mother in her high-pitched voice. "And what are you doing, bothering this fine gentleman over here? You had better not to talk to anyone if you are determined to refuse them all. You broke that poor man's heart—"

Fenrys quirked an eyebrow in interest, looking thoroughly entertained.

Her cheeks flushed further.

He frowned.

Up close, her face looked awfully familiar. He searched his brain for an answer.

A memory flashed in front of his mind. A highly unconventional black dress, a tinkling laugh and a ballroom.

Realisation dawned.

"Miss Sardothein! Fancy seeing you here," said he. "I almost didn't recognise you because of the hair."

"The hair? Oh, yes, I am very fond of dyes, but you have caught me in my natural state."

"I find you lovelier than ever. If you will forgive me for prying, I could not help but observe you haven't bought a thing yet, even though I know you to be a great reader! Is the reading material not to your taste, Miss Sardothein?"

Celaena answered wryly, "As a matter of fact, the books here suit my tastes very well—It is only that I am not allowed to buy books for a month—as punishment."

"No books! And what awful crime did you commit to merit that?"

"I rejected a marriage offer."

"A capital offense!"

Celaena smiled, "Indeed."

"I hope you are appropriately ashamed of yourself!"

"Horrified at my own audacity, really."

The lady looked up at him and grinned; Fenrys' own face turned pale and his mouth fell open in surprise. Ashryver eyes! She had ashryver eyes—like James, Aedion, and their mothers Helen and Evalin and—gods. The little poem his cousins had made up in childhood came to the forefront of his mind.

"The fairest eyes, from legends old,

Of brightest blue, ringed with gold."

But how...?

He looked at the woman again: her eyes bright and mirthful and thick eyelashes resting on her cheek, the face tugged at his memory; and she smiled so impishly, he had seen that smile before—

"Aelin," he blurted out.

He was startled when her smile dropped and recognition flickered in her eyes.

Fenrys shot an alarmed look towards the shelf behind which James had disappeared. Aelin was here! But how could this be? His heart thumped loudly inside his chest.

"Aelin?" She inclined her head in question.

He smiled uncertainly.

Was she really his little cousin? Aelin had been five year old when he last saw her.

But if he was wrong about this, could this come to bite him in the ass? She was certainly as old as his cousin would have been, had she been alive and she had the same unruly blonde curls and those ashryver eyes, teeming with life.

It couldn't be...

Arobynn's adoptive daughter.

"Yes, Aelin was my favourite cousin—you, uh, you remind me of her."

"If she is your favourite, then I am inclined to take that as a compliment." Celaena—Aelin?—smiled again, though her eyebrows remained drawn still. "The name does sound familiar. Perhaps I would have heard of her in the newspaper? The society column is a great source of amusement to my father. He reads it aloud to us from time to time."

Father? He wondered if she was talking of Arobynn or Mrs. Rhunn's husband.

Fenrys smiled sadly. "That is not possible for you see, my cousin died when she was five."

At least I thought she died.

"I am sorry for your loss." Then, with an arch look on her face, she asked, "If she was like me as you say, she must have been delightful."

He chuckled. "An absolute troublemaker."

"Definitely like me then," said she, sparing a look towards her mother. "I should leave now, before my mother lists you off as yet another suitor!"

And before he could think to stop her, she curtsied and scurried off.

Fenrys stared at the door, somewhat dumbfounded. Aelin is alive. He marvelled at the thought and then wondered how on earth he would inform her family—James would be ecstatic and his father would have to be informed, and Edward would have to be called to London, gods. Edward!

Aelin had been missed by all but no one grieved her as the poor man had.

Edward would be ecstatic; everyone would.

Fenrys ran towards his cousin out of breath, who was still examining titles in one corner.

"Fenrys, god, slow down, man! Whatever happened? You look like you saw a ghost."

He blinked.

Then, without any attempt at tact or discretion, he blurted out: "Aelin is alive."

"Aelin, Aelin, stop that—no, look at your frock, mother will be so angry, no, Aelin! You will hurt yourself like that."

The man watched, concealed behind the ridge as a little girl skipped from one mud puddle to another, blonde curls bouncing up and down as she moved. Her elder brother followed at a more sedate place, calling out admonishments and threats, not that they had an effect on her.

Aelin grinned over her shoulder and ran, leading her brother on a merry chase.

The man was still debating how to go about abducting the girl when fortune smiled upon him; she twisted her leg and fell down, prompting the boy to run towards her.

"It hurts," she whimpered, refusing to stand.

The man smiled maliciously and waited as the boy looked around. "Very well," he said finally. "If you promise not to go anywhere, I will fetch papa. Do not move, Aelin."

The boy rushed towards the manor house, ignoring the twisted knots in his stomach and burst into his father's private study. In his panicked state of mind, it took a few attempts for Rhoe to make sense of his garbled words.

A foreboding feeling rose in his stomach.

She will be fine, he tried to reassure himself. Aelin, troublemaker that she was, had had a lot worse than a twisted ankle.

But his alarm grew the nearer they came to where she was supposed to be and his heart pounded inside his chest. All colour drained from his face when they didn't find Aelin where she was supposed to be.

"Are you certain this is where you left her?"

Edward nodded.

Rhoe suddenly felt dizzy, his knees buckled and bile rose up in his throat.

He reined himself in and with admirable composure, organised search parties to search around the estate and the neighbourhood.

The search carried on until late that night, when an express rider from the nearby magistrate arrived with a letter: a nearby warehouse had burned down earlier that day and two bodies were found: a man in his forties, who could not be identified and a seven year old girl who had on a silver anklet bearing the word fireheart and requested Mr. Galathynius' presence tomorrow at the warehouse to confirm the girl's identity.

Rhoe folded the letter, excused himself from company and sent his sons to their beds.

Then he entered his study: the study no one was allowed to enter without permission—except his Aelin—slumped into the armchair by the fireplace and wept.

note: ...and it's here. I have so many drafts of this chapter lying around, I'm surprised I actually finally posted it lmao.

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if you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

#throne of glass #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #sarah j maas #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin regency fic #valiant #aelin-queen-of-terrasen

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sayosdreams · 2 years

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Thanksvember 2021

Thanksvember masterpost! This year I’m going to try to do (mostly) fics I didn’t include last year. Huge shoutout to all these fics and writers!! I appreciate each and every one of these so much!

November 1 - Going for Gold by @unhealthyfanobsession . I love @unhealthyfanobsession ‘s writing style and the way the individual character arcs come together. This Olympic AU fic had great pacing and writing. I was always on edge waiting for the next chapter!!

November 2 - I Don’t Want to Wait by @charincharge . This is 90% of the reason why I get through mondays. This Rowaelin AU is so freaking adorable and honestly the high school drama stuff hits different when you’re in pandemic high school or when you start college (it’s weirdly nostalgic but also like, whew, thank god I’m done with college applications). Anyway, this fic is the perfect amount of sweetness and suspense. I cant wait to see where it goes!

November 3 - Mr. & Mrs. Archeron by @moodymelanist . I mean, an AU where they’re both assassins but don’t know until they cross paths on opposite sides of a case?? *chefs kiss* It definitely keeps you on your toes! And the nessian is, of course, exquisite. 10/10 recommend if you’re looking for some Nessian with action.

November 4 - Wingplay by @simpingfornestaarcheron . This fic is sexy and hot as FUCK. If you’re looking for a little smutty spice, go check it out! 🔥

November 5 - Dark Roast, No Sugar by @whimsicallyreading . This rowaelin fic is coffee shop AU + a TON of angsty drama. I’m obsessed!!! I love the writing, and the pacing is just perfect — so much anticipation! Definitely recommend if you want an exciting Rowaelin fic

November 6 - In which she makes a friend by @bookstantrash . I love how Nesta opens up and getting closer to Kaelin (who, by the way, is one of my all time fav OCs), and I love Cassian and Kaelin’s interactions, too. The Nessian is obviously amazing! I love this fic and I seriously can’t recommend it enough 😍😍😍

November 7 - Let Me Be Your Home by @perseusannabeth . Regency Nessian? Uh, yes please!! Every detail about Nesta’s past hurts like a thousand paper cuts but it just makes her healing better and all the acts of kindness Cassian gives her that she’s not used to hurts in the best way. Seriously go read this right now!

November 8 - Scandalous by @arinbelle . I adore her writing (there’ll def be more of her fics on this list). This fic tho… *chefs kiss* I love a Nessian fic with sprinkles of angst and this one is like, my comfort angsty Nessian pregnancy fic. I love every single thing about it and have reread it a LOT. And I love it more each time.

November 9 - Famously in Love by @batboyazriel . First off, I love the premise for this fic! I mean, famous YouTubers that the internet ship? What’s not to love! Also, the way the narration follows all the different couples keeps the story perfectly paced. An awesome Nessian & Feysand & Elriel modern AU!

November 10 - Somewhere by @thewayshedreamed . I love her writing & narrative style so much! This fic is a rollercoaster of growing out of a toxic relationship and learning to have a more healthy love and made me feel so deeply. I really enjoyed every bit of Nessian’s progression, even when I wanted to cry.

November 11 - Come and get me by @c-e-d-dreamer . @c-e-d-dreamer ‘s writing is my newest obsession! This Nessian fic in particular gave me all the feels. 10/10 recommend!!

November 12 - Lay Down Your Burdens by @highfaelucien . Oh my gosh, @highfaelucien fics hit hard every time but this one has me drowning in bittersweet angty feels. Just all the pain and trauma and love in this one is impeccable. It’s utterly perfect and I’m so in love 😍

November 13 - Prepare for trouble, make it double by raging_fire (ao3). I’m breaking my “only fics by tumblr users” rule with this one but it deserves it. I obviously have a soft spot for Nessian pregnancy/parenting fics, but I don’t usually like OC-centric fics. This fic, which focuses on Nessian’s kids, proved me so wrong. I was so obsessed with this, the updates made my day and I even made a GC just to fangirl over it and make theories. You have to go check it out for your own sake!!!

November 14 - The Asshole from the manor on the hill by @moe8 . @moe8 has many great fics but I had to pick this amazing one in which Nesta confronts our least favorite asshole, Tomas ✨ The part 2 is great too!!

November 15 - An Exception by @confusedfandomslut . This fic 🥵🔥 I mean, modern AU with rival Nessian AND stripper Nesta? 👀 the ending is perfect too. Definitely recommend!

November 16 - For You by @rhysand-vs-fenrys . I think about this fic ALL THE TIME. I’ve reread it ALOT. Not only is it Lysaedion (!!!) smut, it’s also hilarious and adorable and just overall perfect. Some passages I think about:

“What are we?” “Pre-married.” Aedion answered instantly. When Lysandra did not respond he began adding to the list, “In love. Lovers. You are courting me. I am courting you. Engaged… Best friends? Confidants? You’re a beautiful, powerful woman and I’m… your toy?” He was less and less sure as he went on, but his answers were snarky all the same. “Two adults? Two non-humans? Roommates? Future permanent roommates? Too beautiful for our own good? Did… did I say ‘partners’ already?”

And:

“Just- if I’m being honest the wax was kind of… when we were playing with it I was fine, but I was picking drops off some very delicate parts for a week.”

November 17 - Holiday of Healing by @starbornvalkyrie & @aurips . Not only is this an adorable 6 part Nessian fic (and it’s the perfect time for a reread, now that the Holidays are coming up again!), I also love the Rowan-Nesta and Cassian-Aelin friendships 😍 This fic is seriously amazing. Go give it a read!!

November 18 - The Seven of Us by @julemmaes . A fluffy collection of oneshots about Nesta & Cassian and their 5 kids!! Literally every single one of these oneshots is so perfect and cute ♥️♥️♥️

November 19 - Nesta’s Smile is like the Sun by @vidalinav . I know from personal experience how difficult it can be to love someone who struggles with their mental health. It isn’t always easy to be supportive — often it feels like you’re useless and nothing you do rly helps them. But anyways this Nessian fic was everything I needed. I love your writing and this one hit hard, since I relate to both Cassian & Nesta.

November 20 - Made by @arinbelle . This Nessian Mafia AU fic… *chefs kiss* the PACING! The drama! The writing! The romance! The crime! Everything is absolute perfection ✨

November 21 - Boughs of Holly by @ncssian . I’m still so soft over the fact that you wrote this fic for me 🥺 I adore @ncssian ‘s writing, and her characterization of the ACOTAR-verse characters is always incredible — seriously, one of my absolute favorite fic writers and that’s saying smth bc I don’t have a life and constantly binge read fanfic. Anyway this one is super cute and perfect now that the holidays are rolling around again!

November 22 - Misplace Mail by @live-the-fangirl-life . @live-the-fangirl-life is a pro at writing fluffy cute oneshots & mini series! This series is not only hilarious, it’s also 🔥🔥🔥 Def go check out more of @live-the-fangirl-life ‘s writing if you love fluff!

November 23 - I’m here by @talkfantasytome . This Lysaedion fic series breaks my heart in the best way. It’s adorable but bittersweet and just absolute perfection. ♥️

November 24 - Supernova by @sirendeepity . I’ve only read the first chapter so far (which was phenomenal btw) but I KNOW this fic is gonna hurt like hell and I’m gonna thank it anyway. I know I’m going to be addicted to it. I love the premise, and the Nessian and the writing 😍✨

November 25 - Childhood memories by @happy-smiling-things . First off, I ADORE @happy-smiling-things writing!!! There are so many amazing Nessian fics so it was so hard to pick one. This one delves into Nesta’s past, her childhood trauma, and her growth, and I love it!!!

November 26 - Senseless by @mariamuses . This fic is such a memorable classic! It’s a little angsty — you know, because who doesn’t love a little hurt/comfort? Especially when it’s Nesta being vulnerable and Cassian trying to help her through it all? Go read it if you haven’t already!

November 27 - Your Love by @writtenonreceipts . I love all of @writtenonreceipts ‘ fics — I definitely recommend checking them all out! This one is written in a style I find really creative and interesting, and I absolutely love ♥️

November 28 - Lost by @arinbelle . This is a hauntingly beautiful fic. I cant even describe it. Just go read it when you have the emotional stability (or lack thereof) to appreciate the painful beauty.

November 29 - A favor by @ncssian . This is worthy of breaking my “no repeats from last year” rule. I cannot explain just how much I love this fic. Every single part of it is incredible. The characterization of Nesta, Cassian, and the rest of the characters within a modern context is so interesting to watch and just *chefs kiss*. Trust me, if you love nessian, you’ll love this. Do yourself a favor and go read it ;)

November 30 - A Lion’s Pride by @pitterpatterpot . This comes as a surprise to absolutely no one bc I’m obsessed with this fic and do free advertising for it 24/7. I reread it so many times that I almost memorized the whole thing so I had to take a break so that I could forget a bit and fully experience it again. The exploration of Aedion’s character is just so perfect, I love it so much. Did I recommend this fic last year? Yes ofc. Will I do it again next year? Probably. So go read it so that you can come scream about it with me ♥️

#thanksvember #fic recs #fanfiction

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