#Cassian X Feyre brotp

[shipperoffanonships]

I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS PLATONIC SHIP.

I don't care about the Bat Boys shit in the Inner Circle or whatever. For me platonically speaking, Feyssian (Feyre/Cassian) is endgame.

[nestastits]

Heyyyy!!!

I've got two questions

Favourite Nessian moment EVER

2. One thing you'd like to see in the next book

Have a good day 💕

Sorry it has taken me so long to answer this 😣.

1: Literally every scene 😭. There are so many. They are so special to me for so many reasons. But if I had to choose just one for this post I will have to go with the nightmare scene in acosf.

The nightmare was where we see the affect cassian has on Nesta and her power. Which I find very interesting. I sort of see Nesta’s power as more of its own thing. Like it has a mind of its own. I guess like a Venom type situation? If you’re a marvel fan you’ll understand my reference🤣. But Nesta can still tell it what to do. Anyways, in this scene Nesta is lost in her memories that have turned into nightmares and Rhys can’t break through her shields. He can’t contain her power either. It is Cassian who calms Nesta down with his voice and touch. And her power answers in return to him. It calls out when it hears him. And Nesta reaches out for him too. The morning after Nesta remarks on how it was Cassian’s voice that she followed to safety enough to let her mental shields down for Rhys to get her out of the nightmare. Then she talks about how Cassian looked like one of the warrior-princes from one of her childhood books which I thought was a very tender moment considering how harsh Nesta’s childhood was. And I’ve always seen Nesta as a romance reader (with some smut thrown in of course) dreaming of having her own warrior prince and now she finally has one. It’s also a scene where we first see Nesta allow herself to cry for how much someone else cares for her which is a breakthrough in her healing. Cassian also shows how much he cares for her during this scene and how uncomfortable he was seeing her in pain.

2: Honestly idk 😅. The next book could be an Elucien or Gwynriel book or potentially another Nesta book with the foreshadowing of hofas and sjm herself saying acosf was only Nesta’s happy beginning. But logically I think it will be an Elain/lucien book which I am all for!

As much as I love Night Court I’m hoping Elain will be the one to leave since she isn’t meant for that court anyways. Elain is definitely either a day court or spring court girly! I hope we see her really come into herself and see what’s in her mind. I think her story will be much different from her sisters’ because of her being the one who actually holds resentment towards being turned Fae. Elain loved her human life, she was content in marrying having children and growing old and dying. And now? Now she has to learn to live forever and what challenges come with it. She lost the only chance she had at happiness even if Graysen was yucky, she did love him and I think he loved her to an extent too. Or at least the idea of her. I’m also excited to be in Lucien’s pov finally! And I’m curious at how the bond between them will play out considering Elains wariness of it. I want a Elain x Eris brotp too😤.

I also think Elain is not a fan of the bond because she has a want to be seen by someone for who she is not because fate drives them together. I think it will be hard on her because she is already aware of the bond and it’s snapped in place. While I don’t think she is outright jealous of her sisters, maybe just a little envy? Imagine you and your sisters all getting mates but only you have the knowledge of knowing who yours is before you even actually meet them 😭 especially after being turned far through drowning in an oversized cooking pot. I’d be skeptical too. Plus Feyre and Nesta got the chance to know their mates without the pressure of the mating bond always being there, it didn’t snap in place for them until after becoming friends with their mates. But Elain and Lucien’s bond is already snapped in place, at least I think it is🤷🏼‍♀️. I understand how afraid and angry she probably is of having a Mating bond. Especially since she did excel at being human and wanting a human life. But like Feysands and Nessians bonds Elucien will fall in love with one another too. But I want Elain to live her life and go on her own journey before she jumps into a relationship with anyone.

Lastly, I need background Feysand as parents with baby nyx. I am not a fan of pregnancy trope but I’ll make an exception for cute bat baby nyxie. And of course my Nessian. I need all the soft background Nessian I can get. I need them sitting on the couch together laughing or eating chocolate cake of course. And I want to know how Elain feels about this and what goes on in her mind when she sees her sisters happy with their mates and fae life.

Hope this helps, and have an amazing day too 🫶🏻

[ae-neon]

Heyy for the character ask: fox-boy, mega-hot fire-wielding Lucien!

favorite thing about them

Witty, sexy, smart, talented, really cool story, really good friend, brave, the idea of this man of many courts - everything

least favorite thing about them

That he's always apologising to Feyre (sjm's fault) he did so much for her but he's a bad friend??? The IC left her to die but they're her "Family"?? Be so fucking serious lmaoooo

favorite line

"go back to the shit-hole you crawled out of" he deserves [redacted] for that

"Easy" CACKLING every time I remember and I haven't even read the book

brOTP

Feycien. Tamlin x Lucien (Tamcien? Lulin?)

Tarquin and Lucien podcast when

OTP

Nesta x Lucien

Cassian x Lucien

Rhysand x Lucien

(multiple throuples)

nOTP

A lot of my mutuals ship Elucien and/or band of exiles throuple and I respect that but personally it doesn't make me feel anything

random headcanon

Lucien x Andras was definitely a thing

Lucien is a pleasure dom

Lucien the only man who could dom Nesta

unpopular opinion

I wouldn't mind Lucien never acknowledging Helion or becoming the heir to Day. I want him to know but I like vagabond Lucien a lot

song i associate with them

From Eden, As It Was, Shrike - any slightly romantic Hozier song is mentally teleporting me to Nescien / LucNes delusions

favorite picture of them

???

[moononastring]

top 5 brotps?

Ohoohoh I have to think about this!

Bromance Bros. All of them.

Feyre x Cassian. They're so stupid together I LOVE them.

Harry x Ron. Their friendship means so much to me.

Aelin x Lysandra (I know they’re women but idc they're bros)

Cassian x Azriel because I KNOW Cassian is so annoying and I love knowing he annoys Azriel forever.

[shallyne]

Hard Days Companions

Just a quick fic I wrote, hope you enjoy ❤️

TW: light signs of depression

Feyre has a hard day and Cassian keeps her company

Feyre sat on the roof of the House of Wind hidden in a corner, all by herself. She didn't know why she had the sudden urge to just hide and be alone. Everything was fine, she didn't have any reason to feel so...empty. It seemed like this was one of the hard days and today it wins. Feyre barely got out of bed, even eating was exhausting. Everything was so exhausting and she was just so, so tired. Feyre sighed and wrapped her arms around her legs. She overlooked the city before her. Velaris. Her home. It was beautiful. The setting sun washed the City in hues of oranges and pinks. On any other day Feyre would have grabbed a canvas, paints and her brushes and would have painted until her fingers hurt but today she couldn't. She didn't have the energy. On top of that Feyre had the feeling that it wouldn't turn out as bright and cheery as she wanted, it would probably turn into something dark and twisty.

Feyre didn't look up when she heard footsteps. She didn't have to look up to know who was approaching her right now, she knows his footsteps.

"I knew I saw you arriving earlier." Cassian broke the silence, stopping a few feet away.

"Damn it, I wanted to be sneaky." Feyre replied.

Cassian snickered, pointing beside Feyre. "May I?"

Feyre nodded. Cassian took a seat beside her, watching the bustling city underneath them. "I live here for over 500 years and the beauty of this city still takes my breath away."

Feyre smiled. He was right. Sometimes Feyre walked through the city just to admire the beauty of it.

Cassian turned to her. "Are you okay?"

Feyre nodded again.

"Bad day?" he asked.

"Nothing happened." Feyre replied, brushing some dirt off her pants.

Cassian nodded, understanding lit his eyes. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes until he said "It's hard. I know it's hard, trust me. There will always be hard days and they will come at the most unexpected times. You think everything is fine and suddenly you're too tired to get out of bed. I promise you, Feyre, it will get better. Even if there are hard days there are a lot more good days." he smiled at her. "And luckily for you, you have the best companions for both of these days. I mean, you already have the best companion beside you but the others are alright too, I guess."

Feyre giggled and pushed him softly. He laughed.

She took his hand and laid her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head.

"Thank you, Cass." she whispered.

"You're welcome, Fey." he replied. "I am always here if you need to talk. Or if you just need someone to sit with you in silence."

[hellogoodbye14]

A Crush (Pre-Mating Feysand)

Just a little treat

Feyre dropped her sword to the ground, thinking it only fair that she finally fought on the same terms with her opponent . Cassian smirked at the move.

He didn’t waste time after that, he ran towards her, hand already fisted for a punch. She grabbed his wrist, twisted, and sent him to the ground, then used an elbow at his neck to try knock him unconscious just like he taught her.

He didn’t waste time after that, he ran towards her, hand already fisted for a punch. She grabbed his wrist, twisted, and sent him to the ground, then used an elbow at his neck to try knock him unconscious just like he taught her.

Cassian easily manoeuvred out of the hold and blocked her next attack. Both of them sprang backwards. She waited ready for the next attack. But he simply nodded and ruffled her hair.

“That was good. Shuffle your feet and lean on your dominant leg more to get that hold steady.”

She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and smile.

“Wow. Was that a compliment? No it was ‘satisfactory’ or ‘fine’.”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t make me make you do another hundred pushups Archeron.”

She snickered until she caught sight of familiar large wings in her periphery.

Rhys was near the other training ring, wrapping his hands with hardened faded white cloth used in preparation for a fight. His shirt was out of sight and he wore his illyrian leather pants. The dipping sun of Velaris made the defined panes of his body gleam.

He moved towards the sand bag and started performing what they called Kata fighting moves. His eyes were so focused and Feyre couldn’t help but feel a shiver thinking of what it would be like to have that kind of focus on you. The veins in his arms became more prominent as his muscles bunched, a drop of sweat trickled down a strand of his hair and made its journey down his strong jaw… down his neck… and then down the rough edges of his body until they reached the v pointing down.

Cassian coughed.

And Feyre shook her head.

She turned to see Cassian with a gleam in his eye.

“Done ogling yet?”

She frowned.

“I wasn’t ogling.”

“Oh sorry. I meant eye-fucking.”

She glared back at him.

He simply smiled, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Rhysie about your little crush on him.”

She sniffed as she got back into fighting position.

“I don’t have a crush. Crushes are for kids.”

Feyre thought that would be the end of the conversation until she heard Rhys behind her.

“What is for kids?”

Feyre couldnt help but gulp as he stood next to her. Heat emancipating from his body. His arms were glistening as he wiped a wet towel behind his neck. Was it her or was it just really hot today?

Cassian smiled, “Our Feyre has a little crush.”

Rhys stayed silent for a bit.

“Who’s the lucky man?”

He tried catching her eye but for some reason today she just couldn’t. She had a feeling she’d turn a bright shade of red and she didn’t want to comprehend the why of it.

“Yeah Feyre, why don’t you tell Rhys?”

She glared and walked to the water station. She didn’t want the attention, didnt want Cassians words which held a bit of truth to them to be out there.

“It’s Mason from Rita’s.” Mason who looked the complete opposite of Rhys.

A flash of emotion passed Rhys’s face but it passed too quick for Feyre to decipher.

He offered her a smile, “That’s good. Will you both be going out?”

Feyre nodded, “Most likely.”

“Hope it works out.l

With that, he walked away. His steps seemed a bit defeated. Feyre couldn’t help but be confused. The usual Rhys would have cracked a snarky or perverse joke. Cassian sighed, “Really? Was that necessary?“

Feyre frowned, “What do you mean?”

He offered her a bored look, “Don’t play with him like that, he’s not as unbothered as he seems.”

“It’s Rhysand, Cassian. He doesn’t mind, it won’t impact him.”

“You’d be surprised as to how much it would impact him.”

She frowned, “What do you mean?”

He simply shrugged, “Nevermind, brace your feet for the next volley.”

To be continued?..???

[highladyofdawn]

nesta archeron : a mood board

“Never again would she be weak. Never again would she be at someone’s mercy. Never again would she fail. Never again, never again, never again.

[the-lonelybarricade]

The Snow King: Part I

Summary: A Feysand Frozen retelling. Feyre teams up with Cassian and Lucien in a race to find King Rhysand, whose icy powers have trapped the Kingdom of Velaris in an eternal winter.

A/n: I am so excited to share this retelling! I have been working on it for ages and I really hope you enjoy it! I promise you now: Rhys as Queen Elsa and Lucien as a sassy Kristoff is everything you never knew you needed.

Masterlist ⟡ Read on AO3

Feyre had been in love with Prince Rhysand since she was five years old.

The Archeron family had high standing in the Kingdom of Velaris, and Feyre had attended every royal gathering since she was old enough to walk.The King and Queen had always been kind and welcoming to her family, being that Feyre and her sisters were approximate in age to the young Prince. There were always hushed talks of betrothals, but none of that had meant anything to Feyre.

All that mattered was that Prince Rhysand had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen, and that he didn’t mock her the way Elain and Nesta did. That simple combination was enough for the two of them to become fast friends, though Feyre was never sure what Rhysand got out of it. He always seemed to find her amusing more than anything else.

Nesta was entirely unimpressed by the crown prince, even more so by his apparent attachment to Feyre. She’d said as much on enough occasions, sometimes even to the prince’s face. Elain, on the other hand, was completely taken to all things involving the royal family. Though she seemed rather intimidated by Rhysand, she did enjoy the company of his younger sister, the two of them often running off to play in the gardens at every social event.

The result often left Feyre and Rhys to entertain each other, which was quite the mistake indeed.

Quickly, the crown prince garnered an unruly reputation of wreaking havoc through the halls of the palace—usually at the behest of the two servant boys they’d befriended, Cassian and Azriel. Rhysand always took the fall for their wayward group, claiming a crown prince could afford to be the subject of rumors.

Feyre had always thought it quite unfair, considering the four of them certainly weren’t discreet. Like the day they’d hauled buckets of snow into the palace ballroom to stage a massive indoor snowball fight. The King and Queen had walked in, appalled, and Feyre’s errant snowball had hit the King square in the chest.

Immediately, Rhysand had launched into a string of apologies, claiming the snow was single-handedly his doing, despite all evidence contrary. The King had looked to his son, then to the guilty faces of Feyre and the boys, and sternly promised Rhysand would be punished when his friends returned home. The prince’s face had turned solemn, until the Queen scooped a handful of snow and promptly tossed it at her husband’s face. Just like that, the royal family had joined in on the game.

Feyre couldn’t pinpoint when, exactly, that fun-loving family had started to withdraw from the world. It was gradual. As they grew older, Rhysand stopped smiling as much. There were less and less balls held every season, birthday and holiday celebrations became more close-knit, and eventually the Archerons stopped receiving invitations altogether.

Nesta was convinced it was Feyre’s doing, though Feyre knew it was not the Archeron family exclusively that had been shut out. The Palace doors had closed, no longer accepting visitors. Rhysand had told her as much, in the letter he had written to her, apologizing as he explained they could no longer continue their friendship. Feyre had been devastated, and Rhys had offered no rationale besides needing to focus on becoming King.

Then, the Kingdom had been rocked by the devastating news of the King, Queen, and Princess of Velaris being lost at sea. All Feyre could think about was Rhysand in that big, lonely castle. All by himself.

Closed gates and letters be damned, she went to go see him.

Cassian and Azriel helped her sneak in through the servant’s quarters, wearing grim faces.

“How is he?” Feyre asked, though the answer was clear enough from their expressions.

“He hasn’t left his room,” Azriel said, eyes dark with remorse.

Feyre glanced between the two of them, her heart sinking as she recalled the ways they had all played together as kids. They were perhaps Rhysand’s closest friends, and the Queen and Princess had always treated them like family. She pulled them both into a tight, tearful hug before she snuck off to Rhysand’s quarters.

She couldn’t help but notice how much colder it was in this part of the palace. Had Rhysand been so consumed in his grief he hadn’t bothered to light fires? Gods, was he not even letting servants into his wing of the palace?

“Rhys?” Feyre called, rapping her knuckle three times against his door. “It’s me, Feyre.”

There was the indistinct sound of shuffling on the other side of the room, but otherwise no response.

“Look, I know you’re in there, and you don’t have to let me in or say anything. I just… wanted to tell you that I’m here for you. I know you don’t wish to continue our friendship, but if you change your mind, or if you just need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

Still, silence. Unbearable silence, which was so unlike Rhysand that Feyre found herself babbling.

“Your family, they were always so wonderful to me and my sisters. I always felt so much more at home here, with them. And—Gods, Rhys, I am so, so sorry.”

She hadn’t meant to start crying. Rhys had enough grief to deal with, she certainly hadn’t wanted to burden him with hers as well.

“You are going to make such a great King,” she pushed on despite her tears, praying he couldn’t hear the way her voice wavered through the door. “And I know they are so, so proud of you. Everyone in Velaris is. The Kingdom is in great hands.”

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. She could hear a shuddering breath on the other side of the door, the unmistakable sound of sobbing. Her heart cracked in pieces. Had she made it worse? This was a mistake. Rhysand had already politely told Feyre he wanted nothing to do with her, and that was before his family had passed away. She was a fool.

“Anyway, I’m sorry for bothering you. I just wanted to let you know that I... l—care about you.” Oh dear, this was going downhill quickly. “And… I’m here if you need me— “ she’d already said that. “Fuck, okay. Wait, sorry. I’m just going to go now.”

She turned on her heel and had taken her first step when the door clicked, as if Rhys had been standing on the other side the whole time. Feyre whirled to watch him quickly slip out of the room.

Her breath caught. It had been almost a year since the last time she’d seen Prince Rhysand. He looked a mess, with his red-rimmed eyes, splotchy cheeks, and hair so mussed she could imagine he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly, his raven-black locks so spiked it almost looked as if they’d been frozen in place. Yet, despite his haggard appearance, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. And entirely unattainable, she reminded herself. And grieving. Right.

“Rhys,” she breathed, mostly in surprise. He looked worn, and was staring at her warily. “I, um… wasn’t expecting you to come out,” she admitted. “How are you? No, sorry, that’s a stupid question. Um. I’m so sorry. Can I… do anything?”

Rhysand offered her the smallest smile, as if her awkward stumbling cheered him up despite the tragedy that had befallen his life. Well, it was good to know she still amused him. Some things never changed, she guessed.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, his voice croaking. She wasn’t sure if it was from tears or disuse, or perhaps both. Azriel had said he’d locked himself in his room since the moment the news arrived. “Despite the circumstances.”

Rhys hadn’t answered her question, and Feyre wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She wanted to hug him, but was worried that would be too forward. Perhaps sensing her hesitation, Rhys opened his arms to her, raising his brows in invitation. That was all the permission she needed to hurl herself into his arms.

Even in just the last year, he’d broadened so much. Gone were the awkward, gangly stages of puberty where he’d been a mess of too-tall limbs. Even if that version of Rhys had been enough to send her blushing, now he was a man. A King. Regal, handsome, impossibly graceful.

Rhys always ran cold, it was a trait she remembered from their childhood when he’d teasingly pressed his cold fingers to the back of her neck to make Feyre squeal. But now, his touch was like frost. She tried to prevent her teeth from chattering in his embrace. It was the middle of summer in Velaris, even without fires his room shouldn’t be that cold.

Feyre pulled away, frowning as she studied her friend. Despite the chill seeping in through where her arms clasped his tunic, he looked flushed, his cheeks perfectly rosy. Was he ill?

“Are you feeling okay, Rhys?” she asked, nervously pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. It was bone-chilling.

Any joy Rhys had retained dropped instantly from his expression. “I think we've well established that I’m far from okay.”

“No, not like that. Not emotionally, I mean. But, are you feeling unwell? You feel so cold—”

Rhys yanked himself away, his visage now as cold as his skin. Feyre frowned at the suddenty of the movement, as if she’d stung him.

“You should go,” he said, voice unrecognizable. A king’s voice speaking—a harsh dismissal, leaving no room for discussion.

Feyre was shocked, her mind whirling as she tried to contemplate what she’d said wrong. “Rhy—”

“Go, Feyre.”

There was something so unnervingly desperate in the way he said her name, like a plea, that made Feyre turn on her heel and flee without another word. She told herself it was just the grief that had caused Rhys to act so callously. Not that it mattered; he’d made his intentions clear enough in his letter.

⟡⟡⟡

A few weeks later and the Kingdom of Velaris was bustling as everyone prepared for King Rhysand’s coronation. For the first time in years the Palace doors were reopening for all, invitations delivered to every notable family. Including, of course, the Archerons.

Feyre’s sisters had immediately taken to prattling about the affairs of High Society—discussing all the eligible bachelors who would be in attendance and which ball gowns would be best to woo them. Feyre felt sufficiently underwhelmed to chatter about such things, if anything she was anxious about attending. Rhysand hadn’t said anything to make her feel unwelcome to attend, but… he hadn’t necessarily said anything encouraging, either.

She worried that attending would only serve to slice further at the lacerations on her heart, as thinking about Rhys often did.

Yet as the bell tolled and the crowds filtered in, Feyre found herself among the attendees, sitting close to observe the pageantry in full. There was Rhysand, nearly swallowed in his ceremonial garbs, looking every bit as nervous as she felt. Their eyes met, his bright violet gaze piercing straight through her heart. Feyre’s mouth immediately went dry, but just as quickly he’d fixed those cunning eyes away. She took a heavy breath and chewed her lip, wondering how she’d possibly get through an evening of such exchanges.

The anointing itself was rather quick. Rhys stood before the gathered audience, holding the orb and sceptre as he swore his vows to his crown and country.

“King Rhysand of Velaris!” the bishop announced, immediately sending the crowd into mayhem as everyone cheered and swore allegiance to their new sovereign. The bells above tolled in celebration, and Rhys had the most dazzling smile on his face.

Following the ceremony, dignitaries and aristocrats were swept into the Great Hall to celebrate. Already, the hall was filled with music, and couples had taken to waltzing across the floor. Nesta and Elain fled hand in hand, seeking out potential gentleman callers. Feyre was left, stranded, by the dessert table. Which wouldn’t have been a bad thing if the apprehension curling in her stomach hadn’t made her far too queasy to consider eating.

Rhysand was standing on the far end of the room, looking pleasantly over the crowd, greeting all who came to congratulate him. He was a good King already. Feyre felt nothing but confidence he would do a fine job.

A King… despite her family’s station, it had been foolish to truly think their friendship could endure. As if Kings could engage in such frivolous things.

Their eyes met again. Having been caught staring, Feyre offered an awkward smile and wave, wishing she could simply blink out of existence right then and there. Gods, she had to get over her foolish crush, especially since—

“Care to dance?”

Feyre jumped, whirling to face Tamlin, the seventh Prince of the Spring Isles. Speak of the devil. She offered him a too-forced smile. “Of course.”

So they took to the dance floor, joining the blur of couples in a waltz that felt too stilted from matching Tamlin’s gait. Still, she smiled and laughed when she was expected, trying not to look at Tamlin’s face too long, and trying harder to ignore the violet eyes she knew were boring into the back of her head.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Feyre stiffened in Tamlin’s grip as the two of them turned in astonishment to the King of Velaris. Tamlin’s eyes practically bulged, but he bowed respectfully. “Of course, your majesty.”

Rhys cringed at the honorific, a title that up until a month prior had belonged to his father. Feyre nodded her goodbye to Tamlin as she accepted the King’s outstretched hand, feeling a bit numb as Rhys whirled her back into the rhythm of the dance.

The crowd began murmuring around them as the King took his first dance, with an Archeron sister no less. Feyre couldn’t figure out why Rhys had done it, but she was honored to be chosen nonetheless.

He moved with that easy grace he’d come to possess in recent years, leading Feyre as if they’d been dance partners for years. Though they’d stopped doing such things when they were children, sick of adults implying they’d be married one day.

“Enjoy dancing with Prince Tamlin?” he asked, his voice dangerously unreadable. Was he angry? Amused? Teasing? Rhys gave nothing away in his expression.

“Quite,” she answered conversationally, deciding two could play at that game. “I assume you’re acquainted?”

“Only in passing,” Rhys answered, sounding too casual as he twirled Feyre, her skirts billowing with the motion. He caught her smoothly, pulling her imperceptibly closer. “And the two of you?”

Feyre didn’t follow. Being this close to Rhys was making her mind hazy. “Sorry?”

“Are the two of you acquainted?” he repeated, the corners of his lips curling in that tell-tale sign of amusement.

Feyre’s face burned. He was always finding ways to tease her, even without saying anything. “He’s my betrothed.”

Rhysand suddenly halted. Feyre, mid-step, would have tumbled into him were he not so adept, his arm reaching to steady her.

They’d stopped in the middle of the dance floor, onlookers shooting them odd looks as the couples danced around them. Feyre’s cheeks burned further from the attention, the socialites no doubt wondering what uncouth thing she must have said to the King to make him lose composure.

“You’re marrying Prince Tamlin? How? When? Are you to move to the Spring Isles?”

Feyre blinked at the onslaught of questions, so uncharacteristic of the smooth-tongued, collected man he usually paraded as during Court events.

“Tamlin requested my hand a few months prior. When the Palace closed its doors, the Archeron family sought other circles of High Society. Spring is our closest allied kingdom and is only a short journey by boat, so we’ve been attending their balls, as have many other families in Velaris. Tamlin and I have yet to flush out the details, I only accepted the proposal in the last week.”

Rhysand’s face seemed to crumple, for only a second, before he regained his composure, sweeping her back into the waltz as if nothing had passed. “I suppose this means our own betrothal is off?” he teased, though there was an edge to his voice. He was referring to their childhood vow to become King and Queen of Velaris. Rhys had never mentioned it, or even alluded to an interest in Feyre, since puberty.

Feyre suddenly felt defensive. “I assumed any vows were made null when you sent me that letter.”

Rhysand stiffened. She half expected him to seize dancing once more, but he continued, his movements more rigid.

When Rhys said nothing, Feyre felt her blood boil. “Am I to assume you stand by those sentiments?”

Rhysand cleared his throat. “Feyre, I—”

And Feyre simply couldn’t stand to hear him rationalize why he felt justified in throwing their lifelong friendship out the window. Couldn’t bear to hear the indifference in his voice while she still felt shattered. Couldn’t bear to have her foolish heart thrown back in her face all over again for having let herself fall in love with a Crown Prince, as if his heartbreaking beauty hadn’t been warning enough.

She tore herself away. “Sorry, your majesty, I really must be going.” She swallowed past the swords lodged in her throat. “It’s improper for a betrothed woman to dance with another gentleman.”

Just like that, all vulnerability on his face slammed shut, his expression as impenetrable as the Palace doors these last years.

“You’re quite right, Lady Archeron. I wish you a happy marriage.” The tone of his voice implied anything but.

They’d stopped dancing again. Feyre went to talk away, but paused. If this was the last they’d ever see of each other, she might as well say her piece. Might as well put it out there, lest the ugly truth wither and rot inside her.

She didn’t turn to see his face, but she could feel him watching her. “I was waiting to accept the proposal because I still had hope.”

“Hope for what?”

“That the boy I knew was still in that palace. The one I made that silly vow to. I was waiting for him, and I accepted Tamlin’s proposal only after I realized he was no longer there.”

Something inexplicable happened after the words left her mouth. One moment, the Great Hall was filled with music and laughter and dancing. The next, the marble floor had frozen over in a thick coat of ice. Couples mid-step slipped and fell on their rears. The bands stopped playing. Everyone stared in disbelief to the center of the dancefloor.

Feyre turned, slowly, to King Rhysand. His chest was heaving, his hands clenched into fists. Fractals of ice still fell from where his fingertips had been outstretched moments before. It was completely incomprehensible, but somehow the blast of ice had come from him.

“Sorcery!” someone in the crowd shrieked.

Rhysand’s head snapped to the direction of the cry, his gaze sweeping over the horrified faces of the crowd. Then he looked back to Feyre, eyes wide and desperate. Her heart broke.

“Rhys,” she whispered, stepping towards him, extending her hand. Unsure what help she could offer him, but recognizing that desperation in his eyes.

He broke into a sprint. The King of their country, fleeing his own home, his own ballroom, because he no longer felt safe among the condemning faces of their countryfolk. Feyre followed after him, calling his name, knowing he needed someone to tell him they weren’t afraid. And she would never be afraid of him.

“Feyre!” Tamlin called after her, as Feyre wove through the muttering crowds of people. Words like monster and sorcerer were cast so freely, with such disdain, Feyre felt like screaming in frustration. Rhys was the kindest person she knew.

The King pushed past the crowds of people in the garden, a trail of ice in his wake. Feyre tried to keep her footing as she gave chase, but Rhys certainly wasn’t making it easy. When he came to the fjord, he turned like a cornered animal, his eyes blown wide with panic.

“Rhys,” Feyre breathed as she scrambled to a stop, trying to find purchase on the slippery ground. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

“Feyre,” Rhys said, his voice choked. He looked on the verge of tears and Feyre would have reached for him were he not in such a volatile state. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Come back inside,” she said gently. “Show the people there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“But there is.” The words were nearly a whimper as he held out his hands before him, staring at his palms in horror. “I don’t know how to control it, Feyre. I-I might hurt someone.”

“We can figure it out, Rhys,” she said consolingly. “I am not, and never will be afraid of you. I—”

“Feyre!” They both turned to face Tamlin, who was picking his way towards them along the icy-path. “Get away from that monster!”

Feyre turned back to Rhys, and she could see that any progress she’d made talking him off this precipice had crumbled to dust. His expression had turned stony, and as he stepped back, his heel touched the shallows of the fjord. A sheet of ice appeared at his feet. Rhys turned to it in surprise, testing his weight. When it kept, he stepped more surely onto the next slab.

Sensing he was about to make his escape, Feyre grabbed for his wrist. “Please, Rhys. Don’t go. This is your home.”

Rhys looked pointedly to Tamlin, then back to Feyre. “There’s no home left, Feyre. Not for a monster like me.”

He leapt back, the ice catching him before his feet hit the surface of the water. Feyre went to give chase, but Tamlin had caught up in the time they were talking, and he grabbed for her waist.

“Wait!” Feyre called, not sure if it was directed to Tamlin or Rhys. Perhaps both.

“I know you were close to the King, Feyre, but I think it’s for the better. People like him don’t belong on a throne.”

People like him. Feyre watched after his retreating figure. He turned only once, when he reached the other side of the channel. She could only imagine what he’d seen when he looked back to her, held back in Tamlin’s arms. Did he understand how much he was breaking her heart?

Taglist: Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

@cretaceous-therapod @arrowmusings @live-the-fangirl-life @feybaenc @imsecretlyaherondale-blog @tanvee1231 @feysandandnyxsworld @story-scribbler @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @brieq

[dread3r]

Nesta x Azriel brotp

Azriel watched her with that cool quiet, keeping utterly still. Like he saw everything in her head. Her bruised heart. She couldn’t bear it.

--

Nesta watched the shadowsinger with a frankness that most people shied from. Azriel returned the look with a stillness that most people ran from. [...]

Maybe that was why Azriel had never said a bad word about Nesta. Never seemed inclined to start a fight with her. She saw him, and was not afraid of him. There weren’t many people who fit that bill.

--

Nesta scowled, and Az offered her a slight smile. They could be allies, that smile seemed to say. Against Cassian’s utter insanity. She found herself answering Azriel with a slight smile of her own.

--

Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn’t go near the fire. 

His secret to tell, never hers. 

Azriel’s face remained neutral. So Nesta gave him a small nod [...]

--

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“I know, I don’t mind.”

“What is it?”

“You can attach this to whatever book you’re reading, and the little ball of faelight will shine. So you don’t have to squint when you’re reading at night.”

[...] She tapped it again and it turned off. And then she jumped to her feet and flung her arms around Azriel.

The room went silent for a beat.

But Azriel chuckled and squeezed her gently. [...] “Thank you,” Nesta said, quickly pulling away to marvel at the device. “It’s brilliant.”

Azriel blushed and stepped back, shadows swirling.

A Court of Silver Flames, Sarah J. Maas (2021)

praise azriel for being the man that he is and minded his own business,,, THIS BROTP will be the death of me,,, MORE OF THIS FOR THE NEXT BOOK HOPEFULLYYYYYY ALSO how would nesta react to azriel’s involvement with elaine AND gwyn (since she already knows his feelings for elaine)????? hmmm intriguing,,, who doesnt want more of their quiet but strong dynamic,,, they’re like the quiet smart kids in class that are both hot and too cool for you,,, also that threesome proposal tho? nevertheless, stan azriel as the #1 nessian fan,,, the one and only chaperone and had to eat at the table where it all happened.

[duskandstarlight]

Has anyone thought about what Rhys and Nesta say to each other after Nesta saves Feyre and Nyx’s lives?

In my mind, Rhys visits her at the House to extend his gratitude again and that’s when he insists on buying her whatever she wants.

But I can imagine it’s a conversation that completely irons out that very wrinkled and stained relationship. Imagine how cathartic that would be to read? Knowing that Rhys—who bows to nobody—fell to his knees at Nesta’s feet and she responded by doing the same. Equals finally, rather than butting heads and holding prejudices.

I just know that Nesta would be matter of fact and firm about not wanting gifts. I imagine that Rhys tells Nesta that he’s happy for she and Cassian—that they were made for one another and that he couldn’t be happier that his brother has found his mate, like he found Feyre. That he hopes he and Nesta can start again and admits about holding a grudge, at the same time that Nesta admits she feels guilt for not fending for her sisters when she was younger and for treating Feyre poorly at times.

Can you imagine it? I want to write it. I need to write it.

I wish I had more time 🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

we have

feyre and rhys: mated and in love obviously

nesta and cassian: mated and in love again obviously

feyre and cassian: literally the cutest most pure friendship to ever exist

cassian and rhys: brothers, chosen family

rhys and nesta: this friendship will serve so hard when they get over themselves

So all we need in order for feysand and nessian to double date and have cute mated brunches is for nesta and feyre to fucking love each other and be best friends. one day hopefully. 😔

[feyre2001]

Friendly Reminder

Sjm was gonna write a threesome(nesta, cassian, azriel) scene in acosf.

[of-fallen-grace]

i'm just saying that our queen nesta being straight dont make no sense like come on

someone that sexy and powerful cant be straight 😭😭😭

[theladyofdeath]

“Your water just broke” “I can see that” ”your water just broke” ”yes that is what happened” “YOUR WATER JUST BROKE!” “would you calm down, I’m the one giving birth!”

Enjoy this fluffy little bro-tp! x

“Should we start season three?”

“Is that even a question?”

Cassian chuckled as he pressed start next episode on the screen with the remote, and just as he popped open another can of beer, season three of Gilmore Girls began. 

“Dean is so much better than Jess,” Feyre said, shaking her head, sipping on a bottle of water. “I mean, I don’t get why Rory doesn’t see that. Never have, never will.”

Cassian slumped back against the couch cushions as he shot her a look. “Seriously? Fuck that. Jess is a badass, Dean is too….”

Feyre blinked, smirking, waiting patiently.

“Nice,” Cassian finished, at last.

Feyre shook her head, slowly. “You would think that.”

Cassian grinned as he chugged half his beer then set it on Feyre’s giant baby bump.

Feyre stared at the can, then looked back to Cassian. “Cass, it’s not a table.”

“You said that the first ten times,” Cassian muttered, looking at the t.v. as the theme song played, “hasn’t stopped me yet.” 

“I have to find new friends,” she murmured, but she was smiling, the can being left where it was until Cassian picked it back up a minute later to finish it off.

“I’m hungry,” he said, picking up his phone. “You hungry? Let’s order in.” 

“I want chicken,” Feyre said, sighing. “And pizza. And chocolate milk.”

Cassian snorted. “Alright, fine. I wanted tacos, but what the pregnant woman wants, she gets, I suppose.”

“I hope that when you hold this baby for the first time, Cassian, he kicks you in the balls.”

A laugh sputtered out of Cassian’s mouth as he pulled up the food delivery app. Rhysand had to work late, and as Feyre approached her due date, she hated being alone. Cassian, as their neighbor and longest friend, always welcomed her over to binge-watch whatever and eat endless amounts of junk. 

All of that ended, though, when Cassian was creating his own pizza online and Feyre gasped. Cassian’s eyes darted her direction and took in the scene. Feyre, looking surprised and slightly confused as she looked down between her crotch, where the couch was now soaked.

Cassian blinked, phone long forgotten. “Did you just piss on my couch?”

“No,” Feyre breathed.

Cassian’s eyes widened. “Shit, is this the water thing? Did your water just break?”

“I think so,” she whispered, then met Cassian’s gaze.

“Your water just broke,” he said, frozen in place.

“I can see that,” she said, trying to stand up.

But Cassian was already on his feet. “Your-Your water just broke.”

“Yes, that is what happened,” she said, laughing, pulling herself to her feet. 

“YOUR WATER JUST BROKE!” he yelled, raking his fingers through his hair, starting to panic.

“Would you calm down? I’m the one giving birth!” Feyre scolded, waddling toward the door. 

“Wait! Fuck.” Cassian scrolled through his phone as he hurried toward the door where Feyre was already slipping on her flip-flops. He put his phone to his ear as it rang. 

Rhysand answered, just before it went to voicemail. “Hey, what’s u-”

“Feyre’s water broke, I’m bringing her to the hospital,” Cassian blurted, words rushing out of his mouth.

Feyre was laughing, quietly, as she opened the door and headed for his truck.

“WHAT!” Rhysand yelled.

“Meet us there, I have to go, I have to drive, I have to puke,” Cassian stumbled. 

After Rhysand said he’ll grab the overnight bag and meet them there, Cassian grabbed his wallet and his keys and ran to the truck in the driveway. He helped the eight-month pregnant Feyre into the passenger seat before pulling himself up behind the wheel and hauling ass out of the driveway. 

“Let’s go have a baby!” he yelled, banging on the steering wheel like a drum.

Feyre laughed, hands roaming her bump as she stared out the window. “You realize you’re not going to actually be in there when this kid pops out of me, right?”

“Uncle Cassian thinks otherwise,” Cassian stated, winking in her direction as he drove.

Feyre shook her head, but her eyes had softened. “Uncle Cassian,” she repeated, fondly.

Cassian reached over and took her hand, squeezing it tight. His voice was gentler when he repeated, “Let’s go have a baby.”

[bookswithnida]

ig: @bookswithnida

[shallyne]

Imagine Cassian and Feyre getting drunk doing a girls night and braiding each other's hair