#eris and nesta friendship fic

[autumnshighlady]

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 3)

NESTA ARCHERON X FEMALE!READER (future Neris x reader)

summary: You and Nesta have made a plan, and now it’s time to put it into action

warnings: angst, more inner circle slander lmao

word count: 2.9k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: sorry this is so short! It’s a bit of a filler chapter but things will pick up soon. It’s a bit slow right now because it’s an extreme slowburn fic but I have so many big plans for it! Eris won’t appear until part 5 probably but I promise it will be worth it

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinons, im more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1

part 2

read on ao3

Spotify playlist

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

The first rays of sun crept their way into the room, illuminating the navy sheets with a soft golden glow. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, your surroundings beginning to sharpen. With a jolt, you noticed how Nesta’s head had migrated onto your pillow, gently crooked against your shoulder. Her long legs gently brushed against yours underneath the sheets, cold despite the warmth of the blanket.

You took a moment to gaze at her sleeping form. Her face was relaxed for once – her eyebrows were not drawn together in a glare, nor her lips twisted downward into a frown. That chestnut golden hair you loved had come undone, waving down her shoulders like honey. She snored slightly, a soft sound indicating she was not suffering from the nightmares you knew plagued her throughout the night. She looked like a gift from the Mother herself, an ethereal being sent from another world. Truthfully, you could have spent hours gazing at her, but with a heavy heart you untangled your legs from hers, and gently lifted her head from your shoulder before crawling out of the bed and silently slipping back into your room.

You both knew what you had to do next. Nesta had mentioned that Azriel liked to get up early discreetly and take his breakfasts in the big dining area, rather than sit on the stools at the kitchen countertops like you and Nesta frequently did. You knew he did it to keep an eye on the female but without getting into her space, and it made the perfect stage.

Once in your room, you bathed with lavender-scented soap, careful to wash any trace of Nesta’s scent off of you. You hated scrubbing yourself so viciously, as if her essence was poison to your skin, but you knew that Azriel would pick up on it. The water was so hot it almost burned, but you let it fuel you with fire.

You didn’t want to stage a fake fight with Nesta. Truthfully, you should have planned it beforehand. You had no idea what you were going to say, or her. All you could do was hope that it would fool everyone.

After drying off and braiding your hair back, you slipped on a pink gown from the closet, smoothing the skirt and taking a deep breath before heading to the kitchen. You had no idea if Azriel was actually in the other room or not, nor did you dare peek through the window as you walked by to check. You just had to pray Nesta was right.

Taking a seat at the stool next to the counter, you grabbed a pancake from the stack placed in front of you. Normally you loved the food in the House of Wind, but today it tasted like ash in your mouth as your stomach churned with anxiety. Would you and Nesta really be able to manipulate the Inner Circle and pull this off? Sure, they’d easily believe that you and her would get into a fight, but you had to be careful. If you two moved too quickly to cooperation, they would get suspicious. The fine line you and Nesta were balancing on was tedious at best, and you only hoped you didn’t make things worse.

Silently, Nesta entered the room. Rather than sitting beside you as she had been lately, she simply grabbed a cup of tea and perched herself on the other end of the counter, not sparing you a glance.

This is it. You thought to yourself with a nervous swallow. Showtime.

“You ok?” You began carefully, unsure how to initiate the fake fight. Nesta ignored you, not even blinking once to acknowledge your presence.

So you tried again, knowing where it was heading. “I just wanted to say thank you for standing up for me last night. Against Rhysand. I appreciate it.”

Nesta was quiet for a moment, then laughed bitterly. It was cold, utterly heartless. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, acting puzzled. Finally, Nesta turned to actually face you. There was no trace of warmth in her gaze, no evidence of the soft, gentleness in her features that was there this morning. Slate blue eyes stared at you like chips of ice, unfeeling.

“That dinner was meant to humiliate me, not you.” Nesta snapped. “So don’t pretend you’re the victim of all of this. I wasn’t about to let them walk all over me like dirt.”

“I never said that,” You insisted. “I just meant–”

“I don’t care what you meant,” She interrupted sharply. “I’m not your shield to protect you from them, so don’t treat me like one.”

You kept reminding yourself over and over again that this fight wasn’t real, that it was all just temporary. But you could not keep the bite out of your voice.

“I didn’t ask for you to challenge him like that,” You hissed. “So don’t blame me for your choice just because it’s going to have consequences like you being stuck up here for even longer. I stuck up for you too, you know. And I don’t see you bitching about it.”

“Am I supposed to thank you?” Nesta laughed sharply.

“Friends look out for each other, so maybe, yeah!”

“We are not friends.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You went still, not having to fake your reaction. You knew this was planned, but her words cut you nonetheless. It’s just pretend, you kept telling yourself.

“We aren’t friends, are we?” Your voice was full of venom, not all of it forced. “Who else do you have, Nesta? Who have you not pushed away yet? I am the only person who likes you right now, but you’re making it really fucking hard.”

“I don’t care if you like me or not.”

“Do you care if I hate you?”

“Go ahead, everyone else does. Maybe you can join them now.”

“I see why they do now.”

This time, it was Nesta’s turn to flinch. You regretted the words as soon as you said them. You and her had not discussed how far to push, what limits were in place. Something told you that her flinch was not a planned reaction – your words struck hard, visibly twisting her expression into something else. The fire in her eyes was quenched momentarily, overwhelmed with hurt for a split second before her cold gaze returned.

“Well next time they come to force you to help them, don’t come crying to me about it.” Nesta’s voice didn’t have the same bite to it as it did before – it wobbled slightly at the end, her chin lifting higher as if she could keep at bay any tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. She stood up, leaving her untouched cup of tea on the counter and storming out.

You watched her go, anxiety pooling in your stomach. Had Azriel heard your fight? Did he believe it was real? You really hoped so, for the thought of having to redo an argument with Nesta filled you with dread. Picking at the food on your plate, you told yourself over and over again that none of what you guys said was real, that neither of you actually meant what you had said.

You couldn’t get the image of Nesta’s face out of your head as you told her you can see why the Inner Circle hates her, the way it changed from anger to sadness as if she wasn’t acting at all. You knew something had happened between her and Rhysand’s court that had made those specific words twist her gut like a knife – either that or she was just a really, really good actress.

We are not friends.

That phrase Nesta had spat out congested your thoughts like a swarm of bees. You knew she said it for the sake of the fight, but was there an extent of truth to it? The two of you only crossed paths because you were both prisoners of some sort to the Night Court. You doubted that you’d have met her otherwise, or if she even would have given you a second glance. All your time spent reading books in silence or sipping tea on the balcony, you wondered if it was only because you two just happened to be the only females in the House of Wind.

Did Nesta see you as a friend? You couldn’t figure out your dynamic still – it had only been a short amount of time since you met her, yet it felt like you had known her your whole life. Part of you felt something else for her though, something like friendship but different. You felt like a crushing schoolgirl, but for some reason it felt deeper than that. The fierceness with which she stood up for you at the dinner, the way you two got comfortable with each other so easily, and how you could just tell if she was in the library or not… there was something between you two that you couldn’t figure out what it was.

You weren’t stupid enough to believe that she reciprocated whatever strange feelings you had towards her. Stories of Nesta and Cassian during the way with Hybern crept into every village on Prythian – how she and the war general shared a kiss during the end of the world, wishing they’d had more time together. How Nesta had covered Cassian’s wounded body with her own, preparing to die with him. It was clear that there was something between the Cauldron-born female and the Illyrian general.

What you didn’t know, however, was what happened to them after the war. Whatever had been blossoming between them showed no signs of being present now. Nesta had not spoken about Cassian specifically, snapping at him whenever he tried to tease her around the House. If you hadn’t known about their moment during the war, you’d have thought she hated him. No trace of a promise to die together lingered between the two, only cold empty space. You could tell Cassian was trying with her, in his own unhelpful way. You respected him for it, but wanted to shake him by his obnoxiously broad shoulders and tell him that trying to mold her into a warrior to fight side by side with him was NOT the way to get Nesta to open up.

Cassian was part of the Inner Circle, yet he didn’t appear to be sticking up for Nesta, even after what apparently happened between them during the war. He was Rhysand’s good little soldier, doing his bidding whenever asked. You felt bad for him in a way, having caught glimpses of Cassian looking longingly at Nesta when she turned away from him. It was evident he cared for her in his own way.

But if he truly cared for her, he wouldn’t have let his High Lord and Lady lock Nesta up against her will.

After forcing yourself to eat another bite of your breakfast, you dumped your plate's remains in the bin and placed it in the sink. As you turned to leave, you didn’t dare glance in the direction you suspected Azriel was hidden. He gave no indication of his presence as you trudged up the hallway to your room.

*********************

It had been a few hours since your fake fight with Nesta, and you had remained in your room, sitting by the fireplace with a soft blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Part of you wondered if this plan was a bad idea. As much as you hated them, the Inner Circle was not stupid – they were a group with immense power and knowledge, who were used to sniffing out enemies.

You had felt Rhys and Feyre try and scrape the edges of your mind with their daemati abilities. Luckily, you had been taught from a young age how to shield your mind from such powers. But given what you had heard about the High Lord and Lady, if they really wanted to break your mind they probably could.

Then there was the Morrigan and her power of truth, whatever the fuck that meant. You had no idea what her abilities were other than winnowing and being unable to mind her own business. You had heard of how she fought in the war all those centuries ago, but that was it.

Amren, who you had grown up fearing, was no longer a threat apparently. She had lost her powers in the war, becoming just a high fae – you weren’t sure what she brought forth to the inner circle other than a bad attitude. And Cassian and Azriel were a whole other puzzle entirely.

You prayed none of them would figure out what you had planned with Nesta. Surely they’d believe easily that Nesta would eventually snap at you and damage whatever friendship you had, making it easier for them to swoop in and dig in their claws. That was the easy part, and now you had to keep up the act.

The hard part would be getting to Eris. Somehow, he was involved in the Night Court’s scheming. But you had known him since you became friends with his brother – he hated the Inner Circle, and surely was not working with them for any reason but his own secret agenda.

You guessed you and Eris had that in common, which would make him more inclined to help you. The stories of his cruelty made you uneasy – Lucien had always told you that his brother was too much like his father, relishing in the torment of others. But you had never seen that side of him. Sure, he was cold and untrustworthy, but he had never brought you any harm.

You had no choice but to trust him inevitably.

It would take a while before the Inner Circle would believe your act. They knew you and Nesta wouldn’t just change your minds overnight about working with them. It would take a few weeks, you suspected at the least. Nesta would gain Cassian’s trust, which left you with Azriel.

That’s where you were a little nervous. The spymaster was intimidating and hard to read, known for his unfeeling ability to pry information from enemies with Truth Teller. With Cassian assigned to work with Nesta, you did not doubt Azriel would be tasked with you. Rhysand would likely want to use you as a spy for the Spring Court, making you keep an eye on Tamlin instead of making Lucien do it. Azriel would likely be the one to oversee this, which made you nervous.

But you were willing to do whatever it took to get out of this situation. And maybe get a sense of justice, payback to Feyre for manipulating your own court.

As the fire began to die out, you took a look outside the window. The sun was beginning to set, which meant it was time to leave your first note for Nesta in one of the books. You two had agreed upon a system where you each pick a different book every week and leave notes in the chapters for the other. This week, Nesta would pick a smutty romance book with a red cover, and you would pick the same genre with a blue cover.

You knew Cassian and Azriel would be at dinner now. No doubt would Azriel be telling Cassian about the fight he overheard this morning – Cassian would insist on checking up on Nesta, and Azriel would convince him to give her, and you, some space. Neither Illyrian would be looking for you two, which made the perfect opportunity.

You crept down the hallway, treading as softly as you could. You did not know what spies and systems Azriel and the House had set up, but you wanted to move without being caught if you could. Holding your breath, you entered the reading nook you had shared with Nesta, note in hand. It read:

Nesta, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I hated that fight, even though it was fake. I should have gone a different route with the argument. I care about you, and I don’t hate you and I never will.

Grabbing a blue cover from the romance section, you carefully inserted the note into the first chapter. While no other person in the House showed interest in the reading nook, you were nervous that someone would end up finding the note.

You scolded yourself for thinking like that, and shook your head. You had to trust that the plan would work. As quick and quietly as you entered, you left to return to your room.

When morning came, you forced yourself to sit through breakfast. Nesta was nowhere to be found, and you were itching to race to the bookshelf to see if your note was gone. But you had to wait until a bit later, when you normally took up residence in the reading nook. The wait was excruciating, but finally it was time.

As you scanned the shelves, your hand found a smutty book with a red cover – Nesta’s book. You didn’t even check to see if the note within your own book was gone, you just reached for this one like it was calling to you. Prying open the first couple pages, a piece of parchment slid into your palm. You practically tore it open.

It’s ok. You said what you needed to say. I think it worked, but we’ll find out tomorrow. Let’s get out of here together.

And so it began.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful

[readychilledwine]

Schedule Conflicts

Summary - Azriel shouldn't plan dates when he's tired. Luckily, Lyria finds a solution that makes everyone happy. Game Night.

Warning - just wholesome Fluff, slight mention of smut, Liz's dream of a friendship between Nesta and Rhys forming

Prompt - Day 7 - Free day

A/n - As @polyacotarweek comes to a close *and I post 3 fics for today* I want to make sure to thank @acourtofladydeath and anyone else involved for organizing this week. I personally believe that ending stereotypes involved with "alternative" lifestyles is so important. I genuinely enjoyed this week, and hopefully, we will all get to partake again next year!

💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕

“Cassian!” Panic hit Azriel the second Lyria was throwing her arms around Cass, smiling wide as she did before immediately leaving him in favor of Nesta.

He checked his calendar again, growing pale as he realized in his exhausted state from his previous mission he had double scheduled a date.

He looked to Cassian who immediately seemed to know and moved over. “We can leave.”

“She's been looking forward to this all week.”

“Rhysand has been looking forward to her all week, too, Az. He has a kid. He needs her, we can-”

“No. Let me talk to her. Lyria, baby, can I fix your dress?” Confused eyes met his before she nodded and followed. He sighed as he shut her bedroom door behind them. “I fucked up.”

Lyria made a face, nodding for him to continue. “I accidentally planned date night for you with Cass and Rhys. Feyre, Nesta, and I were all planning on going to Rita's anyway, but you have Rhys and Cass tonight.”

“Oh. That's not a big deal. Cassian and I were talking about him teaching me poker anyways. A third body would be helpful.”

Azriel felt his brows go up. “Cassian only plays strip poker.”

“I am aware,” the smirk had Azriel smiling at his mate. “Rhys knows he can't touch.”

“He'll watch, though.”

“Feyre won't mind. He goes home to her and it will rile him up for her.”

Azriel smiled softly. “Rhys will mind because he genuinely loves you. He and Feyre would like to change our rules a bit, but are waiting for you."

“Then we should all hang out here.” He watched Lyria walk to a closet he had yet to explore, jaw falling slightly as she opened in. “You said you all like board games, right? I have plenty.”

Plenty was an understatement. Lining the shelves of this closet were games from every court. Trelis from Spring, Mancala from Dawn, Risk from Night. Azriel picked his jaw up as he went to look. “Why have you been hiding all of this?”

“I normally only play with Eris and Lucien.”

Azriel smiled before picking several games they had all been wanting to get a hold of and play a few days ago before kissing his mate. “You are so smart, angel. Let's see if we can compromise.”

Rhysand and Feyre had arrived, luckily dressed casually and were laughing with Nesta and Cassian. Azriel set the board games down on the counter and turned to Rhys. “No more planning dates when I'm half asleep from missions.” 

The High lord was too stunned at the collect to even respond. “Are these all hers?” They all turned to where Lyria had came out, several bottles of alcohol and a wooden box in hand. 

“Who wants to take me to go get snacks?” Rhys and Cassian looked to each other before Rhysand came to her. “Perfect. Ness, you want cake?”

“Always.”

“Cass? Something crunchy?”

“Of course, princess.”

“Feyfey, lots of fruits?”

“Ooooh strawberries if you two can find them!”

She turned to Az, “I won't expose you.”

Rhysand then coughed, “The bakery. We'll just get whatever the bakery has.” Cassian glared as Rhys smirked and smacked Lyria on the ass as they walked out. 

“I get her all night.”

“Excuse me?” Feyre laughed as Nesta glared to Cassian. 

“You three were supposed to go to Ritas.”

Feyre gasped, looking to Nesta and grabbing her hands, “We could still go! Play a couple games and leave Rhys, Lyria, and Cassian alone.” 

Nesta nodded eagerly. “Only if you're okay with sharing Az.”

“Az was made to be shared. Rhys already said he was okay with sharing her with Cass.”

Cassian sighed, “In case Cassian's opinion matters, I also told Rhys I'd love to spend the night with them. It's Lyria and Az. Az feels guilty, and we know how Lyria is.”

Feyre smiled. “Little people pleaser.”

Nesta hummed, “The cutest people pleaser. Can we play that one?” Cassian followed Nesta's deadly finger, laughing as he realized she was pointing at a game called “Wingspan.” 

They began taking the game out of its protective box. Feyre was admiring the artwork, as Nesta read the rules. Cassian began opening and setting up drinks.

Azriel was moving the table, ensuring his mate's home had enough room as Feyre rested her head on his shoulder, pointing at little brush stroke details.

Rhys and Feyre returned moments later, bags in hand and faint blush on the female's cheeks as the High Lord whispered into her ear. 

Lyria has not been expecting the competitive nature of her new circle to come out so heavily during game time. They had switched to partner games, her, Cassian, and Rhys on one team while Azriel sat across from her with Feyre and Nesta. Large hands rested on her thighs, occasionally their pinkies touching as well. 

The arguing in the room soon turned to laughter. Laughter into deep conversation, and before all the couples knew, Lyria's home began to mimic a picture perfect sunrise instead of the Night sky. 

“Holy fuck,” Cassian looked to the window. “How long were Elain and Lucien planning on watching Nyx?”

“All night,” Rhys replied from his spot next to Nesta. The two were in a heavy discussion regarding proper uses of magical objects. “We had planned to stay the night away from home.”

“I enjoyed this,” Feyre leaned against Azriel, eyes half shut.

“My mate did too. She enjoyed it so much she fell asleep on Cassian.” 

They all looked to the mentioned male and where he held the now known Day Court Heiress. She had curled into his lap an hour ago, falling asleep as he whispered to her and wrapped his wings around them to keep her warm. 

“Let's do it again, maybe a once a month thing?” Rhys squeezed Nesta's hand. “I enjoyed spending time with you, Ness.”

“It's the first time we haven't ripped each other's heads off.” Feyre smiled bright as did Cassian. “I think we'll still do that from time to time, though.”

“Absolutely.” Rhysand's face was serious, but his eyes sparkled. “Not in front of our starlight, though. Agreed?” 

Everyone in the room nodded as Cassian went to carry Lyria to her room. Feyre smiled as Rhysand pulled her up from Azriel. “She's so sweet, Azriel. I'm so glad we all get to enjoy her this way.”

“Me too,” the shadowsinger stretched. “Her heart has so much love to give. I'm glad we all can bask in it.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Poly+ACOTAR Week Taglist

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

[redbleedingrose]

Always ~ Part 7

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for years after you joined the inner circle as the top healer in Velaris. But with Elain and Nesta’s recent arrival, Azriel has begun to ignore your friendship in favor of being together with Elain. You are heartbroken, and it is Starfall where you will be confined in the house of wind with Azriel and Elain. Everything will be okay though… right?

Epilogue

A/N: Hello my lovely readers! Happy Friday! I want to start with apologizing for the wait that part 7 took, but it is the last part of this fic and I wanted it to be good and long. I was also struggling with some minor writers block and I had finals happening at the same time. I stayed up all night trying to write this out, so I hope that you all love this part. I also wanted to mention I will be having an epilogue posted sometime this weekend for Always as well as an Eris x Reader oneshot. As always, please leave a like, comment, and reblog. I love to hear your guys thoughts and the interaction always makes my fucking day.

Azriel’s grip on your fingers tightened, almost cutting off the circulation, as though he was frightened you would winnow away at any moment if he let go. His shadows were swarming around you both, enclosing you into darkness with only flickers of light from the hearth bleeding through, panicked from the entire aspect of you leaving him for good. He paused, listening to your breath mix with his, trying to formulate the words that he wanted to use to plead his case, to explain everything. To explain the pain he had caused you, to explain why he had hidden the mating bond that had snapped itself into place so long ago for him, to explain his friendship (if you could even call it that) with Elain, to explain why he had distanced himself from you. 

That is what hurt the most. The fact that he distanced himself. It made every muscle in your body ache, every doubt and worry flooded itself into the striations of the cells that make up your heart. After all this time, after everything you had been together, it was the thing you least expected coming out of him. For years, even before under the mountain, you had prayed that the precious bond would snap into place. And when the fifty years of pure despair happened, the thought of seeing Azriel once more was the only thing that kept you going most days. But he had known. He had known about the mating bond. He had held feelings for you before all of this. He had known since before Amarantha even. And yet, he never said anything. Not a single word. Not even a tiny whisper. 

“A little bit before Under the Mountain.” What the fuck did that even mean? How long had he hidden his feelings, if he even had any. Why didn’t he tell you then, and why didn’t he tell you after being away from him for fifty years without any contact? Had that lost time meant nothing to him? Had he even missed you while you were gone, suffering under Amarantha’s reign while the rest of the inner circle was allowed the peace of Velaris. In all honesty, you had felt cheated. Cheated out of what was supposed to be a beautiful moment between two best friends who had fallen in love. Cheated out of what life could have been, if only Az had told you. If only the bond had snapped into place for you at first, before him.

It was as though the spymaster picked up on your thoughts, the perceptive male he was, and tugged on the bond, trying to send all of his love and devotion down the tight golden string that held you both together as the shock of this night was starting to wear off leaving only confusion and hurt in its wake. His eyes, once more, locked onto yours, glinting with determination and truth, as he straightened his back and rustled his wings into a taut position. This would be the moment of truth, both of you knew that. Both of you were aware of the gravity of the situation. And you knew, somewhere deep inside you, that both of you wanted to walk away from this unharmed. But you also knew, you weren’t sure if Az could pull it off. 

Despite all the pain Az had caused in a short time, your feelings for him were stronger. The moments where he would take care of you when you were sick. The moments when he would hold you when you were upset for some reason, any reason, and would whisper words of affirmation. The moments where you two would get drunk and spend the entire night gossiping about the inner circle and giggling at each other, with each other. The moments where you would stay up late into the night and read to each other. The moments you would almost set the house of wind on fire because of your efforts to bake together. The moments where you would comfort him and kiss his hands to reassure him that he was worthy of every good thing that has ever happened to him and every good thing that will ever happen to him. The little moments. The big moments. Any moment you shared before any of this still meant something, everything, to you. And you whole-heartedly believed they meant something to him too. 

Azriel sent another tug at the bond before he began, “Do you remember when we first met?” He didn’t give you the chance to respond, smiling softly before continuing, “Rhys was practically forcing Cass and I to Windhaven; we had heard rumors that Devlon was planning a mass wing-clipping of the female babes at the camp, and we couldn’t let that happen. I was dreading it, Gods, I mean I was furious and was ready to rip off Devlons head. But we were dreading that we might’ve been too late. That we would walk into the massacre, and those female babes would suffer for the rest of their lives. As soon as Rhysand had informed us of our mission, Cass and I had left, flying as fast as we could to try to warn anyone who was willing to listen. Rhys had promised to come with something, or rather, someone for reinforcements, I suppose. And that was you. And you fucking stole my breath away when Rhys landed, carrying you in his arms. I had never seen someone as stunning as you.” He chuckled, clearly returning to the memory as his eyes glazed over, “Cass nearly knocked me over with a slight punch in the arm because I was so distracted by you. I was trying to commit every part of you to memory, and then Rhys told us you were there to heal any babe if our efforts weren’t to be a success, a preemptive measure he said. Cassian tried to impress you with his smooth talking, and you took it in stride and flirted right back, clearly unbothered. I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say to you. I was so anxious that I would say the wrong thing, so I just kept staring at you, and you didn’t say one word to me, Y/N. You just looked at me, eyes shining like the moon on winter solstice, and nodded in greeting before moving onto preparing for whatever was to come. You didn’t say one word, but you didn’t need to. I knew I was completely and utterly fucked, and I think Cass and Rhys knew too. They teased me for fucking hours.” 

You couldn’t help but cackle at the memory, humor seeping into you, slightly dissolving a small bit of the pain. Of course Cassian and Rhys had teased Az. The busybodies had nothing better to do with their time. You remembered every moment of that day. You had met Rhys prior in an off-chance encounter. At the time, the high lord was settling into his new role and would spend his nights walking the streets of Velaris thinking of his responsibilities, the loss of his mother and sister still fresh, and the darkness that was slowly creeping over Prythian. He had come across you stumbling, drunk beyond belief after an extremely difficult and long day, and helped you sit down in a cafe near the sidra and bought you a coffee to help you sober up before he would walk you home. All your inhibitions were lowered and you hadn’t recognized the high lord, and so, while you sipped away at the sweetened mocha latte, you rambled about your day healing the most complex patients you had seen yet. And Rhys had been too kind, too patient, and was looking for anything to take his mind off his duties, and thus, had spent the entire night listening to you. It was only when the sun was beginning to rise that you became sober and aware of who you were speaking to; you had been so embarrassed, that even when you think about it now, your pointed ears flush at the tips. Rhys had only chuckled and waved off your embarrassment as you tried to apologize profusely before scrambling away, without a goodbye, citing that you needed to return to the clinic to prepare before it opened. That night, that conversation, had been enough for Rhysand to drop by your clinic every once and a while to take you out for coffee and to listen to the complexities of your job, becoming one of your best friends in the process. 

One morning, before you had opened the doors to the clinic, Rhysand had winnowed in. He expressed his concern about the plots for the mass-clipping, describing the situation as quickly as he could, as the situation could have become dire at any moment. You hadn’t hesitated, urgently grabbing any supplies you would need to help the female babes in case anything were to happen, and practically yanked Rhys outside so he could fly you both out there. Meeting Cassian and Azriel had been as expected; the high lord outlined their personalities well during your conversations over lattes, and sometimes wine even, and had told you mid-flight that you would be in their presence. He also informed you the spymaster was to not leave your side as Devlon might plot to take out any and all healers in the region to prevent any sort of wing-saving measures. 

When you landed, you were blown away by Azriels beauty, the rumors across Velaris of his darkness, his hazel eyes, his windswept hair, the cool look of indifference that was usually plastered across his face, had not done him justice. Nothing had ended up happening that night, Devlon’s plans had been unfoiled by the illyrian brothers, but by no means was the night considered wasteful. That night, you impressed all three males with your experiences and storytelling, and despite Az not saying a word to you that night as he analyzed you from a distance, the two of you had become attached at the hip once you returned to Velaris. 

He drew you from your thoughts, “I knew that I couldn’t let you go. That first night, I didn’t get a wink of sleep because my thoughts kept drifting off to you, and my heart ached knowing that we wouldn’t have a lot of time together in Windhaven. And then we returned to Valeris, and I thought maybe because I wouldn’t be seeing you, that I wouldn’t be consumed by you. But then it became me thinking of you when I woke up, thinking of you when I went to bed, thinking of you in my dreams, thinking of you when I needed to work, thinking of you during meetings, to thinking of you at every moment of every day. 

And I couldn’t hold back anymore, and so after a week of not seeing you, I decided I would stop by your clinic every day and ask if you needed anything to try and get you to talk to me, acknowledge me, even if it were a couple of seconds. And you would always be kind and smile so softly, in a way I didn’t deserve, and thank me for my efforts. And then it slowly turned into walking you home from work, to going out for drinks after work, to grabbing lunch from nearby food carts, to going shopping together for Mother knows what. And I was fucking hooked, dove, I couldn’t get enough of you. Mother knows, I tried to hold back, because I don’t deserve you. Not after everything I have done. Not after everything these hands have done,” Azriel paused, eyes filling with disgust as he shifted, staring down at his marred hands that had continued to grip onto yours. His hold loosened, as if he didn’t want to dirty your hands with whatever he did for his job in protecting the night court. But you didn’t let him let go completely, intertwining your fingers with his tighter, squeezing at the knuckles, a habit that you had picked up in the years of your friendship in an effort to urge him to stay and carry on with his explanation. 

“Any time Rhys would send me on a mission for a period of time, I would feel sick to my stomach the entire time I was away and the feeling was only soothed when I would return and find you asleep in the comfort of your own home. And that's how it continued. Because having you in any capacity, whether it was just acquaintances or friends or best friends should have been enough. But Gods Y/N, it wasn’t. You deserve someone who is good, just like you. Someone who helps heal people, someone who is perfect in every way just like you. Someone who isn’t me, someone who isn’t riddled with self loathing and despair. But if I am one thing, it is that I am fucking selfish male. For years, I held myself back from becoming anything more than best friends. But then two years before Amarantha, on the winter solstice, the bond fucking snapped. I don’t know if you remember anything about that night, but I remember every moment.” He peaked up at you through his eyelashes as he paused, his pink tongue poking out to lick at his dry lips. You had been incredibly drunk that night, drinking the expensive wines of the high lord with the rest of the inner circle as you played group games before opening up presents, high on the fact that everything had been at peace. There had been no problems with the Illyrian war camps shockingly, the patients who you had been looking after for the most part were thriving, there was a peace over Velaris and Prythian. 

“You were wearing this silk fitted blue gown that stopped right at your knees and was sleeveless, one that matched the color of my siphons. Mother fucking above Dove, I nearly dropped to my knees when you walked in with your cheeks flushed and eyes shining so bright, I thought Rhys had plucked the stars from the sky and placed them into your irises. And then you looked around the room, and when we caught eyes, you smiled so hard and I was the first person you came to. Me. Not Rhys or Cassian or Morr or Amren or whoever else was there. You walked over to me, and you hugged me so tight and whispered ‘Happy Solstice Az,’ and I couldn’t breathe. You literally stole my breath away, the breathtaking lady you are. I clung to you the entire night, and you- you let me…  

I didn’t want to spend a single second away from you, we sat together the whole night, drinking whatever wine Morr would pull out from the cellar and whispered about anything and everything that came to mind. And then we were pulled into playing games, and we first played mafia which we won together, and then charades where we were partners and nearly beat Cass and Morr even though they were absolutely fucking cheating, and then we all exchanged gifts and I didn’t have any from you in my pile. I thought you hadn’t gotten me anything and my heart nearly shattered, but I hated myself because I knew I was wrong to be upset. Because you deserve better than what I could ever offer you. When you opened my gift and gasped, I was so fucking nervous, I couldn’t help but second guess if it had been an appropriate gift to give you.” 

“A gold locket,” you blurted out. You remembered your heart beating so fast when he had handed you your gift, silently watching your reaction as he leaned back into the couch and drank from his bottle. You shakily unwrapped the box, trying to save every piece of paper that had been delicately placed to cover it. The locket was the most beautiful gift you had ever received to date. It had a constellation carved into the front, and on the inside had poetry written in some ancient language with Illyrian roots that the shadowsinger had refused to translate for you, even to this day. But you wore it. Morning, noon, and night like clock work you would wear it. In fact, you rarely took it off, feeling panicked any time you couldn’t feel the cool metal resting against the warm skin of your collar. When you had been stuck under the mountain, you had hidden it within your shoe because you feared it would be taken. And it had been the only real connection that you had to Az at the time. You often held it in your fist on the night that insomnia racked you, the small object bringing you comfort in ways you could never elaborate on. And you still wear it to this day, even right now, you can feel the necklace grow heavy on you. 

“That night, when everyone had passed out from drinking, you and I stayed up. And we sat out on the balcony on the swing and just enjoyed each other's presence. And you leaned your head against my shoulder and I almost blurted it out in the moment how I felt about you, I didn’t want to hold back anymore, no matter how selfish I was going to be. I wanted, no I needed you. You shifted away for a second, and pulled something out of your pocket before silently handing it to me. I remember staring at the little box for a couple of minutes. My mind had gone completely blank from the disbelief that you had indeed gotten me something… I was so confused when it turned out to be this lotion that smelled heavily like lavender, and you picked up on that even though you were almost asleep, and you mumbled out, ‘It is a balm I made for your hands from herbs in the garden. It has a cooling sensation whenever you apply it, and is supposed to help with falling asleep.’ and the cap had inscribed, To keep the nightmares at bay, may you only find peace in your dreams. -Always yours, Y/N

Mother fucking above, in that moment, I fell in love with you all over and that was the moment. I felt the bond fucking snap. And I was so fucking elated, and when I turned my head to look down at you, you had passed out. And I waited for hours, holding you close, trying to calm my nerves and slow down my heart because I thought I would go into cardiac arrest. And in those hours, I thought about telling you. I thought about how fucking happy I was that you were mine, because from the moment I met you, I was yours. And there was just nothing to do about that. Fear and anxiety started to creep in as the sun rose, at this point we had both shifted to laying down, and I just held you to my chest, breathing you in, smelling your scent, watching you sleep so peacefully, and I couldn’t ruin that. I was and still am the spymaster of this court. I have done a lot of evil, things that are unspeakable, for the sake of protecting Velaris, for the sake of protecting this court. And that has brought me a lot of enemies, enemies that would gleen at the thought of you. At the thought of taking you away from me. Because if that were to ever happen, I think I would die Y/N. I couldn’t let any harm come to you. I couldn’t ruin your peace. I couldn’t ruin your happiness with my bullshit. And so I promised to myself and you that I would always protect you, I would never let anything happen to you, and I would try to be a better male. That way, you would be proud to have me as a mate. That way, you would never look back and having me as your mate.” 

Grief pulled at your heart strings. All this time, lost. All the hurt and pain was for nothing. The image of Azriel sitting in front of you pausing in his explanation blurred from the burning tears that were making their way down your cheeks, connecting at the bottom of your chin, collecting before dropping onto the sheets beneath you. It was certainly no excuse for Azriel not telling you, but it was an explanation. You thought back to all the times the shadowsinger had expressed his hate towards himself, whispering his darkest thoughts to you in the middle of the night where no one else would hear, as he raised one of his hands that had been locked with yours, and allowed the pads of his fingers to run across your cheeks, brushing away your tears in the process. 

You took a shuddering breath as he pressed his soft palm into your soft skin, his voice hoarse with sorrow, “I am sorry sweetheart. I cannot express enough how much I regret not telling you that very night. I regret not waking you up. I regret all the moments that came after that ever made you doubt our friendship, all the moments that ever made you feel like you were not deserving, all the moments that ever had the thought that I didn’t love you cross your mind. It is the biggest regret of my life, but I needed to protect you.” 

A part of you understood his reasons, understood his fears. Azriel had hidden a lot of aspects of his work from you out of fear that you would one day find yourself horrified by his actions. But inevitably, you would hear the rumors that patients would speak and through that, you seemed to have a small idea of what types of methods Az would use to get the information he needed. You never held it against him. And you made sure he knew that any time he had the slightest hint of concern shown in his eyes. But Azriels issues with himself were not yours that you could solve, you could only help him bear the load. The rest, he would have to figure out on his own, with time and acceptance of the past and present. The fact that he tried to work on himself for you was no small feat. You rested your head against his hand, scooting closer to him, desperate to close the gap even though he hadn't finished. Desperate to get the comfort you usually felt whenever you were close to him. “Every day after that solstice, I tried to work up the courage to tell you. Every time I was around you. Every minute I wasn’t working, I was thinking about flying over and just telling you. But every time I worked up the courage and would find you, it would dissipate. Every fucking time. I would take one look at you and I would fear that the way you would see me would change, that the friendship that we shared would be ruined. I was fucking terrified of you not wanting me. Of you hating what fate had decided as your mate. And I was a fucking coward. I couldn’t take the risk of losing you… and just like that, two years had passed and Starfall was coming up. I had told Amren of my predicament and she-” 

“Wait. Amren knew?” You were flabbergasted. Of all the people you had expected Az to confide in, she was not one. Rhys or Cassian, or even Morrigan. But not Amren. You were almost certain Azriel still didn’t trust Amren after all these years of her being a part of the inner circle. 

“Yes dove, Amren. I knew she wouldn’t tell you before I had the chance. But I swear she almost tore my balls off for not telling you the night the bond snapped.” Azriel’s wings quivered at the thought, loosening from their tight positioning to snap together behind his spine. You snorted as you tried to imagine Azriel facing the tiny beast and speaking his deepest secret to her, only for her to threaten him with castration. He bumped his shoulder against yours, grinning softly at you finding humor in his story, “If I could continue please, I am not finished.” You raised an eyebrow lifting up your arm to gesture in front of you, “By all means shadowsinger.” 

He cleared his throat at your approval, “We basically spent two months planning out this elaborate surprise for you, mainly me of course. But of course, Amren added her input where she saw fit. I was going to take you dress and jewelry shopping, then to dinner at our favorite restaurant where we would eat the first meal we shared together and drink our favorite wine, and then I would dance with you under the falling stars and I would whisper into your ear my love for you and I was going to ask you to marry me. About a week before Starfall, you and Rhys went on a mission,” your muscles spasmed. He was going to ask you to marry him? Dread filled you. You knew where this story was going to end. That Starfall never happened. Not for you and Rhys. 

“A mission that neither you nor Rhys returned from. Gods Y/N. I felt it. I felt the moment when Rhys cut off any connection from all of us. I felt the wards of Velaris being put up into place, locking us in for fifty years to protect us from whatever had gotten you and Rhys.” He croaked out, “I felt our bond dulling Y/N. I thought you were fucking dying. I panicked. I threw myself at the wards, pleading to be let out. I- I tried coming for you. But you and Rhys were gone. Stuck. For fifty fucking years. None of us knew what was happening, only the rumors from refugees were available in terms of gathering information. Beyond that… I didn’t fucking know whether you were dead or alive. And if you were alive, I didn’t know what you were going through. It- Y/N. Y/N, it was the worst fifty years of my existence. Every day spent without you was like a thousand spears being shot into my wings and being pulled out. It- it felt like I was burning, not just my hands this time, but my entire body. I felt like I was burning alive for fifty years without any respite. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t move. I was fucking paralyzed. All I could do was wait.” 

His grip on your fingers had gotten impossibly tight as he pulled you into his grasp, wrapping his arm that once laid on your cheek around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He buried his face into your hair, taking a deep inhale to allow your scent to calm him, as his body began shaking from quiet sobs. You could feel his hot tears landing on your scalp and you held him right to you, rubbing his spine between his wings in comfort with one hand and tangling your fingers into his hair with the other. You turned your head into his neck, allowing for your soft breaths to press kisses into the tattooed skin, shushing him with soft murmurs of “I am right here and I am not going anywhere ever again.” A promise that you had to repeat a number of times before he was able to calm down. This night had left you both emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted. Whatever was to come in the next couple of hours, at least you could hinge on the fact that you both would probably pass out from exhaustion into a dreamless sleep. The cool wisps of Azriel’s shadows snaked around your arms, wrapping around you for the first time since he began telling you his side of the story, their presence offering you their silent support. 

The next part of his story came out as whispers into your hair, your pointed ears straining to listen, “When Feyre killed Amarantha, everyone in Pyrthian felt the shift in power. The extra wards that had been placed around Velaris fell at once, and the connection between Rhys and the rest of us was suddenly humming. And I could feel you baby. I could feel you for the first time in fifty years after thinking you were dead. And I was on a fucking high. I was going to drop to my knees and tell you that we were mates the second you walked through the doors of the townhouse. I was fully prepared. But you didn’t come walking in. No. Rhys fucking carried you in, looking the most pale I had ever seen him. You weren’t moving. You were- Gods Y/N Morr immediately burst into tears and I could only stare and watch when she screamed out for Majda as everyone rushed to gather around you. You were so pale and you were skin on bones. There were bruises covering your body, you had a broken nose, and the skin around your eyes were swollen and blackened. The second Rhysand had set you down, I grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him into the wall screaming at him, screaming at him to tell me what had happened to you. Amarantha had ordered you to be beaten to death because you had been healing some of her victims under the mountain. Rhysand had gotten to you in the nick of time after Feyre killed Amarantha. He said he ripped off the heads of the soldiers who were trying to kill you. You were asleep for a fucking week, healing from all the physical trauma.”

When you woke up from your sleep, you had tried to be elated over the fact that you were back home in Valeris. But the events that occurred under the mountain had left you truly empty. At first, you hadn’t even been able to look anyone in the eyes except for Rhys. You hadn’t been able to speak, or eat, or sleep properly. You felt like an empty shell, and Rhysand was the only one who could possibly understand why. The bond that you two had grown under the mountain was as close to brother and sister as one could get without being biologically related. He had ensured your safety for the most part, and you were his rock when he had to suffer through Amarantha’s torture. You and him were the only ones to know what the other had truly gone through, and both of you had an unspoken agreement to not speak of the trauma to the others, despite the begging of Morr and Cassian. Azriel and Amren were the only ones who didn’t dare to ask, and now you were understanding why. Unconsciously, some part of Azriel had known what had happened to you. There was no need for him to ask. And maybe, probably, he didn’t want to know what happened. Maybe, probably, it was too much to bear to know what had happened all those years you had been stuck. 

“You weren't okay dove. You weren’t okay for a while, and I couldn’t just drop this information on you like it meant nothing. I couldn’t drop this on you because if you didn’t want me in the form of a mate, I didn’t want you to feel like you had lost me completely. I didn’t want you to feel like you went under the mountain and came out without your best friend to be by your side. I just… I just wanted you to be okay. So I shoved all my feelings aside and I was there for you in the best way I knew how to be, I was your best friend. I picked up any of the pieces that were your heart and did my best to put it back together. And just when you were starting to get better, just when you were beginning to smile and laugh and talk and whisper to me and cuddle with me, it was made clear that Amarantha’s reign was only the start of what was going to be a long battle against Hybern.” Azriel scoffed at the end of his rant, clearly frustrated by how the timing of everything had worked out. Most of the inner circle had believed that under the mountain had been the worst thing that we had ever been through as a team, but fate had a funny way of throwing things into your face and telling you to deal with it. 

When Rhysand had figured out Hyberns plot, he brought Feyre to the night court from spring. Your friendship with Feyre had blossomed under the mountain when you would sneak into her cell after Rhysand would leave, and would work on healing her. Speaking to her, stroking her hair as she would cry into your lap. You forget that she was only human when the fate of Pyrthian was placed on her shoulders. And her humanity was stolen from her as she died for the high lord of spring who had done nothing to help or protect her while she faced Amarantha. When you got to see her after months, she had been in similar shape as you, suffering from the trauma that Tamlin had brushed aside. You hated the high lord of spring for that, and made clear to Feyre that you were here for her and that you would help her in any way you could. Through that, you both helped each other get through the darkest parts of your lives. The war on Hybern was another source of trauma, not only inflicting the inner circle, but this time, including Feyre’s sisters. 

When you had first met the two, you couldn’t help but hate the both of them. Letting their youngest sister go into the woods alone to hunt for their family, and treating her so poorly when she returned as a fae had bothered every member of the inner circle. But then Tamlin and Ianthe had dragged them to the cauldron and turned them fae against their will; their screams echoing in your nightmares. Nesta was still working through her trauma, continuing her training as a valkyrie and bettering her relationship with Cassian and the rest of the inner circle. She had definitely grown on you, asking you a little bit about the healing techniques that the valkyrie warriors used to use during battle. Elain had taken up gardening, and your feelings towards her had not changed. Her trauma does not excuse her from being held accountable from her past actions, no matter how merciful Feyre has been towards her sisters, you haven’t forgotten. And neither has Rhysand, though he tended to focus on his anger towards Nesta, partially because both are hot headed whereas Elain had proved to be very sensitive. The other reason you had been bothered greatly by her was obviously her affections towards Azriel, but beyond that, the way she disrespected Lucien at every turn had left you feeling extreme heartache for the male. The redhead was constantly turned away despite his best efforts, and at this point, it just felt like she was stringing him along with his hope that maybe she would warm to him. Your feelings towards Elain had only been amplified when Azriel had taken a liking to Elain, helping her through her trauma and essentially left you feeling gutted and alone. A feeling that the spymaster had been actively trying to avoid by not telling you about your mating bond. Your patience was wearing thin, you wanted Azriel to stop beating around the bush. Even if it would hurt, you needed to know what he had been thinking this whole time in regards to Elain.

“Cut to the chase, Azriel.” It came out sharper than you had intended, pulling away from him. This was it. The root of your problem with Az. The explanation that would be make or break for your relationship with him. The spymaster seemed to not want to break off the physical contact between you to despite you pulling away, he brought his hands down to yours, fingers playing with yours. He also picked up on what you were referring to, he had to have known. He had to have fucking known how much he was fucking hurting you. There is just no fucking way he didn’t. And did he fucking want her? A lump formed in your throat, creating a burning sensation that spread down to your heart as the thought made you sick. She was extremely beautiful and soft and gentle, and she was a lot different than you in terms of personality. None of these doubts or worries had truly been addressed by his ramblings. Even though they had given you a lot of context to why he had hidden the bond. 

Before you could get lost in the feeling of doubt, Azriel gave a strong tug at the bond, sending down feelings of adoration and reassurance before rasping out, “Y/N, I want to start off with I am so sorry. So fucking sorry for how these past months have made you feel. How I made you feel. I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself. The next thing I want to say is that I have no feelings for Elain besides the platonic friendship. She means nothing to me, Y/N, not like that. I am sorry I did a piss-poor job showing it to you. I am sorry that the way I acted made you think differently. I- When I first met Feyre’s sisters, we, Cass and I, made this promise to them that no harm would befall them. And then they were drowned in the cauldron and turned to fae, and it was just this huge blow. Cassian especially I think because Nesta trusted him deeply to protect her, and he felt like he had failed. And I felt the same way. I felt the same fucking way with you Y/N. I had promised, sworn up and down and left and right that I would always protect you. It felt like… it felt like I had failed you once again. This time, through Elain, in this weird projection thing. I think in my head, when I looked at Elain, I was thinking of the you before Amarantha, and I just wanted to prevent anything from happening to her, because in the end, I wasn’t able to protect you. I failed you. I failed you when you went under the mountain, and again when we couldn’t protect Nesta and Elain. It felt like I failed you again. And then Feyre left to spy in spring court, and we were left to deal with the aftermath of Hybern. So Rhysand asked Cassian to look after Nesta and he asked for me to look after Elain. And I threw myself into it, because if I didn’t, then I would think about all the ways that I was and am an incompetent piece of shit mate. And in the process of trying to make sure Elain was okay, I unintentionally neglected you. Part of me just wanted to believe that you were okay, and you didn’t need me. Part of me wanted to believe that we were okay. That nothing had changed between us, and that once Elain was okay, we would figure things out between us with all the time in the world. That I would tell you of the mating bond, and you would accept it. That we would take our mating vows, and Rhysand would be the one officiating them because Cassian would fuck it up with his crying.” 

You huffed out a laugh as sobs began to bubble from your throat, “I really needed you Az.”

Azriel had squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the sounds of your sobs as if it were causing him physical pain. “I know Y/N. I am so fucking sorry. There isn’t any excuse,” his own sobs tearing their way through his throat. He swallowed once, twice, three times before opening his eyes to focus his hazel irises into yours. “I can only promise to never do this to you again. I want- no- I need you to understand, no I need you to know that it’s you. It has always been you. It will always be you. Always. I need you to believe me, sweetheart. And if you don’t…If you don’t, then let me show you. The right way. The proper way. And if by the end of it, you don’t want anything to do with me, then I promise you, I will leave you alone, even if it fucking breaks me. Because I just want you safe and happy and loved the way you deserve. That is all I have fucking ever wanted since the moment I met you.” 

You pressed your lips together, nodding along at his promises. There wasn’t any excuse for how he had treated you. But there was an explanation. Azriel was taking responsibility, he was acknowledging his wrongs, and he was promising change. And after all this time of loving him, that was enough for now. “Az, I can’t accept the mating bond.” His entire body seized up, freezing, waiting for you to deliver the final blow where you would reject him and the bond. “Gods, Az, I want to. I have been in love with you for fucking years. But, I can’t accept it right now at least. I need to take things slow, and see the change first. I need to heal and I think you need to heal too. I need you to be my best fucking friend again. I need you to be there for me. I need you to love me.” Hope shone on his face, his lips quirking up into a soft smile as he huffed, a single tear streaking down his cheek. “How about this dove, how about we promise to each other that we will always love each other as best friends, that we will always put each other first, that we will heal each other, and that we will always come back to one another.” He held up his scarred pinky finger up to you, patiently waiting to see if you would grab on, giving you the option either way. At your hesitation, he whispered gently, “I promise Y/N.” A watery grin broke out across your face as you reached up to link your pinky with his, your own matching tear streaking down that he wiped away with his free hand, “I promise Azriel.”

Taglist: @paasrin @positivewitch @fieldofdaisiies @judig92 @sv0430 @highlady-ofillyria @wrensical003 @brekkershadowsinger @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @mrs-azriel @cityofidek @nova-stardragon @thewarriormoon @ilovespideyyy @azzydaddy @bookish-dream @nobody00sthings @marigold-morelli @solossweater @rubygirly @hanasakr @ellievickstar @shadowcrowsworld @lucyysthings @cameronsails @peachycandy10 @bruhhvv @flyingsquidsgrowwings-blog @adreamerforthestars @lahoete @mis-lil-red @his-sweet-nightmare @esposadomd @blurredlamplight @elizarikaallen @tiffthebookworm @valeridarkness  @wifeofcamillamacaulay @everyonehatescarmen  @grungy-blue-hipster @azriels-favorite-simp @goldentournesol @mariana468 @elsie-bells @slvetherinseeker @cafe-inaaa @honeyrydernot

[secret-third-thing]

For the WIPs game, can I have a snippet from the thing you're most excited about? Or a little insight on what inspired you, or whatever you want to share about your writing?

Still dutifully cheering from you even if I'm a little absent lately ❤️

HEY sorry it took me so long to answer this question! I wanted to save it for a wip wednesday, so here is a snippet from a Witch!Nesta x Human!Eris fic I've been working on. It started as a Neris piece, but it's slowly become more of a friendship story. I may change my mind and make it romantic again - haven't decided.

I tried to keep it very mythic/fairy tale sounding. This is VERY WIP and hasn't been edited yet.

“Who gave you more trouble?” The witch asked, her eyes sparkling. She tapped the arm of her seat. Eris noticed her nails were long and pointed… sharp enough to carve out his eyes if she wished.  “The younger one,” he said. Her fight had been difficult, one that had cost him his mount, a rare white horse gifted to him by the Autumn fae. He had taken the witch down in combat, sword against bow, riding along the tunnels of the Wyrm that burrowed through the mountain range of Prythian. He had just barely survived both. Eris still wasn’t sure how the paintbrush he had stolen from the youngest would help him kill his father. But as soon as he could take the death dagger from this woman, he’d be able to return to his kingdom and liberate it.  The eldest witch laughed. He wasn’t sure if at his words or if she could sense his memory of the battle. “Feyre never makes it easy, does she? I’m not surprised. And my middle sister is partial to redheads. I’m sure she gave you only half her effort.” “She certainly didn’t lie down and die for me, if that’s what you’re implying,” Eris said, taken aback by how calm the witch was. He expected her to be furious. Her sisters had died, and she was next. But here she was, laughing as though they were old friends. 

[starfall-spirit]

One Happy Family

Gift fic for @the-lost-changeling

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 858

Summary: Returning home from an emissary mission in Autumn, Gwyn finds her mate rigging their most recent competition, and not in the way she expected.

AN: The Autumn Gwyn theories don't have much substance, but I like them, so we're rolling with it.

"You're jumpy this evening, Gwyneth." Her eyes snapped to the High Lord's. Eris was intimidating at times, if not for his power, then for the fact he was difficult to read, always seeming bored or amused by whoever he faced. "Trouble back home?"

Always ready to pounce on weakness, growing allies or not. More than once she had wished Rhys found another way to secure Beron in the war.

"You were made aware of my reasons for needing a replacement these past months. It's not easy to be separated from your first child," she confessed.

"Yes, my congratulations," he muttered, scrawling his signature before gathering the paperwork in front of him. "Make sure this hits Rhysand's desk tonight." She raised her eyebrow. "Please."

At least he could be that courteous.

“I will. Unfortunately, I’m still unable to winnow, if you don’t mind taking me to the border.”

Azriel would be home with their infant, but Feyre promised either she or Rhys would be waiting at the edge of the territory they had arranged with Eris in the past. “Of course.” A sweep of wind and they were folding through space, renewing the queasiness she could never quite master. “Good evening, Gwyneth. Rhysand.”

He left without another word. “Thanks for coming to get me, Rhys.”

“Of course. I take it that paperwork is for Feyre and me?” She nodded. “Does it say anything I can tolerate reading at this hour?”

She snorted. “For two High Lords trying to find an alliance, neither of you are very tolerant of the other’s requests.”

Rhys grimaced. Eris had come to power three years ago, revealing Gwyn’s watered-down heritage to Autumn nobility mere months later. Though the Autumn Court had some very backward beliefs about their females, the new High Lord knew better than to meddle with Gwyn’s place in things, especially with the bond between her and Azriel so fresh. Rather than release noble ties completely, he proposed she be Night’s emissary to Autumn. 

And thus began an endless back and forth between Eris and the monarchs of Night.

“We’ll get there,” Rhys muttered. “Hold on.” Folding into shadows, he winnowed them straight into the heart of Velaris, where Gwyn and Azriel had found a modest apartment of their own that overlooked the Sidra River. It was a short walk—and shorter flight—to the House of Wind and Riverhouse their family members occupied and hosted from. “Have a good evening, Gwyn.”

She tightened her grip a bit on the papers when he started to take them. “I know there are plenty of moral disagreements between you. Maybe if there were some minor things you could overlook Eris would be more agreeable to your own demands. It takes all three of you to build an alliance. If you and Feyre might consider—”

“I’ll talk to her.” The paperwork vanished, presumably to his office or room for he and Feyre to view soon. “Thank you. I know neither side of this makes your job easy. And I do hate dragging you away from Catrin. Give her love from her uncle, will you?”

She nodded and he winnowed once again, leaving her to step into the warmth of her home. Afraid to wake her daughter at this hour, she crept in on silent feet. Then two words reached her just before she turned into the family room.

“Say Mama?”

Her breath caught. 

She and Az had always had a competitive streak. From their early days training, to the scattered moments between her friendship blooming with Nesta and the beginning of Azriel’s courtship, there had always been something. A skill to master, a goal to meet, a game to win.

The most recent… Who’s name Catrin would say first.

Faerie younglings developed so slowly in comparison to humans that it could be anywhere from weeks to months before their daughter spoke. Plenty of time for them to sway her learning towards one phrase or another. It was also commonly known that children were quicker to take to the D sound than the M. Azriel had every advantage with her work taking her outside of the court again.

She peeked around the doorway, watching the pair. Catrin had her mothers coppery hair and her father’s hazel eyes. She was the most beautiful thing Gwyn had ever seen. And there tucked into the warmth of her father’s chest and wing she was all the more lovely.

She watched as Azriel reached up again to point at the family portrait Feyre had gifted them upon Catrin’s birth. The pose was stunning, depicting Gwyn and Az forehead to forehead, smiling down on a bundle of pink, little fingers already seeming to reach for the shelter of the wings above them.

His finger paused in front of Gwyn’s face. “Mama. Right there.” Catrin cooed softly. “Yes, Your mama is away doing some work for Uncle Rhys and Aunt Feyre, but she’ll be home soon, little one.”

He turned slowly, pausing when he spotted Gwyn with her head just past the threshold. “Well, now we both know who’s going to win this little contest,” he said.

“Do we? Or have you just reversed the game?”

[thomasisaslut]

May I please request an Azris fic where Azriel and Eris get into a massive fight and they both separate just to find each other in the place where they used to go to all the time for little dates. Then they realise they can't live without each other.

Of course! I may have added a bit of some other things like Tamlin & Eris friendship! Requests are open if you have anymore! 🤍

—

On Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1406078782-𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑-𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬-𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞-𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐞-𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐬-𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚-𝐱

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52313497

—

Brusque Brute

It was all too much, the way Azriel continues to indulge Elain when he promised he strictly loved Eris, it made the High Lord of the Autumn Court more sad that angry. Not only this, but, he knew Lucien wanted to get closer to his mate, even if he did respect her boundaries the bond he shared with the youngest Archeon sister was strong, teasing, indulging.

“You said you would stop.” Eris says plainly, as if he was use to having this conversation.

“She flirts with me, I don’t want to be rude to her, Eris.” The Shadowsinger replies carelessly. “It’s not hurting anyone.” He adds with a small shrug.

Eris takes a deep breath. “You don’t think that you flirting with someone else other than me doesn’t affect me, Azriel?”

“Why should it? I’m only doing it to keep her happy.” The spymaster of the Night Court explains.

“It makes me sad!” Eris finally snaps. “You think it’s pleasant for me to watch my mate indulge someone?” A small glare begins to form on the freckled, pale skin of the Autumn Fae.

“That’s ridiculous, there is no reason it should make you sad.” Azriel stands from the red couch of which he was seated on, making his way over to his mate. “She is just… lonely, Elain finds comfort in me.”

“Well she needs to find it with someone else.” Eris says, crossing his arms and squeezing his biceps.

“Why?”

Eris wants to laugh, scream, say something to make the brute understand why he is so uncomfortable with this, yes, he knew Azriel didn’t have many experiences with relationships, but, he was the most intelligent man in the Night Court. Why was discomfort such a foreign concept?

“Because I don’t like how close she is with you, Azriel.” Eris explains again.

“Whatever.” He scoffs, his shadows move around his wings, tightening around the Illyrian like an act of discipline before releasing. Azriel glares at them and shoos them away.

The dark clouds make a movement as if to glare back before they move over to the High Lord, swarming his ankles, wrists, waist, neck, anything.

“Don’t just say ‘whatever’, Azriel. I am trying to have a serious conversation with you!” The Autumn Fae sighs.

Azriel directs his hardened face towards his lover. “No, this talk is stupid! She is just a friend to me!”

“I know! But, that doesn’t mean I want you to disregard my insecurities!” Eris argues back. “I am uncomfortable with you being so touchy, I get comforting her but you are flirting!” The ginger frowns.

Azriel doesn’t seem to understand.

“Playfully, it means nothing.” Azriel rolls his eyes, crossing his own arms.

“How would you feel if I flirted with Nesta? Maybe even your brother, Cassian?” Eris retorts.

“Oh please, you hate Cass.” The Shadowsinger states, his scarred hand connects with Eris jaw, cupping it and forcing him to look up at him. “You wouldn’t dare flirt with Nesta.”

Eris glares. “Watch me.”

The spymaster of the Night Court returns the same look, harder. “You won’t.” He snaps.

“You flirt with Elain, why can’t I indulge Nesta?”

“You will not ‘indulge’ anyone other than me!” Azriel snaps, he tugs on the bond. Eris looks a bit startled from the outburst. “Do you understand?” He snaps, siphons burning a vibrant blue, illuminating the room of the Autumn place they were currently in.

“Now you’re being controlling?” The High Lord snaps, smacking away the spymasters hand cupping his face.

“I am not!” Azriel shouts, Eris flinches from the loud sound, he remembers how his father use to scream at him, his brothers. “You’re so sensitive over this topic! I am not going to leave you, Eris.”

He can’t help to feel tears brim in his eyes, but no, these were not happy tears. “Sensitive?” Eris’ voice betrays him, cracking. “Why are you being so defensive, Az?” He asks slowly, not wanting his mate to shout again.

But, of course, he does. “Because I don’t fucking love her!” He snaps, his siphons emit an electric flow, zapping the area.

Eris can’t help but feel a bit afraid, he steps back. Azriel seemed to be so overtaken by anger he was completely ignoring his lovers fear.

“You sure seem like it.” The High Lord finally manages to retort.

“I,” The scarred hand grasps the collar of the Autumn Fae’s collar. “Do not,” Azriel’s eyes meet Eris’ own tear filled one, a burning rage behind the brown-hazel orbs. “Love her.”

“Don’t touch me.” Eris whispers, a tear slipping down his cheek, dropping onto the spymasters hand before dripping to the wooden floor.

Azriel halts, he instantly lets go of his mate. “Eris-“

“No.” He replies quickly, taking a deep breath in attempt to calm himself, but it wasn’t useful. The intake of air began to speed up, waves of memories flood back, the way his father shouted, hit, abused… everything.

“Princess, please, I didn’t mean too…” Azriel begins but Eris was already slowly backing away, clutching his chest.

“Shut up!” Eris snaps before fire swarms around him, crackling before he vanishes, winnowing.

“Eris.” Azriel speaks again but it was too late, his mate has left.

—

When Eris finally reaches his destination he falls to his knees, he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They streamed down his face like a waterfall, no matter how many times he attempted to wipe them away they wouldn’t stop.

His breath hitched again, his crying shifting to sobs. Eris didn’t remember the last time he cried, he never was allowed considering the strictness of the old Autumn Court, of his father.

No, he didn’t wish that something as simple as a person raising their voice reminded him of Beron, but, then again, he didn’t wish anything reminded him of his father.

However, he couldn’t escape it. When he looked at himself in the mirror he saw only him, the way his features resembled his father much more than Serafina—his mother. How he wished it was the other way, then, his mother would be comfortable seeing him.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court hated most things in his life, his mate reminding him of his past was one, over looking his insecurities was another.

“Eris?” A voice calls out, but, this was different than the harsh, Illyrian one he heard before.

The Autumn Fae raises his head, looking at the starlight pool before him then turning to see who called his name.

Tamlin.

“What’s wrong?” The blond High Lord approaches slowly before sitting down beside Eris. “You’re crying.”

“No shit.” Eris clears his throat, but, his voice still sounded broken, wet, sad.

“Not the time.” Tamlin sighs. “What’s wrong?” He repeats.

“I am… thinking.”

“Of?” The High Lord of the Spring Court cocks his head to the side, raising one of his eyebrows.

“Azriel and I had a fight… over Elain.” Eris admits quietly, the shadows still around the Autumn Fae comfortingly.

“And he’s not listening to you?” He motions to the shadows.

“They have minds of their own, all of them are here…” The ginger says slowly before Tamlin scoots closer, opening his arms.

Eris instantly sinks into the embrace from his friend, he didn’t care how Azriel would feel about seeing him hug his High Lord and Ladies enemy, Tamlin has been his friend before Feyre even existed.

“So, again, what is wrong, Eris?” Tamlin repeats for the third time, gently stroking the High Lord of the Autumn Court’s hair, massaging his scalp.

“I already said-“

“Specifically.” He adds.

Eris nods, clearing his throat once more. “I expressed my discomfort with him flirting back with Elain when my brother is trying to win over her… he disregarded my emotions for the situation and said I was being sensitive.” The Autumn Fae notices Tamlin’s face grow annoyed at the mention of Elain.

“I dislike her.” He begins. “Azriel is being a sick.”

Eris chuckles at that, releasing Tamlin from the hug before he wipes his tears again. “Yes, he is.” He pauses before continuing. “You… you love him,” Tamlin raises his eyebrow. “My brother.” Eris clarifies.

The High Lord of the Spring Court pauses before he sighs and nods. “Yes. During Calanmai… it was t Feyre who I truly searched for, no, I was looking for Lucien… when I saw her, the urge made me bite her.” Tamlin begins to explain, a hint of water glistening in his own eyes. “I have loved him since before Amarantha, the only reason the whole curse ever happened was because I wanted to see him… happy.”

Eris nods, gently grabbing his friend’s hand.

The other High Lord continues. “And now… he is mated, and enamored with her.” He bites out.

“My mate seems to love her too, if it makes you feel better.” Eris jokes dryly, frowning.

“I do not.” A dark voice states, Azriel soon appearing across the pool of starlight.

Tamlin sends a small glance Eris’ way before disappearing, thanking him for listening before vanishing in a puff of flowers.

“Azriel.” Eris greets, the tears fighting to come back.

“Eris.” Azriel walks over, sitting in the spot Tamlin was in before.

“What do you want?” The High Lord brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms before resting his cheek on his forearms, looking at the spymaster of the Night Court.

“I want to apologize.” Azriel begins, guilt covering his features. Eris nods, motioning for him to go on. “I… I love you, Eris. More than anything, I could not live without you, princess.” His hand gently caresses Eris’ bicep. “I am so sorry I overlooked what you meant.”

Eris slowly moves his legs down, his hands connecting with Azriel’s own, holding both firmly. “I just wanted you to understand-“

“No, I was wrong. I know what… I know what I reminded you of.” Azriel tugs him closer, holding Eris firmly, hugging his mate. “I’m sorry, I never wished to remind you of that… thing.” He mentions Beron with disgust. “I won’t ever flirt with Elain again, I will keep it strictly friendly.” He presses a kiss to his lovers temple. “I’m sorry.” The Shadowsinger repeats.

“Az…” Eris hug Azriel tightly, the dark haired male falls to his back, wings splayed out on the dirt as Eris is on his chest. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not, I will prove anything to make it up.” Azriel states firmly, Eris only chuckles and cups his lovers cheeks, pressing a gently yet firm kiss to the spymaster.

“It is, I promise.” The High Lord of the Autumn Court smiles, his tears finally drying.

“I meant what I said… earlier.” Azriel buries his head into the crook of the Autumn Fae’s neck. “I will never leave you, princess.”

“And I, you.” The shadows swarm around the two, holding them together. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Well, the starlight pool here is our date spot, Eris.” Azriel teases, Eris’ cheeks flush a light red. “Plus, that male is still your friend.” He groans.

“Tamlin has a name, Az!”

“A dumb one.” His wings move around Eris, shielding him away from anything and everyone but him.

Eris laughs. “Thank you… Az, for apologizing.”

“I always will, I was wrong.” Azriel brings his scarred hand back to his mates cheek again. “Always.”

“Always.” Eris says back.

The pair stays there in silence, staring at each other and the starlight pool before them before Eris strips off his clothes, making his way into the water. Azriel follows in, kissing his lover again as they bathe in the stars.

[ofduskanddreams]

Drabble Event Masterlist

A list of all the fics written as a part of my 600 follower milestone celebration. You can find the series on AO3 or search the tag "kate's celebratory drabbles series" on my page to find them as well. All fics listed are less than a thousand words unless they are marked "*"

Give Over To The Fall ✦ Mor x Elain ✦ T

When Feyre and Nesta ditch girl's night, Elain and Mor head to Rita's alone, and long-simmering things boil over.

A Sunshiny Sound ✦ Elain x Lucien ✦ G

Regency AU || Despite being friends (and neighbors) with Lucien Vanserra since childhood, Elain has spent the past months wondering if that friendship has come to an end as his letters have grown few and far between. Then he calls upon her one afternoon out of the blue, and things are not what they had seemed.

Otherworldly* ✦ Mor x Emerie ✦ G

Regency AU || Emerie leads a simple life. She has the store she inherited upon her father's death, her skill with a needle and thread, and far more independence than most of her peers could dream of. When she receives a mysterious request from the lady of the county, Emerie is too curious to deny it.

Like They Want To Lick You ✦ Azriel x Gwyn ✦ T

Modern AU || It never bothered her before, the hungry eyes that always followed Azriel wherever they went. But this is their honeymoon, he belongs to her now in every imaginable way, and she can't help feeling a little possessive.

The Sky Has No Walls ✦ Azriel & Rhys & Cassian ✦ T

Rhys and Cassian helping Azriel learn to fly.

Sensation and the Scent of Waterlilies ✦ Azriel x Gwyn ✦ M

Omegaverse AU || Azriel's heat finally ends and he feels incredibly lucky to have such a wonderful Alpha. This is just post-heat softness and Azriel being stupidly in love with Gwyn. There are only vague references to spicy things.

You're Lucky I Love You ✦ Elain x Lucien ✦ G

Elain returns home from a meeting and can't find Lucien anywhere in the house. She checks the back garden and what she finds is the last thing she expects.

Reputation to Damage ✦ Nesta x Cassian ✦ M

Modern/Grad School AU || Every semester at Prythian University, a rumor goes around about a professor in a relationship with their TA. It's as predictable as gravity, but Cassian isn't sure how he feels about it this time... because the subject of the rumor might be him.

All That Matters ✦ Nesta x Cassian ✦ M

Picks up where ACOSF chapter 78 leaves off. After the ordeal of the Blood Rite, Briallyn, and Nyx's birth, Nesta and Cassian finally go home. Feelings are felt, love is demonstrated through care, and they finally get some much-needed rest.

Lack of Discretion ✦ Elain x Lucien ✦ T

Modern AU || Elain has had a long week, but she's determined to beat her exhaustion and meet Vassa for drinks. They'd already had to reschedule it several times. Unfortunately, unforeseen circumstances prevent Vassa from joining her that night as well. At least the beautiful new bartender asks if he can join her when his shift ends.

This Lovely Enigma* ✦ Azriel x Eris ✦ M

Royalty AU || The law requires that King Eris Vanserra find a consort and partner within one year of taking the throne. Eris's expectations are low, and the line of prospective consorts being introduced to him is still managing to meet them or, at least, they were. Then Azriel walked into the throne room.

Truth or Dare, Azriel?* ✦ Gwynriel + Elucien ✦ M

Modern AU || It's their annual week up at Rhysand's family cabin. When Nesta and Cassian retreat to their room and Rhys and Feyre head off to theirs shortly after, the others know they'll need to occupy their time before risking going into the cabin. A tipsy game of Truth or Dare around the bonfire takes a few very interesting turns.

Warmth Lingers in the Smoke ✦ Azriel x Eris ✦ T

Regency AU || With his father recently deceased, Eris is leaving for London in the morning and all the duties that await him as the new Lord Vanserra. It's his last night walking the mile to Azriel's cottage on the neighboring estate and losing a few precious hours to the man he never meant to fall for.

[venus-celestial]

I have so many Writing/Art ideas Mostly Nesta so here's a list of things coming in no particular order

Priestess Nesta (After Feyre leaves for the second time shit goes down with Tomas and she somehow ends up at a small fey temple later ending up in the library)

Rhys Sister and Nesta (based on a head canon I have that the house of wind is Rhys Sister's spirit Nesta's powers end up giving her a physical form after a while and she fusses over nesta and fucks with Cassian who she never lets she her)

Tamlin and Feyre wedding but It's Eris and Nesta (I have a whole au with this idea I posted a bit about it a while back there's going to be Amren Mor and Nesta friendship Also Rhysand is going to get bonked)

More Next Gen kids (Nessian's oldest is coming Next Then Nyx I'm also planning on giving him a little sister)

Next Gen Romance (Or as I'm calling it Night steals Spring 2 electric boogaloo or poor tamlin can't have anything nice first his wife then his daughter although he kinda deserves it Rhys is proud Sylvie doesn't get along with her dad and consents to "kidnapping" and Nyx just loves his mate)

Mor being a big sister to all 3 Archerons ( I'm going to Drop a Terrified and traumatized Nesta in front of her and give her protective older sister instincts so help me god)

Amren and Nesta Friendship (I Swear I'm going to forever be upset this went nowhere and seek to rectify it the power they hold with their friendship they could take over the world or scare the ever loving shit out of the courts or Cassian just for shits and giggles also both of them in a modern au omg also if I'm giving the braincell to anyone in my fics it's going to be ether Amren or Azriel speaking of which)

Azriel and Nesta Friendship (Everytime he calls her little sister in any fic ever I lose my mind I love these two together so fucking much also I have the image of Azriel singing to Nesta to her during a panic attack in my head and it won't go away

Rhysand caring for Nesta like a sister (I also lose my mind when this is in a fic and I will make it happen so help me I will)

That's it for now but lots of these could have many more prompts so there's a lot coming

I love Acotar but I'm electing to just throw Cannon out the window of 500 story building and write my own

[theladyofbloodshed]

hi darling, just wanted to ask what your opinion on cassian in acosf is. if you've already said/wrote about this could you link it! i personally, prefer neris but you made me like cassian again with your fic lol. i loved your fics and i just wanted to connect with you. have a wonderful day my love.

I alternate between fanon Cassian and Eris (with a bit of Lucien thrown in and maybe a sprinkling of Azriel). I'm glad you liked the fics! I will be writing more Neris soon.

I think I have ranted about that book several times but here are a few Cassian centric complaints:

Prioritising Mor over Nesta We've seen time and time again that Cassian puts Mor's feelings ahead of Nesta's despite saying she's like a sister and there's no feelings between them. I'm still not over him dropping her hand the moment Mor came into view after she'd bandaged his wrist. She goes to Illyria and essentially gives Nesta a telling off for not training (as though she has any authority over Nesta) and Cassian stays quiet.

Prioritising everyone over Nesta Cassian cannot even hear a bad word said about Rhys because the blinkers are well and truly on. He is aggressive towards Nesta when she says something bad about him. The NC is not a dictatorship and Nesta should be allowed to voice her opinions without Cassian at her throat. There were no mating instincts at all. When Rhys threatens her life, Cassian doesn't show the same ferocity to protect her. In a previous book, when Azriel argues with Feyre, Rhys shoots him down and is immediately backing Feyre up. We got none of that with Cassian; Nesta was always in the wrong.

Nesta became his sex doll They locked her up due to her reliance on casual sex... so Cassian then fills that void and has casual sex with her. I might have not minded it so much if there was at least after care or some genuine tender moments, but it never happened. I think in one scene, Cassian pulls out the second he's finished and leaves her on the bed. It's terrible decision making on Cassian's part and a power imbalance. Further, when she has been attacked by the kelpie, he acknowledges that she looks awful following the attack, but instead of rejecting her advances (her using sex to cope with trauma) he proceeds to have rough sex with her. It's vile.

Delighting in her pain Nesta falls down the stairs trying to leave and Cassian mocks her for it. She is in pain and he laughs. Knows that she's starving herself but withholds sugar when she actually wants to eat. He forces her on the hike where she carried the heaviest bag and pushes her until she collapses rather than noticing she's struggling. When Feyre says Rhys is delighted to hear Cassian is keeping her on the hike for a few more days, Cassian admits he is also delighted. It is so, so disgusting.

Their whole relationship It's based upon sex and grinding Nesta down until she's the woman that slots in nicely to the IC. There weren't really any cute scenes of them being a couple or learning to be friends. They only dance together when Cassian orders Eris to move and Nesta feels guilty that Eris insults him. Nesta is so often used by the IC to further their plans, and Cassian rarely speaks up against it. He throws a temper tantrum in ACOFAS when she doesn't want his gift. Throws another in public when she freaks out about being his mate. They're not friends at all. They have so little in common. SJM could have had Cassian learning about what Nesta liked e.g. reading her smutty books or making a friendship bracelet together or visiting one of her taverns just to listen to the music. Instead, Nesta had to change herself to suit him and lose her powers because of Rhys' mistake. She never had to atone for anything and now she's trapped in this Stepford Wives life!!!!

[secretbondsandloveconfessions]

If I wrote a fic about the acotar characters as major celebrities would any of you read it?

The basic premise is that Feyre (an assistant at Spring Records) goes to work for Night Talent Agency as an assistant to Rhysand, who owns the company but manages the three biggest talents on his own: Cassian as an retired/injured professional football player turned YouTuber, Mor as a oscar winning actress, and Azriel as a rockstar. After impressing him, Rhys allows Feyre to take the reins on his three precious talents while he runs his company.

It won’t cover every plot line in the books but it will cover:

*Feyre’s ptsd and growth

*Rhys’ sexual assault from Amarantha

*Feysand getting together + Tamlin’s anger

*Mor’s bisexuality/homoromanticism

*Mor and Andromache

*Elriel (they are NOT endgame, sorry)

*Archeron sister drama, then bonding

*Nesta’s depression/ptsd and alcoholism

*Azriel’s mental health situation (childhood trauma + the stress of performing worsening ptsd and subsequent anxiety, maybe selective mutism)

*Cassian and Azriel being roommates for a while (literally best friends tho)

*Friendship (and lots of it!)

*Nessian

*Feysand wedding

*The Valkyries training with Cassian

*Gwynriel :):):) (I love what I have planned for them)

*Memorie

*Nyx + pregnancy plot (but without the trauma)

*more Az angst (childhood trauma never quite leaves)

*Gwyn’s SA and the death of her sister

+10 more things I can’t even remember

It won’t be like one of those monster 300k fics (I’m in college and have no time) but more like each character having a little novella/novellas with feysand chapters in between each story. It is IC centric, but I will still explore Elain, Eris, Nesta, Lucien, Gwyn, Emorie, and Tamlin through the eyes of the POV characters—or maybe, t he’ll have a few of their own chapters who knows.

Anyway…is literally anyone interested?

[clematisjoon]

10pm and im sat here in bed having a big crying session over tamlin for the umpteenth time 🫠 i’ve been reading a lot of tamlin fics and theyre mainly soft and sweet but the angst and emotions on those that write redemption arcs for him.. im sitting here crying because i just want him to be okay and happy again you know

like yes he’s obviously made mistakes but he was in a shitty place too and i dont know how fair it is for everyone to ignore the trauma he must have went through because it’s convenient. at the end of the day, he’s been through a lot that was not extrapolated enough in the story.

i’m so sad and i yearn for tamlin truly. i dont know.. how the next book will go and what role he plays in it. but sarah j. maas please do not kill him off. genuinely, i think i will mourn his death, if/when it happens, a lot. i haven’t been so enamoured over a fictional character in so long that i think i would grieve his death for a long time.

the only thing i want (well obviously not the only thing i want because i want to see azriel and eris and the valkyries again… but also dilf rhysand is too attractive for my own good) is for tamtam to heal and find his footing and his happiness again. i want him and lucien to mend things and see that friendship that we saw in book 1 again. there’s a specific reason why book 1 has and will always be my favorite (next to acosf because the valkyries are 10/10 and i will die for nesta) because.. yeah tam is happy (we will forget amarantha in the background) and lucien is happy, and feyre is falling in love… i dont know there’s just this fairytale feel to it that isnt there in the other books.

tldr: i love tamlin, despite all his flaws and mistakes. i think the narrative does an injustice to his character when everyone gets to explain and be redeemed for their wrongdoings except for him. i love him and his grumpy self and all i want is for the spring high lord to be happy and thriving.

[my-fan-side]

Unconventional

A/N: Okay, so here’s the Eris-Nesta Friendship (but still Def Nessian) Fanfic that I’ve started drafting about a couple months ago, but went back to it just last week while cleaning up some of my file in folders.So anyway, I hope you guys like it. Thanks for those who have liked, reblogged and have shown interest on this fic. I appreciate it very much and you have no idea how much that means to me. :)

Chapter 1

When Beron Vanserra died, the crown was instantly passed to his eldest son Eris. How he died and to whose hands he had, was never questioned by anyone, any more. What everyone was concerned, and intrigued for that matter, was what’s in store for the future of Autumn Court under its new leadership.

The dead was honored, traditions was observed, the people of the Autumn court grieved, and High Lords from all other courts sympathized with them. But as they say, the end of an era, is a beginning of another. And so, after all the of mourning, a celebration is very looked forward to.

“Invitations! We’re all going to a Ball next week!” Elain came in bouncing towards her family and friends lounging on the townhouse’s foyer. Everyone looked up to her, and to her red head mate who carries a couple of boxes in his arms beside her.

“Already?! Just a week after his father’s death, and a gathering to celebrate his crown is already happening. Eager much, is he?” Mor snorted with a mix of amusement and irritation as she took one of the invitations and stroke its elaborate design.

“Well, He is already the High Lord of Autumn. He already became one, the moment Beron took his last breath. This is Coronation Ball is just for formality.” Rhysand pointed out as he sat beside his mate. Feyre was admiring the red and gold intricate swirls on the invitation as well. It is beautiful, and if the invitation alone looked this extravagant, she could only imagine what more the actual party would be.

Elain finished distributing the invitations and was now seated on the sofa beside Nesta and Cassian. She frowns on the inner circles’ reactions though. She expected them to be at least a little bit excited for the ball, since it’s been a while since they’ve attended one from a different court. She thought that the animosity between the group and Eris has already subsided. She won’t say it out loud, but she thinks it was a relief to all of them when the throne was transferred to him. They all knew that if not for Eris, some of the treaties between Autumn and Night court wouldn’t have pushed through. He has shown good faith these past years, so she’s not really sure what to feel on their reactions. Maybe she still hasn’t truly understood how deep does the scars run among these people.

Lucien opt not to comment and just rearrange the two boxes he was carrying by the table. He is used to these peoples’ dislike toward his brother, he doesn’t blame them, there’s history there. Still, he and his brother managed to establish a civil relationship for a while now. He wouldn’t say that they are now best brothers, but for now, at least they were on the same page on being at least friendly. At the beginning he bears it for their mother, but as time passes by, Eris managed to show them that he is a better male than his Father was.

“Well, Elain is right! It’s been a while since we all visited another court for a celebration. We have been busy these past few weeks. So, I, for one, is very excited to go party!” Cassian winked at Elain and it made her giggle, Nesta snort, and the rest of the gang shook head and roll their eyes.

“Speaking of. Nesta, this is for you, for the party.” Lucien handed the box to her.

“For me?” Nesta took the box unsure what to make of it.

“Yes, the other box is for Elain.”  Lucien confirmed and handed the other box to his mate.

“Hey! What about me?” Feyre protested with a pout from the other side of the room.

“Uhmm. Well, the one for Elain is actually from my mothers. A late birthday present since I’ve mentioned to her that last week was Elain’s birthday.” Lucien explained carefully, hoping not to upset his first Archeron friend. Meanwhile, Elain blushes on receiving that gift. She knows what’s in the box, she has already opened it when they were still on the Autumn court. It was a beautiful long dress, perfect for next week’s occasion.

“Uhhhh, so is this an advance birthday present for me too? From your mother? Because my birthday is still a couple of months from now, and I wasn’t aware she knows about it?” Nesta asked with raised brows. She’s confused on why Lucien’s mom would give her anything at all, what more, a present?

“Actually, it’s not exactly from mother. That – is from Eris, sort of. He told me to give you that.” Lucien said with a raised brow and a smirk. Elain bit her lip trying not to laugh. Not because of Nesta’s snort when Lucien said it was from Eris, but because of the rest of the Inner Circle’s reaction. They were all rendered speechless looking back and forth between Nesta and the gift box. Azriel and Amren with narrowed eyes. Rhysand with raised brows. Feyre and Mor probably didn’t even noticed their mouths agape. And Cassian, Nesta’s mate, who’s face went from shocked, then confused, then angry in just a matter of seconds, was frozen still.

Nesta, however, seems to be unaffected and probably amused on their reactions as well. She took the cover of the box, saw a card atop it and read it. What’s written made her snicker. And before she returned the card inside the box, Cassian grabbed it fast and read it aloud.

“Nesta.

Here’s a dress that I hope you’ll wear on my Ceremony. I know I can’t tell you what to do, I’ve learned my lessons. But, just because you’re from the Night court doesn’t mean you’ll wear black and white only. Or Gray like you usually do. Really, you should spice up your wardrobe a little, will you?

Eris.”

The letter sounds teasing enough that they can’t help but wonder how close Eris and Nesta have really become. And why the heck they didn’t know about it. Well except Elain and Lucien.

Cassian’s nostrils flared, and crumpled the piece of paper with Eris note. He was about to say something, when Nesta punched his arm, not that hard really, just to make him stop seething.

“Will you stop being territorial. Gods! It’s just a note!” Nesta rolled her eyes at his mate.

“Sweetheart, this...” he raised the crumpled notes towards Nesta. “…is just a note. “But that—”  he point his fingers towards the dress that’s still neatly folded inside the gift box. “--is not! Why the heck is Eris giving you a dress? And since when are you two friends? Why did I not know this? Wha—” He wasn’t able to finish his blubbering. Nesta put a finger on his lips to shut him up and answers his questions calmly.

“One, he’s giving me a dress because he wants to--- for some reason. Two, I can’t remember exactly when we started to get along, but it’s not like it happened the instant I have visited Autumn court as an Emissary. And three, well… I don’t know why you didn’t know. I guess it just never came up. It’s not like we talk about him that much. Do you want to talk about him?” Nesta finished her statement coolly and with a raised brow towards Cassian.

“No.” He grumbled, he’s annoyed and mad. Too many questions running through his mind.

“I do!” Feyre answered back. “I want to know how you are friends. I mean, you go to other courts too, but it’s not like you have close friends from every courts?” she said and then crossed her arms. She can’t believe her sister is actually friends with Eris. And they must be closer than just the casual acquaintances, because he was literally giving her gifts.

Nesta tilted her head towards Feyre and answered her evenly. “And how are you so sure I don’t?” She crossed her arms too and face her younger sister. Like a challenge. The others kept quiet eyeing the two having a staring match.

Then Nesta sighed and leaned back towards Cassian’s arms. “I don’t get why you’re all bothered about this. I can have friends outside this circle and this court, you know? Like you do.”

“We never said you can’t or don’t.” Rhysand clarified.

“Of course. Of course.  I guess it just caught us off guard. We didn’t know.” Feyre let it go and leaned back towards her mate as well. “But you do?!” she then turned her attention to her other sister. Pointing out that among all of them, she isn’t surprise with this.

Elain nods her confirmation. “Well, keep in mind that I usually used to accompany Nesta if she has to go do her work in Autumn, and she chaperoned whenever I go there to meet Lucien there, back then. So, sometimes it’s the four of us who spend time together.” She continued and then shrugged it off.

“Yes, and I’m polite enough to leave them and give the two of them some time alone.” Nesta nods her head pointing to Elain and Lucien. “Because I may be overprotective, but I’m not going to hinder on what makes them… getting to know each other better.” She gave them both a soft smile which the couple returned happily.

“But my brother is stubborn enough as well and decides to not leave Nesta’s side, when she gives us space. You know, Eris might not be the sharpest knife in the bunch, but he knows what he’s saying when it comes to Court Trades and Treaties. And to be honest, when I saw their clash of words on that topic for the first time, I immediately thought that it’s either they’ll kill each other eventually, or miraculously be the best of friends in the end. Well, I guess miracles do happen.” Lucien finished and laughed at that. Elain laughed with him, she thought of that too. Nesta just wave off the statement but that little smirk was undeniably on her face.

“I actually agree with that.” Amren spoke for the first time since the discussion started. “Eris is…cunning and dangerous, yes. But he’s also clever and have the set of skills one leader must have. Just like some one we all know.” She raised a brow and a sly smile towards Nesta. “Maybe that’s why they get along. Besides, whether we all admit it or not. We are glad it was him that have inherited that crown among the Vanserras. We all know it was what’s best for the Autumn court.” She said then finished the wine she was holding.

Cassian was openly glaring at Amren, which the other felt but totally ignored, because how could she actually defend that bastard? However, he can’t say anything else to contradict her statement though, because he knew it was the truth. And everyone seems to think the same because there was a quiet stillness after Amren said her piece.

“Anyway, count me in! Because it will definitely be one heck of a party.” Amren smirked and pointed her wine glass towards Lucien and Elain’s position, her statement seems to finished the conversation.

Tags: @sjm-things @moonbeammadness @maastrash

@typicalmidnightsoul 

[typicalmidnightsoul]

Hell no.

if you’re a Morrigan stan. Scroll.  If you’re a Nesta stan. Read on.

A mini fic by moi.

(This is a spontaneous fic I just thought of writing so forgive the mistakes.)

VALKYRIE TRIO VS MORRIGAN SHOWDOWN LETS GO

--------------------------------------------------------

Mor was sauntering with false confidence up to her table. Mor had been flirting with her for a week. Well she did have this overbearing suspicion that she was just being nice. But after talking to Feyre she knew that this girl liked her back. But this girl’s friendship group was... intimidating to say the least. 

She liked Gwyn for sure but her other best friend: Ice queen Nesta Archeron who had the AUDACITY to disregard Cassian when he asked her out repeatedly was insane. She was horrible to Feyre and Mor never liked her. She was sure she could convince her crush that Nesta was not a person worth investing in when they started dating.

Was she scared of rejection? about 0.1%. 

She was one of the first desirables, blonde bombshell who was very picky. She was sure if she made sure everyone knew that there was only one person in this school she wanted Emerie would be flattered by he proposal and instantly say yes and they’d be the next prom queens.

As she neared their table she let out a sigh. Emerie. She was sitting on Helion’s bar with Nesta next to her and Gwyn on the bar stool in front of them. Lucien, Eris and Balthazar were around them, almost like guards. 

Nesta narrowed her eyes as she noticed Morrigan walking towards them and took another sip of whatever mocktail was in her cup. She said something to Gwyn which made Gwyn turn around. Gwyn gave Mor an awkward and small smile before turning around at Nesta, cringing. Emerie was deep in conversation with Thesan about something. 

As Morrigan neared them she heard Nesta audibly say, “Uh oh.”

Emerie turned at that and looked at Mor. Mor could tell she was already a bit tipsy. Emerie gave her a tight lipped smile, 

“Can I help you?” 

Mor nodded and took one of Emerie’s hands. “Yeah.” She dropped her hand then clapped catching everyone’s attention.

“Everyone, I have something I would like to ask this beautiful woman over here.”

Nesta gave Emerie a side glance, “Em?”

Emerie furrowed her brows, “Are you drunk?”

Mor ignored her, “Emerie I like you like a lot. I can’t say much without telling everyone what a hopeless romantic I am but Emerie... would you please do me the honour of dating me?”

Everyone at the party was waiting on Emerie’s answer.

Gwyn looked at Morrigan slowly and then turned to Nes mouthing

Since when?

The silence dragged on and for the first time Mor felt a sinking feeling in her stomach,

Emerie finally opened her mouth and laughed.

“Hell no.”

Gwyn audibly gasped and a hand flew to Nesta’s mouth. The crowd watching also gasped, a few particularly drunk ones going, “Oooohh” 

Emerie hopped off the bar table holding up her hands,

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re cute and stuff but I’ve just never seen you that way. Plus you were horrible to my best friend freshman year and why would I do Nesta like that?”

Tears started falling down Mor’s eyes, “Emerie you can’t just embarrass me like this, I thought we had something-”

Gwyn raised her hand, “Sorry can I cut in? Uhh you kind of brought this on yourself, you really should’ve asked her in private. But you asked her in public basically forcing her to say yes. Or you were too overconfident.”

“But I was sure she liked me-”

Nesta scoffed, “You and your friends really can’t take a hint can you. Emerie doesn’t wanna date you. Get over yourself.”

Mor glared at her, “Don’t talk to me like that, what would you know? All you know is how to use people.”

Emerie laughed, “That is rich coming from you. Why do you lead on Cassian and Azriel again? Why did you tell Nesta to stay away from Cassian? No answer. Pity.”

Mor just stood there shocked, she could make out that some people were recording and saw Feyre push her way through the crowd as Nesta said,

“Because she’s a hypocrite.”

Mor snarled, “Shut up you snake!”

Nesta pointed her finger at her, eyes filled with rage, “You’re the fucking snake bitch.”

Eris held Nesta onto the bar not allowing her to get into a fight.

Emerie just sighed, “1 don't talk to Nesta like that 2 Get out of my face.” She turned around to the crowd. “Ok everyone you can mind your fucking business now.” And walked over back to her seat on the bar table.

Feyre came up to Mor slowly walking her away, “Come on Mor.”

As they were leaving Mor heard Eris whistle, “Damn Emerie.”

And Emerie answer, “I'm not tryna be a rebound.”

She wanted to turn back and tell Emerie she’s not but Feyre suddenly stopped. Mor looked at Feyre and then at where Feyre was staring. Cassian. And judging by the look on his face he had heard everything.

“You said that?” He asked slowly.

Mor shook her head, “Cassian I was trying to think about what was best for you-”

“YOU ARE NO ONE TO DO THAT FOR ME.” He pinched the bridge of his nose before looking back at her, “You are dead to me.”

She tried to reach for his arm again but his eyes were filled with tears as he pushed her away and walked to... Nesta.

Mor turned. She saw him walk up and Nesta give him venomous glares until he came closer and she registered his face. Nesta was off the bar table, ignoring Eris’ questioning looks, in a second, nodding her head towards the door that led outside.

Mor watched as he followed. Wondering if she just lost the love of her life and her best friend in one night.

-----------------------------

@idc-camille  @wannawriteyouabook @skychild29 @aesthetics-11 @perseusannabeth @my-fan-side​

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR + Crescent City Fic Masterlist

Multi-Chapter Fics

Rules for Spies: While Azriel and Gwyn work to free Koschei’s captives, attraction turns into something more. Some chapters NSFW. Complete. (Gwyn/Azriel, some Mor/Emerie, Nesta/Cassian, Elain/Lucien, and Vassa/Jurian)

Bloom & Bone: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court. Some chapters NSFW. Complete. (Elain/Tamlin, Vassa/Lucien)

To A Nightingale: Gwyn Berdara, an up-and-coming reporter at the House of Wind, is given an assignment most journalists would kill for: exclusive access to the Bat Boys as they tour to promote their new album. Modern AU. Some chapters NSFW. Complete. (Gwyn/Azriel)

ACOTAR One-Shot Fics

aren't you scared? (well that's just fine): Gwyn and Azriel at the Night Court's first Samhain party. At least one of them has a crush. NSFW. (Gwynriel, a hint of Emorie)

as the heart grows bolder: How Helion and the Lady of Autumn fall in love, despite everything. (Helion/Lady of Autumn)

the beginning of everything: After the war, Gwyn and Azriel are sent on a diplomatic visit to the lantern festival at the Autumn Court. They've been circling each other for years, though, and a night together is all that's required to kindle the spark between them. NSFW. (Gwynriel, an appearance by Eris Vanserra)

games without frontiers: Azriel and Eris, in the Autumn Court at the winter solstice. But who has the knife? NSFW. (Azris)

gold in the shadows: After spending a month apart from Azriel on a solo mission to the continent, Gwyn receives an invitation to their favorite bookstore on the night before solstice. Many gifts are exchanged. NSFW. (Gwynriel)

hearts bring back the light: The war is finally over, and Nesta Archeron spends solstice figuring out what comes next. (Nessian, and a little Gwynriel, Emorie, Elucien, Feysand)

like we dream impossible dreams: It's Starfall, and Elain and Lucien's avoidance and awkwardness turns into something else entirely. NSFW. (Elucien)

the pilgrim soul in you: A missing-moments Vassien fic covering ACOWAR, ACOFAS, and ACOSF, in which, after a while, Lucien and Vassa fall in love. NSFW. (Vassa/Lucien)

a poisoned knife between the ribs: Gwyn returns from a mission, thinking of all the things she hasn't had the opportunity to do. Azriel is open to exploring all the possibilities with her. NSFW. (Gwynriel)

seer, blind your eyes: Maybe they're trying to hide from their rightful futures, or somehow save each other. Regardless, neither Azriel nor Elain can stay away. NSFW. (Elriel)

write your own ending: Elain decides that she needs to learn to protect herself in the face of the coming war. Only, the minute she goes looking, she finds Gwyneth Berdara in the library. Things do not go as planned. (Gwynlain)

yes and yes and yes: Gwyn is ready to have sex with a male, and she asks Azriel. To give her time to think it over, he tells her to wait until after the Valentine's ball at the river estate. This may have been a mistake. NSFW. (Gwynriel)

ACOTAR Snippets

Azris hallway hookup

Elucien pregnancy reveal

Emorie domestic fluff

Gwynriel pregnancy reveal

Gwynriel discuss That Necklace

Gwynriel Thanksgiving

Gwynriel Halloween (aka: the snippet that started my Gwynriel obsession)

Crescent City One-Shot Fics

morning breath: What if there had been something more than friendship between Bryce and Danika? And what if it had started before they'd even had their morning coffee?I'm just saying, it might have been glorious. NSFW. (Bryce/Danika)

we could be anything: What if Ruhn had met Agent Daybright at the Equinox ball? They might have gotten a beer, for starters. NSFW. (DayNight)

when the stars throw down their shields: The war is over, and so Ruhn and Lidia get matching tattoos. (DayNight)

All fics are also available on AO3. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, please comment and let me know. Thanks for reading! 🧡

[separatist-apologist]

A Christmas Prince

Summary: When reporter Feyre Archeron is sent to the small European Principality of Aldovia to cover the upcoming coronation of Prince Rhysand, she's mistaken for a royal portraitist. Deciding to lean into the lie in order to get a better story, Feyre is caught up in the drama and politics of Rhysand's life with no way out that doesn't betray them both.

This is based loosely off the Netflix movie A Christmas Prince and was my first full length Feysand fic so be kind.

This was also my Secret Santa gift for @arrowmusings and I hope they enjoy it.

You can find it on AO3: Here

Rated T for some language

Part 1/4

There was something special about Christmas in New York. Feyre chose to see it through rose tinted glasses, determined New York wouldn’t break her. She chose to see fresh, white snow instead of the gray sludge that lined the streets, chose to believe people smiled as she walked, chose to believe the air smelled like pine and snow capped mountain peaks instead of trash and exhaust. Some days were easier than others and as Feyre trudged through the slick mess, her boots sliding over the pavement, she found she was struggling to believe reality was as lovely as her imagination.

She made it to her office just in time for no one but Lucien Vanserra to smile in her direction. In a city filled with millions of people, how was he her only friend? Not counting, of course, her older sister Elain but Elain was busy with her trendy cupcakes that had taken over Brooklyn and besides, sisters didn’t really count as friends.

“I got you coffee,” Lucien told her with a smile, sliding out of his office to hand her a still warm cardboard cup of what smelled suspiciously like a chestnut praline latte. She’d gotten him in her breakup with her long-time boyfriend Tamlin and Feyre was grateful for it. Despite two solid decades of friendship, the first time Feyre texted Lucien for help, sporting a black eye and split lip, Lucien had shown up with movers and, when Tamlin tried to beg for her back, his fists.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. He knew her too well.

“So my dad is bugging me to come home this year,” he continued, a grimace stretched over his tanned, handsome face. Feyre scowled.

“Did you tell him no?” She replied. Lucien’s dad had money, money money, and Lucien had been expected to fall in line and become some corporate drone. Instead Lucien worked as a copy editor, mainly to say he had a job. Feyre was well aware Lucien had an obscene inheritance that, despite his father’s anger, he had access to.

“Not exactly,” Lucien replied with a sigh, stopping in front of her desk in the little cubicle Feyre inhabited. He shook her little snow globe with a wistful expression, watching the snow settle over Cinderella’s castle. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be on Christmas.”

“Want plans?” Feyre offered immediately. Her and Lucien had been a two person show for Halloween and Thanksgiving. Why not Christmas, too? “You might have to spend it with Elain. She’s not flying out to California to see Nesta this year.”

Lucien’s expression lightened a little even as he said, “I don’t want to intrude on your family time with your sister.”

She snorted. “It’s hardly intruding. Elain lives to cook, besides. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to have one more mouth to feed.” “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not,” Lucien complained, tucking a stray piece of copper hair behind his ear. Only Lucien could get away with shoulder length hair, tied neatly in a ponytail, in an office that required men to wear buttoned up shirts and ties. “Speaking of siblings, you know my older brother Eris knows this guy who owns a gallery—”

“No,” she said quickly, refusing to get her hopes up. “No, Lucien, no favors.”

“Feyre, c’mon. What’s the point of this fancy last name if I never get to throw it around?” He teased, sitting on the edge of her desk.

“You hate when people think you’re a Vanserra,” Feyre reminded him patiently, turning to her computer monitor. “Besides, my art isn’t good enough—” “Your art is good enough for museums,” Lucien interrupted impatiently. “And I’m not just saying that because we’re friends,” he added, catching how her mouth opened to contradict him. “Trust me. I’ve seen some of the ugly shit people spend thousands of dollars on. Your work deserves to be seen.”

She couldn’t admit that since Tamlin, Feyre hadn’t painted at all. He’d ridiculed everything she’d ever put on canvas, had made her feel small and worthless. He’d torn it all apart, had sneered at her brushstrokes, had called it her hobby and Feyre couldn’t get his words out of her head even six months later. From the way Lucien looked at her, fiddling with the cuffs on his dark purple shirt, she suspected he knew why she didn’t want to paint.

“I don’t have time,” she said instead, gesturing towards her email inbox. Lucien only rolled russet-colored eyes, one of which had three angry red scars streaked through it, marring what was otherwise a truly perfect face. He’d been in a car accident as a boy, he’d said. He ought to have died and instead was just scarred and though Feyre had found it jarring the first time she ever saw it, Lucien swore it had never gotten in the way when it came to women.

She wouldn’t know anything about that, other than Lucien always seemed to find a beautiful woman when he needed one.

“Sure you don’t,” he said with a long suffering sigh. “Too busy re-writing articles and watching Netflix shows you’ve already seen?”

“Don’t you have a job?” She asked, annoyed. Lucien grinned and all was forgiven in that moment because, despite his irritating presence, he was still her best friend.

“Reading books and telling authors their plots don’t make sense is hardly a job, Fey. It’s my passion.”

“You know, they say those who can’t—”

“Teach,” he interrupted. “But I accept the insult all the same. Don’t let the journalists dick you around too much, hm?”

And with that, Lucien was gone. He sauntered back to his nice office with the glass window overlooking the city while Feyre watched, rolling her eyes at the way heads turned as he went. She knew he was aware of it, and while Lucien would never sleep with anyone in their office, she was certain he didn’t need to wear pants half as tight, either.

Feyre was a junior editor, a job she didn’t particularly love but had sort of fallen into by accident. There was upward mobility and she’d always been a good enough writer that she decided to aim for being an editor one day, which was the plot of every coming-of-age tale she’d ever watched growing up in Oklahoma.

It was well past noon when Feyre finally finished reading a too-long story about fashion week, frustrated that the journalist had just made up facts that would get their magazine in hot water if it ever ran. Feyre knew she’d need to completely re-write it, both to trim down the wordiness and to ensure that they actually discussed the actual designers who were featured in the show. She knew exactly who to ask for help, dialing quickly on her phone.

“What’s up?” Came Elain’s voice over whirring in the background. Feyre knew her sister well enough to know it was just the sound of a stand mixer and that Elain was likely covered in a fine layer of flour.

“Hey, did you watch fashion week?” She asked.

“Fashion week is my Super Bowl…or whatever it is where they pick players,” Elain said impatiently. “I bought a dress from—”

“That’s great. Do you think you could help me with an article I’m writing?”

The whirring in the background stopped. “Do you want to stop by for lunch or is that too far?”

Considering Feyre was in Manhattan and Elain in Brooklyn, it was definitely too far for a quick lunch. “Dinner?”

“Come to my place, then. I’m closing up at two today.”

“Oh wait, Elain! Can I bring my friend Lucien? We usually get dinner together.”

There was a pause. “Tamlin’s friend?”

Feyre bit back her sigh. “My friend,” she said firmly.

“Fine. But I’m not cleaning.”

“I didn’t ask you to and trust me when I say he won’t care. Thanks for this, Elain.”

Elain offered a mock long-suffering sigh. “I have a dress for you, too, you know—”

“I’m hanging up now byeeeee,” Feyre said quickly, disconnecting the call before Elain could try and set her up with one of the million beautiful men that seemed to follow her sister around. Elain was all the things a person moving to New York ought to be—she had a degree in fashion, had been president of her sorority, had a close-knit group of girlfriends and, though it shouldn’t have mattered, Feyre knew from experience that if Elain stepped off a curb and raised her hand for a cab, six lined up immediately. She’d always been beautiful, even when they were dirt poor in Oklahoma, and no one ever doubted she’d make something of herself. Of course, most of their town had hoped she’d make herself into a housewife for one of their lazy sons, but that was still better than the world’s expectations for her. No one had ever thought Feyre would amount to anything and when she went home to see her father, the people who stopped her acted surprised she’d done anything at all with her life.

Feyre was practically out the door when the editor stopped her. “Archeron. You got a second?” Feyre looked over her shoulder at Lucien, leaned against his office door to talk to some aspiring writing working in one of the cubicles. She was flushed while Lucien was clearly offering serious career advice. He never learned, she thought with amusement. They didn’t give a fuck about his career, only his pretty face and that powerful last name.

“What’s up?” Feyre asked, walking into the glass office to take a seat.

“What do you know about Aldovia?” Her editor, a chic woman named Amren with a dark bob and a beautiful set of ruby earrings, asked as she flipped through a stack of papers.

“Nothing?” Ferye replied, trying to recall where in the world Aldovia was at all. Europe, maybe?

Amren glanced up at her. “Aldovia’s King died last year, and the mourning period is about to expire. Their prince, Rhysand, is MIA and they need a butt on the throne by Christmas Day.”

Feyre just stared. Amren sighed. “If he’s MIA, who do you think will fill that role?”

Feyre just shrugged. She knew absolutely nothing about world politics. Amren sighed. “I need boots on the ground to cover this debacle. Our readers love anything to do with the playboy prince.”

“Why me?” Feyre asked, shooting herself in the foot.

“You’re young, you’re hungry, you’re smart…and none of my regular journalists can go. You’d be gone over Christmas.”

“Oh…I don’t know…” Feyre began but Amren waived her hand.

“I can give this to any other junior editor,” Amren snapped, eyes blazing. “Do you want to spend the rest of your career in that cubicle re-writing shit articles? Or do you want to write something of your own?”

Neither, she thought quietly, surprised Amren knew she was rewriting articles.

“Okay,” Feyre agreed, in part to keep Amren from offering it to anyone else.

“Great. I know you won’t let me down.”

But Feyre wasn’t so sure when she scurried out of the office half an hour later, her phone buzzing in her pocket with an email alert for plane tickets. Lucien was waiting, jacket slung over his shoulder and her coat draped over his arm.

“Fired?” He joked, handing her the dark, puffy coat that she aggressively wore despite his accusations it made her look like a marshmallow.

“What do you know about the Prince of Aldovia?” She asked him, sliding into the elevator beside him.

Lucien peered down at her with surprise. “That he’s got a reputation as a womanizer and a dick,” Lucien offered. “And he’s likely going to abdicate and fuck up a dynasty that’s almost as old as the British monarchy.”

“And that’s bad?” Feyre asked.

“Well, it’s not great,” Lucien replied dryly. “They don’t have another system just ready to go.”

“You know Lucien, you don’t have to be a dick about everything,” she mumbled. Lucien grinned, bumping his shoulder into hers.

“Aw c’mon. Why all the interest in Aldovia?”

“Amren wants me to go and cover the coronation…or abdication, I guess.”

Lucien’s whole face lit up as he held open the glass doors that led to the street. It was already dark despite only being five thirty. Lucien stepped off the curb to flag down a cab while Feyre jammed her hands in her coat pockets.

“Let me give you a crash course over dinner.”

Feyre groaned. “Speaking of that. I might have agreed to eat at my sisters tonight.”

He shrugged. “No worries. Tomorrow then—”

“Come with me,” she asked, turning to face him. “I kind of already told her you were coming.”

He flicked her in the cheek.

“Besides, I’ll bet Elain knows everything about a prince. This seems right up her alley.”

Lucien held open the door to a bright yellow cab. “Fine. But you remember what happened the last time I dined with one of your sisters.”

Feyre scowled before rattling off her sister’s address. “Nesta and Elain are polar opposites.” That much was true, anyway. Elain wouldn’t tell Lucien to go fuck himself like Nesta had when they collectively realized she had been on again, off again dating Lucien’s eldest brother. Elain would be polite even if she hated Lucien’s guts.

“We’ll see,” he muttered, wrapping a scarf around his neck. For the duration of the slow drive, Lucien offered Feyre the most in-depth history she could have ever wanted and Feyre took notes on her phone. Aldovia was a monarchy with a surprisingly bloody history right up until World War II, when they’d gone the way of the Scandinavian countries and become more collectivist. They were small and didn’t have a standing military which, as an American, always surprised her.

By the time Feyre reached Elain’s two-story brownstone, her head ached from all the information Lucien was trying to stuff inside. “Honestly, I might have a book—”

“Of course you do,” she muttered, ringing Elain’s doorbell. “I don’t need a book. You know magazine readers don’t care about history like you do.”

“Well the magazine readers are—” Lucien abruptly stopped the moment the front door opened. Elain was gorgeous as usual, her waist length hair curling softly around her softly made-up face. She wore black and grey checked pants and a white blouse tucked neatly inside, the top two buttons undone to offer the barest hint of skin.

She glanced at Lucien for a moment, unaware that he was openly staring, before inviting them in. “I made ham.”

“Of course you did,” Feyre replied, shrugging out of her coat. Elain’s apartment was gorgeous, each piece of furniture expertly chosen to be both functional and beautiful. Elain had that kind of talent and always had. Despite how much cream furniture she owned, everything felt warm and inviting.

“That’s your painting,” Lucien said with surprise, gesturing towards an ocean landscape Feyre had done for Elain years earlier when she’d been too poor to afford a birthday gift.

“It’s my favorite,” Elain said with a sigh, her heels clicking on the hardwood.

“I have Fey’s Autumn Woods in my living room,” Lucien told her sister, undoing his scarf to hang on the coat rack beside the door. Elain paused to look over her shoulder, a faint smile on her lips. “A man of taste, I see.”

“Stop it,” Feyre muttered, embarrassed but in this, Elain and Lucien were united even if they didn’t know it. Elain had been begging Feyre to let her set up an online store for her artwork since Feyre had lived with Elain as a junior in college.

Elain clicked her tongue and vanished down the hall to the kitchen. Lucien turned to Feyre, eyebrows raised.

Is she single? He mouthed moments before Feyre hit him in the stomach with the back of her hand.

“She’s out of your league,” Feyre whispered. Lucien merely grinned, trailing behind her.

“So, I wrote out all the designers who attended New York fashion week,” Elain said, tying a pale pink apron around her waist. Lucien was poking through Elain’s bookshelf in the living room, nosy as usual.

“This is great,” Feyre said with a sigh, sitting at the rounded wooden table in Elain’s expansive kitchen. She didn’t want to think what this place must have cost Elain, in part because Elain deserved good things. Her former fiancé, Graysen, had recently cheated on her before dumping her in a public, brutal fashion and Feyre knew how it felt to love a man that never loved you back…at least in the way she’d loved him. Elain made heartbreak look easy—if her sister had laid awake at night sobbing and eating her feelings, she certainly never showed it. Feyre, on the other hand, had only left her apartment when Lucien began dragging her out which was why they ate dinner together every night. Feyre knew he’d stopped dating for the time being to make sure she was okay and though maybe it was selfish, she genuinely appreciated that he was looking after her.

“Tell her about Aldovia!” Lucien called. Elain’s brows raised.

“Aldovia?”

Lucien strode in and Feyre bit back the scowl when she noticed his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was trying to be sexy. She’d murder him. Elain glanced at him, cheeks flushed and Feyre all but groaned.

“Feyre’s been given an assignment to see if Prince Rhysand is going to ascend to the throne.” Elain’s eyes lit up. “Fey, that’s amazing! Your first assignment! Oh my God, okay, let me go grab that dress I bought—”

“Elain!” Feyre protested but Elain stepped around Lucien to jog down the hall, unaware of how he leaned to watch her go.

“Do you mind?” Feyre hissed. Lucien only shrugged, clearly unashamed. A moment later Elain returned with a pale blue, sparkly gown she spread over the dining room table.

“I have others,” Elain breathed. “But this one has never been worn.”

“Where were you planning on wearing this?” Feyre couldn’t help but ask, fingering one of the jewels lightly.

Elain shrugged. “Maybe someone I hate is about to get married and I wanted to upstage her.”

Lucien snorted with laughter and Elain flushed with pleasure. “Feyre, you can’t go to a castle and not take at least one nice dress.”

“You should probably take like…five,” Lucien added, doing quick math in his head.

“Five?” Feyre gasped.

“Yes, definitely,” Elain replied, walking back to her bedroom. Feyre gathered up the beautiful blue dress, hugging it to her chest as she followed after Elain, sandwiched by Lucien’s large body. Elain’s bedroom was a space she definitely thought Lucien had no business in, judging by how he looked around with interest. Not that Elain noticed, vanishing into a closet as big as Feyre’s bathroom.

“Get it together,” Feyre hissed when Lucien walked to the large, cream colored bed and ran a hand over the blanket.

“I’m going to marry her,” he whispered in response. “We’re going to be family.” “I’ll kill you,” Feyre shot back moments before Elain walked back out, dumping a stack of gowns atop her bed. Even Lucien looked surprised by what he saw and if Elain was embarrassed, she didn’t let it show.

“Black, I think,” Elain murmured, pulling out another floor length dress that looked as though it had a slit cut to her navel.

Lucien reached for a golden one, pulling it from the stack to admire the fabric.

“Have you worn all these?” Feyre asked, flopping on Elain’s bed.

“Mostly,” Elain replied, studying her pile the way a scientist might examine something beneath a microscope. “Not that one. Do you want to take it?”

Judging by the way Lucien was staring at the dress, she decided she’d let Elain keep it and ruin his life by wearing it one day. There was no way in hell Lucien would ever get within touching distance of her sister. Elain had a very specific, very brunette type.

“No, I’m too pale for gold.” “True,” Elain agreed without malice. “Red, then.”

“You act like I’m going to marry him,” Feyre mumbled, letting her sister add clothes to her pile. “This is just an assignment.”

“What if you need to attend fancy dinners?” Elain shot back. “Or balls—”

“This is not a fairy tale,” Feyre insisted. “I have slacks.” Elain huffed, turning to her dresser to pull out nice dress clothes but Feyre stopped her. “Elain it’s fine. This guy dates supermodels, right? I don’t need to worry about impressing him. I’m not you.”

“Don’t say that,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Feyre mumbled, catching the look Elain and Lucien exchanged.

“At least take these three,” Elain finally said, shoving each dress into her sister’s hand.

Dinner was fun and Feyre didn’t hate the idea of Lucien and Elain. Lucien was a shameless flirt, not that Elain noticed. Perhaps she was so used to men acting that way she barely registered it, though Feyre noticed that Elain watched him more closely when he got serious. Between Elain’s knowledge of fashion and Lucien’s knowledge of history, she thought there was no one better prepared to go to Aldovia. Feyre had hundreds of words written in her notes, had the dresses Elain had shoved on her folded neatly in a suitcase, and a book Lucien insisted she take tucked beneath her arm when she strolled into the airport.

It didn’t occur to her until after she checked in that she’d never thought to just google the guy. Pulling out her phone, Feyre saw she had another missed text from a new number that she would have bet her life belonged to Tamlin. The fact that he couldn’t leave her alone when he should have been grateful the worst, he got was his face bloodied by Lucien was just astounding to her. She blocked it without bothering to look at the message, but her hands shook a little as she typed in Rhysands name.

That was a mistake, she decided. He was easily the best-looking man she’d ever seen in her life. How unfair, she reflected. If he had to be royalty, the least he deserved was a weird looking face. Rhysand was beautiful in a way that made Feyre’s heart race. Blue-black hair fell into eyes so blue they were practically violet, off-set by sun-kissed skin. The first picture she’d pulled up was a blurry pap shot of him without a shirt on, adding insult to injury. His body was sheer perfection, the kind artists used to carve from marble. Of course, in the photo he was standing beside a blonde woman in a teeny bikini and that reminded Feyre that his good looks had likely made him an asshole.

With that in mind, Feyre felt much better stepping onto a plane to fly halfway around the world. She’d never meet him, would likely only see him from a distance assuming he showed up at all, and all of Lucien and Elain’s prep work would be for nothing. She was still safe.

With that in mind, Feyre slept for most of the flight, waking for a rough landing on the tarmac. It was her first time alone somewhere and with each new step, Feyre felt a sense of excitement. She’d been chosen, maybe because no one else could go, but chosen nonetheless. She fired two quick texts to Lucien and Elain separately, letting them both know she’d made it and urging Lucien to come join her perhaps a tad selfishly.

Afterall, it would have been nice to have a friend. She felt that when three men cut her in the taxi line, stealing the car she’d waited for without little more than a grin. “Hey!” She’d yelled, frustrated when the largest of the three turned to look at her, winked, and then slid in after the other two. No apologies, no explanations. It took fifteen minutes for another cab to roll up and by the time Feyre was checked into her hotel and on the shuttle to the palace, she was more than a little stressed.

The palace itself was built into a snowcapped mountain surrounded by tall evergreen pines. It was something from a Christmas movie, something only Disney himself could have dreamt up. She had her nose practically pressed to the glass window, drinking in the surroundings. Feyre had never seen anything half as lovely in her life—unblemished snow covered the ground just beside the winding mountain road they travelled, sparkling beneath a cold winter sun. She wondered what it would be like to live somewhere so beautiful.

How are things going? Lucien asked Feyre when she sat in a gray cushioned, hardbacked chair. Press badge around her neck, Feyre shook out her hands, pleased to be in the middle of the crowd. She didn’t have any specific questions, didn’t really care what the spoiled prince would do.

Not great, she sent Lucien back when a busy press coordinator came out to announce there would be no press briefing, rescheduled or otherwise. They were told to pack it up, that Rhysand was definitely accepting the throne, and practically kicked out of the palace.

She couldn’t go home empty handed. She wasn’t going to be stuck in a dead-end job for the rest of her life. She didn’t have to love writing in order to want to do well.

You’ll bail me out of jail, right? She texted Lucien, sideling away from the group to circle back towards the palace. She felt his immediate response, likely demanding she not do whatever it was she was thinking but Feyre was already half jogging up a flight of stone steps to a side door. Decorated with green garland and a massive wreath, it was both festive and somehow overdone. She didn’t know what, exactly, she was looking for—only that she’d know when she saw it. Feyre was surprised that the palace felt more like a museum or an upscale office. Red carpet and muted wallpaper with nondescript art hanging on the walls all leant itself to a space that was neutral at best, unoffensive at worst. She crept through the hall, coming to a large foyer decorated charmingly with suits of armor wearing curling red ribbons around their neck. She pulled out her phone, ignoring Lucien’s all-caps text demanding she rethink her life choices, and snapped a photo.

“What are you doing?” A masculine voice behind her demanded. Feyre turned suddenly, surprised to find herself looking at one of the men who stole her taxi the morning before. Tall, broad, and muscular, he looked like he wrestled bears for fun.

“Uh…” She stammered, trying to think of any good reason to be taking pictures of suits of armor. “I was…”

“Oh. American,” he said with a roll of his hazel eyes. “You’re the portraitist, aren’t you?”

The what? “Yes,” she lied automatically. Anything to keep herself from trouble. The broad man’s expression relaxed into an easy-going, handsome smile. He was young, tan, and decidedly rugged despite his well-fitted pants and his buttoned up shirt. Shoulder length brown hair was half tied from his face with a neat bun, leaving the rest to wave around a jaw carved from rock.

“Thank God,” he said with a smile. “We were starting to think you’d ghosted us.”

“Nope, no ghosting,” Feyre assured him even as her mind screamed at her to tell the truth and get out. “Just a long flight.”

The man glanced sideways at her, gesturing for her to following him through the foyer towards a grand marble staircase.

“Must have been some flight,” he murmured, his tone betraying that she’d been missing much longer than she thought. Feyre offered a half-smile, hands trembling at her sides. “Anyway you’re in luck. Rhys just got in and he’s not in a shitty mood. Do…whatever it is you need to…do you need paint or something?”

Fuck. “Uh…yeah but not today. It’s a process,” she said truthfully. “I’m gonna just…take some pictures and get a feel for you know…the room…and stuff.”

“And stuff,” the man beside her repeated. “Okay. You’re the expert, I guess. Just…no talking to the press, okay? They’re circling like eager rats.”

“Right,” Feyre replied, not bothering to mention that she was one of those rats.

“If you need anything, let me know. I’m Cassian, by the way. I was the one talking to your boss on the phone I guess…I thought you were going to be a man.”

“Sorry to disappoint?” Feyre asked, praying to every God ever known that the actual portraitist didn’t show up and blow her cover. Cassian shook his head, leading Feyre down a series of connected halls.

“Did you bring things with you?” “Yeah…they’re at my hotel,” she replied as though it were obvious. Cassian’s steps faltered.

“Hotel? You’re supposed to be staying here. What hotel? I’ll send Az to get your things.”

“That’s not necessary…I can get my own stuff,” Feyre replied, unsure who Az was or if she wanted him rifling through her stuff and accidentally letting them all know who she really was.

Cassian hesitated outside of two large, gold leaf double doors. “We really need this to go well. Az’ll drive you back into town for your things. Don’t tell anyone you’re working on a portrait, okay?”

“I won’t,” Feyre replied, hoping she looked sincere and not guilty. Cassian assessed Feyre one last time, biting his lower lip and then nodded.

“Painter is here!” He called, yanking open the door. Feyre was stunned momentarily by the beauty of the throne room Cassian had lead her into. It was open and airy, with white marble columns that matched the black swirled floors. Unlike the muted halls leading up to the room, the throne room seemed cut from decadence. Her eyes traveled to a gorgeous crystal chandelier overhead twinkling in the bright winter sunlight.

Sitting atop a dais, lounging in a golden throne, the most beautiful man Feyre had ever seen sat up, brushing a piece of lint from his black shirt.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” he told her, rising to his full height. The photos she’d seen of him on the internet didn’t do him justice—he didn’t look real, he was so handsome. He smiled, revealing two perfect rows of white teeth, his eyes so blue they were violet which contrasted nicely with his inky black hair.

She didn’t know what to say so Feyre let her eyes wander the room again, hoping she looked studious and not overwhelmed by how good looking he was.

“No paint?”

“Not today,” she managed to get out. “I’m going to take some pictures and then put together a sketch.” She didn’t have to lie, at least, about her ability to draw. She’d need to go to the local art supply store and get things to work with but Feyre thought she could put together a good portrait of him given enough time. He was certainly easy on the eyes.

He nodded, his gaze blazing and on her. Had anyone ever looked so intently at her in her life? It made her nervous, like he could see through her lies.

“Where do you want me?” He asked, gesturing around the space. His space. He’d be King, she realized…and she was supposed to be writing a story about him, not drawing his face. Maybe she could do both, she reasoned. After all, was it her fault if none of them background checked who came in and out of their lives? He was practically inviting disaster. She’d do a thoughtful, polite write-up, she decided. As an apology for her deception.

“Where would you like to be?”

“Far away,” Rhys admitted with a sigh. “But a long line of portraits have us on the throne and I suppose it would be bad form to defy tradition.”

Feyre gestured for him to sit, and Rhys did, back straight, hands resting on the arm. She pulled out her phone, opened the camera, and immediately began studying the way shadow and light fell on him. There was truly no better study for the human form than Rhysand.

There was something invasive and wrong about the photos she took and yet Feyre took them anyway. She was going to draw him, she promised. Rhysand didn’t move, seemed used to being photographed in this way though to Feyre it all felt very intimate.

“That’s…that’s all I need,” she murmured once she had a few from several different angles. “I can sketch something this evening and you could take a look tomorrow?” He shrugged, rising from his throne. “I don’t care, to be honest…” He looked at her expectantly.

“Feyre. My name is Feyre.”

“Unusual name,” he replied. “Anyway, I don’t care how it looks.”

“Why commission one at all, then?” Feyre snapped without thinking. Rhys raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised.

“Why, indeed? Let me show you to your room.”

“Is that something princes do?” Feyre asked snappishly, strangely annoyed he didn’t care how his portrait turned out. Rhys shrugged.

“This one does, though I could call Cassian back if you’d prefer?”

“He was nice,” Feyre murmured, more to herself. That made Rhysand laugh.

“He’ll be relieved to hear it. Come on, Feyre darling. I have other things I need to do today.”

Feyre nodded, swallowing hard. Following after him had the strangest feeling attached, as though she were walking to more than just a bedroom.

It was as though she walked towards fate.

[belle-keys]

some random YA book opinions: multifandom

- My dream cross-over meetup would be between Matthew and Jesper like there would be bants and partying, what's not to like??? I feel like they'd immediately click as besties

- Nesta is the most screwed-over character I've seen in a while, holy shit like even the narrative of that novel is just there to screw her over as a character, she deserved so much better I could write an essay on dis

- Best book friendship to ever exist is Heronstairs, idc @ me all you like, like this is the kinda bond you just can't replicate

- SJM's fae behave just like characters in ABO fics do like they're the SAME

- Harry Potter is bigger than JKR, like that shit has evolved finely over time, especially with how big the Marauders fandom has become and I think HP should damn well continue to be milked for all it's worth

- what the hell was From Blood and Ash like lol

- Rick Riordan and Cassandra Clare are two of the few authors who've shown they can consistently start and complete multiple compelling fantasy series

- Ngl, the sexy fae era and the sexy witch era are a bit pretentious at times: feels like the sexy vampire era was more self aware

- The Shadowhunter world is fundamentally eurocentric... I mean Cassandra Clare has tried to make it more universal but let's be real, it's slightly too late for OG readers to not recognize that the world was pretty much made to pay homage to the western canon

- I think Ketterdam is an excellent setting, it's meticulously built and quite immersive but the whole Grishaverse itself as a world is quite... well, it's hilarious how different cultures are just smushed together as if they're supposed to mirror our world equitably like lmfaooooo

- Eris' character arc better not be a Rhys part 2 like he has so much potential to be a multidimensional anti-hero or anti-villain but he might just end up being a Rhys part 2 and I hope not cus imma-

- Kanej deserve their hype as a ship. It's not just cus the no-touchy thing, but it's just refreshing to see two characters feel so much for each other while the world goes to chaos and have it be a secondary thing amidst this huge plot... like normally there's a build-up of sexual tension in a romantic relationship but that was absent with Kanej so it was interesting seeing them express affection in other ways

- Shadow & Bone TV series > original trilogy

- Jude and Cardan are a sexy asf couple but I, personally as a person, just do not get how on earth this girl forgave Cardan for everything like I just don't get it but that must be a me thing

Okay yeah, that's all for now I think (these may eventually change lol), feel free to add your own