#nesta loves the hardest

[flowerflamestars]

Timeloop au snippet

A scarce half hour later, Lucien’s morning had wrapped right around itself to the same exact problem. Again, between the abject falsehood of Nesta’s fragile mortal body, and Tamlin, right on the edge of something ruinous. He was staring at the blood on her hands. Not all faeries bled red- even to the human eye there was a distinction in shades. Some fae, born of just enough Spring in them, bled like tree sap, gleaming sticky gold. Thin. Dripping from the white strain of Nesta’s knuckles, a sort of uneasy mixed pink of muddled High Fae heritage. “What,” Tamlin snapped, cold, cold, and faraway, “In the name of all your damned mortal gods, do you think you’re doing?” The game was already up. The game was just beginning, another life, another moment, Nesta’s beautiful face set in a truth she could not entirely act away. Lucien’s heart might have given out, in sheer unremitting fondness. If he wasn’t sick on the grass first. “You promised,” Nesta’s human voice still cut, but she was trying, almost making it, to something softer. Quieter. “You promised. Faeries cannot break their vows, even I know that.” “Tam,” Lucien tried, nausea filling his throat. “You said,” Nesta continued, like he hadn’t spoken at all, “No one would harm him. No harm. How are any of us to survive what it so come if we are not even safe from- from”- Finally, belatedly, Tamlin looked from the wet brick in her hand, yanked from an ancient folly wall, to the crumbled, caved in, blue figure between them. 

[offthepages]

And so, the stars aligned pt. 4

Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader

Summary: After realizing you are his mate. Azriel races back downstairs to tell the rest of the Inner Circle. Spoiler alert- they already knew.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, a very small bit of violence. Let me know if theres anything I missed! a/n: This is unedited, so we aren't talking about it.

Ageless and MDNI

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Masterlist Requests are open!!

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As the door to your room closed, Azriel found himself frozen in place. His heart was still racing. He can feel his soul reaching out to yours, calling for you to return. The one thing that he always wanted, more than anything in the whole world, was just beyond that door. Someone to call his. Someone to be his. To be someone’s. To have a place to belong. But that door was still in the way. And he could tear it off the hinges for its audacity to stand between you and him. He could rip the door open, watching as you looked at him with those big doe eyes of yours. Stammering as you'd try to hide the shock and ask him what's wrong. Only for him to cross the room. Pull you in and kiss you like his very life depended on it. As if you were air, and he was gasping for it. Your love was the tide that pulled him under, all-consuming. But he didn't feel like he was drowning, no. Never. You were his light, his dark, his everything. His salvation. You were perfect. He felt the bond and knew there was someone at the other end of it. Someone who would feel it with time.

And that thought seemed to pull Azriel out of his less-than-sober state. Whatever the mating bond had done to his head had consumed him. Made him unable to think straight, unable to use any common sense- or any sense at all. He needed to step away, needed to stop smelling your scent. His shadows pull him back, gently urging him to give you space. Part of it makes him smile, that they were so eager to protect you. Part of him looks at the shadows and glares. "Traitors." He mumbles, before going down the stairs. His heart heavy as he takes every step. You were so unaware of his feelings. You always had been, you pushed away any feelings for him in favor of Elain. He watched you do it, heard you talking in hushed whispers to Feyre and Nesta about her wellbeing. You used to join them, but then you just…stopped. That's when Elain started flirting more. It broke his heart to see you back down so easily. Azriel knew you didn’t have any friends outside the Inner Circle…and he felt you watch from the windows. How he wanted to reach his hand out to you, share his time with you the way you shared it with your sister…

His footsteps for once are not muffled, nor does he want them to be. It didn't matter who saw him now, he'd let them know he was there to protect you. So, he allows himself to walk naturally, feeling the weight of everything finally. His footsteps heavier with each step. As Azriel enters the room he notices how the party has slowly stopped talking as he enters. His brothers looked the most concerned, slowly they both stood. Az notes the way their gaze moves about his body, checking for injury. Their shoulders are tense as well as if they’re on edge about something. What he didn’t know, so he raises an eyebrow at them. "Azriel?" Rhys's voice is soft, and gentle, as if he is trying to tame a beast.

"Is everything okay?" Cassian asks next. His voice doesn't share the same gentleness that Rhys's did. But for Cassian, that was gentle. Azriel looks at him, Cassian's hazel eyes shining with concern as he steps forward with Rhys.

Azriel doesn't know where the sudden concern is coming from. He tries his hardest to will his face into one of neutrality. "Yes? Everything is fine." He assures them before trying to sidestep them. Rhys and Cassian grab onto his arms to hold him in place. Azriel is just confused. He looks back at Rhys and Cassian. "What?" His voice laced with that very confusion.

"You’re shaking," Rhys answers. "Your hands are clenched. You look ready to snap." He steps back, Cassian doing the same. Azriel looks down, slowly unclenching his hands, realizing that his siphons are swirling with power as well. Looking back up the stairs to see his shadows swirling outside your door, keeping watch for him to ensure your safety. He looks back to Rhys blinking and suddenly- he gets it. He gets why Rhys fell into Mor's arms screaming and crying that Feyre was his mate—understanding all the decisions Rhys made just to ensure her safety. Seeing why Rhys believed in her under that mountain. Understanding why Cassian fought so hard to try and save Nesta from the Cauldron. He understood how the view of the world changed in just a matter of seconds, and…how it felt knowing that they both figured it out before their mates did. How did they do it? How did they deal with the crippling fear that they might reject them? How did keep smiling? How did they keep it from consuming him? Rhys looks back at Cassian, both of them taking another tentative step toward their brother.

"Az?" Cassian's smooth voice, calming voice- he talked to hurt soldiers like that. Azriel knew that voice. Was that what he was now? A soldier on the battlefield again? Did they see him as the scrawny little kid that showed up at camp? At that thought suddenly he broke.

The tears fall quickly, and blindly Azriel reaches out to grab Rhys's shoulder. He hadn't realized the pain he'd been keeping in his heart. He claws at his shirt; wishing that he didn't have one, to begin with. Rhys pulls him in, holding him tightly. “Woah…” Rhys whispers squeezing him tighter. “Woah, we’ve got you Az. You’re okay. We’ve got you…” Cassian rubs his back- and Azriel knows that they're exchanging glances behind his back. But he doesn't care. But what he doesn't expect to hear is Mor.

"Azriel?" Her voice is soft, full of concern. And he looks up from Rhys's shoulder. Looking at Mor with a tear-stained face, his eyes growing puffier by the second as more tears rolled down. She held her arms up for him. Azriel pushed Rhys away, all but running into Mor. Falling into her arms as he cries harder. Mor's embrace is warm, her skin is soft. She was always so warm, like a sunny spring day. She smelt like vanilla and whiskey. Threading her fingers through his hair, brushing out the curls gently as she started to rock him. "Shh, shh, we’ve got you. What happened? Can you tell us what's wrong?" Her voice is so gentle, soft, and caring in a way that only Mor could manage for him. Azriel realized she was being motherly. He reached for a comfort he'd barely known. A mother's embrace, or in Mor's case; a sister's embrace. Pulling away, Mor wipes his eyes. Nodding she looked up at him with her warm, chocolatey eyes.

"She's my mate." He croaks. It felt so good to get out. It felt good to tell someone, pride surging through him. To declare that you were his. He was yours. You were one. Mor's eyes widened, looking back at Amren, Feyre, and Nesta. "She's my mate, Mor. An-and she didn't feel it, now suddenly I feel like I can't breathe. I feel like I'm drowning. I keep reaching for her but she’s not there. I-I’m panicking about her even though I knew she was right upstairs. Everything is racing. I'm in a free fall, my wings won't open and the ground is getting closer. Everything feels so-"

Nesta grabs Azriel's chin. Tilting his head up to look at her, and he expected to see an icy glare. Instead, he's met with an intense understanding. "You are not dying. You are okay. And you need to take a deep breath." She illustrates what she wants him to do by taking a deep breath herself. Azriel finds himself mimicking her actions, suddenly realizing what he had done. He wasn’t supposed to be weak. His tears were pointless, his pain didn’t matter. He stands straighter, clearing his throat. Looking down at the ground to avoid everyone else's gazes. Nesta continues, "You fucking Illyrian's love too hard." She scoffs, her tone laced with a playful amusement. Though there's also so much truth behind it. "Y/n will accept you as her mate soon enough. But you have to give her the space and opportunity to do so. But, for the record. I am very happy that she is your mate. And you better be good to her or I’ll make you suffer.”

“Nesta!” Feyre hisses, elbowing her sister as she scowls at her. But Azriel laughs, it’s short and quiet but it’s a genuine laugh. Everyone looks at him before he pulls both of them into hugs. Feyre squeaks, but holds onto him. Nesta stiffens but pats his back.

“Thank you…” He whispers, pulling away. Azriel shakes his head and sits on the armchair with a sigh. “I…don’t know what came over me.”

Rhys sits on one of the arms, clapping his brother in the back. “Love does strange things to people.”

“Especially in this family.” Amren rolls her eyes as she scans Azriel for any more signs of an emotional outburst. “But, I also know you haven’t cried in a long, long, time Azriel.” She gives the shadowsinger a pointed look.

Cassian sighs and plops next to Azriel’s other side. Ruffling his hair. “You had us worried there for a second. I thought she insulted you or something.” Cassian laughs, Azriel can’t help but smile.

“No…nothing like that.” He whispers.

Nesta goes to Cassian’s side. Immediately sliding under his arm and putting a hand on his chest as she leans into her mate's warmth. “How did it happen?” Nesta asks, her voice full of curiosity. Remembering her love of romance novels- it didn’t shock Azriel that she wanted to hear the details.

Feyre also made her way closer, sitting on the couch closer to Rhys. Tucking her legs under her as she nods excitedly. “Yes! Tell us all the details, it was my personal favorite, hearing Rhys confess.” She looks over at him and winks.

Azriel chuckles and shakes his head. “She seemed…sad.” He starts slowly, closing his eyes to recount. Picturing the way your eyes slowly faded into a blank stare. “So after she announced she was going to bed. I followed her, but I thought she knew. I ended up scaring her, and I felt this…this nagging part of my brain light up. Telling me to apologize over and over again. As if it didn’t like making that look appear on her face. So, I apologized. But, then she just started…laughing. It felt…different than all the other times. I saw this golden glow around her as if the sun had decided to come back up and only shine on her. And she put her hand on my arm-“ He smiles faintly as his fingers gently trace over the spot yours had been. “It felt…like I was seeing the sun for the first time.” His voice is softer than ever. “And she joked about her intentions with me and her laugh. It was…it was like I couldn’t breathe. She leaned into me, laughing so hard she was snorting, touching me and- and just being…happy. Being her. That was the moment. Looking down at her I knew. I wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of my days. I wanted to be the reason for that laugh. I wanted to pick her up, spin her around, and kiss her like a fish needs water…” He smiles to himself as he pictures you again.

“I’ve loved her for so long. But, but that was the moment I knew. I was going to be there for her no matter what. Her laugh is something I’d fight wars over.”

Nesta is grinning, tears brimming her eyes. “I haven’t heard her laugh like that since she met you.” And Azriel’s heart swells with pride again.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next morning as you enter for breakfast everyone’s eyes fall onto you. Blinking at them all you raise your hand to give a shy little wave. “Uh, good morning?”

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” Feyre smiles, Nyx perched on her lap as she offers him a slice of banana. You simply nod at her as you go to take your seat.

Nyx pushes away Feyre’s hand and exclaims, “Titi! Titi!” His little warms going upwards as he bounces in his mother’s lap. You, Nesta, and Elain all exchange glances. Looking at each other in a standoff of who can get to Nyx first. You move first, quickly running around the side of the table that Nesta wasn’t on. But Nesta, the Valkyrie, is quicker. Vaulting over the table- much to Rhys’s chagrin.

“Nesta!” He huffs looking at his plate of food with her handprint in it. Elain sprints around the other side, holding her arms out.

In a split second, darkness enveloped the room. Once it dissipates Azriel stands in the corner holding Nyx up. High above his head as the toddler giggles with glee.“Hello Nyx.” He grins with a triumphant smile. Your legs suddenly feel weak as you look at him. Only Nyx got him to smile like that. You look over at your sisters who are all as gobsmacked as you.

Nesta moves in first, on a mission to get her nephew. “You are not a Titi. So I will take him, please.” She gives an overly sweet smile as she holds her arms out.

Azriel considers for a second, but Nyx is happily playing with one of his siphons on his shoulders. Gently tapping it and watching the magic flow through it. “No, I think he’s content.”

Nesta goes to argue, but Elain steps forward. “Azriel…” She bats her pretty long lashes up at him. “Can I please see him?” She also holds out her hands as she smiles at her nephew.

Nyx again doesn’t respond to her voice. Now trying to munch on the Siphon. “It seems he’s still content.” Azriel shrugs, taking a slice of banana off of Feyre’s plate to give him instead.

It was your turn now and you were determined to win. “Azzy…” Your voice makes him pause. Good, you think. You hold out your arms and bat your eyes at him too. Trying to be as pretty as Elain was. “Let me see my favorite nephew?”

Nesta scoffs, “He’s your only nephew.” You shoot her a glare and look back up at the spymaster.

“Pretty please Az?” You pout, using the little sister privilege you honed. An impenetrable puppy dog face. And much to your delight- and your sister’s annoyance- Azriel crumbles. Earning snickers from around the table, all of which he glares at. Delicately handing Nyx to you and quickly moving as far- far away from you as he can.

Nyx looks up at you and grins. “Titi!” Your eyes shine with brightness and you giggle as you kiss his cheek.

"That's right, Nyx. Titi, the best Titi of all time." You coo, wrinkling your nose at Nesta and Elain. Nesta flips you off as she sits next to Cassian with a huff. And you chuckle as he wraps a wing around her, petting her hair as he offers her a bite of toast. Which she grumpily takes. You smile and sit with Nyx, settling him on your lap as Feyre passes you his plate.

Polite, and not-so-polite conversation takes place. Laughter fills the room and you for once, feel peaceful. Looking around this room filled with so much love. It was- almost too much to bear. But it all comes crashing down as Rhys gets handed a golden envelope. Golden waves were etched into it, along with golden flowers. It caused the conversations to die down as Rhys opened it. You follow his eyes, scanning the page. Watching his eyebrow raise in amusement as he passes the paper to Feyre. "What is it?" Mor asks looking or trying to look over Rhys's shoulder. Cassian stretches as well to try and see what is going on. Feyre holds it closer to her chest as she glares lightly at him. You hold back a snicker as Azriel's shadows loom behind Feyre- also trying to peak.

"It's an invitation," Feyre says simply, nodding as she looks it over again. Suddenly you watch Azriel stiffen.

"From. Who?" He grits out. Your eyebrows knit together in concern. But he doesn't look at you, his golden gaze still focused on Feyre. You could swear that from across the room you saw his eyes get greener. Feyre looks over at him and sighs heavily.

"Tarquin and Tamlin. They're hosting a ball to try and find a wife- or their mate." Feyre explains handing the letter over to Cassian. He greedily takes it, and Nesta pulls it down so she can read it too. Their eyes widened.

"It says they're requesting all unmated females." Cassian looks up at Azriel- almost like they were having a secret conversation. You snatch the letter from Nesta so you can scan it over.

Gasping and biting your lip, you look over at Rhys and Feyre. "Does that mean I can go?" You ask giddily, barely able to keep your excitement in.

Rhys spares a glance at Azriel and then looks back at you. "Would you want too?" His voice is tight. The room falls silent as it waits for your response. But you nod quickly.

"Yes!" You nod quickly, "It's like the fairytales we've read!" She looks over at Azriel, who refuses to look at you. His plate is the only thing that has his interest. But his indifference doesn't sway you. Letting your attention turn back to Rhys and Feyre, "It would be good! Like a show of good faith to send a member of the Night Court! Besides that, I wouldn't go for Tamlin. Not after what he did to you-" You look at Feyre with a gentle smile. Rhys takes hold of her hand, his thumb gently running over her knuckles. "But, I could find my mate there! Or hell I'd even settle for a boyfriend." You try to joke to clear the awkward tension. But all it did was cause Azriel to stand abruptly and walk out. Standing back up you go to follow him, but Nesta takes your hand, shaking her head. Sitting back down as you look at the letter.

"…It would be fun," Feyre says quietly. "We could bring the whole Inner Circle. It gives Amren a reason to see Varian. And we can show Nyx to everyone. You have the shields Hellion taught you, so you can protect us. It would be fun, we should go." She nods determinedly as she looks at her husband. Their eyes glaze over as they speak to one another but you look back at the door Azriel just walked out of. His shadows lingered around as if reporting what Rhys said. He sighed heavily.

"I'll respond with all that are attending." You squeal and rush over to hug him, kissing his cheek.

"You're the best Rhys! Thank you!" And warmth comes back to the room as your sisters smile at you. Immediately bringing up how they plan to doll you up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Rhys's study door swings open as Azriel storms in. His siphons churning with power and the only thing that gives him pause is Feyre sitting on the desk in front of a chair. Rhys flanked her left, Cassian on her right. Amren and Mor are on Rhys's side. Nesta on Cassian's. Azriel glares at Rhys, "What is this."

Feyre points to the chair. "Sit." Azriel crosses his arms in a silent refusal. Feyre raises an eyebrow.

"Azriel we are not your enemy right now." She says gingerly. Trying a gentler approach, as if he would start crying again. His fists clench as he grinds his teeth.

"You are." He says simply. "You're letting her go."

"Azriel you know damn well that we give choices in this court." Rhys snaps, Feyre putting a hand on his chest. "I don't know why you suddenly think you can control her-"

"I know I can't control her." Azriel snaps at Rhysand. Their eyes meet and Azriel grits out, "But she is a mated female. And it is a slap in my face that you consider my mating bond so unimportant that what? Get another fucking Alliance? Like how you were gonna marry Nesta off to Eris."

"Azriel." Cassian snaps, standing to his full height. "You don't get to bring up my mate just because you're pissy." Nesta pulls him back. Her blue/grey eyes meet his as she steps forward. Cassian watched her like a hawk. But Nesta didn't balk.

"I was going to marry Eris because I didn't feel worthy of the love that Cassian was giving me. And the reason Rhysand wants us to go is so that y/n can be happy. Isn't that something you want for her Azriel? You know how we grew up, but did you know that y/n used to lay in our bed and ask me to tell her stories? She'd ask me about balls, what princes were like. She's dreamed of this. Finding her true love over there. So-" Nesta jabs Azriel's chest. "Suck it up."

Azriel's jaw tightened. And then, Rhysand spoke. "You won't be going." The room fell silent.

"What."

"Lucien got the same letter, he's requested that we not bring Elain. Elain is okay with that, they want to take this as an opportunity to get to know each other. You will be here to keep them safe and chaperone for Elain's comfort. You are silent, you are friends with Elain and it will give you time to sort out whatever is going on with your attitude." Rhysand tries to keep his voice even, and clear, end all be all. Azriel waited for the hypocrisy of the moment to hit him, but when it didn't.

"No," Azriel says simply. "No make someone else do it. I am not going to sit here while you cart her around. Pick someone else."

"That's not happening. She hasn't felt the bond yet Azriel. And trust me, I know how hard it is. But I let Feyre go-"

"She's not Feyre. She can't fight. She isn't your mate, she's mine and I have her best interest-"

"You have a possessive interest." Rhys snaps. "She is allowed to make choices."

Azriel looks at Rhysand with disdain. His nose wrinkles in anger and his shadows swirl around him. Siphons flicker as his temper grows. "I didn't say she wasn't." He tries to speak calmly. He was better than this. Azriel didn't need to lose his temper, he didn't even know where this was coming from. No doubt the mating bond, everything involving you made every inch of his skin feel too tight. Like he needed your touch to cool the boiling beneath it. He had normally kept his cool in the face of adversity, he didn't question Rhysand. But when you were in the fold? He couldn't stop it. The images of you coming home with your arms linked with Tarquin or- oh god- Tamlin? The images of how thin Feyre had been when she first arrived flashed in his mind. And then- you. You being that thin, in a gaudy and ugly wedding dress. Big, puffy sleeves and begging him down the bond to save you. "But I want to go with her."

Rhys looks at everyone and sighs. "Azriel. We all decided-"

"You decided? Decided that I wasn't allowed near her?" He growls.

"You all decided what to do with me." Nesta chimes in. Azriel turns to her with a fire in his eyes.

"We decided that because we didn't want to watch you drink yourself into your immortal grave. We wanted you to heal and the only way to get you to do anything, Nesta Archeron, is through spite. Telling you that you have to do something or you must. But even still we didn't separate you from Cassian." Azriel fumed. He had never been like this with anyone. So raw, so angry. Showing his baseline of emotions. He couldn't stop it, everything felt like it was about to boil over. So he looks back to Feyre. "Please. I am begging you, to let me go."

Feyre looks over at Rhys. Rhysand shakes his head. "No. Azriel it will look bad for you to claim her-"

It was a blur. Everything happened so fast. Azriel moved before he knew what he was doing. Everything in him screamed out, at the people whom he called family locking him away once again from something he wanted so badly. And he saw his Father and stepmother. Overseeing his visits with his Mother. Not letting him stay with her no matter how hard he begged. Keeping his wings bound to his back despite the need to fly. All he felt was that red-hot anger. His blood felt like it was scalding under the surface. His skin was simmering and he wasn't sure if he was actually smoking or if it was his shadows that curled around his forearms. His voice felt like there was a vice grip around it. Why?! Why was no one listening to him! Why didn't they understand? He didn't want to control you or tell you that you couldn't do something. He just wanted to be there. All he wanted to do was make sure that you were happy. He didn't want to play babysitter again to another set of mates. He just wanted to watch you shine.

He comes back into his own body to realize that he'd punched Rhysand. His black eye starting to form. Two strong hands were on his elbows as he was forced to sit. Cassian. They were Cassian's hands. Azriel calmed and eased into the chair. Rhys puts a hand to face blinking in shock. Looking at Azriel with one good eye. The room was silent. They could have heard a pin drop miles away. Azriel tried to open his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He hangs his head in shame, waiting for Rhysand to tell him to leave.

"Cauldron boil me." Rhysand laughs and kneels in front of Azriel. "You really think that?" He whispers looking at his brother with sincerity. "That all you are is a babysitter?" Azriel blinks and looks at him with wide eyes. "You said it all. Screamed it right into my head. Made me feel it." He gives him a gentle smile. "Az, that's not what I was trying to say." Rhys sighs heavily and shakes his head. "I didn't think you could handle it. That rage? I understand it. I felt it every day Under the Mountain, and every day when Feyre was with Tamlin. I don't want you to think I don't trust you. But I know it's hard to contain. Case in point-" He points to the black eye.

Azriel swallows thickly, still unable to voice his apology. ' I'm sorry Rhysand. I understand. I don't like it, feeling so angry. The bond just- amplified all of my emotions.' Rhys nods along to what Azriel speaks into his mind.

"It gets easier. For now," He sighs and shakes his head. "It might just be the better idea to bring you along. Being near her should help."

Azriel nods. Still looking down at the ground, and then he feels gentle arms wind around him. Nesta. "Thank you for being my friend." She whispers. Another set of arms wind around him. Feyre.

"Thank you for being our eyes and ears."

Another set of arms. Mor. "Thank you for always protecting me."

More arms. Cassian. "We are your family. And we never want you to feel like you don't matter."

Two more. Rhys. "I am the biggest hypocrite."

"Really." Amren's voice cuts through. But then there is a little scuffle as someone, most likely Mor, pulls Amren into the group hug. He hears her sigh. "…Thank you for punching Rhysand." The group laughs warmly. Maybe everything was going to be alright.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Your arms squeeze Elain tightly. "I'm very excited for you!" You say warmly. "I think you'll be a happier woman when we come back." You wink at her. Elain scuffs and rolls her eyes, but her cheeks redden at the idea.

"Well, I hope you come back with so many stories that I would be jealous." She teases you as she pulls you back and makes you sit on a pink stool. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, she brushes your hair out and helps you put it half up, half down. Something pretty and yet elegant. Finishing she looks at you in the mirror. "You look beautiful."

You grin, shrugging. "Thanks, Elain." Not knowing how to respond. "Let us know how it's going?" You hold up a pinky to her, Elain rolls her eyes and links your pinkies.

"I will write the most boring and mundane letters just to shock you with the truth when you get back." She teases. You feigned hurt before you heard Rhysand call for you. You and your sister share a giddy smile and you rush down the stairs.

The whole Inner Circle stands there with various bags, the 'ball' would be taking place over a week. With dances each night, not all of which were deemed mandatory- only the first and last night were. But you were going to be staying in a newly rebuilt Spring Court. Feyre had been nervous at first, but Lucien helped ease her nerves. Assuring her that they wouldn't be near the Manor and that Tamlin had completely rebuilt. It was almost unrecognizable. But none of that mattered, you were going to be going to every ball you could, dancing the nights away, sleeping in, wearing all the beautiful dresses you could. You were ready to take this ball by storm.

Lucien looked up at Elain, bowing his head. Your sister halted, and you gave her a subtle push toward him. "You look well," Elain whispers.

"As do you." He smiles.

Leaving the two to talk. You look over at Azriel, you haven't talked to Azriel since that morning. And he wasn't at breakfast the next day. So you took this opportunity to cross the room to his side. He looks down at you, giving a small smile in greeting. You smile back, "Azriel." You speak softly, suddenly feeling bashful. You hadn't known why he suddenly stopped coming around you, but you knew that you wanted to remedy it. You wanted him closer to you, you wanted your friend back. "Are you excited?"

Azriel looks at you with a raised eyebrow, his eyes have a glint of amusement in them. "You do realize that you're asking the biggest introvert here if he's excited to go to a ball."

You pout, glaring at him. "…you can lie to me."

That gets a chuckle out of Azriel as he extends a hand to you. "Then I am thrilled to go spend this week somewhere I'm not comfortable." You elbow him as you take his hand.

"Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?" You ask, tilting your head to the side as you step outside. Azriel lets his wings expand, quickly scooping you up into his arms. The others would Winnow to the house, but Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel wanted to fly. And so, Amren uncomfortably held Nyx. The toddler playing with her necklace as Mor got ready to Winnow. Rhysand scooped up Feyre, Cassian held Nesta, and… Azriel held you. Quickly shooting up into the air, a sound between a gasp and a squeal sounded from you. Holding onto Azriel tighter, you feel him hold you tighter before he leans into your ears.

"Just stay close by in case I need you." He answers. You blink up at him before smiling and nodding.

"I'll be right by your side." You promise. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── a/n: I personally hc that the mating bond can be really intense and amplify every emotion- even if it has nothing to do with your mate. So Azriel being so on edge, is just because that man needs a fucking hug. Anyways!! I hope y'all enjoyed!!

tag list: @sidthedollface2 @cat-or-kitten @impossibelle @brunette-barbie1220 @scatteredstardustt @sammanna @cherry-cin @tele86 @judig92 @lana08 @stained-glass-eyes0708 @oucereeng @persephonesalvatore @fightmedraco @juniperberriesaries @whatdoyxumean @harrystyke21 @tenshis-cake @5onedirection5 @bubybubsters @its-sam-allgood @natashachelsea @brieflyclassymortal l @thecraziestcrayon @cherryinsalemverse @sourapplex @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @waggel36 @bunnyred-blog1 @kookie4life @mybestfriendmademe @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @mp-littlebit @caticorn61

[readychilledwine]

Hello lovely! Can I please request more cassian x reader as parents? 🥹

Keep Going

Summary - When your daughter's little wings begin to flutter, Cassian realizes it is time for her to learn to fly

Warnings - children (I've been told I need to make that a warning), Azriel being a menace.

A/N - Some short Cassian fluff to break up the smut. I think most of us have probably watched the tiktoks of Cassian teaching his daughter to fly. This is based on that ❤️

"Come on, baby! Keep going!"

Cassian's praise and shouts could be heard as you approached the training rings of the House of Wind. They had drawn you from reading, along with a little thud that had come earlier as well.

"Don't stop! Come on, baby! You're so close!"

"I can't do it, daddy." You could hear your daughter's strain and instantly began to walk faster, tugging the bond only to be ignored as your mate kept his sole focus on her.

"Yes, you can. Come on, princess. Just keep going. I know it hurts, I know you're getting sore. But keep going, baby."

Had you not been helplessly, truly, and madly in love with Cassian, the sight when you got to the top of the House would have sealed his place in your heart forever. Cassian held your daughter's hands in his. He was planted on the ground as her wings beat erratically, lifting her off slightly before she took a little break panting.

"You are so close, baby," Cassian kneeled down to her, holding her round face in his hands. "Do you want me to fly and hold you by your hands while I'm flying? Maybe getting some wind under your wings will help."

You stepped forward, going to your daughter to rub her back. "You're afraid."

She nodded, fat tears rolling down her face. "What if I get up there and my wings stop and I fall and daddy isn't there to save me?"

You shook your head, wiping the tears from her face. "You're so worried about falling that you have not even thought about the possibility of what happens when you fly." She snuggled into you, listening as you comforted her. "There isn't a single world where daddy isn't here to catch you when you fall."

Cassian joined you two on the ground, his large palm in between her wings. "Flying is one of the hardest things you will ever have to learn to do, princess." He tightened her little white ribbon, her little piece of Auntie Nesta, and grabbed her as she switched to being in his arms.

He continued. "We have to get those wings going, though. Think of how fun it will be to go somewhere with daddy, Uncle Rhys, and Uncle Az without someone carrying you. Or flying with Nyx." She hummed and buried herself into his neck, breathing deeply to surround herself with that scent of fire and freshly fallen snow that had been her comfort for years now.

You looked at Cassian, silent communication passing between the two of you. "You know baby, the sooner you fly, the sooner you get to go to Velaris behind mommy's back and get ice cream with daddy."

They both stiffened, Cassian's eyes comically wide as you cocked your head at him. Your daughter started a bell like giggle. She looked up at your mate, those brown eyes sparkling. "See? Mommy knows everything."

You nodded before mouthing, "everything," to Cassian.

"Maybe you should hold her up supporting her stomach and run with her," a smooth, deep voice came from behind you three. "That's how Nyx learned." Azriel patted your daughter on the head as he walked by, grabbing a few things for a mission and sighed. "Otherwise, I can teach you the way I taught Auntie Fey." The smirk on his face said it all. You thought back to Feyre, bruised and crying from soreness.

"Absolutely not."

"Fuck off, Azriel."

"I wanna learn like Feyfey!"

The three answers all came at the same time, making the shadowsinger smile. "When I get home then."

Cassian glared as he walked off. "You will not be getting taught by Azriel. This is my job."

He picked her up in one smooth motion, following the first advice from the shadowsinger. "Flap those little wings, princess."

A look of determination set across her face, one so similar to Cassian's, as she focused and made her wings move. "Let's do this, daddy."

General taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

[marvelsmylife]

I think I wanna marry you

Pairing: Rhysand x reader 

Plot: Though they had a mating ceremony, Rhysand plans to propose to his lovely mate with the the help from the inner circle.

A/n This is based off of this request. It’s a fun little Rhysand story to make up for all the angst I've been posting lately.

Rhysand always presented himself as a cool, laid-back male, and he was, but that demeanor disappears whenever you’re around him. He frequently thanked the Cauldron that he was gifted you as his mate. Your fun and carefree personality balanced him perfectly, and he knew he would be lost if you weren’t in his life.

One thing he only regretted in his life was the fact that he didn’t give you a big mating ceremony.

Knowing they would be at war with Hybern, Rhysand suggested you have a small mating ceremony with just the two of you and a Priestess.

After the war though, he couldn’t help but feel guilty that you didn’t get the celebration you deserved. He knew you’ve always dreamed of having a big mating ceremony with all your friends, and he felt like he robbed you of that experience. 

That’s when he had the idea to propose to you. He knew it was crazy for him to do that, especially knowing you’d already committed to be by his side. Still, he wanted you to have the celebration you deserved. The only problem was that he was nervous about asking you to marry him.

Mor had to smack some sense into him when he confessed he was scared you wouldn’t agree to marry him. “First of all, you two already had a mating ceremony. A ceremony I’m still bitter you didn’t invite me to. Do you seriously think she’ll say no?” Mor complained to her cousin. Mor never let Rhysand forget how much it hurt her and the rest of the inner circle that they didn’t attend your mating ceremony: “Of course, she’s going to want a wedding ceremony as well. If you need any help with anything, let us know. You know we’d be more than happy to help.”

Rhysand knew she was right and decided to take her up on helping him propose.

He was glad he did because she also managed to rope the rest of their friend to help him propose. Feyre, Nesta, and Elain helped by doing your hair and makeup and getting you ready for what they said was a girl's night. Amren took it upon herself to confirm their dinner reservations at your favorite restaurant, and Mor, Cassian, and Azriel were setting up the post-dinner celebration at Rita’s.

While all of them were working hard to get everything perfect for your surprise, Rhysand was locked in his office trying to write the speech he was going to recite to you before proposing. It took a while, but he was proud of the thoughts he came up with.

Once Amren let Rhysand know everything was set up at the restaurant, he decided to head over and wait. Amren, Cassian, Azriel, and Mor soon joined Rhysand and were pestering him about what he had planned to say to you when you finally arrived. He was about to scold them for annoying him when he noticed you were walking towards the table.

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he took in your surprised expression. “You set this all up for me?” you asked and rushed over to your mate. Rhysand simply nodded at you: “Best.Mate.Ever,” you kissed Rhysand after every word.

You spent the next hour eating, drinking, and enjoying each other's company. Once it was time for dessert, you asked to see the menu so you could choose what you wanted: “Actually, my love, I have something you might want more than what is on this menu,” Rhysand took the menu from your hands and passed it off to Mor.

You stared at Rhysand, confused, before asking: “Are you sure? You know how much I love their desserts.”

Everyone tried their hardest not to laugh at your comment. “Trust me, my love, you will love this.”

Rhysand was about to recite the words he had carefully thought of for the past hour, but they disappeared the second you looked him in the eyes. “I-I,” Rhysand stammered. Are you ok, my love? Rhysand heard you speak to him through the bond: “Yes, I am.”

Taking a sharp breath, Rhysand stood from his chair before kneeling down in front of you: “My darling y/n. You know how much I love you, how much I adore spending every waking moment by your side.” You nodded as you listened to your mate: “I know this is silly, seeing as we already had a mating ceremony, but I love you so much that-” 

You stiffened as you watched Rhysand reach into his coat pocket and pull out a small box: “My beautiful y/n, will you marry me?” Your heart was racing when Rhysand opened the box and revealed a gorgeous ring with the biggest and shiniest diamond you’ve ever seen.

“Yes ! ! !” you exclaimed and tackled Rhysand to the ground out of excitement. You earned gasps from not only your friends but also from others in the restaurant.

Rhysand just chuckled at your reaction before he slipped the ring onto your finger and helped you up. “I’M ENGAGED ! ! !” you flashed your ring to everyone in the restaurant and earned some cheers from them.

“I have another surprise for you,” Rhysand whispered into your ear: “Do you want to go see what it is, or do you still want dessert?”

You furiously shook your head no: “Take me to my other surprise.”

After paying for your dinner, Rhysand took you and your friends to Rita’s: “I paid to rent out Rita’s so we could celebrate our engagement in peace,” Rhysand explained when you realized you were the only ones in the building.

You turned and planted a passionate kiss on your mate's lips before you headed straight to the bar. 

Rhysand had a permanent smile the entire night as he watched you drink, dance, and sing with your friends. “You’re fortunate to have someone like her in your life,” Azriel commented to Rhysand as they watched you and Cassian singing karaoke.

“I know I am,” Rhysand replies: “Gods, I know I am.”

Just as Azriel was about to ask something else, the brothers heard your voice and got their attention: “Rhys, come sing with me ! ! !” you shouted.

Rhysand patted Azriel’s shoulder before joining you on stage and decided to sing a love song in front of your friends.

[autumnshighlady]

Teacher's Pet

Nesta Archeron x female!reader

first part in The Professor Series

summary: Dr. Archeron is the strictest professor you've ever had. No matter how hard you try, you can't get her to praise your work. That is, until she calls you into her office

warnings: smut, power dynamic, mean Nesta Archeron, 18+ only

word count: 3.7k

request: my legs shake just thinking about Professor Nesta x reader. Nesta being a serious, rigid and sadistic teacher. And the student being the typical exemplary student

a/n: this is part one of my professor series! each fic will be on the shorter side so I can get as many characters done as possible. Enjoy!

series playlist on Spotify here

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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You sat in the centre seat at the front row of class, furiously scribbling down notes in your book. Your hand ached with the effort to keep up with the professor’s sharp voice, but you fought through it. The echoing of pens on paper filled the lecture hall, a dull background noise amidst the lecture on classical literature. It was the only class where every single student paid attention and behaved, for fear of suffering the wrath of the icy professor, Dr. Nesta Archeron.

The female was the most feared teacher in Velaris, known for her sharp tongue, tough grading, and zero tolerance policy for bullshit. She commanded the classroom like a general over an army, with complete and utter authority. She was also the hardest one to get praise from, much to your disappointment. You were a straight-A student, always at the top of your class. Your teachers had always loved you, often commenting on your intelligence and eagerness to learn. 

All except Dr. Archeron.

No matter how hard you tried, you were unable to get a single positive comment from her. The most you’d gotten was a nod of her head, and even that earned you hushed congratulations from your classmates around you. Therefore, you had made it your mission to get one compliment from her before you graduated. And you had three months left, and so far nothing.

It was particularly difficult to concentrate today, however. The professor had her hair done up in its usual coronet, a few loose strands framing her sharp face. She was wearing a black turtleneck that hugged her curves, forcing you to keep your eyes on her face. It was paired with a dark brown pencil skirt and sheer black tight underneath, topped off with knee high black boots. In other words, she looked stunning. Well, she looked that way every day, but for some reason today your brain decided to fixate on it even more.

God, those boots made you want to just drop to your knees in front of her–

“Miss (Y/N).” A familiar sharp voice snapped you out of your trance, making you look up. Dr. Archeron was staring down at you, an unimpressed scowl written across her features.

“Yes, ma’am?” You asked, voice quiet. Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and you just wanted to crawl under the desk beneath her grey gaze.

“Did you even hear my question, or were you too busy daydreaming?” She demanded, arms crossed.

“No ma’am.” You answered sheepishly, wringing your hands together. “If you could possibly repeat–”

She cut you off, voice as cold as ancient stone. “No. This is the third time I’ve caught you distracted in this class today. Since I’m clearly distracting you from daydreaming, you have no reason to be here.”

Your heart dropped in your stomach. Never before had a teacher spoken to you this harshly. It made tears well up in your eyes. “Professor–” You began to protest, but were interrupted once again.

“Leave, now. See me in my office at 5pm.” She did not spare you a single glance as she turned away to resume the lecture.

Fighting back the tears, you gathered your stuff as hastily as possible. Nearly tripping over your bag, you scurried out of the classroom, letting the door slam aggressively behind you. It was childish, and you regretted it immediately once you realised you’d have to face the professor again later.

5pm was a strange time to meet in her office, you thought to yourself. Normally most professors have left campus by then, but you didn’t think much of it. Tossing your stuff on a nearby bench, you sat down and put your head in your hands. You couldn’t hold the tears back any longer, and they began to fall down your face. You spent the entire semester trying to get Dr. Archeron to like you, and you had just blown it. All because your stupid brain got distracted by how good she looked. You were no better than a man.

“Hey, doll.” The cheerful voice of the archival studies professor, Dr. Helion, sounded a few feet away.

You quickly wiped your tears, trying hard as possible to hide the evidence of your crying before lifting your head to meet his bright gaze. “Hi, Dr. Helion.” You said, hoping he was on his way to a meeting or something and would pass by.

The professor paused, cocking his head. “What’s wrong, sugar?”

His kind voice broke your composure, and you began crying again. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. Helion was not phased, however. He took a seat next to you, placing a large hand on your shoulder. “It’s ok.” He murmured, rubbing your back. “Let it out.”

After a few minutes of sobbing underneath the professor’s touch, you finally caught your breath. You felt a little better having cried – Dr. Helion was the go-to professor for informal life advice. He was popular amongst the students not just for his stunningly good looks, but his wisdom. You knew you weren’t the first student to cry on his shoulder, and wouldn’t be the last.

“So,” He said. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“My literature class,” You mumbled, wiping your hair from your face. “I got kicked out.”

Dr. Helion frowned. “Kicked out? What’d you do, kill someone in the middle of class? You’re my best student!

You laughed. “I think I’d feel better if I had killed someone and gotten kicked out. She just… Dr. Archeron got so mad because I missed her question. I don’t think I deserved to be kicked out for that. I have to go see her in her office later today, I’m worried she’s going to fail me or something.”

Dr. Helion sighed, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “That’s fair. Dr. Archeron is tough, that’s for sure. See what she has to say when you meet with her, then give her your side of the story. She’s strict, but reasonable. Don’t let it get to you. You’re a brilliant student.”

You smiled at him, the anxiety in your stomach easing up at his comfort. “Thank you, professor.”

“Anytime.” He stood up and began to walk away, but turned to face you one last time. “Just between you and me, she likes you. That’s why she was so tough on you. She wants you to succeed.” Helion flashed you a wink before departing down the corridor, leaving you more confused than ever.

Dr. Archeron liked you? Enough to mention it to Dr. Helion? It seemed like she hated you just as much as any other student. It only made your nervousness come back as you checked the time, groaning when you realised you had six hours to kill before your meeting with Dr. Archeron. Literature was your only class for the day, and you lived all the way on the other side of the city. It wasn’t worth the long trek there and back, so you decided to find something to eat and review next week’s readings while you waited.

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

Finally, 4:55pm came. You checked your outfit one last time in the bathroom mirror. You donned a simple pair of leggings with a low-cut red tank top that made your boobs look good. A soft grey cardigan was draped over your shoulders, your hair left down and framing your face. You normally tried to look a bit less casual, but today was not your day it seemed. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves you took the steps down the hallway to Dr. Archeron’s office door.

4:58pm.

You paced back and forth outside her door, overthinking. You weren’t sure if you should wait two minutes in case she was busy, or if you should knock early. At this point, you didn’t want to do anything to risk her wrath again, so you continued to pace until you heard a stern, “Come in, (Y/N).”

Sighing, you pushed open the door and stepped inside Dr. Archeron’s office. It was a beautiful space – rich, wooden shelves with hundreds of old books lining them, a large green sofa with plush white pillows at either end, and a beige rug in front of the desk that adorned the centre of the room. The professor didn’t look up as you closed the door behind you. “Were you trying to make a hole in the floor? I could hear you pacing from in here.”

“Apologies, professor.” You muttered, taking a seat in the armchair across the desk.

“Speak up.” She demanded, still not sparing you a glance as she continued writing something on a piece of paper.

“I…” Your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. You were at a loss – normally you excelled in conversation with professors, the skill coming naturally to you. But your throat was dry, and no words came out.

Finally, Dr. Archeron looked up at you. Her grey eyes met yours, utterly unflinching. “You’re nervous.” She stated rather than asked.

You paused the wringing of your hands. “No–”

“Let’s not lie to each other, shall we?” The professor said, putting down her pen and resting her elbows on the desk. “I’ll try again. You’re nervous.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You make me nervous.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. You felt your face getting red again. To your surprise, the corner of Dr. Archeron’s lip twitched.

“Because I’m a strict, heartless professor?” She said casually. “I know my reputation. I’m proud of it. It gets students to obey me. I’ve heard many great things about you, miss (Y/N). You’re a star student. Perhaps I make you nervous because I don’t sing praises in your ear for everything you do?”

You flinched at her harshness. It felt like an insult, like she was mocking you for being praised so much. Defeated, you admitted a quiet “Yes.”

You looked down at your hands as the sound of a chair scraping on the floor echoed throughout the room. High heels clacked on the wood as the professor walked around to the front of her desk. She was standing less than two feet away from you. “Look at me.” She said sternly. You obliged, lifting your chin up to meet her gaze. She stared down at you with a level of softness you hadn’t seen before. Her brows weren’t furrowed in disappointment, but relaxed in their natural arched position.

“Listen to me closely,” She said. “You do not need praise from me. You know why? Because you’re a good student and you know it. You don’t need it validated by me. Have confidence in your own intelligence and capabilities. A female as smart as you shouldn’t be reduced to tears just from me sending her out of class for zoning out.”

You sucked in a breath at her words. They were harsh, yes, but kind in their own way. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at her compliment, which was redundant to her point but you let it slide. “Thanks.” You said quietly, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“Which brings me back to why you’re here in the first place.” Dr. Archeron continued, crossing her arms. “You zoned out three times today. You’ve been doing that lately and I want to know why. Is my content boring or do I just make you that nervous?”

“Your content isn’t boring, ma’am.” You said quickly.

She smirked, which unsettled you. “So it’s the second one then?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it. You had no idea what to say – either you denied it, and then had to come up with a bullshit reason why you were zoning out; or you admit the humiliating reason why your attention was drifting off to fantasyland where you were bent over Dr. Archeron’s desk and letting her have her way with you. “No–” You began.

“I thought you were going to be a good girl and be honest with me.” 

Your thoughts came to a screeching halt as her words hit you. Good girl, the phrase that was your unfortunate weak point. It seemed your professor knew it too, the way her smirk deepened at your reaction. “That’s what I thought.” She said, pride seeping into her voice.

You wanted to drop dead right then and there. There was no way you were getting out of this – she KNEW about your crush on her. You could tell she had figured it out a while ago, and was cornering you now to confirm it. You began spewing apologies faster than your brain could comprehend. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean–”

“I wouldn’t want your…. nervousness, let’s call it,” Dr. Archeron hummed, emphasising the word ‘nervousness’ in a mocking way. “To get in the way of your learning. Looks like it’s my responsibility to get you to relax around me.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She placed a finger to your lips, shushing you. “Stand up.” She ordered. You obliged, pushing the chair back and letting the cardigan fall off your arms as you stood up. The room suddenly felt much smaller as Dr. Archeron took a step towards you. Her face was inches from yours, and you could smell her sweet scent around you.

“Dr. Archeron…” You whispered, not sure what you were asking.

“Nesta.” She corrected, voice gentle. “In here, you can call me Nesta.”

“Nesta.” You said, experimenting with the sound of her name on your tongue. You had never even dreamed of calling her by her first name. In all your wildest fantasies, you had only addressed her as ‘ma’am’ or ‘professor’. Never this intimate.

She took another step closer, her lips now centimetres from yours. “If you do not want this, you may leave at any time and we will never speak of it again.” She said calmly. “I will not hold you to anything.”

“Please,” Was all your dry mouth was able to muster. Thankfully, Nesta understood what you needed, and pressed her lips to yours. 

They were the softest lips you had ever kissed, tasting like spiced red wine against your tongue as you melted into her mouth. Nesta grabbed your hands and placed them on her waist, allowing you to touch her. “Relax.” She muttered against your lips. You squeezed her hip gently, and she groaned into your mouth, pleased. 

Nesta reached up and cupped your jaw in her slender hands, deepening the kiss further. Gods, you had never been kissed like this before. The world spun around you as you eagerly opened your mouth up to her, letting her tongue explore wherever it wished. You whined when her lips eventually left yours, gasping for breath.

“Don’t pout.” She scolded, reaching down and grabbing the bottom of your tank top. “Lift up your arms.”

You did so, allowing her to pull the tank top over your head and discard it somewhere on the floor. You had opted to go braless today, leaving your breasts exposed to the warm air of the office. Wetness pooled between your legs as Nesta shamelessly drank in your topless figure, her grey eyes darkening.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me and let me take care of you.” She said huskily. “I want you to relax around me. It’s your reward for being my top student.”

You nodded, reaching to grab her waist again. You needed her closer. Nesta obliged, but walked you back until your legs hit the large green sofa, forcing you to sit down. Nesta followed suit, landing beside you and wasting no time in bringing her hands up to your breasts to squeeze as her lips attached themselves to your neck. You whimpered, arching up into her touch. Her hands were strong, kneading at the flesh of your breasts as she sucked marks on your neck that sent a tingle up your spine and heat between your legs.

“That’s it, pet.” She purred. “Let me hear those pretty noises.”

You bit your lip, worried about any lingering students or staff hearing the noises you so desperately wanted to make. Nesta sensed your hesitation and brought her mouth down to your nipple, giving it a harsh suck and causing you to cry out. “That’s more like it.” She said, satisfied. You gripped her shoulders as she worked her mouth on your breast, biting and sucking and kissing before she moved to the other one.

Without thinking, you bucked your hips in the air, yearning for some relief. Nesta released your right breast with a lewd popping noise. “Desperate already, are we?” She teased, trailing a finger down your stomach to the top of your leggings. “Normally I’d have you on your knees begging for it, since you didn’t listen to me several times today. But just this once, I’ll let it slide. You’ll learn my rules soon enough.”

You lifted your hips, granting her access to pull your leggings and panties off in one go. You were instantly naked on her couch, the slick between your legs visible. Nesta unabashedly stared down at your newly exposed pussy, licking her lips like a cat. “My, my, you’re soaked, pet. Is that all for me?” She cooed, running a finger lightly over your slit.

“Yes,” You gasped at her touch. “All for you.”

Seemingly pleased with your eager answer, Nesta kissed your lips once again, muffling your moans as she gathered your wetness on her fingers and rubbed your clit. Your body sang in response, her hand applying just enough pressure to take the edge off but not enough to push you towards the edge. You had a death grip on the couch cushion, toes curling as your fantasies unfolded before you. 

After rubbing your clit for a few minutes, Nesta harshly pushed you into the couch so you were laying down, head propped up on one and while your lower body was just at the edge. She kissed her way down your chest, then your stomach, then her lips hovered above your core. “Beg.” She demanded sternly.

“What?” You breathed heavily. “But you said–”

“I changed my mind. You make such pretty sounds. I want you to beg me to eat you out.”

“Please…” You whimpered, closing your eyes.

“Do better. And look at me while you beg.”

You opened your eyes and groaned at the sight of Nesta’s face less than an inch away from where you wanted it most. “Please, Nesta.” You begged. “Please touch me. Please eat my pussy, I’m begging. I need you, please.”

“Much better.” Nesta said before lowering her head and licking up your slit. You let out a deep moan, back arching into her touch. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around her body, pulling her closer and causing her to chuckle against you, which sent vibrations down your legs. Her golden brown hair was glowing in the light from all the different candles in the room, making her look like a goddess kneeling before you, a mere mortal in comparison. Nesta’s tongue was as skilled as it was sharp, flicking against your clit in a way that made your legs involuntarily twitch.

The room was filled with lewd slurping sounds and moans. In the back of your mind, you wondered if anyone could hear you. Surely, most staff were gone by now, having headed home for the weekend. Any remaining students would be in the other building studying for the last few hours. But you couldn’t deny that the possibility of someone hearing the noise from Nesta’s office excited you. You were a good student, never in a million years did you think that you’d be naked in a teacher’s office with your legs spread for them.

Two of Nesta’s fingers slipped inside of you, curling upwards and instantly finding that spot that made you see stars. Your hand reached down and grabbed her hair, fingers messing tangling in her perfect braid. You whimpered – her tongue and fingers felt so good, you weren’t sure how long you could hold off your climax. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, with Nesta between your legs and your head thrown back in pleasure on her couch. But that familiar tension began to build up in your stomach, and your breaths began shortening.

“That’s it, pet.” Nesta muttered against your clit, her hot breath on the bundle of nerves intensifying the pleasure. “Be a good girl for me and cum. Let yourself go.”

Minutes later, you felt your legs twitch as the coil in your abdomen finally snapped, sending your release barrelling through your body. You moaned out Nesta’s name, tightening your grip on her hair and bucking your hips into her face. The world spun around you, falling away as you got lost in your pleasure. Your clit began oversensitive beneath her mouth as she came down from your high, sending waves of fuzziness through your legs.

You panted heavily as Nesta finally pulled her lips and fingers from your cunt, opening your eyes and watching in awe as she stuck her fingers in her mouth and sucked the remaining juices off. “You taste as sweet as you look.” She purred, planting a kiss on your lips before striding over to where your clothes had been discarded. All you could do was lay there, gathering your bearings and wondering if it was all just a dream.

With a tenderness you didn’t know she possessed, Nesta helped you get dressed. She gently pulled the leggings on, and eased your arm through the armholes of the tank top while you pulled it down. Once she finished draping your cardigan over your shoulders, she stopped back, her face smug. “I expect now you’ll be less nervous around me, won’t you?” She said coolly. 

You couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. “Yes, I think so.”

Nesta folded her arms. “Good, but don’t think this gives you a free pass for anything. I still expect the best from you, whether I praise you for it or not. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled wickedly, returning to her seat at her desk and picking up a pencil, continuing her work. Save for the now messy coronet hair, she looked exactly as she had when you first walked in. “Good. Now get out of my office.”

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Nevermind (ao3)

Twelve months to the day since she and Elain were thrown in the Cauldron, Nesta finds herself at one of Feyre’s dinner parties, trying to wrestle with an entire year’s worth of grief— until Cassian holds out a hand. (For @nestaarcheronweek day 2)

“I fell out of love again, not with you but with living in general, and I lost a lot of friends, never mind. Cause I’ve been on a losing streak, my heart’s made of stone, and I can’t trust my own damn feet to show me the right way home.” - Nevermind, Deaf Havana

It was the laughter that rankled the most.

That stung as it echoed off the crystal wine glasses and polished silver knives that lay at intervals along the grand mahogany table; glittering peals of it reverberating as bottles were uncorked and priceless wine was poured as liberally as water. Edged in the soft evening light, their joy was bright and bold and loud and warm, but as the dark crimson liquid licked the sides of her glass when someone filled it, Nesta Archeron could do nothing but sit frozen in the chair set out for her in Feyre’s expensive new house, watching the wine settle in her glass, trying not to think of how much it resembled freshly spilled blood. 

There was no air in that expansive dining room trimmed with wealth and filled with golden light and laughter, no way to breathe, and as Nesta felt herself slowly suffocate, their laughter cut and pierced her skin like an entire quiver of arrows shot from seven different bows. Each one hit their mark; each one made her bleed. 

With a hand she forced steady, she reached for the wine and lifted it to her lips, praying she might find some relief at the bottom regardless of… well, everything.

She wished they’d given her whiskey instead.

Cheap wine and strong liquor— that’s what Nesta had grown used to these past months. What she wantedmore than fine wine and elegant dinners pierced with laughter she couldn’t share. But then— when had it ever really mattered what she wanted anyway? When had it ever made a difference? 

This wine certainly wasn’t cheap. It was rich and heady, the taste lingering on her tongue and coating the back of her throat, so thick she couldn’t breathe. It clung to the side of her glass as she lowered her hand, a smear of red staining the crystal that had her stomach churning and her throat threatening to close. Blood— did none of them notice, how much it looked like blood? It had her hearing not laughter but screams— had her tasting iron and recalling the way the blood had pooled between her fingers and collected between her knuckles only a handful of months ago. 

Around the stem of her wine glass, her fingers trembled.

So little time had passed since the battle that had made an orphan of her, and yet…

They laughed.

Still, they laughed.

It was why, in the time since they had walked away from that battlefield alive if not entirely intact, Nesta had done everything in her power to distance herself from her sister and her newfound family. She had found an apartment on the other side of the city, as far from Feyre’s new house as she could get, and most nights she tried her hardest to avoid Rhysand and the members of his Inner Circle, seeking solace instead in dive bars— trying to find it in the arms of strangers whose names she never learned and whose faces she wouldn’t remember when the sun came up.

But this night… 

This night was different. 

The wine soured on her tongue, the sound of their laughter almost making her flinch. It was twelve months to the day since she and Elain had been forced into that Cauldron— twelve months since she had been broken apart so irrevocably that she didn’t think that there was a hope in hell of putting her back together again. It was the only reason - the only reason - why she had accepted Feyre’s weekly invitation to dinner when so many others had gone ignored. Why Nesta had crossed the river and stood in that grand, echoing entrance hall, looking up at portraits of damn near everyone Feyre had ever met, and finding that the only absence was her own. 

The familiar hole in her chest had widened, yawned and gaped until it threatened to swallow her, and on this brutal anniversary she had thought that she might want, for once, to be near the only people who might understand the significance of it. Who might remember what day it was too.

She’d realised her mistake as soon as she stepped over the threshold.

Elain had been holding a cake on a silver stand, emerging victorious from the kitchen and smiling as she made her way to the dining room, where the cake now sat proudly in the centre of the table. Elain always makes dessert, Feyre had whispered as Nesta stood motionless in the doorway, trying to catch Elain’s eye and hoping to find—

What?

The same pain, reflected back at her in eyes she knew as well as her own? Some flicker of understanding?

Feyre had patted Nesta on the arm and slipped away to the sitting room, leading her to the space warmed by the glow of the fire and softened by the sound of laughter. But Nesta couldn’t find it in her to make her lips bend into a smile, couldn’t force a spark into her eyes. When Elain returned, and when Rhysand complimented the cake, her sister had blushed and dipped her chin, batting away the kind words with a soft smile and a demure tilt of her head. All the while Nesta sat in her chair, blinking, trying not to feel like a ghost that had stumbled and sat, unseen and unnoticed, at a stranger’s dinner party.

The laughter rose now, filling the dining room until the space was bursting with it, their joy pushing at the seams until it felt like Nesta would break beneath the pressure. As if from a great distance she heard Amren make some dry, cutting comment that she was too far gone to fully comprehend, and Azriel’s retort was a low, dark whisper across the silverware that had Mor’s laughter pealing all over again, like the ringing of a church bell. 

Nesta’s hand tightened on her wine glass.

Did they not realise— did they not see? Or was she just screaming into the void, her pain and her anguish swallowed by their laughter?

The grief was a collar around her neck, tightening with every breath and dragging her beneath the surface whenever she was reminded that this place was not her home, this life not one that she had chosen. When she looked in the mirror and glimpsed her reflection, Nesta saw elegantly arched ears and eyes that glinted silver and she mourned every. damned. time. On the rare occasions she managed a smile, her lips felt absurdly weighty, the curvature forced and unwieldy, too unnatural to be believable given that her chest was still so empty and hollow.

And none of them noticed.

It hurt.

Every breath hurt— still. They had told her it would get better with time, that she would learn to heal, but it hadn’t, she hadn’t, and all she had come to realise was that her anger and her sorrow and her pain could not be parcelled away, couldn’t fit neatly into their little box. It had teeth— teeth and claws and a taste for blood, and it was tearing her apart, day by day by fucking day.

But it was invisible to them, because they had ticked off the days, the weeks turning to months, and now that a full year had passed… Nesta had, apparently, sailed right past the point of her pain being acceptable.

She gritted her teeth now, the meaningless and inane babble making her want to take her fork and drive it through Rhysand’s neck. If any of them spoke to her, she didn’t hear it. Didn’t register it. Instead she sat with her back straight, pushing around the food on her plate and ignoring Mor’s disapproving glance when she barely ate a mouthful and chose, instead, to drain her sanguineous wine.

A silent scream began to build in her chest, one that threatened to cleave her in two.

The laughter grew louder, another bottle of wine was opened, and for all the size of the great dining room in Feyre’s new home, the walls seemed to be closing in, the air suddenly thin as ribbons of ice crawled up Nesta’s spine. When the food was cleared away, Nesta saw as if through water when Feyre pushed away from the table, lifting her glass and suggesting that they move to the sitting room for a while before returning later for Elain’s cake.

She didn’t hear the murmurs of agreement or the clink of glasses as her sister’s family got to their feet. She didn’t hear the scrape of the chairs against the hardwood floors - not even her own - and as the rest of them departed for one of the luxurious sitting rooms overlooking the lawns, Nesta curled a hand around the back of her chair as she stood, fingers curling painfully into the carved wood. 

“Nesta?”

Feyre’s voice drifted to her as she placed a hand on Nesta’s arm, but Nesta didn’t feel any warmth or kindness in her sister’s touch— felt only the icy kiss of the Cauldron and the hands that had held her captive in that throne room— a bruising grip that had held her down before water closed over her head, before her blood had boiled and her bones had shattered. 

The memory slammed into her, made her flinch. 

Against the onslaught Nesta took a breath, fixing her eyes on the windows and the night sky beyond, dark and clouded over, without a single star visible in the sky overhead. She looked into the impenetrable black, like a mirror to her soul.

“I’ll join you in a minute,” she managed after a long silence, her voice straining against the words. 

Slowly, Feyre nodded.

She drew her hand away and looked once at her eldest sister before turning for the door, and as the sound of Feyre’s retreating footsteps grew distant, Nesta found herself standing alone and motionless before the window, looking at her reflection and mourning the life she had lived twelve months ago.

A life where she had a father still, even if he had been absent.

A life where she woke each morning and recognised her face in the mirror; where there was a path laid before that she knew she could follow. A human, mortal path.

Nesta caught sight of her eyes reflected back at her in the glass, dark and humourless, as cold and as empty as a void. From the sitting room the laughter echoed still, Mor’s voice louder than the rest as she told some ridiculous, raucous story that had Rhysand shouting something in good-natured protest, that had Feyre gasping a laugh as she allowed herself to be regaled by some tale from her husband’s past.

Nesta wondered if she would ever laugh again— ever find a reason to smile. 

She had never felt more out of place than she did now, with her arms wrapped tight around herself as she stood alone, listening to the laughter and the joy of a family she would never be a part of. 

A mistake— it had been a mistake to come tonight.

She closed her eyes, wondering how much scorn she would receive if she left right now, without saying goodbye. Glasses clinked in the sitting room, and it was almost enough to make her dart for the kitchen and the door that she knew would take her outside, but before she could commit herself to running away, the sound of footsteps approaching made her open her eyes again. Looking at the dining room reflected back at her through the windows, Nesta didn’t bother to turn as the door was opened again, letting in another sharp slice of the mirth beyond. 

Cassian hesitated in the doorway.

Through the glass Nesta watched as he stood, lingering and drawing no nearer, even though his eyes had found her in an instant— had snapped to her, like seeking her out was the only thing he was good at. Without pause, without fear, he met her gaze in the window’s reflection, standing a handful of feet behind her as the heart in Nesta’s chest twisted painfully. 

“There you are,” he said gently. “I wondered where you’d got to.”

He stood with his hands in his pockets, a stance so casual that Nesta could have forgiven herself for forgetting that he was a warrior born and bred, as ruthless as they come, with hands even more bloodstained than her own. The hair hung to his shoulders in a mass of haphazard curls, and the ruby earring he wore caught in the low light as he canted his head to the side, studying her with eyes that held no humour anymore, no hint of jest.

She wished now that Feyre had left the wine behind.

Cassian’s eyes searched hers in the reflection, taking in the hollows of her cheeks and the skin that she knew was too pale, too wan. His eyebrows inched together, a furrow forming in his brow as he took in the tracery of grief left behind, and when his throat bobbed with a swallow, something like concern alighted across his face. The scar slicing through his eyebrow was thrown into relief as his head tilted, his jaw tight as he looked her over, and something sparked in his eyes that she couldn’t bear, something so ardent and sincere that it made the hollow ache in her chest spread until she could feel it in her toes. 

She didn’t know what to do with it. How to handle it. 

So Nesta turned sharply on her heel, whirling to face him and taking some small pleasure in the fact that his eyes widened— that she had managed to surprise him. 

“You don’t want to join us in the sitting room?” he asked, his voice slow and careful. Like he was sizing up an opponent for battle.

Nesta snorted.

Regret glimmered in his eyes, edged with just the barest hint of sorrow, but it was there and gone in an instant. The hazel darkened, and Nesta felt the anger and pain that simmered beneath her skin extending its claws like a beast stretching languorous before the hunt. 

“Why should I?” she asked, poison seeping into her tone— poison as lethal to her as it was to him. Part of her knew she would regret it later, regretted it already, but she couldn’t hold back the tide of her grief alone. It was easier to let it swallow her, to let it drown her— easier to feed the anger than feel the pain, and so she lifted a chin and nodded to the doorway and the sitting room beyond, her lip curling on a sneer that only a small part of her tried and failed to fight. “So I can hear more tales about how wonderful your lives have been?”

Cassian’s eyes didn’t widen this time, like he’d expected every harsh word that had fallen from her lips. But he didn’t draw back— Cassian remained, resolute, with his face blank as Nesta’s arms tightened around her middle, as though her grip was the only thing holding her together. For half a moment she thought she saw his eyes soften— thought she saw him reach the same conclusion.

“So you can sit beside your sisters and remember what it is to be loved by them,” he suggested instead, removing one hand from his pocket and extending it smoothly out towards her. He caught her eye and raised an eyebrow, splaying his fingers like all he wanted was for her to take his hand and let her fingers slip between the gaps he’d left in his. 

Nesta’s heart twisted again, and she thought that maybe - maybe - a part of her might want that, too. 

A pity then, she thought dryly, that she couldn’t see beyond the tangled mess of emotions that were churning up her chest like dried earth. That she couldn’t reach beyond the shroud of grief to accept the hand that he offered. 

She was silent for a moment, not quite knowing the words to say. His hand hung in the air between them, not quite enough to close the gap, and she was acutely aware that before her was a man who had thrown his life before hers, who had laid his head in her lap and grasped her hand as he lay dying. A man that she had barely seen since, who had started the hours and days after the battle by giving her space, and had never quite managed to stop. The distance between them was so great now that Nesta had no idea how to bridge it. 

And then—

“I know what day it is, Nes,” he said quietly.

He made the nickname soft, breathed it like it could somehow belong to someone with a tongue as sharp as hers. His lips parted as his eyes fluttered, his gaze drifting down, and gods, it was as much of a hand extended out to her as the fingers he still had stretching towards her, a bridge offered when she couldn’t find one herself. Nesta had stilled by the windows, immovable as stone, but when her eyes shifted from his outstretched hand to the eyes that he had fixed on hers…

She had never seen his hazel gaze so earnest. 

It was almost enough to make her weep, forcing apart the cracks in her chest with enough verocity to leave her in splinters. But Cassian didn’t blink, didn’t shy away from her, and when she said nothing, he only took a single step towards her. 

“I know what it is to grieve, you know,” he added softly, in a voice hardly more than a whisper. “I know what it is to mourn.”

The laughter from the sitting room grew louder, and Nesta felt her eyes close against it, like she might protect herself from it if she could only pretend she was somewhere else entirely. She heard the rustle as Cassian’s wings spread a little, and part of her wondered if he’d thought he might extend those wings and shield her, blocking out the entire world. Part of her wished he would. 

“Do you?” she managed as she opened her eyes again, tilting her head in a challenge that wasn’t half as sharp as she had intended. His eyes softened. “Do they?”

“Yes,” he answered simply. “But they don’t allow their pain to morph them into something else—“

“How dare you—“

“Nes.” He dared another step, eyes wide, lips parted. A plea shone in his eyes, edged with desperation. “Please.”

Nesta felt her lip curl, falling back on the all-too familiar anger that served as her shield— the defence she flung up to keep them all from looking at her too closely, from seeing just how much she had been torn apart that day twelve months ago. Just how much she’d been raked apart every day since.

“Please what?”

Cassian didn’t back away, and in the face of her barbed words he only took another breath, as if to tell her he understood— and he wasn’t afraid.

“Please let me help you. Let me do something. Anything.”

There it was again— the bridge he offered, the path back to the surface.

“You think after all these years I don’t know what you’re going through? That I don’t see it?” Cassian dropped his hand at last, curling it into a fist and bringing it above his heart. “That I haven’t been standing exactly where you’re standing right now, facing down the same damn thing?”

The beast inside her bared its teeth, claws raking down her spine. It begged to be set loose again, to snap and bite and lash out and even the slightest provocation, but…

Gods, she was tired.

So, so, tired.

“I can’t sit there and pretend,” she said at last, her voice tight in her throat. She nodded to the sitting room, to the laughter still drifting through the walls. “Just because a year has passed doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly made my peace with any of this.”

“I know,” Cassian said smoothly, reaching out his hand once again. He didn’t wait for her to accept him this time, and there was no hesitation or second-guessing as he took her hand in his and closed his fingers tight around her own. His eyes burned, his face lined with the kind of sorrow that Nesta knew would be etched across her own too, and she wanted to sob, wanted to crumble. But for once there was a crack in the darkness, a sliver of light pushing against the black and begging to be let in, and as Nesta’s fingers slid home between his, she let his warmth ground her just enough to pull her back from the edge— enough to let his light filter through the gaps. 

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he whispered, and just like that… 

Suddenly it felt like the weight she had carried alone for so long was shouldered by him too. Like he took a portion of it, eased the burden with nothing but a squeeze of his hand and a look in his eyes that said that even now, he wouldn’t forsake her.

And it didn’t fix everything - far from it - but she hadn’t realised how powerful it was to have someone there beside her, to take her hand when the darkness got too much, when the ache was too deep and the world too heavy. Somehow the teeth tearing her apart felt a little less sharp, the claws a little more dulled than usual; the beast calmed if not placated. The pain didn’t vanish,  but it was easier to bear somehow, and for the first time in twelve months, Nesta could see beyond her grief to the world beyond. 

Cassian’s fingers curled around her own, his grip tight, like he was loath to let her go lest she slip away into shadow again.

“Why?” she asked, looking down at their entwined hands. “Why do you remember when they don’t?”

Cassian shook his head. “They remember,” he said softly. “Elain remembers.” He nodded to the cake still sitting on the table, waiting to be cut after dinner. “Why do you think they laugh so loudly, Nes?”

His other hand lifted to her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek, as if to wipe away the tears that had yet to fall. He angled his head to the side, as if to hear the laughter, and when it echoed his eyes snapped back to hers. His grip on her hand tightened. 

“They laugh in the face of it,” he said. “They find the joy and cling to it.”

And what do I have to cling to, Nesta thought dryly. Who do I have to lean on?

She thought of the dim bars waiting for her and the nights she had spent in the arms of strangers, and even though she didn’t ask the question out loud, Cassian’s lips lifted at the edges, giving her a gentle, plaintive smile as he squeezed her hand— as if that was the answer.

As if he was the answer.

He tugged on her hand, his smile lifting to something wider, something more mischievous. 

“If you don’t want to face the sitting room, how about we just stay here instead?” he suggested. “Or slip away to Rhys’ study? There’s a chess board in there and believe it or not, I was never much good at it.” Slowly, the smile curving his lips grew into one that felt more genuine than any Nesta had to offer, but Cassian didn’t let it drop. His eyes glimmered as he added, “Would thoroughly humiliating me in a game of strategy help turn the night around for you?”

“You’d rather sit and play chess with me than be with your family?”

Cassian rolled his eyes indulgently, tugging on the hand she still had clasped in his palm. “Of course I would.”

Nesta didn’t know how to answer, but when she glanced up and met his eyes, there was a warmth there that she hadn’t expected to find. And maybe it wasn’t enough to chase away the dark entirely, but maybe it was the tether that she needed to a world that wasn’t so completely consumed by sorrow. Cassian’s fingers were so warm around her own, still holding tight to her even after she’d spent so long pushing him away - pushing all of them away - and for the first time in twelve months, she wanted to let herself feel that warmth, to let it sink into her bones.

“Come on,” he said, giving her hand another small tug. His smile turned somewhat conspiratorial, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If we’re quick we can sneak down to the wine cellar. I know where Rhys keeps the good stuff.”

The retort bloomed in Nesta’s throat— a cutting remark waiting on her tongue about how she didn’t want anything from Rhysand, not even his most expensive wine. A scowl threatened to twist her lips, but when Cassian waggled a single eyebrow as if to say, well? What do you say? she felt the words die on her tongue, turning to ash as she pushed the scowl back. For too long, the sharpness had been her only defence, the only armour she could call on. But with Cassian’s hand wrapped around her own and the small smirk at the corner of his lips somehow telling her they were in this together… 

Maybe she didn’t need the armour.

Not all the time. Not with him.

After all, he had taken her hand when she was hurting and hadn’t flinched as she spat and cursed. He had let her sharpen her claws, but had been there to bring her back when she needed it, when he realised that those claws were cutting her to ribbons too, and so this time, when Cassian tilted his head in a silent question and squeezed her hand one more time…

Nesta nodded.

Because she didn’t want the next year to be like the last, and she didn’t think she could do it alone, and he was there, holding her hand and throwing a smile over his shoulder as he led her from the dining room and towards the kitchen, headed right for the door leading down to the cellars beneath. And even though the grief inside her continued to snarl and writhe and claw, Nesta felt her steps fall in line with his and thought that as long as she wasn’t alone, as long as he was there, waiting to pick her up when she fell down…

Well, she thought as she squeezed his hand in return, maybe the next twelve months would turn out better than the last. 

New Taglist: (If you want to be added or removed, let me know!) @asnowfern , @podemechamardek , @c-e-d-dreamer ,@lady-winter-sunrise , @starryblueskies7, @melphss , @that-little-red-head , @misswonderflower , @fwiggle , @tanishab, @xstarlightsupremex @burningsnowleopard , @hiimheresworld , @wannawriteyouabook , @hereforthenessian @kale-theteaqueen

[samenameastheothers]

Right Person Wrong Time pt. 2

✨MDNI✨

Ummmm hellooo!! First off I want to thank everybody for the love on pt. 1…like wtf I was not expecting that! Anyway I hope you all enjoy pt. 2 it's a little shorter...

I'm hoping to make one more part but classes suck and so does life sometimes so I have no idea when ill get that out. Everyone who asked to be tagged will be tagged again in pt.3 and if you want to be tagged, add a note at the bottom. <3

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, reader dreams of cheating, swearing, itsnothappyyetbutipromiseitscoming :)  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You finished your mission, got the information the Rhysand needed, and left. The effort it took to continue made up some of your hardest moments, and that was saying something. Regardless, you had continued on. Azriel was always behind you, you could feel his presence even more now with the bond, but he made sure you could never see him. Upon your return to Velaris, you masked everything, the bond, and your true feelings about it. You were good at that, masking what you felt, that's the reason you were in the inner circle, in The Court of Dreams in the first place. You wouldn't be here if it weren't for your excellence in discretion, it's the way you kept secrets that made you stand out to the High Lord those years ago, made you stand out to him. It didn't matter anymore, what made you special, rumors got out that you sold information to other courts a few months ago. After hours of integration by your own partner, there was no evidence that you did it, but no evidence that you hadn't either. You begged Feyre to read your mind, to prove you were innocent, but she wouldn't do it. You had sobbed, tears streaming down your face, trying to convince not only the man you loved but also the man you worked for that you would never betray him. He had walked away. Even after the truth came out, that you were not a traitor, he never came back…

“Until two weeks ago,” you say under your breath as you walk back to your apartment from the meeting you had been in for most of the day. 

You have been reminiscing about that night when he ate you out like your cunt was the last sustenance on earth, but more importantly the night you found out the male who broke your heart was your mate. How could you not have felt it before? You knew the connection between the two of you was strong, but how could the two best spymasters in the whole of Prythian not realize that they were fated for each other? The look on his face that night made you believe he hadn't suspected it either, and the fact that he has been absent at every court meeting for almost a month since makes you certain about how he feels being tied to you. Nevertheless, you were concerned, scared that he would do something rash, but mostly you wish you could get Azriel out of your head. Non-stop you were thinking about him, even more than when you were in an actual relationship with the male. You had tried drinking, hell you had gone out every night with Nesta before she got concerned and stopped taking you, but nothing worked. He was always there. 

You walk into your bedroom and let out a deep breath, you're exhausted and need a nap. You make your way over to your bed, shedding your clothes. Opting to sleep in the underwear you had on is better than going to bed in your full outfit. Your head hits the pillow and instantly you're asleep… 

Usually, your dreams aren’t vivid. I mean you've had crazy nightmares and weird sex dreams before, who hasn't? This time though, it's different. 

At first, it's dark, you can't sense anything in front of you. 

“The fuck?” you mutter, it feels so real, the feeling of nothingness. 

Then you hear it. A woman, moaning in ecstasy, she's saying someone's name but you can't make it out. Suddenly the image appears before you, a room, darkly lit, a woman on a bed of silk and an Illyrian male on top of her. You see him slide in and out of her, the lewd sound of his cock wet with both their pleasure makes you feel oddly out of place. You can’t seem to make out the image in front of you, it's constantly going back and forth between definitions so clear that you can make out the sheen of sweat on the skin of the woman he fucks, but every time you try to focus on the male you can't make out who he is. It's frustrating, you would like to enjoy this dream but something feels wrong, the male seems familiar. You don't realize who it is, not until the woman moans out his name again, 

“Azriel” she gasps and sighs like it's her own mate's damn name.   

 “No” you whisper. 

You can feel your heart break as you watch what's in front of you. You sink to the floor. Your eyes can't seem to stray from the sight of Azriel burying himself inside the other woman. He covers her mouth with his, his face now in full definition, his tongue sliding in and kissing the woman passionately.

“No stop please stop!” you start screaming at them, screaming at Azriel everything you have felt since he walked out of that interrogation room, and everything you wished you had said since. Your cries fell on deaf ears, he doesn't even turn his head to recognize that you are there. Even when he was upset at you, his eyes always seemed to find you, wherever or whatever you were doing. His moans now filling the room mixing with the crying of the other fae. You can’t help but remember the night he told you that you were the only woman who was ever able to get those sounds out of him. You can't stand it anymore, watching the woman come undone by him. You try to move but you are rooted in place unable to stop yourself from witnessing the breaking of your heart. It seems like you stay there for hours, you've long since been numb, tears steadily slipping down your face. 

Finally, Azriel slides out of the woman and stands up off the bed. You watch, somehow still mesmerized by him after everything. The way his shadows wind up his naked body makes him look like some dark god as he walks towards you. You are still sitting there, practically kneeling as he reaches you. Azriel grasps your face in his scared hand bringing you up to stand in front of him, his dark eyes burning into your soul.

 “My love, why do you cry?” he says in a voice softer than you expected. Softer than you have heard him speak to you in a while. It startles you, the way he seems so caring, and when you look into his eyes you see tears in them.

 “Azriel-” before you can respond his lips crash into yours. 

You feel darkness colliding all around you, the sensation of him then the sensation of nothing again, over and over. You feel as if you are falling, you try to scream but smoke fills your mouth, and- 

You wake up to your room filled with shadow.   

Tag list:

@sidthedollface2 @sillymercury @brieflyclassymortal @abewitchingwillow @crazylokonugget @kalulakunundrum @fxckmiup @azriels-shadowsinger @gorlillaglue25 @domciak84

[danikamariewrites]

Can you please write a part 2 for vampire reader x azriel like he was away for so long and she hadn't been drinking and when he's back she faints in one of the IC gatherings and az (and others) are worried sick!?

Of course if you're comfortable but i would love to read that

Waiting to Taste You (part 2)

Azriel x vampire!reader

A/n: I hadn’t thought of a part 2 but I really like this idea, thanks anon!

Warnings: blood, fainting, slight angst, comfort

Part 1 here

You thought you had learned your lesson from the last time you waited too long to feed. But apparently not. After you had drank from Azriel you went and spoke to Amren about alternatives. While drinking from Azriel was euphoric, you never wanted to endanger him again.

Amren gave you a special mixture that would quench your thirst for his blood again. You didn’t bother asking her where she got it. Honestly you didn’t want to know. That was five months ago. You’ve been out of your drink for two months now. The same amount of time that Azriel has been on the continent.

You had asked Amren for more but her supplier was out until the next shipment came in from the Western Continent. Your hunger was worse this time. You were more exhausted, paler, and weaker. Azriel was coming home tonight and you didn’t want him to see you like this.

He’d worry and you’d feel guilty. And you didn’t want to ruin his homecoming dinner. In the few hours you had to get ready you set out to make yourself look as presentable as possible. You put on a good layer of foundation and concealer, a lip tint, and some eyeshadow wanting to look like your usual bright and bubbly self.

Walking up the stone steps of the River House you take a deep breath. You open the door, hearing your friends excited chatter and laughter. Rounding the corner your eyes land on Azriel. His hazel eyes meet yours and you feel like you could cry.

Before you could run to him he swept you into his arms, cradling you to him. You pressed your face into his neck taking in his scent. That was a mistake. You could smell his blood. Drool almost slipped from the corner of your lips. You quickly pulled away from him, resting your hands on his broad chest and gave him a convincing smile.

Azriel brushed your hair behind your ears tracing your jaw final,y resting his hands on your cheeks. He tries to keep a neutral face but he can tell something’s wrong. “I’m so happy to see you, y/n. How are you baby? You ok?” “I’m better now that your home.” You grasp his neck and lean up to kiss him. That seemed to take a good chunk of your strength. As you settled back down on your feet you felt a dizzy spell take over.

You recover by grabbing his bicep and smile up at him. “How about a drink?” He nods and offers you his arm leading you to the couch. Azriel hands you a glass of wine as he sits next to you.

The conversation flows with Cassian’s stories of when the boys were younger. Azriel even adds to the story and shares takes from his weeks on the Continent. You try to your hardest to keep it together but you feel like you’re going to pass out.

Nuala enters the room announcing dinner is ready. Thank the Mother. At least you’ll be forced to put something in your stomach. Not that it will do much.

Azriel offers you his hand and helps you to your feet. Your vision blurred, you rub your forehead and mumble Az’s name. You feel everyone staring at you. The world tilts sideways, your body feels light and heavy all at once. The last thing you see is a blurred Azriel and then nothing.

When you wake up you hear Azriel talking to Nesta, Rhys, and Feyre. As you blink your eyes open your vision returns to normal. You can’t believe you passed out, and before dinner! You felt awful. As you take in your surroundings you realize it’s morning and you’re in Az’s bed.

The door opens and shuts. You feel the bed dip beside you with Azriel’s weight. “Hey kid, how are you feeling?” You groan, “Like shit.” Azriel didn’t laugh at your joking tone. When you finally fully open your eyes you see his serious face.

You swallow. “Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling again?” You bite your lip and look away from him. “I didn’t want to ruin the night.” Azriel rubs at his face. You can tell this is stressing him out. “I didn’t want to ask you again.” You admit. Azriel looks at you, his stress more noticeable.

“Why not? It helped you last time didn’t it.” You nod against the pillow. “I just didn’t want to hurt you again.” He looked at you with shock, his mouth falling open. “How could you possibly think you hurt me? You know how that night ended right?” He huffed out a laugh.

“I know, I know. I just couldn’t ask that of you again.” Azriel shakes his head as he rolls up his sleeve. He picks Truth Teller up from the nightstand. He drags it across his skin. The smell of his sweet blood hit the air, reaching your nose.

Azriel inched up the bed to get closer to you holding his arm out to your mouth. You give him a cautious look using all your self restraint, pushing yourself into the bed. “Are you sure.” “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” You lick your dry lips and lean forward, grabbing onto his arm.

You started sucking on the cut he made. Mother above you missed the taste of him. You just want to drink from him forever. You feel your strength coming back. You moan against Azriel’s skin. Surprising yourself you let go of him now that you had your fill.

“See,” Azriel said sweetly, “you could never hurt me.” His cut already healed. You move over patting the bed next to you. Azriel pulls you into his arms to snuggle with you. “I love you Azriel.” “I love you more, y/n.”

[nextworldnextlife]

A Court of Silver Flames thought on female friendships.

Can we discuss how Nesta truly grew into herself not purely based on a singular male in ACOSF but also because of the friends she developed through the book?

This is one of the reasons ACOSF is my favorite of all of SJMs books and honestly one of the books I'd consider her best work in terms of relationship building.

There's no power imbalance, they never once lie or betray each other, and they're always looking out for each other.

They share everything with one another from fun sweet moments to the harsh trials and everything in between. They don't judge each other for where they come from or what they've faced.

They genuinely celebrate each other's victories and created a system of females-supporting-females in a beautiful way. They really showcased how powerful female relationships can be and should be.

Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta are this incredibly beautiful group of females that found each other after facing some of their darkest and hardest moments in their life and never once held each other above one another. They all came in feeling equal to each other.

Also the way Nesta treats her friends really rounds out her character and shows so much more depth to who she is. Yes, she's still absolutely struggling but she's found her family and where she belongs and I just LOVE that for her.

I actually wrote a whole thing comparing the female friendships in SJMs other books but I rather just focus on the beauty of ACOSF haha.

[feyreswingspan]

This ridiculous hatred and put down of Feyre’s character has to stop. It’s not wrong to prefer Aelin, Bryce, or Nesta over Feyre. Your opinion isn’t an issue. But if you dislike Feyre because she’s weaker, quieter, less badass, etc. that’s a problem. Here’s why.

1. We see Feyre fight more in her 3 books then we’ve seen Nesta or Bryce fight. But Feyre has the biggest issue killing since she has a human heart. Is sympathy wrong? How come her strength is forgotten by all of you?

2. Some of you hate that she became a mother. You can dislike the pregnancy trope but motherhood is the hardest thing ever, to call her “weak” or a “boring housewife” for that is pure misogyny.

3. Feyre is very expressive in her hobby of painting. Why is paining so heavily made fun of when Bryce dances, Nesta dances, and Aelin plays piano? They all have hobbies but of course hers gets shit for no reason.

3. Most of you don’t see that Aelin, Bryce and Nesta embody inherently more masculine traits. Feyre is more cautious, more of a thinker/ listener than a straight up loud mouth. She is still confident and witty, she’s still funny and strong but she’s also a realistic woman who was silenced in her domestic abuse. Who came out the other side and found her strength while most importantly remaining kind and compassionate. That’s a strength, not a weakness.

4. All the SJM women embody different types of women. I love Aelin and Bryce, but to trash on Feyre for being more classically feminine, to hate her for being compassionate and choosing forgiveness, is disgusting.

[tunaababee]

we will be everything we say - Chapter 6

masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 3.5k // updates Mondays (aest)

Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.

As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.

But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: TW for mentions of parental death and abusive behaviours. if you're unable to handle that right now and would like a chapter summary, head to AO3 and look at the chapter's end notes! please look after yourself.

Chapter 6: twenty-three and twenty-four

Tension lingered in the air like a heavy fog, accompanying the grey clouds overhead that helped set the incredibly morose atmosphere. It was fitting, considering what was happening today.

Feyre sat with her sisters, side by side, in the front row of the funeral home. It was a small, simple service - their father had never been a very outgoing man, and it had only gotten worse after their mother had died. Elain had been the one to handle all of the correspondence with the florist, a blend of tulips, carnations, and baby’s breath all stark white in large bunches over the casket. Elain barely looked like herself, with the long-sleeved black dress seeming to drain her of life so much so that she seemed to rival the lifeless body of their father in the coffin at the front of the room. It didn’t help that Elain probably took his passing the hardest. Nesta, on the other hand, looked like she was in her element. Cold, sharp, all angles and precision. Her outfit looked like she was ready to go to a board meeting or an interview, all practicality and projecting that strong visage she held so deeply on to. Both sisters knew there were a lot of complicated feelings towards their father that were simmering just barely underneath the surface of that tailored coat and her a-line skirt, but nobody dared speak it. They just wanted to get through today and put it behind them. The three of them could unpack their own baggage at a later date.

Today Feyre was nervous for a couple of reasons - she’d never been very good at public speaking, and yet she was the one who was giving the eulogy. She heard the funeral officiant say her name, rising from her seat and moving to the front of the room like a ghost of herself, hands shaking slightly. Her hands smoothed out her dress anxiously, fingers moving to fiddle with the oversized sleeves of her long cardigan before she gripped the cistern. Her eulogy was true, but simple - he was a caring husband, a father who loved his daughters, a man who never quite recovered from his demons. The details of what she wrote were merely a haze in her mind as she read it off of the paper she had prepared. But that wasn’t the main reason she was nervous.

What really made her nervous today was the pair of piercing violet eyes looking straight at her from the very back of the room, feeling as if they were piercing her right in the gut.

He had shown up. She had been the one to invite him, after all, but she’d be lying if she said a part of her hadn’t wanted him to come simply to avoid having to talk to him at all. How do you pick back up where you left off with your best friend when you hadn’t talked to them in two years?

She already had to pace the apartment for an hour or so as she tried to send the text to him in the first place to let him know, to get the wording and the tone right, to hope to every god known to man that he still had the same number. To hope that he would come at all. She kept it clinical, at the end of the day.

“Hi there, Rhysand. I know it’s been a while, but I wanted to let you know that my dad passed away a few days ago.

The funeral is next week to the day at 11:00am if you’d like to attend and pay your respects. Prythian Funeral Home.

I hope you’re well.”

It was anxiety-inducing enough to have sent the text in the first place that she hadn’t even bothered to see if Rhys had replied. Instead, Feyre threw herself into funeral preparations - inviting all of her and her sisters’ close friends who had known him and any of his previous business associates he had left. It didn’t fill the room, but it made it feel less pathetic than just the three of them, and that’s all that mattered to them.

The whole time Feyre was up there, it was a pointed effort not to meet Rhys’ eyes. If she did, she felt like she was going to break. So her eyes kept flickering around the room. From Cassian to Amren, from Vassa to Lucien, to anyone but him. Him in his immaculate dress shirt and perfectly tailored trousers, his artfully arranged raven-black hair and his hands adorned in a smattering of silver bands he fiddled with out of the corner of her eye.

The rest of the service after that was a blur. Most people had cleared out of the funeral home to head to Elain’s for the wake - she had tried to offer to cook for everyone, but Feyre and Nesta insisted on catering as Elain had already done so much, was always doing so much. She was already letting Feyre live with her for the time being and it made her feel awful asking for much else. Feyre opted to linger behind, talking to almost each and every person who had come. She gathered up the flowers, made sure that they knew exactly which plot to bury him in - right with their mother - and that there was nothing else to be tended to. Really, she was using it as an escape and a moment to breathe. A moment to delay the inevitable.

And yet, Rhys had always had impeccable timing for better or worse. Today was no different.

He caught her sitting outside on the concrete steps of the funeral home, gazing listlessly into the near-empty parking lot. She didn’t turn to meet his eyes, couldn’t bear it, but was so acutely aware as he sat down on the steps with her. Rhys pressed his side into the wall, Feyre pressing into the railing, a gap that lingered heavily between them. Two years of self-imposed exile that she couldn’t help but feel ashamed about, and this is what it amounted to - two people who knew each other so deeply pretending like they barely knew anything anymore on the steps in a town they’d both called home. She could hear Rhys inhale, ready to break the silence, but she raced to go first. She was the one who had pushed him out in the first place, it was only fair that she had to be the one to try and let him back in.

“Thanks for coming today. You didn’t have to.” Feyre’s eyes were trained firmly on her hands folded into her lap. She could hear his breath hitch slightly, whether it was in relief or confusion or something else, she couldn’t tell.

“Of course I had to. Even if he wasn’t always the most… present person. He was still like a father to me. Still let me in his home, eat his food, stay over. It wouldn’t be right to miss it.” Rhys’ eyes flicked up to Feyre’s face and she could feel them practically burning a hole in her temple, her cheek, her eyes, everywhere she knew he was observing. Trying to get a read on her, trying to ask without being demanding.

“That… means a lot, Rhys. I know it’s been a while.”

A dry laugh escaped him. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s an understatement. But I can’t blame you for it.”

Feyre’s heart twisted in guilt and hurt at that. She deserved it - while he had been the one to kiss her, she had been the one to force that distance no matter how much she just wanted her best friend back. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Rhys would have probably been in a similar way. A heavy sigh passed her lips, turning her head to finally face him properly after two long years apart. He was very much the same, yet different. The same slant of his jaw, the same expressions she had known since she was young. But he was slightly taller, hints of tattoos peeking out beneath the collar of his shirt, a mild weariness about him that wasn’t there before. Maybe it had been hidden by his confidence the last time she saw him. It didn’t matter now - all that mattered was that he had shown up.

“Yeah, well… You weren’t the only one that fucked up that day. Don’t shoulder all of that on your own. God knows we’ve all made enough mistakes over the course of our lives, can’t keep beating yourself up for every slight you’ve made.” Not that it was going to stop her from beating herself up about it, but Rhys didn’t need to hear that part.

“I don’t know, I feel like I fucked up pretty bad. Lost my best friend a couple of years ago because I wanted to make things easier for her. Read the room wrong and ended up hurting her instead, it’s probably one of the biggest regrets I’ve ever had.” He turned his head to meet her gaze, eyes full of hurt and regret, yet an ever-present hope lingered behind them regardless. Feyre struggled to keep looking at him without faltering from nerves.

“What a coincidence, I lost my best friend a couple of years ago, too,” Feyre said, a dry chuckle escaping her. “I thought I knew exactly how my life should go and that he was a little bit insane. Pressure from my fiance didn’t help, so I iced him out and now I’m basically at rock bottom. I miss him a lot, but I don’t know if I can get him back. I hurt him pretty badly.”

“Feyre, I-”

“Rhys, if you’re about to apologise, I don’t want you to because you shouldn’t have to. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want to be friends or didn’t ever want to see me again after this-”

Before she could continue, Rhys’ hand darted out to grab a hold of both of her own, folded in her lap anxiously until he had bridged the gap between them.

“Feyre, I can’t imagine a world where we’re not in each other’s lives. Living through it was hell, and I’d rather die than experience that again.”

She could feel the dam of emotions she’d been holding inside of her heart begin to crack, tears welling up until they spilled over her cheeks and Rhysand was pulling her into his side, legs pressed together as they gave each other the first hug they’d shared in two whole years. Feyre’s arms squeezed around his waist like her life depended on it, his arms wrapped around hers like a comforting blanket. Like home.

“I missed you so fucking much, Rhys. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to apologise right now, neither are you.” Amusement had snuck into Rhys’ voice, and despite her tears and sniffles she couldn’t help but laugh a little. As her head moved to his shoulder, he moved his own head to rest on hers. Relief and catharsis thrummed through her veins all the way through to her toes.

“God, we’re fucking idiots. I can’t believe we let this go on for so long.”

“Tell me about it. I have no fucking clue what you’ve even been up to for the past two years.”

Feyre broke from the hug, wiping at her eyes with a small frown on her face as she sat up. “Wait, not even from Mor or anybody else..?”

“Not a peep. You said you wanted space, so I tried to respect your privacy.”

She couldn’t help but wheeze dryly a little at that. “So you don’t know? NIce of you to be so chivalrous, but even I’m surprised this didn’t get back to you. Fucking hell, okay.”

Confusion contorted Rhys’s features. “Feyre, I can’t emphasise enough how much I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A tense moment of silence passed between them, Feyre taking a breath as she let the pause hang in the air for just a moment.

“...Tamlin and I split up. Probably about six months ago, now. Wasn’t exactly amicable to say the least.”

His hand came to rest on her shoulder softly. “Oh Feyre, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend to be sad about it. I know how much everyone else couldn’t stand him.”

“I mean… Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy. Run me through the past two years, tell me how this happened. We have a lot to catch up on anyway, right?”

“That's true. Were you after the full spiel or the summarised version?” She laughed slightly as she turned to him with a small smile. It was nice to be able to sit with him again, feeling at ease for the first time in a long while.

“Whatever you're willing to give me.”

“Well,” Feyre started dramatically, placing her hand over his on his knee. “About six months after we saw each other last, Tamlin and I ended up moving to Seattle so he could do… Business bullshit, I don't know. He very deliberately never involved me in the brewery stuff more than I needed to be, which was usually just as a pretty little toy. I mean, at the time I felt so special, y'know? All these trips, the move, the dresses. Really, it was the smaller things that got me - the food, the comfort. Things that I had to work for before. He told me so many wonderful things and that I was soooo perfect, so it was easy enough to fall into.

“It was kind of a whole ‘boiling a frog’ situation. He would make me feel so safe and loved before slowly coaxing me to do different stuff. Tamlin certainly didn't like me talking to you before all of this.”

“Of course, it's hard not to be intimidated by all this latent natural charm.” Rhys postured, fussing with his collar in a flair of dramatics that made the both of them giggle like they were back to being kids again.

“Of course! But, haha, he definitely wasn't enthused. So he let up for a bit after that. But soon it was getting me to dress up a little more each and every day, even when I was ducking out to get groceries or something. Phasing out things that we had in the pantry or the fridge - snacks would go missing, judging looks, shit like that. Then about a year ago we moved. It got worse after that.

“Literally the only people I knew after we moved were Tamlin and Lucien. Even Lucien didn't wanna be around him more than he had to by the end of things because it was getting unbearable. He could dress how he wanted, eat how he wanted, act how he wanted. He'd be perfectly content. But the minute I questioned things, it was like a fucking heel turn. Sometimes asking who he was on the phone with prompted him to start blaming all his problems on me. Telling me I was nothing but a piece of shit who made him feel depressed and awful. Every time I stepped out of line in his eyes he just got… angrier. Never hit me or anything, but fuck, I think he got close some days.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder tug her in close once more - the warm tears spilled reluctantly down her cheeks, though she'd be lying if she said she was surprised she was crying about it. The only other person who had heard about it until now was the therapist Lucien and her sisters had all pitched in to get her a few sessions with - she didn’t end up sticking with them, though. Not that Feyre hadn’t appreciated the gesture, but she didn’t feel quite ready. But with Rhys? She couldn’t help but spill her guts bare. She gently wiped at her eyes, taking a heavy breath before resuming.

“Anyways, uh… Finally got sick of it a little while after trying to cover up some of the mirrors in the house. I wasn’t painting or drawing anymore, he said that it was a dumb hobby and that it was beneath me. Didn’t have any hobbies anymore, really. No job, either. My entire wardrobe was full of these designer labels and uncomfortable dresses - piles of heels and bags and accessories. Gaudy, flashy jewelry as far as the eye could see. I was so gaunt, I didn’t have any life left in me. I dressed how he wanted, looked how he wanted, talked how he wanted, ate how he wanted. Thought how he wanted me to as well, that I wasn’t worth anything unless I was by his side,” She scoffed slightly, looking up at the sky a little as her head came to rest on Rhysand’s shoulder.

“But I had a kind of lucid moment where I was covering up those mirrors, not wanting to even be here anymore where I was just like, what am I even doing here? I was in such a gilded fucking cage and so sick of it. Tamlin was on one of his rare solo trips at the time so I just… left. Texted Lucien - he’d seen me deteriorating for a while and tried to get me to see things differently before, but it was hard when I was so isolated, y’know? He helped me get all my shit out. Left Tamlin with nothing but a note and that ugly fucking ring. Blocked him on everything. Let Nesta and Elain know, and the rest is history. Been living with Elain back in Prythian since, teaching nighttime painting classes and working as a cashier to try and save up enough money to move out.” Feyre sniffled a little before putting a big smile on her face and turning to Rhys, bringing her hands under her chin to frame it in an effort to lighten the heavy atmosphere. If she didn’t try to take it at least a little less seriously, then she was just going to get in her head about the whole situation all over again, and that’s the last thing she wanted. Not when she had come so far already.

“Shit, Feyre… Can’t say I can beat that in terms of a one-eighty.” Rhys smiled at her slightly, a smidge of sadness mixed with a dose of pride in his stare. She let out a little laugh in turn.

“Hey, go big or go home, right?”

“You never did anything half-assed, that’s for sure.” Rhys took her hand resting upon his knee into both of his, squeezing gently. “I’m just glad you’re happier. That you’re safe. We have plenty of time for all of that ‘I told you so’ type of shit later.”

Feyre simply rolled her eyes, nudging his side with her own. “Thanks, Rhys. But what about you? I can’t just dump all of the ways my life temporarily turned into a tire fire only to not hear about you in return.”

Rhys shuffled a little uncomfortably beside her - he always had trouble when the focus shifted to him in anything more than a surface level, necessary capacity. It was his turn to sigh heavily, looking down at the ground. His head tilted to rest on top of hers, like not a second had passed between when they had been thick as thieves up to now.

“Well, it’s kind of weird. I mean, I’ve done a lot but at the same time not a lot has changed. I’m still close with everybody, especially Cass and Az, but I know that wouldn’t surprise anybody.”

Feyre chuckled slightly. “Well duh, you guys are brothers at this point. It’d be weirder if you weren’t still close.” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, the two paused for a moment. There was a sentence unspoken between them that they both knew deep in their bones, hanging in the air like a sword of Damocles - it wouldn’t have been as weird as when the two of them stopped talking. But neither of them needed to tell the other that. That fact was as true as the sky being blue or the grass being green. Rhys broke the tension first, not wanting to linger on it any longer than the two of them had to.

“I ended up leaving Prythian about a year ago, though. Dad had died - he hadn’t been in good health for a while, so nobody was surprised. I finally fully inherited the business instead of just being a figurehead beneath him, but I never really had any interest in it. I did well in my business degree but it just… never quite clicked with me the way I think he hoped it would. It wasn’t exactly a huge emotional loss to me when he went. Ended up selling the whole thing and moving to New York, actually.”

“Makes sense - you always struck me as a city guy.”

“What can I say? I have very particular taste.” The two chuckled in tandem, the warmth of it rumbling through Feyre’s throat and chest.

“But anyway, I actually ended up putting my degree to use and started my own business. I picked up tailoring and design from Mom way back when and I always enjoyed it, so why not, right? It felt good - feels good - to still have that connection to her. Started out just selling stuff online before I moved into some actual brick and mortar stores. There’s not a lot, but they’re going well at least.”

Feyre sat up, surprise and delight written all over her face at the news. “Holy shit, that’s amazing Rhys! I’m so proud of you - ‘not much has changed’ my ass! You’re like a big business mogul now.”

Rhys raised his eyebrows at her. “Feyre, I’m literally just a small business owner.” “Yeah, now, but you’ve always been ambitious. You’re gonna be some thriving CEO type in no time.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Archeron.” Rhys smirked, mussing up Feyre’s hair a little while taking care to make sure the silver rings he wore didn’t catch in the strands. She didn’t hesitate to mess his own hair up in return, mock offense spreading over his features before melting into a laugh.

“But seriously, I meant it when I said not much has changed, in a way. I live in a new place now and I’ve got a business going, but I still talk to the same people. I don’t go out much, I’m a pretty big homebody unless it’s for any of our inner circle. It all feels so… the same. But not, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that.” With that, Feyre pushed up and off of the stairs, brushing down the back of her dress and cardigan to neaten them up as she stood. She turned to Rhys, reaching a hand out to help him up. It was a handy excuse to touch him again anyway, to feel some of the closeness she had been missing for so long.

Sitting and talking with Rhys so casually felt like a puzzle piece she didn’t entirely realise had gone missing clicked back into place. Everything felt so right and comfortable - like her world had been spinning on a slightly wrong angle, only to be righted with a gentle touch again. He took the hand she offered as he stood up - not that he needed the help. Rhys looked down at her with something that Feyre couldn’t quite pick, something between reverence and relief. She would take either. It didn’t matter so long as they could be in each other’s lives again.

“C’mon, we should head to the wake. If we’re overly late, I think Nesta might lose it a little.” Feyre cocked her head in the direction of her car, a small black thing in the back corner of the parking lot.

“...As in, we go to the wake together?” He almost looked like a lost puppy as he posed the question. Feyre rolled her eyes with a little smile and dragged him by the arm towards her car.

“No shit. You’re my best friend, and I’ve missed you. I’m not gonna have you wasting money on an Uber when we could spend more time catching up on the way there. If I can’t spend my days beating myself up for shutting you out, then I can at least make the most of letting you back in.”

Rhys nodded almost dumbly as he climbed into the passenger seat, looking over at Feyre as the two buckled themselves into the car.

“...I’d really love that, Feyre. I’ve missed you too.”

The feeling that washed over Feyre’s bones was something that she didn’t think could ever be beat - that things would work out and be okay after all, in the end.

[fuckyesnessian]

Creator Highlight #9 - @unhealthyfanobsession

Welcome back to Nessian Creator Highlights!! We want to take a moment to recognize the amazing individuals in our fandom who kindly use up so much of their freetime and creative energy to share their work with us!

Today we'd like to highlight @unhealthyfanobsession! If you've never met them, @unhealthyfanobsession write both fabulous nessian fanfiction AND creates thoughtful and detailed meta that many readers may have missed.

Their passion for nessian extends to the fabulous fics they've put together. @unhealthyfanobsession fleshes out their characters, expands upon their relationships, and fills in the gaps in order to create a satisfying arc for our favorite pairing.

Check out some of our favorites below, or check out their masterlist HERE:

Amidst The Madness: Love and war have always followed the same rules: Quick to ignite, slow to extinguish. There aren't many things Cassian has dared to openly want in his 500 years of existence. Not even the position he currently occupies as Lord of Windahaven (far too lofty a spot for nothing more than a well-blodded bastard, if you ask the other Illyrian Lords), but from the second Nesta Archeron stepped foot in his camp, the entire world ebbed into a single truth.

She is his.

He is hers.

Everything else - the war he is meant to lead, the people relying on him, the legacy he should be fighting to protect, cease to exist the second his eyes are caught in roiling silver flames. There is pain in this female, his female. And retribution will be exacted. Rhysand has his war, and now so does Cassian. Whether the two align ... only Nesta can give that order.

Golden Threads of Time:

Nesta and Cassian have never required blades or leathers to spar with each other. Weapons change, battles are fought and won and lost and white flags are waved. They say things they don't mean, do things they regret. They aren't good at this. Love. Neither of them grew up knowing what that emotion was, so of course they didn't recognize it when it wrapped its fickle fist around their hearts. No, Nesta and Cassian are not good at love. But what they have is not love. It is life. Bright, passionate, blinding, and vital to their very being's as oxygen. One does not love to breathe, they simply die without it. Nesta and Cassian are not a love story... they are an inevitability.

A collection of Nessian drabbles and one-shots posted from my Tumblr (UnhealthyFanObsession). Some pre-ACOSF, some Post-ACOSF, some in an alternate timeline that I just made up and ran away with. Some smut, some sweet, some angst. Enjoy!

Assentio Mentium:

Assentio Mentium: Latin. Commonly used legal maxim literally translated to “The meeting of minds”. A central tenet of contract law meaning that no understanding can be reached unless both parties are of the same mind going into the agreement.

From the moment they met in a prep course for the Bar exam, Cassian knew that he had found the love of his life. Brash, outspoken, brilliant, gorgeous, and above all, passionate. Nesta Archeron was perfect for him. And he was perfect for her. All he had to do was make her see that. This might just be his hardest case yet.

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[sabrinasam]

"Not one of them had offered to help save the Archeron family from poverty. They had thrown them all, mere children and a crumbling man, to the wolves.

So Nesta had become a wolf. Armed herself with invisible teeth and claws, and learned to strike faster, deeper, more lethally. Had relished it. But when the time came to put away the wolf, she’d found it had devoured her too."

For the longest time I’ve been wanting to commission this depiction of Nesta from ACOSF and boy did Kris deliver! I loved getting inside Nesta’s head and seeing the inner turmoil she went through. What hit me the hardest with Nesta’s story was her self-hatred, which ended up mirroring a double-edged sword in that it inflicted pain onto the user as it did others.

Seeing Nesta in those dark moments when she would retreat back into herself and shut everyone out weighed heavy on me because it felt so raw and real. I was happy to see her vulnerability begin to show as she started to let down those walls.

Overall one book was simply not enough but I’m excited to see how the rest of Nesta’s journey will continue in the next books. 

I can't thank Kris enough for her incredible job executing my idea and bringing it to life! It was an absolute pleasure working with her. Please head on over to her IG here and show her some love. 🤍🤍🤍

[iftheshoef1tz]

what hath night to do with sleep

epilogue

The first year is the hardest.

Eris misses West Berlin with a fierce pain that shocks him. He lies awake at night, wishing he could call Nesta or his mother or even Lucien, just to hear them breathe. Azriel beside him is a comfort and a torment, a reminder of all he lost and all he stands to gain.

He sends home a trail of postcards: notes from a fragrant, sunburnt spring and summer in southern France, an abnormally dreary autumn in Spain, and a brutal Polish winter. There’s never much to write – impossible to describe the feeling of sending a person’s soul off and realizing you can’t feel it anymore without the censors going mad – but he signs them all Love, Eris anyway.

read the epilogue / read from the beginning

[violetasteracademic]

Hi , do you think the Archeron sisters and Vassa will ever be truly be friends than just political allies ? I don't know how to feel about it knowing the last few months of his life where his daughters needed him the most ,he was off being a father to a stranger .

Hello my lovely Anon!

(ps to all my inbox submissions, I have fallen a bit behind but I will not forget any of you! Please be patient with me and feel free to keep sending! I love seeing your questions 😘)

My short answer is yes, I do believe Vassa and the Archeron sisters will be friends, largely because SJM has NEVER pitted women against each other (at least not for long) over the actions of a dud man. I love this old interview discussing it:

(thank you @greenleaf777 for grabbing this screen shot!)

The Archeron sisters have such a deep, complicated relationship with both parents. And I personally believe we will discover there is more to the Archeron bloodline (or at least I hope we do) because I have some QUESTIONS, and only Vassa can answer them.

How exactly did Papa Archeron know what was going on with the war? How did he know to find Queen Vassa, and understand that finding her was so vital that he was willing to make some secret bargain with a Death God to bring her to his daughters?

The Bone Carver had said his salvation lay dormant in some human bloodline. I do not think it is a coincidence that the three Made sisters were once human, and a human bloodline carries some sort of "key" to the multiverse.

I understand the depth and emotional complexity regarding Papa Archeron, and believe me- if he has no haters, I am dead. However, from a narrative perspective, I'm not sure I fully agree that he was off playing father to Vassa. I understand Vassa had that line- he was more of a father to me than my own.

However, whether or not you forgive him, whether or not you think it makes up for his failings as a parent, everything he secretly did during ACOWAR (including the bargain and retrieving the human Queen) was for his daughters, not for Vassa. And I personally need to know what the bargain was that he made. Knowing Sarah, if she isn't going to just forget about it, the reveal is going to be an absolute gut punch.

Whatever the bargain was, it was powerful and the terms were clear. In my opinion, there is no other reason for Koschei to continue to let Vassa experience some freedom. Maybe we will never learn the full truth or get the whole story, but I believe that somehow, Papa Archeron knew his daughters needed Vassa. For the war, and possibly beyond. In fact, I've even wondered if Papa Archeron was so good to Vassa because he knew his bargain would somehow save his daughters at Vassa's expense. I have no evidence for this, I just thought it would be interesting 🙈

While it is complicated, and I believe Nesta will likely have the hardest time with it, I think the Archeron sisters have yet to learn everything there was to learn about their father and his time securing Vassa. And it seems Vassa has her own issues with her father. It might be difficult, but there is actually some common ground there for the sisters and Vassa to understand each other. And I do not believe that with or without that reveal of everything Papa Archeron did for them, any of the Archeron sisters would hold it against Vassa that she saw a version of him they needed most as children.

I believe Sarah consistently chooses friendship in her writing when she can, even when it is complicated, for those who wish to do the right thing. Especially between women. And if Koschei is as powerful as everyone is suspecting, everyone is going to need each other's backs.

[autumnshighlady]

This Is Me Trying

Cassian x Nesta

summary: It's been a few months since Nesta and Cassian have made things official, but things have only gotten worse for Nesta.

warnings: ANGST! slight inner circle slander, no happy ending, not super pro-Nessian

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this fic is based on 'This Is Me Trying' by Taylor Swift, also spot the Grey's Anatomy quote hehe. This fic is basically me working out my own relationship issues haha, so it was pretty emotional to write because I'm basically Nesta in this situation and it's rough. But I also truly think this is a more realistic version of Nessian than the one sjm tried to shove down out throats in ACOSF.

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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Nesta sighed as Cassian’s arm squeezed around her shoulders, squishing her farther into him than humanly possible. He belted out a laugh at whatever Mor had said, a deafening noise next to Nesta’s ear. His touch felt like acid on her skin, and all she wanted to do was get away from it.

Nesta had been trying her hardest to communicate her feelings with Cassian, she truly had. But it was hard – everything she said seemed to leave his brain the second he was around the Inner Circle, like they were now. Nesta was at one end of the couch with Cassian to her right, and Elain on Cassian’s left. Feyre was sitting on an armchair across from them with Nyx in her arms, in Rhys’s lap, while Mor and Amren were perched on cushions by the fireplace. Azriel was sitting a bit behind Rhys and Feyre on a stool, quietly observing the scene. A couple hours ago, Nesta had pulled Cassian aside and explained that she was having an overwhelming day, and requested he not touch her for the night. She couldn’t explain why she felt that way – she tried, and nothing came out. All she wanted was some physical space from Cassian’s presence. The male had sworn he understood, and said he would give her space.

That had lasted all of 20 minutes into the evening before he slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her body into his. He had failed to notice how Nesta froze, rather than relaxing into his touch as usual. She knew it wasn’t malicious, that he wasn’t deliberately ignoring her request. He had just simply… forgot. 

And this wasn’t the first time she felt suffocated and trapped by Cassian. Guilt plagued her, knowing he truly didn’t mean to do it, he was just trying to show his affection. For a while, Nesta thought that the Cauldron had mated them under the premise of opposites attract. Cassian was extroverted and wore his heart on his sleeve, easily making friends and jumping into any conversation or group. Nesta was an introvert, preferring to mask everything she felt, both good and bad. She did not have that confident ease about her, nor did she feel inclined to befriend everyone she met or chat their ear off. She was perfectly content to be more like Azriel, sitting and observing rather than participating. 

But maybe there was such a thing as people being too opposite for it to work out.

Nesta had felt like she was drowning in the Cauldron all over again, slowly being backed into a corner and suffocating under Cassian’s constant presence and need for her attention. Now that they were officially together, he was everywhere. Cassian had lightened his duties in Illyria to spend more time with Nesta, which only made it worse. At first she had found it sweet, but as the weeks passed it became more irritating.

Cassian was supposed to love her. Surely, someone who loved her would be able to understand her enough to know that this wasn’t what she wanted? He was always trying to find different things to do with Nesta, and it was beginning to get overwhelming. It hurt her heart to see how enthusiastic he was, how badly he wanted to make her happy. She was disgusted with herself for not feeling the same, for wanting to fight and pull away.

Her youngest sister’s voice brought her attention back. “Do you have anything to add, Nesta?”

Nesta blinked, not having heard a word of what was said. “To what?”

Feyre sighed. “We were just talking about building another home for me, Rhys, and Nyx in the mountains, since you and Cassian basically live at the House of Wind now. What do you think?”

The room was tense, everyone frozen as they awaited Nesta’s reply. If she was in a better mood, she would have chuckled inwardly. No matter what she did, no matter how many times she proved herself to them, the Inner Circle would always see her as a rabid monster waiting for a chance to lash out. Perhaps if it were another day she’d entertain them, just to show that she hadn’t lost her bite. But she had no energy today. “Sounds like a great idea.” She said simply.

Everyone visibly relaxed, relieved that Nesta hadn’t made a snide comment about how many houses Feyre and Rhys had, even though she wanted to. Cassian patted her arm proudly, as if to say look how much more docile and well-mannered she is now, thanks to me. Realistically, Nesta knew that wasn’t actually what he was thinking, but it sure felt like it. Only Feyre gave her a strange look, as if she could sense something wrong. 

“So, Nesta,” Rhys said smoothly. “Cassian tells me you’ve gotten pretty good in the sparring ring.”

Nesta’s mouth was dry, the hot air from the room closing in on her. “I’ve improved, yes.” She managed a reply, earning another squeeze from Cassian that tightened her throat even more.

She hadn’t wanted to be touched at all tonight, yet he was doing it anyway without even thinking.

“It’s been a while since I’ve practiced, you could probably give me a run for my money.” The High Lord chuckled, taking a sip of wine.

Again, everyone anxiously waited for Nesta to challenge him, to cause a scene and ruin the evening for the group. It made her feel physically sick, how she felt like she was drowning all over again and not only had Cassian not noticed, but the Inner Circle seemed to like her better this way – a shell of the female she was before, a quieter version.

“I think Rhys is challenging you, sweetheart.” Cassian chuckled. “Go on, go kick his sorry ass.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Nesta said quietly, but it was too late. Mor and Amren had stood up, moving over to where Azriel sat in the back to clear the space on the large rug by the fireplace. Feyre had climbed off Rhys’s lap, too, taking Nyx with her and handing her to Elain as she joined everyone over by Azriel. 

Rhys down the rest of his wine and stood up, pushing his chair back and wiping invisible dust off his sleeves. “Come on, Nesta. Show me what you got.”

The room began to close in on Nesta even more, the air stifling and catching in her throat like sandpaper.

“It’s fine, really.” Nesta insisted, but was interrupted by Cassian gently shoving her to her feet.

“My girl is gonna make you eat dirt, brother.” Cassian said as he pushed Nesta up onto her unsteady feet.

More cheers from the females by Azriel began to sound up, all urging Nesta to show off her skills. It should have felt endearing, and she should have felt more excited at the opportunity to punch her annoying brother-in-law in his face. But all she could feel was suffocation, like she was back in front of her mother’s cruel gaze being forced to perform for people that did not care for her. An object, a plaything to be used to entertain others then put back in its box when they were done with her.

“No.” Nesta’s voice was barely above a whisper, unheard amongst the loud cheers.

“Nesta, Nesta, Nesta!” Feyre and Elain chanted from the background, egging her on. But she was frozen, arms slack at her sides.

“Come on, Nes!” Cassian barked playfully. “You’re acting like I haven’t taught you anything. Come on, do it for me–”

“I said NO.” Nesta snapped, her sharp voice silencing the room as she whirled around to face Cassian. He stared at her, eyes wide with shock.

“It’s all in good fun,” He said, brows furrowed in confusion. “He won’t actually hurt you. Besides, when else are you going to get the chance to–”

Nesta cut him off, her anger bubbling over the surface like a volcano that had waited centuries to finally erupt. “What part of the word ‘no’ suddenly means ‘convince me’?” She demanded.

Nobody said a word. Disappointment was written all over Cassian’s face. Amren snorted in the background, her whisper pointedly loud as she said, “I guess some people will never change, even after being spat out by the Cauldron.”

Tears burned in Nesta’s eyes, but she refused to let them see. Wordlessly, she stormed past everyone, making her way to the door of the river house. She hadn’t even made three steps out into the street before it opened up again behind her, heavy footsteps crunching in the snow.

“What the fuck, Nesta?” Cassian demanded, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. 

“Let go of me.” She spat, trying to rip her arm from his grip. But he only held on tighter.

“We were having fun, what’s wrong with you?”

“Cassian, let go of my arm right fucking NOW.”

The male glared at her, but obliged. Nesta yanked her arm back to her side, rubbing the now sore area. Annoyance seeped from the male as he ran a hand through his hair. “The night was going well,” He grumbled. “It was all going well until you made a scene. For once in your life, Nesta, can’t you just try?”

“This IS me trying!” Nesta shouted, his words stabbing her harder than any knife could. After everything she had opened up to Cassian about, how could he not see that she was trying her best? That she was trying to make him happy by going along with his obscure date ideas, putting on a happy face being dragged to dinner with the Inner Circle even though they basically locked her up after the war? 

“Well you’re not trying hard enough!” Cassian’s words hit her like a truck. The tears she had been fighting to keep back began to stream down her cheeks like icicles in the frozen wind. “Fuck, I’ve tried to hard to convince my family to give you a chance after how you treated them. I’ve gone out out of my way to make you happy, and this is what you fucking do? We all try so hard for you, and you won’t try at all.”

Nesta couldn’t stop herself from flinching at his words. Her brain screamed at her to yell back at Cassian, to bring out those claws she spent the last few months trying to rid herself of. But she couldn’t. She was exhausted, tired of pretending to be as happy as Cassian was. It sucked the life out of her, chipping at her away piece by piece until she felt empty inside. Her old self would be ashamed of how submissive she had become.

Cassian sighed, rubbing his face, and taking a step towards Nesta. He held his hands out to hold her. “Nesta, I’m so sorry–”

He stopped speaking when Nesta took a step back, shying from his touch. His hazel eyes were filled with hurt and confusion, and she sighed. “Cassian,” She said slowly. “Did you not remember how I asked you not to touch me tonight?” 

The Illyrian’s brow furrowed in confusion, then softened as the realization dawned on him. “Is that what this is about?”

Nesta sighed, another tear rolling down her cheek. “Not just that–”

He interrupted her. “I completely forgot, Nes I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off?”

“Because I shouldn’t have to. You should have remembered to respect my basic wishes. You don’t listen to me, Cassian. You hear me, but you don’t listen.”

Cassian sat down on the steps by the door, wings drooping in sadness. But she felt no pity for him, only anger. He was the one who didn’t listen to her when she asked not to be touched, who ignored her when she protested sparring with Rhys, but he was somehow the victim too? It made her blood sing with anger. “I tell you not to touch me because I’m having a bad day, and you pull me into your lap like a dog,” She continued icily. “I tell you I don’t want to do something, and instead of respecting that, you try to force me to do it for everyone’s entertainment. You know damn well that Rhys has never liked me, and how he meant it when he threatened to kill me a few months ago. And yet you pushed me to try and fight him anyways.”

Cassian stared at the frozen ground. Nesta could practically feel his confusion, a raging sea of emotions written all over his face. The wind blew his hair into his face, a sight that Nesta would have found beautiful once. But now it only filled her with sadness. She had bent herself backwards trying to become ‘worthy’ of Cassian in his and his family’s eyes, cursing herself alone at night and thinking she was the problem. Cassian was an objectively good male – loving, affectionate, good in the bedroom. Any female would be lucky to have him, so why wasn’t Nesta happy?

The answer had been deep down inside her, trying to claw its way to the surface, begging for Nesta to acknowledge it. And then it washed over her one day – everyone was quick to assume that she was the one at fault in the relationship, not Cassian. And somewhere along the way, she had convinced herself of that too, pushing down her gut feelings for the sake of trying to make it work with the general. She knew that her words shot to kill when she was mad, and she often couldn’t stop them no matter how much regret they filled her with. But when Cassian had come along, she learned to hold her tongue, to push back those claws inside her. The issue was that in the process of doing so, Nesta had begun holding her tongue more often than needed, bearing the facade of a female submitting to her mate just like everyone wanted. 

Nesta had finally been de-clawed, Cassian wearing her talons around his neck like a trophy. She felt like an open wound at every party, her former self slowly oozing out of the gaps in flesh Cassian had clawed from her. And the worst part was, everyone liked her better this way. But she felt the opposite of better, she felt suffocated and empty.

“I understand you are trying to push me out of my comfort zone,” Nesta continued through tears, swallowing the thick lump in her throat. “And I appreciate it because sometimes that is needed. But you’ve pushed too hard, Cassian.”

“I only wanted what was best for you.” Cassian said dully.

She scoffed. “And how would you know what’s best for me when you never asked me? What, you just assume because we’re together you have some sort of decision-making capacity over me? That you have any idea what’s going through my head, what I’m feeling, or even what I want?”

Cassian stood up, taking a step towards Nesta. She stepped back again, wanting to keep the space between them and not caring about the hurt that flashed across Cassian’s face. “I know you, Nes.” He said softly. “And I love you.”

“No, you don’t.” The wet spots on her cheeks began to freeze over in the cold wind. “You love the idea of me. You love being with me, having me by your side. But you don’t truly know me, Cassian. And you don’t truly love me. You just think you do.”

The hurt swimming in Cassian’s eyes churned into anger. “You’re kidding, right? So you mean the past five months we’ve spent together have been nothing? That I truly didn’t get to know you at all in that time?”

“You’re 500 years older than me, Cassian. Five months is a blink of an eye in your lifetime. So no, you didn’t truly get to know me in that time.”

Cassian scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. But Nesta continued. “The only reason you think you got to know me was because others forced us into each other’s proximity. I did not come to spend time with you on my own free will. And I was isolated from everyone and everything, except for you. In that time, Cassian you… you took something from me. You took little pieces of me - little pieces over time, so small I didn't even notice. You wanted me to be something I wasn't, and I made myself into what you wanted. And I let you, because I thought I could make you happy that way. But it will never happen again. I am done changing who I am to make myself ‘worthy’ of you.”

Nesta turned around, not waiting to hear his response as she strode down the snow covered cobblestone. There was no towering presence following after her, much to her relief. She did not go back to the River House, or in the direction of the House of Wind. Truthfully, Nesta had no clue where she was going, only that she was done letting herself fall apart to please people who would never love her for who she truly is.