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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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Alone in the Ashes {25}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Ah, the final chapter. I’ll be posting an epilogue soon. (: I hope you all enjoy...the end...

“And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.” ― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

The hospital was quiet.

It had only been a couple of months since Rhysand was back there, lying in a bed, but he hadn’t been announced dead at the scene.

Isaac had.

They still loaded him into an ambulance, still tried to save him, but there was nothing more they could do.

Isaac’s head had hit the concrete.

He’d had a brain hemorrhage.

Azriel had been holding him when he died.

Feyre, Elain, and Nesta had gone back into the room where they were keeping him to say their goodbyes. Feyre hadn’t been close with him, Nesta hadn’t been close with him, but Elain had always kept hope. She would take it the hardest. But still, for the others, they lost their only living parent.

Rhysand knew how it felt.

So did Cassian.

And Azriel, too.

Rhysand sat next to Cassian in a waiting room chair. Cassian hadn’t said a word.

Azriel was sitting across from them, holding Mila, who was sound asleep.

He hadn’t said a word, either.

Eris was still conscious when they took him away, speeding toward the hospital. Azriel had stabbed him to defend himself, not to kill. Azriel may have hated Eris with every ounce of his body, but he was no killer.

Azriel was not Eris.

None of them spoke a single, damned word, until Beron Vanserra came into the waiting room. He didn’t bother to see Eris. Instead, he sat down with them, next to Azriel. Noting that Mila was asleep, he kept his voice quiet.

“I talked to all of the witnesses, along with my men,” he began. He looked exhausted, more tired than Rhysand had ever seen him, older than Rhysand had ever seen him. “Now, I need to hear from the three of you what happened.”

“If you already know, why must we?” Azriel whispered.

“Because it’s my job,” Beron said, rubbing his temples.

“A fight broke out,” Rhysand claimed. “It obviously got a little out of control.”

“Who stabbed Eris?” Beron asked.

“I did,” Azriel said, without any hesitation. “He was holding a knife to my throat, Beron. He wanted to kill me.”

Beron’s eyes weakened at the words. “And who struck down Isaac Archeron?”

“You already know the answer to that, it seems,” Azriel said.

Cassian hadn’t spoken.

“I need you to tell me, for the official reco-”

“Eris,” Rhysand said. “Your son, your fucking son,” he went on, voice shaking, “killed my wife’s father. And he didn’t even seem to feel bad about it.”

Beron nodded, slowly, eyes shining as he stood. Without a thanks, he went on his way.

“Where will they go?” Cassian asked, before Beron could get too far. His first words since they left the court. “Eris and Tamlin, where will they go? What happens now?”

“I talked to Tamlin’s father. Tamlin must leave town, immediately,” Beron said. “And Eris...when he is discharged, he will be taken to the station where he will await trial.”

Azriel pulled Mila closer to him.

Without another word, Beron was gone, and the three of them were left there, waiting. Cassian jumped from his chair with such force that he nearly knocked it over. He didn’t look at his friends as he stormed out of the hospital.

Not five minutes later, the Archeron sisters flooded into the waiting room. Azriel was instantly on his feet, taking Elain’s hand and leading her out, Mila’s cheek resting on his shoulder. Feyre plopped down next to Rhysand.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, shaking his head, “Feyre-”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “I knew he wasn’t gone. I knew he wouldn’t leave us alone, Rhys. Tamlin…” Her voice broke on his name. “I hate that I hate him so much.”

“It was Eris-”

“They’re the same fucking person!” Feyre yelled, but no one stopped to tell her to be quiet, no one gave her a look. “Tamlin, Eris, these assholes that think they can start shit….he was a part of it. Tamlin. He’s part of the reason my dad is dead, Rhys.”

Rhysand put his arm around her and leaned back in the chair.

“I tried to get to him,” Rhysand said. “I wasn’t fast enough.”

She looked up at him, eyes shining. “It wasn’t your fault, Rhys. We know that, it wasn’t any of your faults. It was Eris, and it was Tamlin’s, and no one else’s.”

He wiped her cheeks with his thumb.

There was nothing more he could say.

Nothing more that felt right, nothing that took away his guilt.

All he managed was, “Tamlin is leaving town. For good. Eris is being arrested the second he’s discharged, where he’ll be put on trial.”

Feyre sunk into his shoulder, the only sign that she’d heard, the only sign that she found any comfort in his words.

A few minutes passed before she asked, “What do you think it’s like? Whatever lies beyond this world?”

Isaac Archeron had been a mess in the years since his wife died. He paid his children very little attention, could barely take care of himself. He was long gone, a ghost. “I don’t know,” Rhysand answered, honestly. “But, I have no doubt he’s already found your mom, and I have no doubt that it was one hell of a reunion.”

Feyre looked up at him and smiled, weakly, another tear falling down her pale cheek. “Take me home, Rhys.”

Rhysand stood and took her hand.

She clung to his hand as if her life depended on it.

~~~~~

Azriel and Elain didn’t talk the entire drive home. It was quiet, partly because Mila was sleeping, but mostly because there was nothing to say.

Elain was the closest to her father out of her sisters, Azriel knew that.

He had fucking held Isaac while he died.

He had felt him take his final breath.

All the while, while he sat on the concrete, cradling Isaac’s head...all Azriel could think about was Elain, how her heart would break, how Azriel could do nothing.

How he had been there when it happened.

How his face was the last face that Isaac saw.

The minute Azriel pulled into the driveway, he was getting out of the car and pulling Mila out. He took her inside of the townhouse and laid her down on the couch before taking off her shoes and covering her up with a blanket. After kissing her forehead, he wandered into the kitchen.

There was a bottle of vodka in the fridge from the last time everyone was there for dinner and game night.

Azriel opened it and pressed the bottle to his mouth.

He downed as much as he could before setting it on the counter and swearing under his breath.

He was pissed.

He was overwhelmed.

Don’t wake Mila, was all he could think.

Eris wasn’t an issue anymore. He was no longer a threat. He had intended to murder Azriel and, accident or not, Isaac’s blood was on Eris’ hands. Nor was Tamlin a threat, either, to Feyre and Rhysand, and for that, Azriel should have been happy. At least, he should have been a little bit comforted. Grateful.

But he fucking stabbed a man.

He put a blade into Eris’ abdomen. He’d felt it go through his skin. He didn’t even think about it. He had acted without any hesitation.

He had to live.

He couldn’t die, couldn’t let Eris take Mila. So, he took Eris’ knife, and stabbed him.

Maybe it made him a bad man.

Maybe it made him a fucking good man.

He didn’t fucking know.

All he knew was that shit went down that night that shouldn’t have, and now everything was different.

The world was quiet, too quiet.

“Azriel.”

His name was soft coming out of Elain’s mouth. He spun around from where he was leaning against the counter, hovered over a bottle of vodka.

She was standing in the doorway, brows furrowed, eyes red and puffy.

He quickly looked away from her.

Elain took a step into the kitchen. “I need you to tell me what happened, Az.”

He shook his head. “They already told you-”

“I need you to tell me what happened,” she repeated.

How could he? How would he ever be the same to her after the words came out of his mouth?

He shook his head, slowly.

Elain walked toward him, one hand on her little bump. “Please,” she begged, and it was the one word, the crack in her voice, that made him confess.

“He was going to kill me,” Azriel choked out. “I tried, Elain, to fight him off, but he had a fucking knife. He held it to my throat, and I couldn’t move, not without it digging into my neck.” He reached up, felt the long, thin scab that had developed from the contact with the blade. “I didn’t know what to do. I expected him to take me, to cut me…..I expected him to kill me, whether because he hated me for having Mila or because he was just that fucking bitter about his life, I didn’t know….” he shook his head, angrily, frustrated. Elain took his hand into hers as she wept. “Your dad saved me, Elain. He tried to pull Eris off of me, and it didn’t work, but he gave me the few seconds I needed to take Eris….to take Eris down. If your dad didn’t come when he did...”

The words spilled out of him, and he hated himself for it.

It was the truth, though. If it had not been for Isaac Archeron, Azriel would not be standing there.

He knew he was crying, and Azriel didn’t care. He let himself cry, let himself mourn, let himself feel the sorrow and the pain, not only for what he had endured that night, but for Elain, for the woman he loved, for the mother of his child.

“He saved my life, El,” Azriel breathed.

Azriel wasn’t sure if he was grateful for that statement or if he hated himself for it. Part of him was so fucking grateful. Isaac had saved his life, and had saved Mila’s life in return. But part of him felt so fucking guilty. Elain no longer had a father, her and her sisters had lost both of their parents.

There was no winning side of the situation.

Either way, someone was lost, and someone would remain heartbroken.

“I’m so sorry,” he said at last, knowing he was crying, sobbing, no matter what he said, nothing would be made better. The alcohol certainly hadn’t helped, certainly hadn’t made him any more stable.

It had only made him more talkative.

More willing to confess.

More willing to spill his heart out, which only made Elain’s heart break more.

Elain took Azriel’s face into her hands and made him look down at her. She had been crying for hours. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips swollen and her cheeks tearstained.

She remained silent. There wasn’t anything she could say. She couldn’t say she was grateful that her father saved him, for it would mean she was grateful for the sacrifice he had made, and it would only make her feel guilty. But, she couldn’t say she was not grateful for Isaac’s sacrifice, either, for it was because of that sacrifice that Azriel, the father of her child, was alive.

Elain pulled his face to hers and she kissed him, softly.

Everything he needed was in that kiss.

Every complicated word that must remain unspoken.

Comfort swept through him, even though that burden still remained.

Azriel was certain that the burden would remain for quite some time.

It may never go away, that guilt.

He was grateful to Isaac, but it was a debt he would never be able to repay.

But he would try.

He would be a good father to Isaac’s grandchild.

He would take care of Elain, Isaac’s pride and joy, and protect her with his life.

He would love Elain, unconditionally, would someday make her his wife.

Azriel loved Elain.

And he would continue to love Elain.

For that was why Isaac had intervened in the first place.

To protect the father of his grandchild.

The love of his daughter’s life.

~~~~~

Cassian stood on the balcony of his apartment.

Amren had decided to stay with Mor at Azriel’s apartment, and Cassian was grateful for it. He couldn’t deal with the questions, couldn’t deal with Amren knowing the truth.

It had all been his fault.

He was past the need for whiskey, his body was already numb from the shock of it all.

Nesta had gone home with him, but she was sitting on his couch while he had stormed outside. The anger, that anger, was in full force.

And this time, it was directed at himself.

It was him.

It was all him.

Everything that happened.

It was all him.

The sliding door opened half an hour later. Nesta’s voice was soft when she said, “You should come to bed.” Cassian shook his head. “Won’t be able to sleep.”

“Come on, Cass,” she breathed, exhaustion lacing her tone. “Come inside.”

“Why?” Cassian asked. “You shouldn’t even care.”

“Don’t start that shit with me,” she snapped. “It’s been a bad fucking day, so just come inside and come to bed.”

Cassian’s jaw locked.

Nesta sighed. “Fine. I’m going to bed.”

She turned to go back inside, but then Cassian choked out, “I’m sorry.”

She froze.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he said, again. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He repeated the words, over and over again, into the silence.

So fucking sorry.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Nesta whispered, and when she reached for him, he jerked away.

“You don’t get it,” he said, eyes blurred. “I threw the first punch, Nesta, it’s all my fault. It’s all my fucking fault.”

My fucking fault.

If he hadn’t hit Tamlin, all hell wouldn’t have broken loose.

That anger.

That fucking anger.

It never left him alone.

Everyone thought he had killed his mom.

And he may as well have killed Isaac Archeron.

“Cassian,” Nesta breathed.

But he wouldn’t look at her.

Couldn’t look at her.

It was his fault that her father was dead.

She wouldn’t take that, though, wouldn’t accept it. She closed the distance between them, Cassian blocked in the corner of the balcony.

She gripped the front of his shirt, just over his chest, with her fingers and hissed, “It’s not your fault. Alright? It’s not your fault. And you better believe me, because I wouldn’t fucking lie to you. If it was your fault, I’d beat your ass, and I’d curse your name, but it’s not your fault, Cassian, it’s not your fault.”

He knew Nesta, knew she wouldn’t lie, knew she was telling the truth, but the thought lingered.

All your fault.

“Cassian,” she breathed, shaking her head, reading his thoughts. She reached up to dry his tears, although she was crying herself. But Cassian couldn’t move his hands, he was frozen in place, numb, unable to wipe her tears away.

Guilty.

He felt so fucking guilty.

“Come to bed,” she begged, and he had never heard her voice so desperate, so vulnerable. When he met her eyes, she looked scared.

And Nesta Archeron rarely showed fear.

“Come to bed,” she repeated, her hands running across his body with desperation.

Come to bed.

“It’s not your fault, Cassian,” she whispered, her voice shaking, fingers clinging to his shirt. “Okay? It’s not your fault. Come to bed. Come to bed with me, Cass, come to bed.”

He didn’t remember being led to his bedroom, didn’t remember lying down, didn’t remember Bryaxis coming into the room, up on the bed, and laying his chin on Cassian's chest.

And then Nesta crawled up on the other side of him and laid her cheek against his shoulder. Her tears soaked through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Neither of them said another word.

But nobody moved. Cassian, Nesta, and Bryaxis laid there all night, clinging to one another.

~~~~~

One Week Later…

The headstone hadn’t been ready the few days prior when the funeral had taken place, so when they got the call that it was ready to be placed at Isaac’s burial, the sisters had decided to see it placed, together.

Feyre and Rhysand pushed out their wedding. Rhysand had agreed that it was no longer the right time to host a big wedding, and waiting didn’t bother him in the slightest, even after they had hurried to get it ready for that Saturday in October. As much as Feyre wanted to be Rhysand’s wife, the past week had held too much to add a wedding countdown on top of it.

Instead of a wedding, Feyre stood between her sisters at the foot of the newly patted down dirt. There was now a headstone at the head of the site, one that read,

Isaac Alexander Archeron. Father, husband, friend.

Hero.

“It looks good,” Nesta said, quietly.

“Beautiful,” Elain agreed. “Hero.”

Feyre took Elain’s hand and squeezed it. “That he was.”

Nesta nodded, quietly.

They had laid Isaac beside Moira, in that little cemetery in Velaris. It was where he wanted to be. It had always been where he wanted to be, next to his wife, and now he was. Feyre believed Rhysand’s words to have been true. She believed her dad had found her mom, and they were now together, looking down over their girls in whatever life came after this one.

The leaves had begun to change color. Autumn had always been her favorite time of year. It had always been Isaac’s, too. It was why he was in the park that night, why he had been walking along the Sidra.

He was admiring the early Autumn landscape while he fed the ducks.

Feyre didn’t let herself think too much on the “what-if’s”. What if he had just stayed home? What if he hadn’t walked by the rivercourt? Would Azriel be dead? Would fate have intervened, would Isaac lost his life another way? There was no possible way of knowing, and obsessing over the “what-if’s” certainly never helped.

“Well,” Feyre began, clearing her throat. “Shall we?”

Nesta nodded and stepped forward, placing a bouquet of yellow roses on her mother’s grave, and a bouquet of lilies on her father’s. When she came back, Feyre stepped forward and set a framed picture of their family beside the lilies. And when that was done, Elain came forward with a sealed envelope.

“I wrote a poem,” she breathed, placing it next to the frame. “Perhaps you and mom can read it together.”

When Elain joined her sisters again, Feyre took their hands, they said their goodbyes, for now, and went back to the car.

Feyre expected Nesta to drive her back to her apartment, but she didn’t. Instead, Nesta drove to Elain’s townhouse, where the driveway was lined with cars.

Mor’s, Azriel’s, Amren’s, Cassian’s, and Rhysand’s.

“Having lunch?” Feyre asked.

“Something like that,” Nesta muttered, but when Feyre looked up from where she was sitting in the backseat, Nesta’s face revealed nothing.

She parked, and they all got out.

“Now, close your eyes,” Elain demanded.

Feyre stilled as she shut her car door. “Why?”

“Because we’re older than you, and we say so,” Nesta snapped, although her eyes were soft.

“We won’t let you trip over anything,” Elain promised, taking Feyre’s hand.

After a sigh, Nesta agreed. “Not on purpose, anyway.”

Hesitantly, Feyre closed her eyes. She was led up the driveway, and into the house, where Mor’s voice spat, “Everyone shut up,” the second the door opened.

Feyre chuckled. “Subtle.”

“We’re going up the stairs,” Elain warned.

Eyes still closed, her sisters dragged Feyre up the stairs and down the hall. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in Elain’s bedroom, and hanging on her floor length mirror was Feyre’s dress and her veil.

Feyre blinked as both of her sister’s sat on the edge of Elain’s bed.

“Yeah, I’m not following,” Feyre began, slowly.

Elain patted the spot next to her on the mattress. “Sit.”

Feyre did so, wearily.

“I called Rhys a couple days ago,” she began. Nesta sat on the other side of her, quietly. “I told him I understand that right now isn’t the time for a big wedding, and I completely agree...but, I also told him about my last conversation with dad.”

Elain took Feyre’s hand on her right, and Nesta’s on her left.

“I talked to him last Saturday afternoon, just before he left to go to the park,” Elain began, and the second her eyes lined with tears, Feyre began to cry. “We talked about Nesta. How he was so proud of her...how she was overcoming her addiction, something he or mom was never quite able to do.” Feyre glanced at Nesta, who was staring at her hands, the eyes that matched her own, her mother’s eyes, blurred. “Then we started talking about you, and Rhys. And how he wouldn’t miss your big day. He was planning on being there today, Feyre, to surprise you. He had called, asking me what color he should wear to match the groomsmen.” Elain chuckled. “He wanted to look nice to walk you down the aisle. He told me not to tell, that he knew you wouldn’t believe him, knew you had grown apart throughout the years...but, he always thought you would end up with Rhys, and he just couldn’t wait for the two of you to become man and wife.”

Feyre shook her head, slowly, but no words came out.

Elain’s smile was soft when she wiped away her little sister’s tears. “So, put on that dress, and let’s not make dad wait.”

“He did clear his schedule for today, just to surprise you,” Nesta followed, when Feyre’s body shook with a quiet sob. “He may be busy tomorrow. You know, he’s with mom now, and they have a decade of adventures and memories to catch up on.”

Feyre laughed, quietly, and looked up at her sisters. They watched her with such love and adoration. For the first time that week, Feyre felt a sense of peace fill her body.

“He just couldn’t wait,” Feyre repeated.

Elain shook her head, smiling fondly. “He couldn’t wait.”

~~~~~

“They’ve been up there for hours,” Rhysand breathed.

He understood, knew Feyre didn’t know it was coming, knew it would be a lot to take in. Fuck, it had been a lot for him to take in when he got the call from Elain days before. But, of course, Rhysand thought it was beautiful, and knew that Feyre would think so, too.

Isaac had planned to be at their wedding today.

And be there, he would be.

“I’ll go check on them,” Azriel said, padding out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“You need to stop pacing,” Cassian said, watching Rhysand go back and forth, from one side of the kitchen table to the other. “It’s stressing me out.”

Rhysand shot him a look. “Fuck off.”

“Yeah,” Mila said, running into the kitchen and hopping up on Cassian’s lap. “Fuck off, Cassie.”

Cassian’s head tipped back and he howled. Even Rhysand couldn’t help but smile as the sound of laughter filled the kitchen.

When his laughter died down, Cassian took the little girl’s face into his hands. “You can’t say that. Naughty words.”

She rolled her eyes and hopped back onto the floor. Cassian helped her straighten out her flower girl dress as she said, “Rhysie naughty.”

“Yes, he is,” Cassian agreed, then took the flower crown headband off the table and pulled it down over Mila’s curls. “There. Beautiful.”

Mila threw her arms around Cassian’s neck before running back into the living room.

Mor chuckled as she entered the kitchen. “I swear she’s going to rip that dress before the ceremony even begins.”

Rhysand shrugs. “Adds character.”

“Alright,” Amren breathed, joining everyone else in the townhouse’s kitchen. “I think I’ve got my speech together.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” Rhysand said, although his eyes were full of admiration. Amren was taking her duty very seriously.

“You only get married once,” Amren proclaimed, “so, yes, it does have to be perfect.”

She had gotten ordained, online, in twenty minutes. Rhysand wasn’t exactly sure how legit it was, but he figured it was legit enough.

Azriel came back down the stairs, straightening his tie. “Alright, she’s almost ready. Nesta said ten minutes.”

Rhysand stilled, and Mor grinned, planting a kiss on her cousin’s cheek.

“Alright,” Cassian said, winking. “I’ll get Mila.”

“Everybody in the backyard,” Mor announced, throwing open the sliding door.

Rhysand stayed where he was, though, his feet planted as Amren and Mor went outside, and Cassian went to hunt down the flower girl.

Azriel walked to his friend. “You never knew how to tie a fucking tie.”

Rhysand snorted as Azriel undid the knotted fabric around Rhysand’s neck.

“Doesn’t help that I’ve felt like I’ve had to piss, all day, nonstop” Rhysand murmured.

Azriel chuckled as he pulled the tie around Rhysand’s neck, and tied it correctly. “How else are you feeling?”

Rhysand stayed quiet for a moment as Azriel worked his necktie magic. He had a lot of emotions, so many that they were difficult to sort out.

It had been a long week, one of those weeks that felt much longer than a week. Rhysand had spent most of it by Feyre’s side, but when Feyre was with her sisters, Rhysand had been with Azriel and Cassian. They worked through a lot, and were still working through a lot when it came to their guilt. But the girls were right. It wasn’t their fault, even if a small part of them would always feel like it was.

But Tamlin had left, as Beron promised. He had told Rhysand that Tamlin was headed up north to be near his mom. And, true to his word, Eris had been taken into custody upon his release from the hospital and was to be trialed for attempted murder and Isaac’s death. No matter what happened, he would be charged with something, and would be locked away for a long while.

When Azriel was done, he clapped Rhysand on the shoulder and stepped back.

“I think Isaac would be happy we’re doing this,” Rhysand said, at last.

Azriel nodded, smiling softly. He knew full well Elain’s last conversation with her father. “I agree.”

Cassian came into the room then, Mila hanging on his back, barefoot. Her dress wasn’t torn, and her flower crown stayed put, but she had a ring of blue around her lips.

“What did you get into now?” Azriel asked, crossing his arms. “And where are your shoes?”

“Lollipop!” she said, grinning, holding onto Cassian. “And I dunno.”

Rhysand laughed as Azriel shook his head. “Alright,” he muttered. “Good enough.”

~~~~~

Elain went down the stairs while Nesta finished putting the pins in Feyre’s hair, just to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be.

She peeked outside and saw Amren, standing beneath the archway with Rhysand beside her. Mor was spinning a bare-footed, blue-mouthed Mila around while Azriel and Cassian were talking about something among themselves, grinning like fools.

“They’re ready!” Elain called up the stairs.

“Five minutes!” Nesta called back. “The bride has to pee and put on her shoes!”

Elain laughed quietly to herself as she leaned back against the kitchen counter. She ran a hand over her stomach. The baby had been growing excessively lately. She’d had an appointment the day before, just a check up. The baby’s heartbeat was strong. They could have found out the gender, but Elain had said she didn’t want to know.

Which, she thought she hadn’t, but ever since they left the hospital, she realized one thing: she really, really wanted to know.

Five minutes.

She took out her phone and found Kallias’ contact. After one last glimpse outside and slight hesitation, she pressed the call button.

It rang twice before he answered. “Elain? Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she promised. “I - erm - well, I just….Kallias, I have to know the gender. I’m about to lose my mind, and you have to make it fast, because I need that sense of peace if I am going to get through this day without snapping at someone. You ever planned a wedding ceremony in two days while being pregnant?”

A pause. “I can’t say that I have, no.”

“Thought not,” Elain breathed. “Please tell me you remember the gender.”

“Of course, I do,” Kallias said, voice gentle. “But are you sure-”

“Tell me!” she snapped.

Kallias took no offense. He laughed, quietly. “Alright. Fine. But, seriously, are you sure, because i can’t take it back-”

“If you ask me that question one more time, Kal, I swear…” she trailed off, unable to think of an actual threat, while listening to the bathroom door open at the top of the stairs.

Kallias took a deep breath before he told her, and tears instantly sprung into Elain’s eyes. “Oh. Oh, thank you,” she breathed, laughing softly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Tell Feyre and Rhys I say congrats.”

“Of course,” Elain promised, and said goodbye, after thanking him five more times.

The sliding door was thrown open as Elain set her phone on the counter.

Azriel took one look at his pregnant girlfriend crying and stilled. “What happened? Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Is Feyre okay?”

“Everyone’s okay,” she breathed, shaking her head. “I just got off the phone with-”

She stopped, and Azriel lifted a brow as he shut the door. “With?”

“Nobody,” Elain whispered.

Azriel was walking toward her, slowly. Elain watched those slow movements, watched as he opened the junk drawer and pulled out a roll of scotch tape before facing Elain.

Elain slowly slid her phone behind her back on the counter.

Azriel shook his head. “I can easily get that, you know.”

“Debatable,” Elain said, lifting her chin.

Azriel laughed. “Who did you call?”

Elain groaned. “Kallias.”

Azriel met her by the counter, clearly amused. “Why?”

“Because the entire time I was doing Feyre’s make up, while Feyre and Nesta were talking about how Cassian is in bed, which...by the way….the man is a monster…” Azriel chuckled as Elain continued, “Az, all I could think about was baby names and then I started thinking about how we could have already known whether the baby is a boy or a girl….and I was going crazy. I had to know.”

“So you called Kal.”

“Yes.”

“And you asked?”

“Yes.”

“And he told you…”

“Yes,” Elain said, pulling Azriel closer to her by his belt.

“And?” he asked, quietly.

“You want to know?” she laughed, head falling to the side.

“Well, if you know, it’s only fair that I do, too,” he said, taking her face into his hands.

Elain’s smile was wide and bright as she said, “The baby is a boy.”

Azriel laughed, under his breath, as his hazel eyes shone. “Yeah?”

Elain nodded, and pressed her lips to his.

He sunk into that kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist. “A son.”

“A son,” Elain repeated. “Mila’s going to have a little brother.”

“Hmmm,” he muttered, kissing her, again, and again, and again.

She jerked back. “Wait, why do you have tape? Did something fall off the arch?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” he began, forgetting why he had apparently come inside in the first place. He took the tape off the counter. “Mila ripped her dress.”

Elain blinked. “And you...were going to...tape it?”

Azrie’s expression flattened. “Well, we’re kind of on a time limit here, El.”

“Oh my god,” she laughed, shaking her head. “You are such a man.”

Footsteps began at the top of the stairs and slowly came down. Azriel turned around the minute Feyre came into view, Nesta holding the train of her dress.

Elain watched Azriel as he stilled, his smile widened, his eyes still misty from the news of their son, and now of Feyre, dressed in white.

“Think Rhys will approve?” she asked, looking at Azriel.

Azriel cleared his throat. “That’s an understatement. You look beautiful. Really.”

Feyre’s eyes softened as she said, “Thank you.”

After taking the tape into his hand and kissing Elain on the forehead, Azriel was hurrying back outside.

Feyre looked at Elain, then at Nesta.

“Ready?” Elain asked.

Feyre nodded.

No more hesitation.

“Ready.”

~~~~~

The moment Rhysand saw Feyre, tears were rolling down his cheeks. It was as if they were the only two people in the world, and everyone else was intruding.

At least, Nesta felt like she was intruding.

Amren led the ceremony flawlessly. Nesta had no idea she was so poetic. After handing them the rings, Cassian joined Nesta by her side.

He was handsome, in his navy slacks and white shirt, with his navy tie. His hair was pulled back. He had even shaved.

Nesta loved the beard.

But there was something about him clean shaven that made Nesta’s breathing unsteady and her knees wobbly.

After Amren announced them husband and wife, and Rhysand kissed his bride, it was time for their little, unorganized family to party.

Mila was on a sugar high. She hadn’t stayed still for the entire ten minute ceremony, and was now running across the backyard doing - or, attempting to do - cartwheels. Mor and Amren were sitting in the grass, laughing as the four year old went wild.

Cassian was in the kitchen when Nesta walked through the back door.

“You were voted caterer?” she asked.

Cassian laughed as he pulled out a pile of meat from the fridge. “So it seems. But, I’m a very good cook.”

Nesta raised a brow.

“Well,” Cassian said, correcting himself, “I know how to work a grill.”

Nesta chuckled and met him at the counter top. “Do you have to start grilling now?”

Cassian traced her neckline with his fingers once she approached. “Depends. Why do you ask?”

“I thought we could go upstairs for a few minutes,” she whispered.

Cassian grinned. “I knew it. Can’t keep your hands off of me. This is why I never dress up for you.”

Nesta laughed and kissed him, fiercely. Speaking of hands, Cassian’s wandered down to her ass and started hiking the skirt of her dress up, slowly.

“Not here,” she said, pushing against his chest.

Cassian looked around. “We’re alone.”

“Until someone walks through that door,” Nesta muttered, just as his lips found hers, once more. His tongue slid between her lips, brushing alongside her own, and Nesta’s body fell into his. He growled, quietly, into her mouth.

The door opened up and a high-pitched “gross!” filled the air.

Nesta looked over her shoulder to find Mila walking toward the fridge, her little white dress covered in grass stains.

“Sorry, kid,” Cassian said, trying not to laugh. “What can I get you?”

“I want ice cream,” she beamed, pulling open the freezer. “Can I?”

“Sure.”

“Can you get me a bowl?”

Cassian blinked, then opened the drawer next to him. He pulled out a spoon and handed it to the toddler. “Here. Just eat it out of the carton.”

Mila’s eyes grew big as she took the spoon, a carton of chocolate ice cream, and ran back outside.

“Okay,” Nesta began. “Now, we really need to go, because Azriel’s going to be in here in less than a minute to kick your ass.”

Cassian muttered his agreement and lifted Nesta off the ground, cradling her against his chest as he began to leave the kitchen.

But he didn’t go upstairs.

They only made it as far as the guest bathroom, right next to the kitchen.

~~~~~

It had been a good day.

A great day.

Feyre admired the ring on her finger as they danced to the stereo beneath the Velaris starlight.

Mor was dancing with Cassian, and Azriel was swinging a sugar-fueled Mila around, as Nesta, Elain, and Amren sat on the back porch, watching.

“Do you think they saw it all?” Feyre asked. “Mom and dad.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand answered, without missing a beat. “I do.”

She looked up at him and smiled, pushing his dark hair back. “I do, too.”

Rhysand nodded, and pressed his forehead into hers. “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” Feyre breathed. “I get to call myself your wife, nothing could make me happier.”

He kissed her, softly, as they swayed back and forth.

“I know this isn’t how you imagined it -”

“It was perfect,” Feyre said, cutting Rhysand off. “So incredibly perfect.”

“Just wait for the honeymoon.”

Feyre groaned. “I still don’t know where we’re fucking going.”

Rhysand grinned. “You’ll find out first thing in the morning. The car’s already packed.”

Feyre cocked her head. “With swimsuits or ski gear?”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed. “Nice try.”

Feyre laughed, shaking her head. “Fine. I’ll wait. But only because Cassian let it slip a little while ago that we’re going to Adriata.”

Rhysand stilled, let go of his future wife, and spun around to where Cassian had Mor gathered into his arms. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Cassian held his hands up in surrender as Mor laughed.

“That’s the second time he’s said that naughty word today,” Mila muttered to Azriel, who looked at Rhysand and shook his head.

“I swear. Between your filthy mouth and Cassian unable to keep his mouth to himself…” Azriel trailed off and looked between Cassian and Nesta.

Nesta’s grin said she wasn’t sorry, whatsoever.

Feyre pulled Rhysand back to her and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m excited.”

“Good,” Rhysand murmured, sighing as he held his wife close.

His wife.

Her husband.

Her best friend.

Her forever.

No, the little imtimate backyard ceremony hadn’t been like she’d imagined, not at all.

But, as they danced together, all of them, beneath the Velaris starlight, and the memory of her parents filled the air around them, Feyre decided that it had been perfect. Big weddings be damned.

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

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s @sensitiveillyrian

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books @mockingjayusa

@mis-lil-red @mini-monster-amren

@shhhimreading03 @brittneym15

@emilyrose111294 @queen-of-glass

@negativenesta @keshavomit

@argentumstella @sebxstianbarnes

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides @candid-confetti

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @iliketoasterstrudels

@6255igntm @moondancer-204

@littlehoneyybee @acourtofbookworms

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s @nightcourtcinnamonroll

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn @bamchickawowow

@julemmaes @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta @nickjgoodsell

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #fanfic #tacmc aita

272 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {epilogue}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: Short & Sweet

A/N: Thank you for reading & being so sweet with all the love. xx

also, shoutout to @the-regal-warrior for helping me come up with a baby name...i love u.

Even Mila had yet to see her baby brother.

Having a five year old in a hospital wasn’t ideal, so they had Mila stay with Feyre and Rhysand until they brought him home.

As they rode in the car toward their townhouse, the baby slept soundly in the backseat. Elain was completely exhausted, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t wait to introduce him to everyone.

And everyone was waiting, their cards lining the road in front of the townhouse.

Azriel yawned as he pulled into the driveway. “They couldn’t come...I don’t know...next week sometime?”

“I just pushed a baby out of my body,” Elain said, undoing her seatbelt. “If I can do an hour of introducing our son to our family, so can you.”

Azriel chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Fair enough.”

Elain got out of the car and headed up the drive as Azriel pulled the carseat out of the middle of the back. He was still sleeping.

It was hard being three days old.

The minute Elain opened the door, she was grinning.

They all stood there. Mor, Amren, Feyre, Cassian, Nesta, and Rhysand, Mila in his arms, beneath a banner that read Welcome baby boy!

Elain cursed her hormones as her eyes lined with tears.

Azriel came up behind her, yawning, once again.

Elain didn’t know why he was yawning so much.

He didn’t push a baby out of his vagina recently.

She blamed such thoughts on the hormones.

Everyone was grinning wildly, but they remained quiet, careful not to startle the newborn.

All but Mila, anyway.

“BROTHER!” she screamed, and Azriel froze in the doorway.

“Shhhh,” Rhysand laughed. “You have to be quiet, remember?”

“Oh,” Mila began, eyes wide, voice a whisper. “Yeah. Sorry. Brother.”

They all laughed quietly as Azriel came into the entryway and set the car seat onto the wooden floorboards.

There he was, a head full of dark hair and Azriel’s tan complexion. He was still fast asleep, wearing a onesie that read “Mommy’s little studmuffin”. There was a muffin on the butt of the pants. When Elain purchased it, she had cried for an hour.

Damn hormones.

“Meet Alexander Isaac Asghar.”

The women swooned.

Even Cassian swooned.

Rhysand hid his face behind Mila to keep from tearing up.

They would call him Zander, and his middle name came from Elain’s father, from the sacrifice he had made to ensure that Zander had a father in his life. And his last name was Azriel’s, of course, the same last name that Mila now had.

A name Elain herself would have, soon, too. Azriel had proposed months ago, but they promised to keep the wedding planning at bay until after the baby came.

Now that he was there, though, Elain was itching to get started. White dress. Lilies. An outdoor wedding with white fold out chairs filled with people. Her sisters by her side. Azriel waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

It would happen.

Soon.

Feyre and Nesta were holding Elain in her arms, congratulating her. Cassian was clapping Azriel on the shoulder. Rhysand was still holding Mila, telling her how important it was for her to keep her voice down and be gentle.

“Just look, don’t touch, just look, don’t touch….” Feyre whispered, as she bent down over the carseat, where baby Alexander was sleeping.

Azriel gave Rhysand a curious glance.

“She has serious baby fever,” Rhysand explained.

Feyre’s eyes snapped to her husband’s. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes as he let Mila onto the ground, at last.

She crawled to the side of the car seat and peeked over the edge. Azriel’s arm went around Elain as they watched the sight. Even Azriel teared up as he watched - and he did not have new mommy hormones.

Mila smiled as she took Alexander’s tiny little hand. “Hi, little brother.”

When Elain looked up at Azriel, he was already watching her. He kissed her, softly, before wrapping both of his arms around her.

They were both thinking the same thing.

This was their family.

Their little, unorganized, messy, completely perfect family.

~~~~~

Nesta was living with Cassian. She had moved in with him nearly a month before Alexander had been born, so that Azriel and Elain could transform her room into a nursery. She didn’t mind. She completely understood.

Besides, she liked living with Cassian.

For many, many different reasons. They had been together for a while, and as obnoxious and cocky as he was, she found he was the ideal roommate. Clean, good in the kitchen, better in the bedroom...he checked off everything on her list.

“Alexander’s a cute little thing, isn’t he?” Cassian called from the bathroom.

Nesta had just laid back on their bed as she agreed. “He looks so much like Azriel.”

Cassian chuckled. “Yeah, he does.”

“Do you ever want kids?” Nesta asked.

“With you?” Cassian asked. “I like making babies.”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation, Cass.”

Cassian didn’t reply until a moment later, when he came around the corner of the bedroom and leaned against the door frame. He was ready for bed, hair still damp from his shower, shorts hanging low on his hips.

“Someday,” he answered, at last. “Do you?”

“I used to not,” she answered, honestly, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. “Now, I don’t know. Maybe.”

Cassian’s eyebrows rose as he meandered toward the bed. “With me?”

“Maybe,” she said, eyes bright. “If you’re lucky.”

“Ah,” he laughed, crawling onto the bed and pushing her back. He hovered over her as he said, “I’ve been lucky so far. I’m not too worried.”

Nesta shook her head and pushed his hair back, out of his face. She reached up to kiss him, softly. “I want to be married first though. For a few years. Enjoy that little bit of freedom in the married life before babies come.”

Cassian pulled back, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait - we’re not married?”

Nesta rolled her eyes and pushed against his chest.

“No, I’m serious,” Cassian said, but he was laughing as she rolled her eyes, again. “I’m pretty sure I’ve asked. I haven’t proposed?”

“If you have, it wasn’t very memorable,” she said, head cocked to the side.

“Hmmmm,” Cassian began, pretending to think long and hard as he propped himself on his elbows, one elbow resting on each side of her head. “No, no, I’m pretty sure I’ve asked. You must be mistaken.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she muttered.

He laughed softly, his body shaking against hers. “Fine. Maybe I’ll have to ask again, then.”

Nesta’s eyes softened as she asked, “Is that so?”

Cassian nodded, and pressed his mouth against hers.

“When will that be?” Nesta whispered.

Didn’t he know by now that she hated surprises?

Cassian’s eyes were bright as he leaned back. “Oh, when you’re least expecting it.”

Nesta’s mouth formed a tight line.

Oh, he definitely knew.

“Cruel bastard,” she mumbled, but Cassian only laughed.

Nesta couldn’t stay mad, though. Especially not as his hands wandered up her shirt, as his mouth hungrily found the side of her neck.

The entire time they made love, though, all Nesta could think about was one thing.

Cassian Nazari wanted to marry her.

Maybe that was a surprise she would happily, and patiently, wait for.

But, if he didn’t ask her soon enough, she would fucking as him herself.

~~~~~

Rhysand awoke to an empty bed the morning after they had welcomed baby Zander home from the hospital.

He leaned up on his side and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand.

It was just after 7.

On a Saturday.

“Feyre?” he called, voice raspy.

She didn’t answer.

Sitting up, Rhysand rubbed his eyes. The sun was peeking through the curtains, bright in the early morning light. Just as he was about to pull himself out of bed, Feyre came through the door. She looked absolutely stunning, dressed in one of his hoodies, her long hair messy from sleep. Her hands were shoved into the pocket.

Rhysand fell back against the mattress, smiling softly. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, but her eyes were bright. She was wide awake.

She sat on the mattress next to him, on her knees.

And she stared at him, smiling.

“Yes?” Rhysand asked, huffing a laugh as he yawned.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered.

“Ooh, I like this game,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Calm down, cowboy,” she laughed. “Alright. Hold out your hand.”

He did so, and was met a moment later with cool plastic in the palm of his hand.

Feyre said nothing.

“Can I open my eyes?” Rhysand asked, laughing quietly.

Feyre didn’t answer, but Rhysand opened his eyes anyway, to find her eyes bright and blurry. He looked down at his hand, at the pregnancy test sitting in his palm. He blinked, his thoughts going blank.

It was positive.

“This is a pregnancy test,” he said, at last, because it was the only thing that came out.

Feyre nodded, slowly, clearly taking in his reaction.

“It’s positive,” he said.

Feyre laughed, nodding, once more.

“Which….you….” He finally looked up from the test, up to his wife, who was grinning from ear to ear, eyes lined with tears. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, “Rhys, I’m pregnant.”

Rhysand blinked, rapidly. “With...a baby?”

“Typically that’s what women become pregnant with,” she laughed, crawling on top of Rhysand, straddling his lap. She took his face into her hands. “We’re having a baby, Rhys.”

“We’re having a baby,” he repeated, quietly.

Feyre nodded, brushing his cheeks softly with her thumbs.

“We’re having a baby!” he said, dropping the test and taking Feyre into his arms. He threw her down on the bed and hovered over her. Then stilled. “Fuck, sorry, I should be more careful-”

“I’m pregnant, Rhys, not breakable,” she muttered, pulling him down to meet her lips. She kissed him, passionately, running her hands down his bare back.

Rhysand rested his forehead against hers as he breathed, “Fuck.”

“You’re happy?” she whispered.

Rhysand pulled back, eyes wide. “Of course, I am. We made a little person. There’s….fuck, there’s a baby in there.”

He lifted his hoodie up that covered her body.

Feyre rolled her eyes when he purposely exposed her breasts, too. Gently, Rhysand brushed his fingers up her body - over her abdomen, between her breasts, up to her face to cup her cheek.

“I’m so happy,” he breathed.

Feyre couldn’t contain herself any longer. She began to cry soft, happy tears. “Me too.”

The last year had been an adventure. They had found peace, had healed, had forgiven themselves, had moved on. They spent time with their family, making new memories and welcoming a new tiny member of their crazy little crew into the world.

And now, at seven on a Saturday morning, they found out they would be welcoming another little member soon, too.

“I love you,” Feyre breathed.

Rhysand felt an overwhelming sense of peace and joy as he said, “I love you, too.”

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

The end

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s @sensitiveillyrian

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books @mockingjayusa

@mis-lil-red @mini-monster-amren

@shhhimreading03 @brittneym15

@emilyrose111294 @queen-of-glass

@negativenesta @keshavomit

@argentumstella @sebxstianbarnes

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides @candid-confetti

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @iliketoasterstrudels

@6255igntm @moondancer-204

@littlehoneyybee @acourtofbookworms

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s @nightcourtcinnamonroll

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn @bamchickawowow

@julemmaes @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta @nickjgoodsell

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#the end #tacmc aita #nessian #feysand #elriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #modern au

245 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {20}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: More fluff? “But, Tara, that’s so out of character for you.” “But, Tara, what ever happened with Tamlin?” “TARA WHY IS EVERYTHING GOING SO WELL” solid questions......

You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth. - Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Show me!” Feyre called, yelling behind the velvet curtain. Mor was trying on bridesmaid dress after bridesmaid dress, giving Feyre her own personal runway show.

Which she deserved. She was the bride-to-be, after all.

“Alright, okay,” Mor muttered from inside of the dressing room. “This one has a low back and a high neckline. And, I must say, my ass looks fantastic.”

Feyre laughed but that laughter faded once Mor came out, because she was right - she looked stunning. It hugged her body without being too risque and the deep, lavender color suited her perfectly.

“I love that,” Feyre said, eyes wide. “It’s perfect. Even the color. That’s our color. That’s your dress. You’re getting that.”

“Am I?” Mor asked.

“Yes, and if you don’t, I’m kicking you out of the bridal party.”

Mor snorted. “Fine. I accept. Now, I’m making you try on dresses.”

“My sisters should be here,” Feyre said, just as she had every other time Mor had suggested otherwise.

“You don’t have to get one today,” Mor said. “Please? Just try on a few then we can go get lunch.”

“Fine,” Feyre groaned, hopping up from the couch she was sitting on.

The owner of the boutique came over and helped Feyre into a room before Mor, now changed into her shorts and tank top, went crazy, bringing her a handful of dresses.

“Take your time,” Mor called, closing the curtain behind her. “I’ll be sitting right out here, let me know if you need help.”

Feyre sighed, taking in the line up of dresses before her. At first, she slipped on a ballgown, but the moment she stepped out of the dressing room and looked into the mirror, she wanted to yank it off her body and burn it. Too puffy, too frilly. She felt like she was going to prom - been there, done that. She went through two more that even Mor had cringed at before setting her eyes on a slim fit, beaded gown with an open back and a low, sweetheart neckline. It had thin straps and a long, beautiful lace train.

Feyre slipped it on.

She stepped out of her dressing room and looked into the mirror.

Mor gasped, eyes lined with tears.

“Feyre,” she breathed.

“I know,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “Damn you, Mor! I was supposed to wait for my sisters!”

They both broke into a fit of laughter as Feyre admired the dress in the mirror. It was perfect. It was flawless. There was nothing about it that Feyre didn’t like.

Rhysand wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her.

She was barely able to keep her hands off of herself.

It was just over her budget; but, she didn’t really care. She wouldn’t be telling Rhysand, who she scolded just the night before about ordering too many flowers - but, she didn’t really care. She would only ever have one wedding dress.

“How long will it take for this dress to come in if I ordered it today?” Feyre asked.

The owner went to a little computer where she typed away for a minute before saying, “Six months.”

All the breath left Feyre’s body.

But Mor wasn’t taking that shit.

“There isn’t any way it can get in sooner?” Mor asked. “Can she buy the one she has on and have it fitted? She’s getting married in October and that dress needs to be on her body when the day comes.”

The owner looked back and forth between Mor and Feyre.

Her lips thinned. “I will see what I can do.”

She went back to work on her computer as Mor snapped an endless string of pictures on her phone of Feyre in her dress, which she promised to send to Elain.

Five minutes later, Elain had sent a reply: G E T I T N O W

Amren’s replying text was similar: If she doesn’t get that dress I will break in after hours and steal it for her.

If Elain approved, it was a must.

If Amren was talking about breaking the law, it wasn’t unusual, but it was still a must.

The owner was still trying to figure out a way to get it in sooner, now speaking to someone on the phone in hushed tones.

Feyre looked in the mirror, again. It was beautiful. Stunning. She could imagine it, paired with a simple pair of heels and a long, simple veil. She could picture Rhysand’s face as she walked toward him in the dress. He would watch her with wide, teary eyes, and a small smile, full of utter adoration.

It was the dress.

Half an hour had passed before the owner rejoined them. The elderly woman sighed, as if all of her energy had been sucked away. “I can get it here in two months-”

Feyre heard nothing else because Mor had jumped up, off the couch, and was running to Feyre with her arms wide open. Laughing, Feyre let Mor embrace her, all while picturing her wedding day.

What a perfect day it would be.

~~~~~

Cassian had gone for a jog along the Sidra, listening to his hype playlist through his earbuds. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon. The sun was bright, high in the sky, not a cloud to be seen. The flowing waters of the Sidra were sparkling beside him.

Even Bryaxis had a little pep in his step, when usually he was trailing behind Cassian and whining after a mile.

They stopped near a little park where Cassian plopped down in the grass, Bryaxis beside him. After taking a drink from his water bottle, he squirted some into Bryaxis’ mouth, too, when his phone went off.

Nesta’s name popped up on his screen.

All of these movies you’re making me watch from the 80s are weird as fuck.

Cassian smiled at his screen before typing back, Which one are you watching now?

It was no secret that Cassian loved movies, so when Nesta asked for recommendations, he had given her a longass list and a giant stack from his personal collection. She had been living with Elain for about two weeks now, and was loving her sister’s company. Cassian hadn’t seen her much, though. He helped her move in, as he promised he would, but he was aware she needed space for now, and he was okay giving her that.

Didn’t keep them from having little text conversations nearly every day, though.

The Lost Boys, she sent back, with a little vampire emoji.

What?? Cassian texted. It’s a classic!

Oh, please, she replied. It’s obvious why you’re such a fan.

Bryaxis had climbed onto his owner’s lap and Cassian was scratching his head, between his ears, when he sent, And why is that?

It took her a minute to reply in which Cassian used to stretch out his long, sweaty legs.

Then the reply came: Bc you’re basically Michael

Cassian cocked his head to the side, even though she wasn’t around to see it. Untrue.

He could imagine her rolling her eyes. Especially when he got her text back. Long hair, motorcycle, thinks he’s hot as shit? Yeah, you’re Michael.

Cassian looked down at Bryaxis. “Nesta’s being mean, Ax.”

Bryaxis’s tail went wild at the mention of her name.

Cassian’s only reply was, I am hot as shit.

Nesta replied with the eye-rolling emoji.

Then, she sent, I’m almost done with the stack you gave me, and as weird as they may be, I wouldn’t mind if you brought me some more?

Before Cassian could reply, Nesta followed the text with, Maybe tomorrow? If you’re not busy after work.

Cassian looked back down to Bryaxis as he grinned. He didn’t know why he was grinning, felt ridiculous at grinning to himself and his dog in the middle of a crowded park, but he couldn’t stop that stupid little grin.

Sure. I’ll be over around 6?

Six gave him enough time to run home, shower, and grab another stack of DVDs she would surely be calling weird as fuck in no time.

Cassian finished stretching, did thirty sit-ups, and was back on his feet, Bryaxis’s leash in hand when Nesta replied: Perfect.

~~~~~

Elain looked at her phone, where she had set a timer.

It had only been fifteen seconds.

The bathroom was small, but she paced back and forth relentlessly. She had chugged half a gallon of water, Nesta watching her curiously as she did so, before excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

They had been watching some vampire movie from the 80s. Not exactly Elain’s thing. She was glad for any excuse that politely removed her from the room.

Even if said excuse was anxiety ridden.

Another glance at her phone.

Thirty seconds.

Her pacing continued, her fingers drumming wildly against her thighs.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing, right? I mean...Azriel would be great, of course, but it certainly wasn’t ideal. They had only been dating a few months, only began sleeping with each other the month before.

If it was true, it must have happened that first night, or one of the nights soon after.

It was too soon.

Elain’s anxiety shot through the roof.

She looked at her phone.

Forty-five seconds.

Two minutes felt like a lifetime when everything was on the line.

She was only a week late, but even when she was barely eating, her period had always remained normal - perfectly spaced out, returning like clockwork the third week of every month.

Her eyes met her phone.

One minute down.

One minute to go.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, shaking out her hands, as if that would somehow make the situation better. “It’s alright. Breathe.”

By the Cauldron, what if it was positive?

Would it really be okay?

Azriel would freak out, without a doubt.

He already had Mila. She couldn’t add more onto his plate.

She looked at her phone.

One minute, twenty seconds.

But he was so good with Mila. He would be an amazing father. So gentle and kind, so loving and passionate.

But would he want to have kids with Elain?

She imagined he hadn’t even thought about such a thing yet. Elain hadn’t even thought about it, not until she went eight days over her start day without her period.

For the Mother’s sake, they hadn’t even used the word love with one another yet.

Phone.

One minute, forty-seconds.

Elain couldn’t breathe. She slumped down to the floor, on top of the gray, fluffy rug, and closed her eyes.

In, out.

Don’t panic.

Panic doesn’t help.

But she couldn’t help it. Her eyes began to water, the tears trickling down her pale cheeks.

She suddenly had a feeling that everything was about to change. She was a woman. She knew her body. Either it had gone into shock with all the lifestyle changes she had made in the recent weeks, or this was all real.

Her timer went off, and her eyes shot open.

She took her phone off the counter and silenced the timer.

Then, with a shaky hand, she pulled the test off the counter.

Pregnant.

She read it twice, ten times, twenty times, that single word the only word she could think of.

She was pregnant.

Pregnant.

With child.

With Azriel’s child.

A fist pounded on the door, scaring Elain shitless. She swore, quietly, scrambling up from the floor.

“Hey, it’s Az. Nesta said you came upstairs. I assume you’re in there, since….well, you’re not anywhere else up here. Hope you don’t mind me coming by early. I dropped Mila off with Mor and Feyre to look for a flower girl dress. I was told I’m not allowed to see it before the wedding day, so...”

Elain took a deep breath, hoping her voice remained steady when she said, “Hey! Oh, I’m just...fixing my contacts.”

A pause. “Okay. I’ll go downstairs and wait with Nesta. I’ll catch the end of The Lost Boys.”

“Great,” Elain said, and her voice broke.

Azriel didn’t move from the other side of the door. She could see the shadows from his feet. “You okay? You sound upset.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she promised him, although she obviously wasn’t. “Just a little emotional today.”

“Alright,” Azriel said, uncertainly. “Can I open the door?”

“I’m naked,” she blurted.

“While putting in contacts?” Azriel said, huffing a laugh. “Not that it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

The doorknob turned, and Elain cursed herself for not locking the door.

She quickly hid the test stick behind her back as he came in.

He took one look at her red cheeks, her blurry eyes, and frowned. “Hey…”

She was frozen in place as he stepped toward her, as he took her face into his hands and wiped away her tears. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, and Azriel pulled her into his arms.

His body stilled.

He was taller than her by quite a bit, no doubt looking down as she planted her face into his chest.

Down at Elain’s hands, behind her back, gripping the test so hard that her knuckles were white.

Azriel reached around her and took it from her hands. He stepped back, looking down at it.

Pregnant.

He took a step back, studied it as if he wasn’t seeing it correctly.

His face was unreadable.

Elain’s hands flew over her mouth as she broke into a sob.

Azriel’s gaze jerked up, his eyes widened as she cried. “Hey, hey, no..”

He set the test down on the counter and pulled Elain into his arms. He held her tightly against him as she wept.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, voice muffled against his shirt.

“About what?” he whispered. “You don’t have to apologize, El. Okay? Don’t apologize.”

She nodded, and when she looked up at him, his hazel eyes shone. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

He hesitated, his hands still rubbing her back. “I’m not….I’m in shock, I guess. But, I’m not….mad, Elain, I think you think I’m mad.”

She took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “I’m in shock, too.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Well, that’s good.”

Elain laughed, softly. “How is that good?”

“Pretty sure shock is normal in these situations,” he said, quietly.

All the tension left Elain’s shoulders. “I’m scared.”

“About what?” he asked, voice low.

“All of it,” she said. “Carrying a child, birthing a child, and everything that comes after that. And you...Azriel…” Her words trailed off, but Azriel didn’t say anything. He watched her and waited, patiently. “You would be an amazing dad, Az, but I don’t want to trap you.”

His brows furrowed as he brushed her newly fallen tears away. “Is that what you think? That I would stay with you because you’re pregnant? Or, that I would even want to leave you in the first place?”

Elain looked down. She shrugged. She wasn’t sure what she thought, wasn’t sure how to sort her thoughts.

Azriel lifted her chin back up with his fingers. “Do you want to have this baby?”

It was the same question that Elain had stayed up the night before asking herself, over and over again. If it’s positive, do you want to keep it? Elain laid her palms flat against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. Although afraid, she felt completely confident when she answered, “Yes.”

Azriel smiled, tentatively, and nodded. “Then I’m going to be here, okay? You’re not trapping me, Elain. You couldn’t trap me if you tried. I know we’ve been together for a few months, and we’re still in that honeymoon stage, and I won’t pretend that I know what the future holds....But I do know that I love you.” He kissed her forehead. “And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to do this, and it’s going to be okay, okay?”

Elain laid her palm against his cheek, brushing away the tear he had that fell. “You love me?”

She knew Azriel, knew he didn’t say things unless they were true. And, after talking with Mor, she knew Azriel had never said that word to another woman.

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I do. But, you don’t have to-”

“I love you, too,” she breathed, interrupting his modesty.

And it was true.

Yes, she had loved Graysen, but it was a false love. She loved the idea of Graysen, loved the life they had built, but it wasn’t true, Graysen had proven that in the end.

But with Azriel…

Azriel was truth, kindness, gentleness, passion, genuity, love. He was everything she needed for herself, all wrapped up into one, perfectly imperfect man.

And she loved that about him.

She loved him.

He smiled down at her, and it was one of those smiles that she had only seen a handful of times from him. His teeth showed, his eyes went bright, his plump lips curved upward. That smile...it was an image that Elain kept in her memory for her darkest of days.

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

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

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@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta @nickjgoodsell

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #feysand #elriel #nessian #tacmc AITA #the end is coming

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {22}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Yeah....I don’t even have a nice little book quote for this one.

The days passed by quickly, the weeks all blurring together. Planning a wedding was stressful, apparently, and trying to fit it into three months was a nightmare. With a month and a half to go until he and Feyre said I do, Rhysand had only crossed off half of his to-do list.

He had the day off of work and planned to try and knock off the other half during his afternoon at home, but it was morning, and Rhysand sat with Mila in the visiting room of the Velaris State Prison.

He hated Amarantha.

Loathed her.

But he loved Mila, and he couldn’t say no to Azriel when he’d asked. Azriel couldn’t miss Elain’s doctor appointment. They would be listening to the heartbeat for the first time. It was unmissable.

“You scared, Rhysie?”

Rhysand looked down into Mila’s big, pleading eyes. He hadn’t said much, felt incredibly uncomfortable. But for her, he smiled. “I’m okay. She should be coming soon, I would think.”

“The big men bring her in,” Mila said, referring to the guards. “She can’t talk a long time. They take her away.”

Rhysand nodded, taking her little hand in his as the door pushed open and Amarantha entered. The minute she walked in and spotted Rhysand, she grinned.

Rhysand hated that grin.

He and Amarantha had dated right after he graduated from high school, for just a few months - a few months too long.

She sat across from them and Mila beamed. “Hi, mama. Rhysie came with me today! Uncle Azzie is with Lain at the doctor.”

“Hi baby,” she smiled, then looked to Rhysand. “Rhys.”

“Amarantha,” he said, her name uncomfortable as it rolled off his tongue. “How’s prison life?”

“About what you’d expect,” she said. “I hear you’re getting married. To Feyre, of all people.”

“We don’t have to talk,” Rhysand said, trying to keep his voice light for Mila’s sake. “Talk to your daughter.”

“Oh, I will,” Amarantha said, “but this is such a great time for us to catch up. So. Feyre finally got rid of Tamlin, did she?”

Rhysand’s jaw locked. It seemed his last visit to Tamlin went better than he’d hoped for. Neither he nor Feyre had heard from the asshole since that day.

“Ah, she did, and fell in love with you,” Amarantha crooned. “And Azriel’s a baby daddy. How about Cassian?”

“Cassie is in love with Nesta,” Mila said.

Amarantha’s brows nearly shot into her hairline. “Archeron? Shit, his standards must have really lowered.”

“Shit,” Mila repeated, and giggled.

“Don’t say that word,” Rhysand whispered to Mila.

“Don’t tell my daughter what she can and can’t say,” Amarantha snapped. “She’s not your daughter.”

“Do you even know who her father is?” Rhysand asked, before he could stop himself. Mila didn’t seem to notice, an older guard was coming around, handing lollipops to the kids, and Mila was waiting eagerly in her chair.

Amarantha’s eyes had narrowed. “Yes, jackass, I do, and now that Az is having a child of his own, Mila will be seeing him a lot more.”

Rhysand stilled. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks,” Amarantha said, sitting back. “Azriel’s negligence has already begun. He’s not here, doing his duty to Mila. Instead, he’s with Elain, obsessing over his unborn child. It’s only a matter of time before he starts ignoring Mila entirely.”

“Azriel loves Mila like she’s his own,” Rhysand spat. “Letting her go with anyone else would be fucked up, even for you.”

Amarantha took no offence. She simply grinned as Mila hopped up from her chair and dug through the bucket of lollipops.

“I disagree. In fact, I’ve already given Mila’s dad a call. He’ll be paying a visit to Azriel, soon.”

Rhysand said nothing as Mila crawled onto his lap. “Can you open this, Rhysie?”

Clearing his throat, Rhysand took the sucker and took off the wrapper before giving it back to Mila.

“Thank you,” she grinned, putting the sucker in her mouth before throwing her little arms around Rhysand’s neck.

“You can’t do this,” Rhysand breathed. “You just want something to control, but it’s not right, and you know it.”

Amarantha shook her head. “You don’t even know who her father is.”

“I know if he slept with you he must be a lowlife dipshi-” Rhysand’s word broke off, remembering there was a four-year-old within earshot. “Not good.”

Mila was singing a song in his ear, oblivious to it all, her entire, innocent world revolved around her lollipop.

“You’ll all find out soon, won’t you? Besides, you used to sleep with me,” Amarantha said, lips twisted upward. “Now, Mila.” Mila turned around at the sound of her name. “Tell mama what I’ve missed.”

Just like that, Rhysand was forgotten. Mila told Amarantha about preschool, about all she did while Azriel was at work.. Then, she told Amarantha about Rhysand’s wedding, and how pretty she felt in her flower girl dress. She also told her mother that Uncle Az was going to be a daddy, and she would have a little brother or sister soon.

Rhysand’s heart broke at the words, at the little girl’s excitement.

Innocent.

She was so fucking innocent.

Rhysand felt sick. He didn’t know who the father was. None of them did. They all just assumed Amarantha was sleeping with so many different men that she didn’t know. The thought of some random dick coming to take Mila away from Azriel…

Azriel would be crushed.

But he wouldn’t let Mila go, not without a fight - a fight he didn’t need as he prepared to bring a child into the world. Elain would support him, of course. She had grown to love Mila, too.

They all loved Mila.

The guard by the door soon announced that visiting hours were over.

Amarantha stood diligently from her chair, kissed Mila on the forehead, then pressed her lips to Rhysand’s, quickly. His jaw went hard, his lips tight.

The second she broke away from him, she whispered, “Let Azriel know about my little surprise.”

As Amarantha walked away, Mila looked up at Rhysand. “Why you kiss mama?”

Rhysand didn’t answer. With a sigh, he stood up, picking her up as he did so. She clung to his neck, the sucker still in her mouth, as they hauled ass to the parking lot.

~~~~~

Elain was practically bouncing out of her chair. Azriel, as always, seemed perfectly calm.

“How are you not freaking out?” she asked.

Azriel chuckled. “Because I know everything will be fine.”

“How?” she asked, rising to her feet. “Oh, I’m gonna puke.”

“There’s a garbage-”

But she had already found the trash can and was hunched over it, vomiting up what little she had managed to get into her stomach for breakfast that morning. Azriel was behind her, instantly, holding back her hair.

She leaned back into him and groaned. He stood there for a moment, comforting her as she caught her breath.

“What if they can’t find a heartbeat?” she whispered.

Azriel turned her around so that she was facing him. He kissed her forehead, softly. “Nothing out of the ordinary has happened, okay? According to my sources, you are a perfectly healthy pregnant woman, and there is a baby with a strong, little heartbeat in there.”

Elain couldn’t help but smile. “And who are your sources?”

“The internet,” he mumbled, and Elain laughed, pressing her forehead into his chest.

She didn’t have to stress about the unknown for much longer, though, because the door opened and the doctor walked in. They had gone to high school with him, he had been in the same grade as Azriel, played basketball alongside him.

His icy blue eyes shone as he took in Azriel and Elain.

“Hey,” he grinned, clapping Azriel on the shoulder before shaking Elain’s hand.

“Hey, Kal,” Azriel replied with a smile. “Long time.”

Kallias chuckled. “Yeah, it has been. I’m glad you told Viv you were looking for a doctor. She hauled ass home and told me if I didn’t make room for you two, she’d riot.”

Viviane was Mila’s preschool teacher. She had also graduated the same year as Azriel. Her and Kallias had gotten married just after high school.

Elain laughed, quietly. “We appreciate you getting us in. It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” he replied, gently. “Hop up on the table for me.”

Elain did so and laid back.

“Morning sickness?” he asked, as he sat on a stool that he wheeled toward her. Azriel stood on the opposite side of the table, quietly.

“Ugh, yes,” Elain began.

“Good.”

When she looked at him like he was crazy, he chuckled. “Believe it or not, it’s a sign that the baby is healthy.”

Elain looked at Azriel. He was grinning - no doubt something he already knew from his sources.

“At this point, your baby is the size of a kidney bean and only weighs a few ounces,” Kallias continued, pulling out a tube of gel. “You may start to notice your abdomen starting to grow, and you may notice your breasts getting bigger, too.” At that, he winked at Azriel. “If you haven’t already.”

Elain’s cheeks heated.

Kallias huffed a laugh. “Alright, pull up your shirt for me.”

She exposed her belly and took Azriel’s hand. Kallias’ smile softened at her tiny, growing bump. “Alright. We’re gonna try to find a heartbeat. If we don’t find one today, don’t panic. It’s normal, considering the fetus is so small. In that case, I’ll have you come back in a few weeks to try again. Okay?” Elain nodded. Kallias asked, softly, ”Ready?”

“Yes,” Elain breathed.

“Sorry, this part’s cold.” He squeezed the gooey gel onto her abdomen, then took a little probe and spread out the gel before slowly moving it around her abdomen.

The seconds seemed to pass too slowly.

Azriel’s thumb was lightly brushing over the back of her hand as they waited.

Suddenly, Kallias stopped and looked up at Elain with a smile as a fast-paced beating filled the room.

Elain looked up at Azriel and laughed. The heartbeat was fast, seemed too fast, but Kallias said it was normal, meant it was a healthy heartbeat.

Elain decided then, as tears filled her eyes, that it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. Judging by the softness of Azriel’s eyes, of his smile, he felt the same.

~~~~~

Cassian pulled into the townhouse’s driveway. He’d barely taken off his helmet as he knocked on the front door.

He hadn’t seen Nesta since the night he spent with her, watching movies. He had texted her the night before, though, asking her if she wanted to go out.

She had said yes, replied quickly.

So, Cassian had taken a bike home from work and planned to take her to dinner.

The door opened a minute later, and Nesta walked out onto the porch. She took one look at the bike and raised a brow.

“You should know by now what a night out with me entails.”

Nesta huffed a laugh then gestured to her close-toed shoes. “Obviously.”

He grinned and handed her the extra helmet. “Come on.”

She took the helmet and pulled it down onto her head. Cassian helped her fasten the chinstrap before putting on his own.

Her arms wrapped around him as they sped down the road, into the heart of the city, where they eventually came to a little restaurant in a brick building. Nesta smoothed down her hair as they entered.

“Italian?” she asked, keeping close to Cassian as they were led to a little table by the window.

“You don’t like Italian?” he asked, as they sat down.

“Everyone likes Italian,” she muttered, with a small smile, looking down at the menu.

But Cassian was looking at her.

She didn’t look up from her menu when she asked, “May I help you?”

Cassian chuckled, picking up his own menu. “You look nice.”

“I know,” she said, quietly. “You look pretty nice, too.”

“I know,” Cassian said, mimicking her tone.

Nesta shook her head. “So, after we eat a delicious meal, where are you taking me this time?”

“You’re so impatient,” he said, grinning.

“Yeah, I am,” she laughed. “Answer my fucking question.”

Cassian shrugged. “Wherever you wanna go. Tell me where, and I’ll take you there.”

“Anywhere?” she asked, brow raised.

“Within reason,” Cassian muttered.

She snorted, but nodded. “I like that idea.”

“That’s because you like to be in charge,” he countered.

Nesta didn’t deny it. “Obviously.”

Nesta pretended to think about it the entire time they sat at that table. Every time Cassian asked what she was thinking, she gave him the same answer he had always given her - it’s a surprise.

“You’ll have to tell me eventually,” he laughed. “I’m driving.”

Nesta had finished her plate of pasta as she said, “Are you?”

Cassian stilled, eyes narrowed, before taking his last bite. “Oh, I’m sure as hell not letting you drive my bike.”

“Think I can’t do it?” she asked.

Cassian hesitated.

It was a trick question, he swore.

“Let me drive,” she said, cocking her head to the side.

“Hmm,” Cassian grunted. “No.”

“Come on.”

“You don’t know how.”

“Then teach me.”

They stared at one another, neither of them budging.

Cassian let out a long, slow breath. “Fine, but if you wreck it, I will make you watch so many shitty old movies-”

“I’ll be careful,” she interrupted, chuckling.

“Better be,” he muttered, before asking for the check.

Far before he was ready, they were back on his bike, Cassian sitting behind Nesta.

“Alright,” he said, firing up the engine and starting to back them up. His arms were around her, his hands on the handlebars. “Put your hands under mine.”

She did so. Cassian’s hands tightened around hers. Yeah, he wasn’t sure about this one bit.

“Alright,” he said, again, guiding her hands as they approached the edge of the parking lot, ready to merge onto the road.

Cassian had never let anyone else drive any of the bikes he brought home. She would be disappointed if she thought he was going to stop guiding her hands.

Not happening.

He revved the engine and Nesta’s body shook against him with laughter.

“Here we go,” he muttered, heart beating wildly as she motioned for them to turn right.

Right they went.

They drove down the main street, through the city, until they were heading down a familiar backroad. Cassian let his hands loosen, just a little bit, once it seemed Nesta was getting the hang of it. She was going slower than he would’ve, which he was grateful for.

Eventually, Nesta was pulling off of the road, to a familiar place he’d brought her a couple months before.

She stopped the bike, and Cassian put his legs out to catch them, finally fully releasing her hands.

After turning off the engine, he took off his helmet.

“Come on,” she said, not waiting for him as she found the trail in the woods.

With a fond smile, he followed her into the trees and down the pathway, toward the waterfalls.

“This is my favorite place you’ve taken me,” she said, although she didn’t turn around as she did. She climbed down the path until she was on that large, flat rock, where she slipped off her socks and shoes. After rolling up her jeans, she hung her legs over the rock, into the water.

Cassian did the same, sitting next to her.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said.

“You told me you liked me that day,” she said, looking out at the falls. “It was a good day.”

Cassian looked at her through his side eye before reaching over to gently take her hand.

She didn’t pull away.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed.

When she looked at him, she froze. “You’re giving me that look.”

“What look?” Cassian crooned.

“The look that says you’re about to do something that’s going to piss me the fuck off.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cassian said, innocently.

Just as Nesta opened her mouth to reply, Cassian was wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and pulling her down into the frigid waters of the Sidra.

When they came up out of the water, Nesta was screaming. “Fuck, that’s cold!”

She splashed Cassian in the face, who simply laughed, treading in place.

He splashed her back.

With a scowl, she swam to where Cassian was staying afloat and pushed him back under the water by his shoulders. He came up, laughing, right in front of her face.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

His arms wrapped around her waist.

He admired how she looked, clothes and hair soaked, droplets of water falling down her face. Her lips were slightly parted, her blue-gray eyes wide as she looked into his.

“You look nice,” he whispered, the sound of the waterfalls nearly drowning out his words.

“You look pretty nice, too,” she said, brushing his wet hair back off his forehead.

He could feel her breath, warm against his mouth.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pulled her up, closer toward him.

She could never be close enough.

Closing the short distance between them, Cassian softly pressed his lips to hers.

~~~~~

“You WHAT?” Feyre yelled.

Mila had let the beans spill about Amarantha’s goodbye. Azriel had shown up mere seconds later to pick her up and, after giving them a quick rundown of Elain’s appointment, they were gone.

Leaving Rhysand and Feyre alone in their apartment.

“She kissed me,” Rhysand said, “not the other way around, calm down.”

“She put her dirty mouth on my husband’s!” Feyre said, throwing her hands in the air. “Bitch. And don’t fucking tell me to calm down. Never tell a woman to calm down.”

Rhysand didn’t correct her. Instead, he started picking up the dirty plates, silverware, and dishes off the table, bringing them to the sink. They’d had chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese - Mila’s choice.

Feyre shuddered. “That pisses me the fuck off. Just when you think she could do all the damage she could do, she pulls shit like that.”

“That’s not all she pulled,” Rhysand said, rinsing off the dishes as he put them into the dishwasher.

Feyre came up behind them and pulled herself up on the counter. “Care to elaborate?”

Rhysand turned off the sink and ran his hand through his hair. “She decided she doesn’t like that Elain is pregnant. She plans to use Azriel’s baby as a tool for manipulation.”

A minute passed when Feyre said nothing, and when Rhysand turned around to face her, leaning against the counter behind him, she finally said, “I don’t understand.”

“She told Mila’s dad that Azriel has her. And, apparently, told him to take her away from Az.”

Feyre blinked, letting the words sink in. “Wait- Mila’s dad? As in...she’s actually acknowledging who the bastard is?”

Rhysand nodded. “So she says. She wanted me to tell Azriel, but...I don’t know. He was so happy, just now, I couldn’t.”

Feyre’s eyes softened. “It’s not your fault, Rhys. But fuck Amarantha. She’s been a shitty parent all these years. Azriel has been that little girl’s only constant, and if this jackass takes her away….” She shook her head. “Did she say who it was?”

“No,” Rhysand breathed. “But, I have a really bad feeling about it, Feyre. Amarantha kept him away all these years, and, as you said, she’s been a shitty parent. If Mila’s dad is someone Amarantha wanted nothing to do with…”

“Why would she want him now, then?” Feyre asked.

Rhysand shrugged, turning back to the sink to finish the dishes. “Because she’s bored, and she’s bitter, and she likes to watch Azriel suffer, as she always has.”

Feyre said nothing else. She stayed sitting on the counter, quietly.

There was nothing else to say.

Nothing that would change the hell that Azriel was about to find himself in, anyway.

~~~~~

Azriel had driven Mila home and put her in bed before he joined Mor on the couch with a glass of wine.

“No Elain tonight?” she asked.

“Apparently it’s sister night. Nesta’s on her way home. They plan to watch a movie and paint each other’s nails or something like that.”

Mor laughed. “Sounds fun. We should do that, too. You’re good at painting my nails.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I was in high school. My skills may have faded through the years.”

“Doubtful,” she said, grinning. “Well, I may be being selfish, but I’m glad to have you for a night to myself. Daddy.”

“Do not call me that,” he muttered, sipping from his glass.

Mor’s grin widened. “Why not, daddy?”

“Stop.”

“I like it when you use that tone with me,” she said, winking, then added, “Daddy.”

Azriel flicked her nose, and Mor’s laughter filled the air.

It was cut short when a loud knock came to the front door.

“Who the hell is that?” Azriel mumbled. “It’s late.”

Concern consumed him, suddenly thinking it was Elain, suddenly thinking something was wrong. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he padded toward the door to make sure he hadn’t missed any messages.

He hadn’t.

Shoving it back into his pocket, he threw open the door and froze.

Eris Vanserra stood outside, grinning. “Azriel. I hear you have my daughter.”

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

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #tacmc AITA #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #nessian #feysand #elriel #modern au

253 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {1}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Yay to new, angsty fanfics full of hot mess scenarios, sexy men, and foul language.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.” ― Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story

It had been two weeks of Feyre living with Rhysand, and although he had been her best friend since high school, she learned more about him than she had ever cared to know since she moved in.

For one, the man was a complete mess. She blessed every woman that had ever had to step foot into a man’s bathroom, starting from the first night she walked in there to pee. After taking one look at the toilet seat up, the toothpaste all over the sink, the trash can full of Mother knew what, and the shower curtain hanging halfway off the hooks, Feyre felt the need to put on a hazmat suit and go buy five bottles of bleach.

Secondly, he didn’t have enough food to make a complete meal. Not even close. She knew he wasn’t a fan of cooking, but they couldn’t live off of ten boxes of cereal and half a gallon of milk.

And, lastly, he snored. Loudly. So loudly that, on multiple occasions, she was hurrying across the hall in the middle of the night and throwing him onto the floor with a string of curses.

It was early on a Saturday morning when he awoke and rounded the corner to find her standing over the stove top, scrambling eggs.

He smiled, brightly, his hair a mess. “Good morning, Feyre, darling.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “It would be if I got enough sleep last night. An obnoxious caveman inhabits the room across from mine.”

Rhysand’s smile widened. “Sounds like an asshole. You should get rid of him.”

Feyre laughed, taking a package of bacon out of the fridge. “Yes, but then I’d be lonely.”

Rhysand shook his head as he hopped onto the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Can’t have that.”

With a murmur of agreement, Feyre dropped slices of bacon onto the burning skillet. She always loved the sizzle food made when it hit a hot pan. It always reminded her of the little, family owned diner her mom used to take her and her sisters to when they were little, every Saturday morning.

“Good thing you moved in,” Rhysand went on, opening a carton of orange juice and putting it to his lips. “I don’t know how I didn’t starve before.”

Feyre turned to face him, scowling as she caught him drinking from the carton. “It’s scrambled eggs and bacon, Rhys, not a gourmet meal. You could easily-”

“No!”

“- cook them yourself!” Feyre finished with a laugh. “Lazy ass.”

“I am not lazy,” he said, hopping off the counter and flicking her nose. “I worked fifty hours this week at a restaurant. The last thing I want to do is go home and cook for myself. I prefer endless take out and best friends that do it for me.”

It was true. Rhysand worked at a popular local bar, one that had to fire two employees the week before for getting high in the kitchen. Until they found someone else, Rhysand was taking up extra shifts.

When Feyre didn’t say anything more, Rhysand stopped what he was doing and asked, with a quiet voice, “Bad morning?”

Feyre’s head swung his direction. “What? No. Well...I don’t know. Yet.”

He raised his brows.

“Tamlin texted me, wanted me to come get some stuff I left behind,” she mumbled.

Rhysand’s lips tightened. “I’ll come with you, then.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

“No, I should come with you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Feyre snapped. “I dealt with him for years, I think I can go pick up some shit.”

Rhysand’s shoulders tensed, and Feyre instantly felt guilty.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning off the stove top burners. “I’m obviously not looking forward to it, but really, I’ll be fine. And if he sees that you’re with me, he’ll start a fight, and I really just want to go get my stuff and get it done with.”

Rhysand nodded, although it was obvious by the way his eyes darkened that he didn’t like the idea, at all. “Just...call me if you need me.”

Feyre promised she would as he picked up a slice of bacon out of the skillet and took a massive bite.

Her eyebrows rose. “Is that not hot?”

“Fucking burning,” he mumbled, chewing. “I can’t feel my tongue.”

Feyre laughed, shaking her head. “Dumbass.”

He flicked her nose again, and she punched him in the arm.

They ate together at the little, rickety table, just as the front door opened and Azriel appeared. He was wearing black sweatpants and a t-shirt that said Velaris High Basketball on it. Given that it was nearly ten years old, Feyre was impressed it was still keeping itself together. The tattoos on his arms stood out, especially the new one on his left forearm, still ringed in red and covered in ointment.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

Rhysand lifted an eyebrow as he chuckled, and Feyre was certain they were sharing the same thought.

“You look like shit,” Rhysand observed, as Azriel pulled a chair up to the table and laid his head against the tabletop. “Too much to drink last night?”

Azriel mumbled something unintelligible.

“There was a girl, wasn’t there,” Feyre crooned.

“Let’s just say that it took me a few minutes to remember her name when I woke up next to her this morning,” Azriel muttered.

Feyre gasped as Rhysand howled. “You’re better than that, Az. I am so, so disappointed.”

He looked up, glaring at his old friend. “Don’t worry, I feel shitty enough without punishment from you.”

Feyre stood, chuckling as she ruffled Azriel’s hair, and took her plate to the sink. “Good.”

“Ready for a run, then?” Rhysand asked, cheerily.

Azriel cursed before pushing himself up from the table. “Yeah. May as well. I have to get my shit together before one. I’m supposed to go into town for a job.”

“Ah, and what will you be building this time?” Feyre asked, intrigued, as she loaded their dishes into the dishwasher.

“Turning a garage into a bonus room,” he said. “So, I’ll be there a few weeks, it seems. But, the garage is small so….”

He let his words trail off and Feyre nodded, impressed. “Well, aren’t you handy.”

Azriel snorted. “It pays the bills.”

He was being modest, as he always was. Azriel was a brilliant craftsman and made the most beautiful, wooden furniture. However, he couldn’t seem to make a living that way, so he did small renovations and handyman work when he could get it.

Rhysand had finished tugging on his shoes just as Azriel took the Advil and Gatorade Feyre had handed him.

“I’ll see you this afternoon, then? After I get back from helping Cassian?” Rhysand asked, eyeing Feyre. “And you’ll call me if you need me?”

Feyre nodded.

“Alright,” he said, hesitantly, before following Azriel out the door.

Once she was alone, Feyre let out a long, deep breath. She should go now, get it over with. The thought had her hands shaking as she reached to turn off the kitchen sink.

~~~~~

“She didn’t want you going with?” Azriel asked, as they slowed to a jog along the Sidra.

Rhysand shook his head. “Thinks he’ll start a fight.”

It was common knowledge - Rhysand and Tamlin did not get along. They never had, even in high school. He also knew that Tamlin thought Rhysand was the reason Feyre left him, which was complete bullshit. She left him because he was a controlling, manipulative dick.

“She’ll be alright,” Azriel said.

Rhysand didn’t reply. He knew she could stand up for herself, but he saw way too much in the years that Feyre was with Tamlin. He knew the things Tamlin used to say to her, knew the things he used to threaten her with.

“It seems to be going good,” Azriel continued, after catching the gleam in Rhysand’s eyes. “Roommates.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand agreed, as they stopped to stretch. “It is.”

Azriel was watching him in the quiet, articulate way he typically watched people when he was thinking something he didn’t want to say out loud.

Rhysand looked up at the early morning sky. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” Azriel mumbled, but when Rhysand looked back down, he was smiling.

“Fuck off,” Rhysand muttered, lying back against the grass. “I wouldn’t try anything.”

“Not yet,” Azriel added, jumping to his feet, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt. “Don’t say never.”

Rhysand didn’t comment. Yes, he loved her, but he would be an asshole to try anything. She just got out of a long, shitty relationship. Besides, she was his best friend, and trying anything more would be a betrayal of her trust.

“Alright, get up,” Azriel grumbled. “If I beat you back to your apartment, drinks are on you tonight.”

Rhysand looked up at Azriel from where he was in the grass. Azriel stared back. Before Rhysand jumped up, he kicked Azriel in the back of the knee, causing him to go down as Rhysand took off.

~~~~~

Elain looked in the mirror.

The dark circles beneath her eyes grew heavier, she would definitely need to layer her concealer. She had pulled on a pair of jeans she had bought the month before, but they had grown baggy, so she settled on leggings and a tank top.

Since she had to move back in with her father, after her breakup with Graysen, things were...interesting. Neither she nor her sisters had spoken too much to their dad in recent years, so having to call Isaac and ask if she could occupy her childhood bedroom was uncomfortable, to say the least. Asking him to take her to her appointments had been even stranger, but they say that she cannot take herself, in case she had a meltdown when she was there, she would always need a ride home.

However, she felt better the past few days than she had in some time. She thought it may have been the new medication Dr.Jones put her on, or the fact that spring had turned into summer. Everything was better in the summer, right?

Isaac was gone that morning, but Elain had to stay put. A contractor was coming, apparently, to give a quote on transforming their garage, which Isaac had been talking about doing for years but never went through with it.

Elain wondered why he had chosen now, perhaps as a way to bring a little change into Elain’s life. Either way, Elain was stuck until the contractor arrived, not that she had much else to do.

It was just after one when the doorbell rang, and Elain hurried from her spot on the couch, where she had been watching a ridiculous reality love competition, to the front door.

She opened it, and blinked. “Hello. Can I help you?”

He was tall, his lashes long and dark over his hazel eyes. He wore a hat, backwards, over his black hair. Elain could see the tattoos peeking out above the neckline of his t-shirt, as well as those that covered his arms.

“Is Isaac home?” he asked, voice low. “He called about your garage?”

“Ah, yeah,” Elain said, stepping aside, unable to break her eyes from his. She knew him from somewhere, although she couldn’t quite place it. “Come in, please.”

He nodded his thanks and entered.

They stood in the doorway, an awkward silence growing overwhelming.

Elain, at last, cleared her throat. “Um, my dad’s not here, but, I’ll pass along the message.” She turned on her heels and, a second later, his heavy footsteps trailed after her. They went through the kitchen and out the door, down into the garage.

It was a small garage, but an absolute mess. When Isaac had lived alone, this is where he seemed to have stored anything and everything.

Elain couldn’t tell what the man was thinking as he looked around. She knew her father had talked to him on the phone about what he wanted done, so she didn’t bother with providing the contractor with any details.

“I know you from somewhere,” Elain said, quietly, as he walked through the garage, avoiding the clutter.

“Yeah?” he asked, glancing her way, shortly. “From where?”

Elain bit her bottom lip. “Where did you go to high school?”

“Here,” he said, walking back to the bottom of the stairs and looking up at her. “Velaris, in the city.”

His brows suddenly shot up and Elain suddenly realized she was alone with a man twice her size. “You’re an Archeron. Feyre’s sister, yeah?”

Elain froze. “Yes.”

He nodded, jaw clenched. “I’m friends with your sister, saw her just this morning actually. We graduated the same year, you and I. Elain, right?”

Elain nodded, slowly. His name was on the tip of her tongue, but she could not remember it for the life of her.

“Azriel,” he said, looking away, and Elain blushed, feeling guilty. “You were valedictorian, if I remember correctly. Cheerleader.”

Elain suddenly remembered. “Oh, you played basketball.”

Azriel nodded. “I did, yeah.”

And you smoked a lot of stuff and drank under the bleachers, Elain thought, but figured it best to keep that to herself.

“Well, I suppose I’ll give you the estimate to give to your dad,” he said, scribbling a few things down on the notepad in his hand. “When he gets home, have him call me. I can come in Monday.”

Elain nodded, taking the sheet of paper from his hand before leading him back through the house. He didn’t say goodbye before he left. Elain watched him drive away.

She had to admit that he had aged nicely in the last decade.

The dark, dangerous boy that had a hazardous reputation at Velaris High.

Elain resumed her position on the couch, playing the next episode of her stupidly entertaining television show.

She pulled out her phone and opened instagram. The first image that popped up had her gasping for air.

Graysen was smiling, his arms around her.

She didn’t read the caption. She couldn’t. Before she could go any further, Elain dropped her phone, covered herself with a blanket, and laid on the couch.

The show faded into background noise as Elain stared at the coffee table.

~~~~~

Nesta was trying to sleep, but the noise going on outside of her apartment was unbearable.

With a miserable groan, Nesta rose from her bed and stomped through the halls before reaching the front door and throwing it open.

Two men stood there, carrying a kitchen table, one of whom Nesta recognized all too well.

She leaned against her door frame. “Rhysand, didn’t expect to see you standing out here...or, be anywhere on this side of town. How’s my sister?”

Rhysand, and his companion, set the table down on the concrete. “Nesta...Is this your apartment or the guy’s you fucked last night?”

“I’m assuming you two know each other,” Rhysand’s companion muttered.

Nesta shot him a glare. His dark, brown hair hung around his shoulders, tangled and a mess. He wore torn jeans, laced up leather boots with the laces undone, and a black t-shirt. His hazel eyes were taking Nesta in, from the top of her bedhead to her bare legs, hanging out beneath Tomas’ old, white t-shirt.

“Feyre’s sister,” Rhysand said, eyes still on Nesta.

His friend lifted an eyebrow. “No shit? The oldest, I assume.”

Nesta tensed, wondering what all her youngest sister said about her to her friends, then deciding she did not care.

“This is Cassian,” Rhysand went on, gripping his side of the table, once more. “Your new neighbor, it seems.”

“I would say it’s a pleasure, but you kinda look like you want to shove a knife into my chest, so,” Cassian began, then trailed off.

They lifted the table once more, bringing it inside the apartment. Nesta hadn’t even turned around before they came back out to grab something else.

“Well, keep it down,” Nesta snapped. “I’m trying to sleep.”

Rhysand ignored her, but Cassian seemed to not catch the hint. “It’s three in the afternoon.”

“Yes, and I was up until five this morning,” she scowled.

She heard the bedroom door open up behind her and looked over her shoulder, to find a disheveled Tomas walking toward her, cigarette between his lips.

“There a problem?” he asked, coming up behind her.

“Just meeting my new neighbor,” Nesta said. “I was just coming back inside.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled, then went back to the kitchen and out the sliding door to the balcony.

Cassian didn’t take his eyes from hers as she took a few steps back and slammed her door.

They didn’t bother to keep it down, at all.

~~~~~

Feyre was sitting on the couch, in silence, when Rhysand got home.

Careful not to startle her, he shut the door quietly behind him.

She looked over her shoulder, tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

She had been crying.

Rhysand didn’t say anything until he was sitting beside her, his feet kicked up. “You didn’t call me. I assume it went well?”

Her lip quivered, and his arm went around her shoulder as her face fell into his chest. “I hate him. I hate him, Rhys.”

“I know,” he whispered. He hated Tamlin, too. Hated the years he stole from her, hated the lies he fed her. “I know.”

She wiped her eyes across his shirt. “I’m making you wet.”

Rhysand opened his mouth, then it snapped shut, before laughter sputtered out of his mouth.

Feyre couldn’t help but laugh herself as she hit him in the chest, not moving from her position.

Rhysand’s arm tightened around her as she said, “Take your dirty mind somewhere else, I’m upset.”

“You’re right,” he said, smile fading. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

She shook her head.

She didn’t want to talk about it, not yet.

“Well, we all have the night off, so we’re going out,” he said, lifting her chin by his fingers to meet his eyes. “Come with.”

It was moments like this that made Rhysand have to focus on his breathing. In and out, don’t overthink, don’t think about how her face is only inches from yours, don’t think about how easy it would be to close the space, don’t think about the feeling of her lips on yours.

“Okay,” Feyre whispered.

Rhysand nodded, quietly clearing his throat. “Well, we should get ready, then.”

Feyre chuckled. “You may want to take a shower if you plan on impressing anyone tonight.”

Rhysand knew he wouldn’t be bringing anyone home, the only one he wanted to bring home was coming home with him, anyway.

But he nodded. He didn’t smell great. It was true. “Probably should.”

With a smile, Feyre pushed off his chest and started down the hall. She shut herself inside of her bedroom as Rhysand looked down, at the betrayal going on beneath his sweatpants.

He had to take a shower.

And it would be a cold one.

~~~~~

Nesta’s phone vibrated in her back pocket as she lit her cigarette.

She fished it out to find Elain’s name, and once she opened it, she read, Meet for lunch tomorrow?

Elain had a lot of time on her hands since she broke up with Graysen, and Nesta was trying her best to meet her from time to time and help her pass the time, but it was difficult. Then again, she should be spending time with at least one of her sisters.

Sure, tell me when and where, I’ll be there, Nesta replied, taking a long drag.

She was waiting for Tomas outside, waiting to go out on a Saturday night, but he was taking forever. She hated waiting. She hated waiting for Tomas, in particular. She swore he made her wait just because he could, just because he knew that it bothered her.

The door across from hers opened and Cassian stepped out.

He looked as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. His long hair was still wet, but tied at the back of his head. He still wore his boots, but his jeans were cleaner than the torn ones he had been wearing earlier, and his button down shirt was rolled up to his elbows, showing off the ink that decorated his tanned skin. He locked his front door behind him as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, and noticed Nesta leaning up against the wall.

He didn’t have a chance to say a word before her own door opened and Tomas stepped out.

He saw Cassian looking at his girl, his eyes turning feral. Tomas met Cassian in height, but it was clear that Cassian was much broader, much stronger.

“Ready, Nesta?” Tomas asked, eyes still on Cassian.

Nesta didn’t answer. She took her cigarette between her lips as she watched Cassian’s gaze sweep over her, just as he had done earlier that afternoon. He did it slowly, no doubt to piss off Tomas more.

“May I help you?” Nesta asked, voice low.

Cassian chuckled, lips parted. The gesture defined his jawline, defined his cheekbones, and Nesta couldn’t help but notice. He had a handsome face, sculpted from stone. It was difficult not to imagine the body that lied beneath his clothes.

“Have a good night,” he said, at last, and shoved his hands into his pockets before walking away.

It took everything inside of Nesta not to watch him go.

“I don't like that guy,” Tomas muttered, closing the apartment door and resting his hand along Nesta’s lower back. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Cut the alpha male bullshit. I can take care of myself.”

With that, she walked away, Tomas close on her heels.

She needed to start drinking immediately if she was going to make it through another night, another morning, with him.

~~~~~

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@humanexile

@booksbooksbooksworld

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit

@6255igntm

@littlehoneyybee

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#tacmc AITA #nessian #feysand #elriel #nesta #cassian #feyre #rhysand #elain #azriel #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #modern au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #and so it begins

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {19}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: This one is actually pretty fluffy, friends. You’re welcome.

“It's a rare person to face who they are and not run from it - not be broken by it.” ― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“What do you think of an October wedding?”

Rhysand was flipping pancakes in the skillet - it was breakfast for dinner night. He’d already made a plate piled high with bacon. “Sounds nice.”

“This October,” Feyre clarified, scrolling through her newsfeed on her phone from the barstool behind the island.

Rhysand glanced over his shoulder. “As in...three months from now?”

“Yeah,” Feyre said, smiling. “Why not?”

“Don’t weddings take ten years to plan?” Rhysand asked, turning off the stove top burner.

“Usually, but I don’t want anything big,” she said, setting down her phone. “And, I always wanted a fall wedding. Early October will allow us to do it outside before it starts getting too cold...and I don’t want to wait a whole year and a half to become your wife.”

Rhysand turned around and leaned against the opposite side of the island. “Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there, waiting for you at the end of the aisle.”

Her grin widened. “Good answer.”

Rhysand winked. “See? I’m making a good husband already.”

“I never doubted that you were husband material,” Feyre said, eyes softening. “I have to tell the girls. Oh, fuck, there’s so much to do in three months time. Okay. I need a notepad.”

“A notepad?” Rhysand chuckled.

“Yes,” she said, giving him a pointed look as she dug through a few junk drawers before finding a small notepad and a pen. “Alright. I need a dress. I need bridesmaids...they also need dresses. We need to pick out wedding bands. Oh, and an actual band to play at our reception. Food. We need food. A place to get married. A priest. Oh, Mila will be the flower girl, of course. What else….alcohol! We must have wine.”

Rhysand stared as she listed off item after item after item.

“You realize all this needs to be done in three months, right?” he asked. “If you must get married this October.”

Feyre nodded, slowly, looking uncertain as she looked through her final pages that made up her list.

“Hey,” Rhysand said, quietly. “We can wait.”

“No,” she said, setting the list down and looking up at him. “Rhys, I wanna be your wife, and I don’t wanna have to wait. You asked me to marry you, I said yes, now we’re going to get married. And I don’t want to wait. As much as I love calling you my fiance, I’m already ready to call you my husband.”

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “Alright. Give me the notepad, then.”

Feyre slid the notepad and pen across the island, along with her ridiculously long list. Rhysand starting writing out a new one, and when he was done, he handed two sheets to Feyre and kept two for himself.

She raised her brows. “What’s this?”

“I split it in half. You and the girls take care of what’s on that list, me and Cassian and Az will take care of what’s on mine. You wanna get married in October, then we’ll be ready to get married in October.”

A small smile appeared on Feyre’s lips. “I constantly wonder how I became so lucky.”

“As you should,” Rhysand muttered. “I’m fucking awesome.”

With a roll of her eyes, Feyre stood from the barstool and ran around the island, into Rhysand’s arms. She kissed him, long and slowly, before grabbing a plate off the counter and loading it up with food. They ate on the couch, watching a ridiculous, old rom-com.

Feyre thought that if this was a preview of the rest of her life, she was, truly, one lucky woman.

~~~~~

Mila was playing with Elain’s new kitten in her living room while Azriel sat with Elain in the kitchen.

They had spent the last few hours clearing out Elain’s guest room, which they had just unpacked the week before. Nesta would be moving in for a while. Elain had offered, and Nesta had jumped on the opportunity.

“It sounds like she’s doing well,” Azriel said. “All things considering.”

“She will be,” Elain said, nodding.

Azriel moved his chair closer to hers. “And how are you doing? Still okay?”

Elain nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The first week after she stopped her diet pills was hard on her body. She woke up every morning, feeling sick, starving for the first time in ages. She had tried to get on a regulated, healthy eating schedule, but her body was adjusting.

As time went on, though, it grew easier.

“Lain!” Mila called from the living room. “Can I watch t.v.?”

Elain looked at Azriel, who nodded. When she left to help Mila turn it on, Azriel stood from where he was sitting and wandered around the kitchen. There was a picture she had put onto her fridge of her, Feyre, and Nesta in high school.

Not much had changed.

In the picture, Elain wore her cheerleading uniform, Nesta was wearing a black cropped top and jeans, and Feyre was wearing Rhysand’s Letterman jacket. It was after a basketball game, taken outside among the falling Autumn leaves. He wished he would have known Elain, then. Wished he would have found her sooner.

“Admiring me in my cheer uniform?” Elain asked, coming up behind him. When he turned and wrapped his arms around her, he was grinning.

“If you still have it, I wouldn’t be mad if you put it on.”

Elain laughed, shoving him in the chest. “Keep dreaming. I remember watching you play. Basketball. You were good.”

“I loved it,” Azriel said. “Smoked too much pot, though, to ever make anything of myself playing. At least, that’s what coach used to say.”

Elain chuckled. “Well, little did he know you would turn into such an amazing man.”

“You think too highly of me,” he mumbled, leaning down to capture her lips with his. The kiss was soft, but it lasted a while, Elain melting into his touch, Azriel’s arms tightening around her waist.

He lifted her up and set her on the edge of the counter. Her slim legs immediately wrapped around his body, pulling him closer to her. His tongue swept between her lips, and he only hesitated when he heard Mila laughing at something on the t.v.

He’d forgotten she was there.

Azriel jerked back, feeling guilty for melting into their own little world, but Elain was laughing, quietly.

“I suppose we should keep off each other while the little one is awake,” she whispered.

Azriel nodded, then kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips, one final time. “Maybe so.”

“But when she goes to sleep…” Elain trailed off, running her fingers down his chest.

Azriel grinned, eyes lighting up as he said, “Tease.”

“Only for you,” Elain muttered, wrapping her arms around him in an innocent embrace.

Even though innocent it was, Mila thought it was horrifying.

“Ewwww, I’m right here!” she yelled, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

Azriel laughed as he spun around, narrowed his eyes, and started running toward Mila. She yelled and started running the other way, but Azriel’s legs were just a little bit longer. He caught her and threw her over his shoulder.

“Let me down!” she giggled.

“Never!” Azriel cried, but he threw her down onto the couch before tickling her tummy.

Elain stood in the doorway, watching the sight with a full heart.

~~~~~

Cassian had just gotten home from work when he saw Nesta, coming out of her apartment, struggling with a bigass box.

It had been almost two weeks since Feyre had spent the night at her sister’s apartment and Cassian had been trying to keep his distance. He had noticed, too, that Nesta hadn’t been home much. She had either been with Feyre or Elain. She couldn’t trust herself to be alone.

“Need help?” he asked.

She stopped, and although he couldn’t see her over the box, he assumed he was the last person she wanted to see.

“No, it’s okay.” There was nothing hard in her voice, just exhaustion. Feyre said she was detoxing - which, judging by the amount of drugs she had pulled out of Nesta’s apartment days before, Cassian wasn’t surprised.

“I don’t mind,” he said, taking the box from her before she could protest. “Moving?”

She sighed, finally able to meet his eye once she was free of the box. She grabbed another one, a smaller one, from just inside of her doorway. “Going to live with Elain. She has an extra room.”

Cassian nodded, surprised, and a small, selfish part of him was upset she was leaving the apartment across from his.

“Well, I can help you carry some of this down to your car. And, if you need more room, I don’t mind helping,” he said. “I do have a truck.”

She smiled, softly. “Thanks.”

Nesta closed her door and started walking toward the staircase, Cassian close behind. When they made it to her car, Cassian shoved the giant box into her trunk.

As they began to walk back up the stairs, she cleared her throat. “Cassian…I’ve been meaning to come by-”

“It’s okay,” he said, cutting her off. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. She stopped in front of her apartment door to meet his gaze.

Cassian said nothing. He just leaned against the brick building with his hands in his pockets.

“What I did to you wasn’t fair, and I know that, but I just want you to know that it had nothing to do with you.”

It’s not you, it’s me. It was the oldest line in the book; but, for once, Cassian knew it to be true. Even if it did make him feel guilty.

“I should have been there for you,” he said, then. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Are you fucking kidding? I pushed you away. You had every right to react as you did. I wanted you to react as you did. I wanted you to hate me. And I was glad when you did.”

Cassian cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

She shook her head. “It’s not important.”

“It is to me,” Cassian whispered.

Nesta nodded, and leaned against the wall opposite of him. She blew out a long, slow, unsteady breath. “It’s easier when people don’t like you.”

Cassian thought of all the times he had told Nesta how he felt about her. Not once did she tell him that she liked him back; and when he had told her that he loved her, she wouldn’t even let him finish.

“Maybe so,” he agreed. “But it’s lonely.”

“I’ve always been lonely,” she said, simply.

Cassian nodded. “You don’t have to be, though. Start letting people in, Nesta. You’ll find it’s a hell of a lot nicer that way.”

She huffed a laugh and looked out at the parking lot, where the sun was setting. “Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

“Good,” Cassian muttered, and when she looked back at him, he was already watching her. “Need help packing up?”

“You just got home from work,” she said. “You should go relax.”

“I never relax,” he countered. “I’ve got nothing to do. Amren is out walking Bryaxis. Last offer.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed, but there was a small smile on her mouth. “Okay. Sure. Thanks.”

He nodded before following her into her apartment. She had already packed quite a bit up. Boxes of all shapes and sizes sat around the living room and the kitchen.

“All I really have left is my bedroom and the bathroom.”

“Boxes?”

“At the end of the hallway. A Sharpie is there, too.”

“Right,” Cassian said. “And if I forget to label a box?”

“I’ll know it was you who forgot and I’ll kick your ass.”

Cassian laughed. “Holy fuck, Nesta Archeron made a joke.”

She looked over her shoulder as she padded down the hallway. Her eyes were bright. Weary, but bright “It wasn’t a joke.”

Humored, Cassian walked after her and into her bedroom. “Where do you want me to start?”

“You’re tall,” she began, “mind getting all the stuff from the top of my closet?”

Cassian nodded, grabbed a box from the hallway and taped up the bottom before getting to work.

“So, how are you feeling?”

She didn’t answer for a minute, and as another minute passed, Cassian thought he had pissed her off. But, then she answered, “Decent. Thankfully, Feyre found the hard stuff before I could really get into it. Most of what I took were those pain pills...Last week was hell. I was miserable. But the last couple days…” she shrugged. “The last couple days have been decent. I’m really fucking tired, but my head is clear...Even though my thoughts run a little more wild with a clear head. I’ve got a long road ahead of me, and I’ll have to fight for myself, every day, but, for the first time, I look forward to that.”

“That’s good,” he said, and when Nesta gave him a curious look he said, “Not about being tired and feeling like hell, about...you know. You just...You look good.”

She gave him another curious look.

“Not in like a sexual sense. I mean - you look good that way, too, but, I meant...you know. You look….hydrated.”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “Hydrated. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Cassian said, then quickly faced her closet to stop whatever words were wanting to come out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

Just when he thought Nesta couldn’t have any more books than the ones that had been displayed in her living room, he pulled down stack after stack from the shelf at the top of her closet. There were also photo albums, which she refused to let him look through, and old CDs. There was one thing that really surprised him, though, that he found in the back of the closet.

“You play the violin?”

Nesta stopped what she was doing by her desk. “You sound surprised.”

He looked at her, from the top of her head to her socks that were covered in black cats. “I just….never saw you as the violin type. Or, you know, the musical type in general.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I haven’t played in years. My mom gave that to me, though, when I played nearly every day. Can’t get rid of it. Maybe I’ll pick it up again some day.”

Cassian unhooked the case and looked inside. It was made of a red wood, the bow was well worn. With a smile, he shut it safely inside and placed it in the top of his box. “You should. Pick it up again.”

“Do you play anything?” Nesta asked, her back turned to him, once more.

“No,” Cassian answered. “I sang in choir in high school though.”

Nesta’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“You can sing?”

“Fuck no,” Cassian said. “I was horrible.”

As Nesta’s laughter filled the room, Cassian taped the box shut and wrote in big, obnoxious letters, Top Closet Shit. He underlined it three times before putting the lid back on the marker and tossing it on her bed.

She watched him, brows raised.

He shrugged. “At least I labelled.”

Cassian stayed with her all night, helping pack the rest of her belongings. He did most of the work as she ordered him around, which Cassian was happy to do because he could tell she was exhausted. She seemed to be doing well, though. But every now and then when he looked at her, when she didn’t know it, her eyes were distant, heavy. But when she smiled at him, it was true. Genuine. And when she spoke, he knew she meant the words coming out of her mouth. For once, she seemed excited at the thought of going to live with her sister.

As midnight rolled around, everything Nesta owned was packed away in a box. She walked Cassian to her front door.

“Thank you for helping,” she said, eyes still bright from their night of talking about useless shit and laughing about nothing, even though that exhaustion lingered. “Truly. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I care about you, Nesta,” he said, voice quiet. “And I’m proud of you.”

Her smile faded, and she nodded, blue eyes shining. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be here in the morning to load the back of my truck up,” he promised.

“Great,” she whispered, smiling once more.

Cassian turned to leave, but when he opened the door, Nesta called his name.

He turned around and she had taken a step closer to him.

She shook her head as she said, “I was falling in love with you, too. For whatever it’s worth.”

Cassian froze before closing the distance between them and pressing his mouth to the top of her head.

After one last smile, he left, and let himself into his own apartment.

Amren watched as he closed the door and leaned against it.

She asked him a question, but he didn’t hear it.

Nesta’s words were replaying in his mind, over and over and over again.

I was falling in love with you, too.

Cassian smiled.

When she said it, her eyes were clear, her voice sturdy.

She was sober.

Nesta was sober.

Friends may be all that they remained, but that confession would stay with him.

For whatever it’s worth.

It was worth everything.

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

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s @sensitiveillyrian

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @iliketoasterstrudels

@6255igntm @moondancer-204

@littlehoneyybee @acourtofbookworms

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s @nightcourtcinnamonroll

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn @bamchickawowow

@julemmaes @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta @nickjgoodsell

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #nessian #feysand #elriel #tacmc aita #fluff

239 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {6}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Dinner at the Archeron’s, part 2: the aftermath.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“You're the person I don't need to explain myself to - not when it matters. You see everything I am, and you don't run away from it.” ― Sarah J. Maas, House of Earth and Blood

Cassian and Nesta rode in silence.

There was not much to say, surely not anything that would make things better.

Cassian came to the conclusion that Nesta’s dad was an ass, but he decided to keep that thought to himself as they drove. The sun had sunk while they were at dinner - if that’s what that was. The Velaris night sky was lit with stars, but Nesta was staring blankly out of the front window.

“Hungry?” he asked, considering the meal that was prepared had never been eaten.

Nesta shook her head.

“I can stop somewhere, if you are.”

No answer.

He didn’t know why he was trying, it was clear she wasn’t going to respond. Cassian had agreed to go because he thought it would be fun, thought he would see Nesta Archeron in a familiar environment, thought he might even see her crack a smile.

But what he had witnessed was not as pleasant.

What he had witnessed was Nesta Archeron living her worst nightmare.

Cassian had known Feyre for a long time, but she rarely spoke of her father, and now he understood why.

“You know, you and I are a lot a like,” Cassian began.

Nesta didn’t acknowledge him.

“My dad was a drunk, left when I was young. My mom died my senior year of high school. I was an only child, though.”

Nothing.

Cassian nodded, anyway. “What he said to you tonight, Nesta-”

“Don’t,” she hissed, arms crossed. “Don’t fucking talk to me like you know a damn thing about me.”

Cassian pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex. “Why do you do that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Cassian snorted, pulling into a parking space and turning off the engine. “Every time I try to start a conversation you speak to me like I’m a pile of shit.”

“Well, you saw my dad,” Nesta snapped. “I learned from the best.”

She opened the door, hopped out, and slammed it behind her.

Cassian took the keys out of the ignition and followed her lead. “I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t need it,” Nesta said, hurrying up the stairs.

Cassian was right behind her. “Bullshit.”

Nesta stopped on the second floor landing and spun around to face him. Her eyes, a mixture of gray and blue, were furious. “You will find that you’ll be a lot happier if you back the fuck off. Okay? I don’t need your pity or your fucking therapy.”

Cassian’s lips formed a straight line. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth, Nesta. Not a fucking word. I was there tonight. Alright? I saw how his words affected you, how his drunkenness made you sick. I saw how uncomfortable you were being back in that house. And I get it. Don’t act like you’re invincible. The longer you act like you’re invincible, the angrier you’ll get.”

Nesta lifted her chin and met his gaze. “To feel anger, I’d have to be able to feel.”

She turned her back to him and walked away, to the end of the hall, and let herself inside of her apartment. Cassian was close behind, and as he opened his own door, he thought there was a hell of a lot more to Nesta Archeron than most people thought.

~~~~~

Rhysand had driven Feyre home in silence. By the time they made it back to their apartment, she looked exhausted.

Rhysand felt awful. Feyre was the last one to leave the house, which meant she spent years taking care of Isaac, never knowing what mood he was going to be in. He had never healed after their mother’s death, had never learned to cope, had never found peace. And it directly impacted his daughters.

It had not been the first time that Rhysand had helped Feyre drag her dad up those stairs and into his bed.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Rhysand said, as he joined her on the couch.

Feyre was looking at her hands. “There’s a reason I stay away from him.”

“I know,” Rhysand said, and he put his arm around her and drew her close to him. Feyre clung to his shirt and closed her eyes. “What can I do to make you feel better? I could get you super drunk again. You know, as long as you promise not to puke all over me this time.”

Feyre chuckled against his chest. “One drink, maybe.”

Rhysand nodded and trudged to the kitchen. He came back with a bottle of wine and a bottle of whiskey. He handed her the bottle of wine and she took it, laughing.

“I don’t get a glass?”

“You said one drink,” Rhysand said, plopping back down on the couch beside her. He nodded toward the bottle. “That’s one drink when a glass is omitted.” He held up a half empty bottle of whiskey. “As is this.”

Feyre chuckled and held up the wine bottle. “Cheers.”

Rhysand clinked his bottle against hers and pressed it against his lips. It burned down his throat, a feeling Rhysand welcomed.

“Tell me something,” Feyre said, a minute later, eyes sparkling.

“Tell you what?” Rhysand asked, taking another shot from his bottle.

“Anything,” Feyre smiled. “Something I don’t know.”

“You know everything I know,” Rhysand promised, sinking into the couch cushions as he watched her drink wine straight from the bottle.

“That can’t be true,” she laughed. “You tell me something, and I’ll tell you something.”

Rhysand sighed, searching deep within his mind. I’m in love with you. Wanna fuck? Those were his only thoughts.

He decided against them both.

“Oh,” Rhysand said, at last. “Our junior year of high school. Remember the winter formal?”

The light in Feyre’s eyes danced. “I remember dragging Cassian home drunk, yeah.”

Rhysand laughed. “Yeah, he used to be a sloppy drunk. Remember my date?”

“Macy Woodsworth?” Feyre asked.

Rhysand nodded. “Yeah, well, we fucked in the bathroom.”

“I already knew that,” Feyre laughed, hiding her face with one hand while she drank from the bottle with the other.

“I know, but I told you that I was, like, really good at it,” Rhysand said, unable to remember that horrid night without laughter. “But, it was a nightmare.”

Feyre shook her head, grinning. “How so?”

Rhysand took a long, slow drink before he said, “I kept banging her head against the door, and I slipped a couple times. Oh, and I only lasted, like, twenty seconds. My stamina was not the best. Sex was a fairly new thing for me at that point.”

Feyre howled before taking the bottle out of his hands and drowning herself in whiskey. Rhysand watched, adoringly, as she placed it back into his hands. Rhysand’s head was already starting to feel light as Feyre asked, “And how about now?”

Rhysand halted. “Now?”

“Your stamina?” Feyre asked, pulling her knees up beneath her on the couch and facing him.

He remembered the week before, when Feyre drunkenly kissed him in the bathroom and asked him to join her in the shower.

Rhysand sipped from his bottle. “I can’t share all my secrets.”

Feyre tilted her head to the side. “I suppose not. But, I do suppose I have to tell you a secret now, don’t I?”

Rhysand looked up at her, beneath dark lashes. “That was the deal.”

Feyre took a minute to think, tapping her index finger against her lips. The whiskey was half way down Rhysand’s throat when Feyre said, “Speaking of sex, I had a dream about you last night.”

Rhysand choked, whiskey sputtering out of his mouth. He coughed, for a good minute, before he collected himself. “Sorry, what?”

Her eyes were growing hazy. The alcohol had done its job. She was calm, serene.

“I had a dream about you,” she said, blue eyes wild. “And me. And you were wearing a lot less than that.”

She fiddled with the collar of his shirt.

Rhysand was frozen in place. Her fingertips brushed along the skin of his neck. He was watching her, lips parted, unable to form a thought. He could hear each breath he took.

“You’re drunk,” he whispered, laughing under his breath.

Feyre nodded. “Tipsy, maybe.”

“How was I?” Rhysand asked, one brow raised. “In your dream.”

Feyre grinned. “Much better than you were with Macy Woodsworth, apparently.”

Feyre pulled her hand back, but Rhysand’s reached up, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. She looked at him, met his stare. That grin faded.

“When you look at me,” Feyre breathed, shaking her head, “it’s different than you used to look at me.”

Rhysand brushed her hair behind her ear. “I’ve always looked at you the same way.”

Feyre closed her eyes, dwelling in his touch. Rhysand brought Feyre’s hand back to him, and laid it against his chest, his hand covering hers over his heart. Her eyes opened, slowly.

They sat like that, staring at one another, Feyre feeling Rhysand’s heart beat, nearly pounding through his chest.

Rhysand’s fingers brushed down her cheek, her neck, down to the neckline of her dress.

Feyre’s breath caught.

“I’m drunk,” she whispered, her voice quiet, her fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt.

“I am, too,” he said, voice low, hitched.

Feyre laughed, breathily, as she climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. Rhysand’s knuckles grazed her thigh. She ran her hands through his hair before leaning down, and pressing her forehead against his.

“Feyre,” he said, voice soft, strangled.

But he didn’t have to ask.

He didn’t have to say another word.

Feyre’s mouth pressed lightly against his.

The first kiss was soft, gentle.

Slow.

Innocent.

Rhysand’s hand found the back of her head, and he pulled her face closer to him, to his lips. She tasted sweet. Cherry chapstick, peach moscato, a hint of whiskey.

He had dreamt of this moment, fantasized about it. But none of that compared to the real thing, the taste of her lips, his heart beating wildly, his entire being full of euphoric bliss.

Her tongue brushed along his bottom lip.

The second kiss was lustful.

Needy.

Full of longing.

His tongue danced alongside her own, he could feel himself go hard beneath her. She whimpered, softly, as his fingers tangled into her hair. She clung to him, unable to let go, not wanting to let go.

Rhysand didn’t want her to let go.

The third kiss was hungry.

Desperate.

Primal.

Rhysand longed to be inside of her, and she knew it, too.

His mouth found her neck and he sucked the tender skin just above her collarbone as she slowly, calmly, unbuttoned Rhysand’s shirt with her eyes closed.

She pulled it down his arms and tossed it onto the floor before pushing Rhysand back against the couch and running her hands down his body.

Rhysand felt like he was dreaming.

It couldn’t be real.

But there was no mistaking the excitement, the anticipation, that thrummed through his body at her touch. Her fingers trailed from his shoulders, down across his hard chest, his abdomen, to the waist of his jeans.

She pulled back, and Rhysand tensed with worry. But then, she pulled the straps of her dress down, until it was lying in a circle around her waist. She sat atop him, in a black laced bra, her eyes watching him, waiting for his reaction.

Rhysand didn’t know how to react, though.

He was paralyzed by the beauty before him.

“Touch me, Rhys,” she begged.

His lips found her body, the spot between her breasts. Her head fell back, her eyes fell shut. Her skin was warm, soft, scented of lavender and vanilla. Rhysand forgot everything else in that moment, everything but his lips against her skin.

He unclasped her bra and it slid down her arms.

He was left staring at her breasts.

The silence in the apartment was excruciating. Rhysand didn’t know how far he should go, when he should stop, when too far was too far.

But Feyre was still watching him, smiling faintly.

Rhysand palmed her breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her nipples before his mouth, his tongue, found them. He sucked, gently, nipped at them with his teeth.

“Rhys.” She whispered his name, one hand knotted in his hair, the other digging into his shoulder.

Rhysand looked up at her, and he knew he must look mad, crazed, knew his eyes were bright, knew his cheeks were flushed, his breathing uneven.

But Feyre did not hesitate.

She fiddled with the button of his jeans until they came undone. Then she stood, her dress falling to the floor, her panties soon following, and she was standing before him, bare.

Rhysand’s eyes swept over her, slowly, drinking her in, memorizing every inch of her ivory skin.

He had never seen anything, anyone, so beautiful.

She knelt before him and slid off his jeans, his boxer-briefs, and he watched her eyes widen as she smiled, mischievously, at the sight of him.

Feyre’s eyes met his as her tongue brushed over the tip of his cock, just once.

Rhysand cursed, quietly, which made her sly smile widen.

Completely aware of every sound, every movement, every breath going on between them, Rhysand held out his hand to her, a silent question, a silent plea. If she said no right then, he would have accepted it, would have said okay and walked away, but, by the Cauldron, it would have destroyed him.

But she took his hand, and he pulled her up, back on top of him, onto his lap. She hovered there, just above him, as his hands roamed her body, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, her abdomen, her thighs. His fingers brushed over her pussy, a tease. Her breathing hitched.

“What are you waiting for?” she breathed, breath scented of sweet wine.

What was he waiting for? He had imagined this moment so many times, too many times, so many times that he didn’t want to rush it, didn’t want to mess it up.

But she didn’t give him time to ponder it for long.

A noise so pure, so sensuous, tumbled from her lips as she pushed herself down on top of him. Rhysand’s head fell back against the couch, his hands clinging to her hips as they moved, as she rode his cock. He pulled her face toward him and kissed her passionately, lustfully, urgently. As her body leaned into him, the rest of Rhysand’s nerves faded. He swallowed her whole, his tongue between her lips as she moaned, quietly, into his mouth.

And then he lost all control as he faded away, lost in the beauty and pleasure of Feyre Archeron.

He leaned her back against the couch and nipped at her ear, her neck, her nipple, biting softly at the sensitive nub as her nails dug into the middle of his back.

“Rhys,” she begged, and the next words she whispered set him on fire. “Fuck me.”

He grabbed her by the ass and thrust himself inside of her.

Feyre’s eyes fluttered shut as she lay before him, back arched, biting her lower lip, her brows furrowed.

Making love to Feyre was different than he’d imagined, better than he’d imagined. It was real, every minute, every second of it was real. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe she’d wake up in the morning and regret it, although he prayed to whoever the hell was listening that she didn’t, that she wouldn’t. Rhysand had fucked plenty of women through the years, but none of them felt like this. He hadn’t been in love with any of those women.

But he was in love with this woman.

This beautiful, snarky, sarcastic, kind, thoughtful, exquisite woman.

Rhysand fell on top of her, his body beginning to tremble, damp with sweat, their bodies aligned.

Feyre clung to him, the little sounds falling out of her mouth growing louder. She called his name, first a whisper, then she screamed it, gasping, nails embedded in the tanned skin of his back.

“Feyre,” he breathed, he moaned, as her knees began to shake, her legs wrapped around his waist. “Fuck, Feyre.”

His mouth crashed against hers as he met his climax.

He swore his heart stopped, if just for a second.

And when he pulled back and leaned up on his elbows, his cock still inside of her, he admired her flushed cheeks, the adoration in her gray-blue eyes, her smile, soft and devious.

She ran her fingers through his dark, damp hair, before taking his face into her hands. “Much longer than twenty seconds.”

Rhysand hung his head and laughed before meeting her eyes, once more.

He kissed her, gently, and held her to him, afraid to let go.

~~~~~

Elain stood in the entryway of her father’s bedroom, watching him sleep.

Feyre and Rhsyand had brought him upstairs earlier that evening and dropped him in his bed. They didn’t bother removing his shoes or putting a blanket over top of him.

Elain didn’t blame them.

She was infuriated.

One night. She wanted one night where they were all together, but she couldn’t even get that.

He had promised he would be there, had let Elain believe that he was excited, then he showed up drunk.

She should have known better.

Should have known he would ruin it.

Elain thought about Nesta, thought about the horror on her face as their father spoke. Elain tried calling her, but she didn’t answer, her phone had been off.

All she wanted was one night.

One dinner with her family.

She watched her father sleep, and she was seething.

Drunk.

He’d shown up drunk, completely unaware of who he was impacting. No, Elain was no longer a child, but she didn’t deserve that, didn't deserve to have her father come home drunk and pass out on the dining room floor.

She suddenly realized what Feyre had dealt with for all those years before she moved out and moved in with Tamlin.

Elain slunk back down to the kitchen and started cleaning up. The dining room was a mess, the meal she made, the meal she slaved over, hardly eaten.

She put the leftovers in the fridge, put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

She dragged herself upstairs and into her bedroom.

For the first time in a long time, she was ready to sleep, exhaustion drowning her out. It had been too much, it had all been too much. The emotional toll of utter disappointment consumed her.

She pulled her phone off her nightstand, ready to scroll through Pinterest until she fell asleep, when she saw she had a text message from an unknown, local number.

And when she opened it, she found the slightest hint of peace as she smiled.

Mila held a glass Coke bottle filled with water, her pink tulip peeking out of the top. She was smiling, brightly. The face of pure, innocent joy.

Got your number from Feyre, hope you don’t mind. Mila wanted you to see her flower’s new home. It was all she could talk about all night. Thank you. - Azriel

Elain read the message again before putting her phone on night mode and closing her eyes. Before she did that, though, she sent Azriel a short reply.

Of course. It was my pleasure.

~~~~~

“Goodnight.”

“G’night, uncle Azzie.”

“I love you.”

“I love you moooore,” Mila sang, and Azriel laughed. “Uncle Az?”

“Hmm?”

“Will my flower be okay tonight?��

Azriel smiled. He was laying next to her, the best he could on a twin mattress, anyway, propped up on his elbow. “Yes, I’ll make sure of it. You need to go to sleep, though. It’s late.”

She yawned, and nodded. “Okay. I miss mama.”

Azriel tried to control his facial expression, his tone, tried to keep it neutral as he said, “I know, babe, I know.”

“Will I see her again?” she asked. “Does she not love me anymore?”

He saw the true fear in her eyes, the honest pain. Azriel leaned down to kiss her forehead, brushing back her dark, auburn hair. “Your mama loves you. She just has to go away for a little while.”

Her lip quivered, but she nodded. “Do you love me, Uncle Az?”

Azriel smiled, hating Amarantha for putting such a sweet, innocent child through such pain. “I love you very, very much.”

She nodded, sniffling. “I love you, too.”

“I know,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead. “Time for bed, okay?”

Azriel tucked Mila in, turned on her Batman nightlight, and cracked the door. He pulled a beer from the fridge and opened the sliding door, walking out onto the balcony.

He was fucking exhausted.

He sipped his beer, slowly, and sat in the late night silence. The stars were out, lighting up the night sky. Azriel always loved the Velaris night.

He didn’t have peace for long, though, because a knock came to his door.

He glanced at his phone. It was nearly 11.

Nonetheless, he and his beer went to the front door and threw it open.

Mor was on his doormat, blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. She smiled at him, wistfully. “Hey, Az.”

Azriel laughed, softly. “I thought you weren’t coming in until tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t,” Mor admitted, “but you needed me, so I left the moment my last final ended.”

Azriel’s eyes softened as he stepped aside. Mor walked in and dropped her bag by the doormat.

“Mila sound asleep?” She asked.

Azriel nodded, closing the door behind her.

“And how are you?” She asked, brown eyes soft, full of worry.

Azriel leaned back against the closed apartment door. He didn’t know how he was, didn’t know how he should feel.

“Nothing surprises me anymore,” he said, honestly. “I wake up every day and expect the worst.”

Mor’s smile faded. “You’re a good man, Az.”

Azriel shook his head. “Even if that were true, it doesn’t make it any easier.”

Mor walked to where Azriel stood by the door. She took the beer from his hand, and set it aside, before taking Azriel by the hand and pulling him into her arms.

“It’s all going to be okay, Az,” Mor whispered, rubbing the back of his head as his face nestled into her shoulder. He had to lean down to wrap his arms around her waist. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Azriel clung to Mor, to her embrace, hoping that was true.

But all he could think about was Mila’s little voice, asking her uncle, Does she not love me anymore?

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

Tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha

@mynewdreamwasyou

@candid-confetti

@my-fan-side

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls

@sannelovesreading

@halstudies

@amren-courtofdreams

@wifeofchrishemsworth

@goldr0ses

@humanexile

@booksbooksbooksworld

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

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@6255igntm

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@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nessian #nesta #cassian #feysand #feyre #rhysand #elriel #elain #azriel #mor #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #tacmc AITA #modern au

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {24}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Remember that one time when Lucas and Nathan faced off on the rivercourt for Peyton’s affection? Yeah. Good times.

Anyways, even I said “What the fuck” at the end of this chapter...Enjoy “The one before the finale”. x

“I'd always thought death would be some sort of peaceful homecoming - a sweet, sad lullaby to usher me into whatever waited afterward.” ― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Lain?”

It was the week before Rhysand and Feyre’s wedding, and everyone was going out to celebrate. All but Elain, who offered to stay home with Mila so that Azriel could enjoy himself. He’d been on edge too often, lately. He needed a good night out.

Besides, Elain was pregnant and nauseous and the last thing she wanted to do was be out with a bunch of people when she couldn’t drink and was too damn tired to dance.

“Yes?” Elain asked from where she was perched on the other side of the couch.

“Is the baby in your belly a boy or a girl?”

Elain chuckled. “We don’t know yet. What do you want the baby to be?”

Mila took a minute to think about it. “I don’t care. I just want someone to play with.”

Elain’s smile softened. “Well, soon enough, baby will be here.”

“I be a big sister?” she asked, with hope in her sweet, innocent eyes.

“Sure will,” Elain confirmed. “The best big sister!”

“Is Uncle Azzie going to marry you?” Mila asked. “Like Rhysie and Feyre.”

“Maybe,” Elain said, in all honesty. “But not right now.”

“I want you to marry Uncle Azzie,” Mila said, sighing as she pet Elain’s cat, Ginger. “We could all live together in a big house. Me, you, Uncle Az, and baby.”

Elain watched Mila as she kissed the kitten’s forehead. “I would like that, too.”

“Good,” Mila beamed. “Can we watch t.v.?”

“It’s getting late,” Elain said, huffing a laugh, a hand on her stomach. The morning sickness wasn’t as bad, but it tended to linger throughout the day.

“Please?” Mila sang, big eyes pleading.

“Alright, but only for a little while,” Elain said. “When i say it’s time for bed, it’s time for bed.”

Mila jumped up on the couch, arms in the air. “Yay!”

Elain turned the station to a kid’s show as she pulled out her phone and texted Azriel, What did this child have for lunch? She has enough energy for all of us.

Azriel’s reply came a second later. Chicken nuggets.

Then, it was followed by, A cherry icee might have happened, too.

Elain laughed to herself as she typed out, Oh, good. Get her all sugared up then leave her with the pregnant woman.

“Lain, do you have ice cream?”

Elain shook her head. “How about an apple?”

Mila groaned. “Fine.”

As Elain went into the kitchen, her phone vibrated in her hoodie pocket. Azriel had said, I can always come home. I’m only ten minutes down the road if you need me.

Have fun, Elain had texted back. Enjoy yourself. We’re good over here. After adding a green heart emoji, she pressed send.

After washing an apple and cutting it into slices, Elain walked back into the living room, where Mila was snoring, using Ginger as a pillow. Shaking her head, Elain took her place at the other end of the couch.

When she pulled her phone out of her pocket, it read, Kiss Mila and the baby goodnight for me.

Elain’s cheeks turned pink as she smiled. Every night, Azriel pressed his soft lips to Elain’s stomach, to the bump that had formed there.

I will, Elain had typed back. Always.

~~~~~~

“I feel bad for leaving Elain,” Feyre frowned. “She deserves to have fun, too.”

“She offered,” Nesta reminded her. “Besides, she’s been up at the crack of dawn puking her guts up. The woman needs to take sleep when she can find it.”

Feyre agreed before taking another shot.

Shots were on Mor, and the rounds kept coming. Feyre had already texted Rhysand once, to see where Cassian and Azriel were taking him, but he had replied that he didn’t know, that it was a surprise, and that he was scared shitless because any surprise that involved Cassian was asking for trouble.

Feyre didn’t disagree.

“One week from today,” Amren began, eyes bright, intoxicated, “you’ll be a married woman.”

“Any idea where you’re going for the honeymoon?” Mor asked. “Rhys let anything slip?”

“Not a thing,” Feyre groaned. “And it’s been driving me crazy.”

“Any guesses?” Nesta asked.

Feyre took a second to think about it. Yes, she had guessed a few times over the past weeks, but Rhysand had let nothing slip. “My guess is Adriata. He knows I love the beach.”

And even now, as Autumn was beginning, Adriata was as warm and sunny as ever. But every time Feyre had guessed as much, Rhysand just shrugged and said, Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.

The handsome bastard.

“You know what we should do?” Mor asked, then looked to Nesta. “Designated driver, pull the car around, please. We have to get the bride prepared for her honeymoon.”

Feyre groaned, but Nesta was already on her feet, hurrying out the door.

Five minutes later, they were gathered together in Nesta’s car, driving down Main Street.

“Where are you taking me now?” Feyre asked, exasperated.

“You’ll see,” Mor crooned.

The endless list of surprises was about to drive Feyre insane.

They pulled up to a little lingerie shop and dragged Feyre out of the car.

“Is this necessary?” she asked. “Rhysand prefers me naked.”

Mor rolled her eyes as Amren said, “You can’t go on your honeymoon without a solid selection of overpriced lingerie.”

Feyre laughed, unable to argue as they entered the shop.

The room was filled with lace and silk, varying in styles and choices.

“Fine,” Feyre sighed. “Everyone pick out something and I’ll get it, no questions asked, but after this, we drink!”

Feyre was answered with laughter and hollering as she crashed in a chair near the dressing room.

She would be married, Rhysand’s wife, in one week. It almost didn’t seem real. Everything was going so well, so smoothly, so beautifully, even with the rushed planning.

One week, with her girls by her side, and apparently a bag packed full of lingerie, ready to go wherever the hell Rhys was taking her after the ceremony... She would be her best friend’s wife.

~~~~~

The back of Cassian’s truck was down, a twelve pack of shitty beer sat on the unhitched gate, and rock music poured from the radio as the three friends played basketball on the small court along the Sidra.

Rhysand’s mom used to take the three of them there, from the time they were in middle school and fell in love with the sport. It had always been a safe haven, so it made sense why his two closest friends would gather an ass-ton of beer and take him to the court for some bonding before he got hitched in a week.

Cassian had a beer can pressed to his lips as he dribbled the ball to the free-throw line.

“Anything new about Eris?” He asked.

Azriel cleared his throat. “No, but Amarantha calls and leaves a voicemail every other day, claiming the prick won’t give up. Which, I believe. Eris isn’t the type to be told he can’t have something and drop it.”

Azriel had gone to court a few days prior, and Eris had left furious after he’d been granted nothing. It was a win, but Rhysand could tell Azriel’s worry lingered.

“No matter what happens, she’s going to get older, you know? Eventually, she’ll have questions about them both, and I’m going to be the bad guy for saying, your mom’s in prison, and your dad’s a dick. Sorry, can’t see either of them.”

“Doesn’t make you a bad person for wanting to protect her,” Rhysand said. Cassian raised his beer in agreement.

“So I hear,” he mumbled, and surely Elain had been constantly telling him the same thing. “Nervous?” Azriel asked, where he stood beneath the hoop, undoubtedly hoping to get the conversation off of him.

“About playing against Cassian?” Rhysand asked. “Hardly.”

Azriel chuckled. “About getting married, dumbass.”

Rhysand grinned. “Not really. Nothing to be nervous about.”

People were still around, the sun yet to have completely sink down, walking or jogging along the walk by the river. None of them seemed to care that they were drinking in a public area, or that their music was obnoxiously loud.

“I’d be nervous,” Cassian muttered, throwing his empty can at his truck bed - and completely missing.

“If you were marrying Nesta?” Rhysand asked. “Fuck, any man would be nervous. Or, you know, completely terrified.”

Cassian snorted, but didn’t deny it. “About getting married in general. Everyone staring up at you, watching you stare lovingly into each other’s eyes as you proclaim your love…”

Azriel laughed, taking the ball away from Cassian and dribbling it up to half court. “That’s bullshit, you love attention.”

Cassian’s grin only widened. Rhysand said nothing as he watched Azriel dribble up to the three point line, all he could do is laugh as Cassian took a step forward to block his shot, but stumbled.

And yet, Azriel shot the ball and it missed the backboard by a foot.

Maybe they’d all had more to drink than they had thought.

But none of them chased that ball as it rolled off the court, and out onto the grass, near the riverwalk.

Where a young man picked it up, saw Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel, and grinned.

So did his companion.

Rhysand froze, and Cassian started charging forward, but Azriel quickly grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back.

Tamlin chuckled. “That’s right, control your bitch.”

He and Eris stopped at the edge of the court.

Those walking past must have sensed the tension, because they began receiving strange looks as they stood atop the court in silence.

And yet, they all kept walking past.

“I hear you’re getting married next week,” Tamlin went on, strutting onto the court, ball bouncing on the concrete. “I suppose I should congratulate you. And my beautiful Feyre.”

Rhysand said nothing, but Cassian spat, “Leave.”

“How about we play?” Eris suggested, but he was looking at Azriel. “It’s been a while since we played.”

“You’re not welcome here,” Azriel said.

“Where is my daughter, by the way?” Eris said, looking around. “With your whore, no doubt.”

Now it was Cassian’s turn to grab Azriel by the arm. It only made Eris’s grin wider and far more wicked.

“We don’t want trouble,” Rhysand said, plainly. “Give us our ball back and go.”

Tamlin did no such thing. “I think a game would be fun. Me and Eris against Cassian and Az. Rhysand, you could referee. Wouldn’t want you getting injured so close to your big day. Feyre will need you to be able to...perform. We all know how needy she is in bed, especially on her wedding night.”

Rhysand’s jaw hardened. “Why are you here, Tam?”

“We were walking by,” he said, shrugging. “We can’t stop and say hello?”

“No,” Cassian said, plainly.

“Then perhaps we’ll stop and say hello at the wedding, instead,” Tamlin crooned. “I hear it’s not far from here. By the woods, along the Sidra…”

“If you show up at the wedding-” Rhysand growled, but he was cut off.

“You’ll what?” Eris laughed. “Ask us to leave like you’re doing now? How’s that approach working for you?”

“I’ll handle it,” Cassian said, voice low. “And, considering the state I left you two in after our last encounter, you know that’ll end.”

Eris’ smile faded. “You were lucky, filled with that unholy rage that’s landed you in a jail cell more times than I can count.”

Cassian took a step forward, and this time, Azriel didn’t stop him. “You know what you’re problem is?” Cassian asked, looking between the two of them. “You grow up, spoiled, getting everything you’ve ever wanted, and now, you have this unwavering entitlement that makes you think you’re fucking invincible.” He took another step forward. “But you’re not. One day, you’ll get what’s coming to you, and your daddys won’t be there to help you out.”

Tamlin grinned as he met Cassian in the lane, closing the distance between them. “Spoken like a true bastard, who killed his own mommy and whose daddy didn’t want him.”

Cassian’s body went still.

Azriel’s face went pale.

Yes, Cassian had a lot of anger. And that anger came from somewhere. And that somewhere was just declared, outright, from Tamlin’s mouth.

Cassian didn’t talk about it, but Rhysand and Azriel knew. In high school, Cassian had found his mother dead in their living room. Then, unable to handle the pain of loss, he fled for weeks and no one saw him. The rumors that came from that were unbearable. But that’s all they were, of course, fucked up rumors.

That Rhysand was certain Tamlin and Eris had been the ones to spread.

“You need to leave,” Rhysand warned.

But Tamlin didn’t move.

Nor did Eris.

Instead, Eris pulled a small knife out of his pocket and flicked it open. He used the sharp tip to clean the dirt out from under his fingernails.

Utter rage consumed Azriel’s face.

That man was Mila’s father.

Cassian was unleashed.

He instantly tackled Tamlin to the ground, Cassian’s fist colliding with his jaw. Then Eris was on the move, charging at Azriel, but he stood his ground.

Rhysand’s can fell out of his hand, spilling across the pavement as he moved toward them, one foot in front of the other, to where Tamlin now had Cassian held down, just barely, by his throat.

What happened after that was a blur of blood and chaos.

Women who walked past walked by quickly, and a few men eventually came to try and break it up, but they were only swept into the fight themselves.

It became an all out war.

“Call the police!” a woman yelled, and Rhysand had hardly heard her above the madness surrounding him, above the pounding in his ears.

He had just brought a man down that had gotten him good in the nose when Rhysand spun around, and saw it.

Eris had Azriel pinned against the ground by his knees, one hand holding his face still, the other holding that knife to Azriel’s neck.

Azriel laid perfectly still, breathing hard. Any movement, and the blade would get him.

Rhysand screamed Eris’ name, but when he started to run that direction, he was caught by a random jogger who threw him against the court. Cassian was still tumbling around with Tamlin, completely unaware of what was happening outside of their feud.

It was then that a middle-aged man, who should have been nowhere near the court, stepped behind Eris and tried to haul him off of Azriel.

But Eris was strong, much stronger. He pulled the knife away from Azriel’s neck, only to push the man down with such force that Rhysand could hear him hit the concrete. Rhysand was already on his feet, moving as quickly as he could toward the scene, but he was still too far away.

Azriel took Eris’ distraction to his advantage, though. He grabbed the knife from Eris’ hand and stabbed him in the side. Eris cried out in agony, but Azriel was pushing Eris off of him, and was hurrying to the middle-aged man lying on the concrete, hazel eyes full of horror.

“Call a fucking ambulance!” he screamed, his voice so loud, so panicked, that the fight surrounding them began to dissipate.

Even Tamlin looked at the sight, looked at Azriel hovering over the man, in horror.

Because he knew that man.

Cassian’s face paled as he dropped Tamlin to the concrete and, blood running from his nose, ran to his truck for his phone.

Because lying on the ground, still as stone, was Isaac Archeron.

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

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s @sensitiveillyrian

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books @mockingjayusa

@mis-lil-red @mini-monster-amren

@shhhimreading03 @brittneym15

@emilyrose111294 @queen-of-glass

@negativenesta @keshavomit

@argentumstella @sebxstianbarnes

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides @candid-confetti

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @iliketoasterstrudels

@6255igntm @moondancer-204

@littlehoneyybee @acourtofbookworms

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s @nightcourtcinnamonroll

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn @bamchickawowow

@julemmaes @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta @nickjgoodsell

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #nessian #feysand #elriel #tacmc aita

227 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {18}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: "The one where Nesta explodes.” Sorry, friends.

“How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall? ― Ellen Hopkins, Crank

“To Feyre and Rhys!” Mor called, lifting her glass to the middle of the table, where it met Feyre’s, Elain’s, and Amren’s. “I can’t believe you’re getting married to my cousin. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

She sighed, and Elain beamed from beside her.

“We’re so happy for you both,” she promised.

Feyre grinned. It had been a week since Rhysand proposed, and now, on Saturday night, the girls had all decided to go out to celebrate, leaving the boys at home.

“Speaking of happiness, I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time at Azriel’s,” Feyre said, eyeing Elain. “At night.”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink as she rolled her eyes.

“Every night but one,” Mor muttered, and when Amren’s brows rose, she clarified, “Azriel stayed at her townhouse last Saturday night and came home Sunday looking very, very happy.”

Feyre slammed her glass down on the table. “You had sex?”

Elain groaned, hiding her face. “We’re supposed to be talking about you, not me.”

“Definitely had sex,” Amren muttered, grinning, as she took a sip from her glass.

“Yes,” Elain breathed, face as red as a tomato. “We did. Now, let’s move on.”

“How is he?” Mor asked. “I mean, I’ve heard rumors over the years, but he’s, you know, never clarified.”

“Is it big?” Feyre asked, brows wiggling.

“I vote there’s more in girth than in length,” Amren followed.

Mor howled. “True.”

All eyes shot to Mor.

She blinked. “What? I’ve lived with the guy on and off for years, and if his morning wood is any indication, Amren’s not wrong.”

Elain shook her head, unable to control her laughter. “As much as I love this discussion, I vote we move on.”

“Okay, okay, moving on,” Feyre said, laying her palms flat on the table. “As soon as you tell us if we’re right or not.”

Elain took a deep breath. “Fine…...Yes to girth, now, moving on.”

Feyre fell into Amren, tears coming out of her eyes at her sister’s embarrassment - her sweet, gentle sister.

“Be glad I’m not asking you the same questions,” Elain said, downing her glass.

“Oh, I’ll happily answer,” Feyre chuckled. “Hell, Rhys will happily answer. He likes to brag.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Yes, but every word that comes out of his mouth while he brags is complete bullshit. Besides, talking about my cousin’s penis physically makes me ill.”

Once their laughter died down, and Feyre promised not to mention anything about Rhysand’s dick, she looked to Amren.

“How’s Cass?”

Amren’s brows furrowed. “Oh, you mean after he spent the night in jail for beating up a bar full of people?” She shrugged. “He’s been decent. Goes to work, comes home, drowns himself in whiskey, and does it all again the next day. At least Bryaxis is there. Cassian keeps his cool with Ax next to him.”

“Because of Nesta?” Elain asked, surprised.

Amren shrugged. “He won’t talk about it, but she hasn’t been around and he lies awake at night cursing her name, so I assume so.”

“You’d think he was in love with her,” Feyre said, then stilled. “Holy fuck, he’s in love with her. Nesta. Of all people.”

“I don’t understand what the fascination is, myself,” Mor muttered.

Elain nodded, slowly. “I love Nesta, but she insists on making herself miserable at every opportunity. It’s been that way since we were in high school. Self destruction without a cure.”

Feyre knew that Elain was thinking of her own issues with depression, with thoughts of suicide lingering in the back of her mind. Feyre had been there, too. So had Mor. And Amren. But Nesta was a different breed...it never went away. And she wanted it to remain, that depression. She held onto it, craved destruction.

Nesta was so much like their mother.

Feyre couldn’t help but be pissed off, though. She had led Cassian on, had let him feel something - Cassian, who never felt anything serious about a woman. Cassian, with his uncontrollable anger living alongside his will to bring joy to everyone around him. Nesta had taken advantage of him, and Cassian was living through the aftermath.

“I saw that guy the other day, too,” Amren went on. “Tomas.”

Elain stilled as Feyre’s eyes snapped to Amren. “What?”

“Yeah, he’s back, I guess,” she said, shrugging. “Basically lives there now.”

Feyre was already grabbing her purse and scooting out of the booth. Elain wasn’t moving, was staring at the table, hands shaking.

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, hesitantly.

“To Nesta’s. Come on.”

~~~~~

Nesta was sitting on her couch, staring at the blank t.v. when a pounding came on her door. She opened it a minute later and her sisters rushed in, Feyre first, Elain trailing after.

She sighed. “And what do I owe to this unexpected surprise?”

“Where is he?” Feyre asked, eyes narrowed. “Tomas.”

“Not here,” Nesta mumbled, shutting her door behind her. Her head was light, mind blurry. She was having trouble keeping herself upright. “Came to say hello?”

“Amren said he’s been around,” Elain said, quietly.

Nesta knew they would find out, eventually, but she hadn’t thought they would come storming into her apartment on a Saturday night.

“Why do you care?” Nesta asked. “I’m busy-”

“Cut the shit,” Feyre snapped, and met her sister’s eyes.

Nesta figured it was her fault, she was the one who had told Feyre, who had told Elain. The night Rhysand had been taken to the hospital, when Nesta had driven her youngest sister to the place where their mother had taken her final breath. She had found Feyre, while they were all waiting for Rhysand to wake up, and tried to bring her a little bit of comfort.

“You’re lucky to have Rhysand,” Nesta had said, sitting next to her sister in the hospital’s cafeteria, as she sipped on a cup of coffee. “I know you love him. He loves you, too.”

“Speaking of love...this whole thing with Cassian…” Feyre had started, avoiding having to talk about Rhysand, no doubt. “What’s really going on? What happened with Tomas?”

Nesta had shrugged. “Don’t know. He just left. It was for the best, anyways. He was who I got my drugs from, and nothing more.”

Feyre had stilled. “I thought you were done with that shit.”

“I’m trying,” Nesta had promised, hoping to bring her sister comfort. “It’s easier now that he’s gone. When Tomas is around, he gives it to me and I can’t say no.”

Feyre nodded, reaching across the table to grab her sister’s hand. It was the first conversation they’d had in a long, long time. “And when Cassian is around?”

Nesta snorted. “Cassian is….When Cassian is around, he makes me want to live. And I haven’t felt the want to live for as long as I can remember.”

“Where are they?” Feyre asked, voice hard, bringing Nesta back to the present.

“Where are what?” she asked, innocently.

Elain didn’t speak.

She simply watched, tears in her eyes.

Fear in her eyes.

“The drugs,” Feyre hissed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nesta snapped.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Feyre said, shaking her head. She walked into the kitchen and started digging through drawers, throwing shit around. “I can tell you’re high off your ass right now!”

When Feyre found nothing there, she went into Nesta’s bedroom.

Nesta was close behind. “Get out of my fucking apartment.”

But Feyre had already dug around, was already pushing Nesta out of the way and strutting into the bathroom.

She opened the top drawer.

Nesta was standing in the doorway, hands shaking.

Feyre pulled out everything. Bottles upon bottles of pain pills, and a packet of fine, light brown powder.

“Fucking heroin?” Feyre breathed, looking slowly at Nesta. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Nesta tried to snatch it from her sister’s hand, but Feyre was sober, and much, much faster. She took everything into her hands and shoved it into her bag before brushing past Nesta.

Nesta quickly followed her back into the living room. “Fuck you!”

“Did mom’s death mean nothing?” Feyre yelled, and Elain was crying, and the fact that Elain was crying made Nesta feel like shit. “How could you do this after mom fucking died from it!”

Silence enveloped the apartment, the only sound coming from Elain’s quiet sobs.

Nesta took a step toward her sister. It took everything in her to keep her voice steady as she said, “Maybe I wanna die, too.”

Feyre stilled and she closed her eyes, jaw locked. Then, she started shaking her head. “Don’t say that shit.”

“You wanna know the truth?” Nesta asked, arms outstretched. “You wanna know the fucking truth, Feyre? Well, here I am! So shut the fuck up and listen if you wanna know the fucking truth!” Her hands were shaking, her head pounding. She took another step toward her youngest sister, “I envy mom for taking too much shit that day. She got to leave this shitty world that day, and me? I’m still stuck here! No matter what I do! I’m here, living in this endless hell!”

Feyre said nothing. She stared at her sister, jaw hard, eyes lined with tears.

Nesta was breathing hard. She felt like shit. Felt like shit that her sisters were crying, felt like shit that she was never there for them. She felt like shit because the only thing keeping her from feeling like shit, all the fucking time, was the drugs. She felt like shit because she relied on them, felt like shit because it was the only reason she kept Tomas Mandray around. She felt like shit because her mom left them all, because she loved the drug too much, so much that she couldn’t stop, so much that it killed her, took her away from her husband, her daughters.

Nesta felt like shit because Cassian didn’t make her feel like shit.

But he deserved better.

At least she had done right by him.

“You don’t have to live like this,” Feyre whispered, and took her oldest sister’s face into her hands. “You don’t deserve this.”

Lie.

It was a lie.

A lie that had been told to Nesta many times, one she wasn’t sure she could ever believe to be true.

“I deserve worse,” Nesta countered, feeling nothing.

Feyre’s forehead fell into Nesta’s. “You deserve the world, if only you’d let yourself have it.”

~~~~~

“You’re fucking drunk.”

Cassian chuckled as Azriel shook his head. Yes, Rhysand was undoubtedly drunk and loving every minute of it. It was getting late, though, and Azriel, as the guardian of a four-year-old who would be up at the crack of dawn, needed to get some sleep.

“Alright,” Cassian laughed, slipping on his shoes before throwing Rhysand’s shoes at him. “I’ll walk you home before I head home.”

Rhysand let his shoes hit him in the abdomen before frowning. “Is Feyre home yet? I love Feyre.”

“I know,” Cassian muttered. “Put on your shoes and we’ll go see.”

“But shoes make my feet feel trapped,” Rhysand said, staring at his shoes. “Why would I want that for my toes?”

Azriel was laughing as Cassian picked up Rhysand’s shoes. “Then I’ll carry them and you can go in your socks.

“Good,” Rhysand slurred, stumbling toward the door.

“Text me when he’s safe inside of his apartment, please,” Azriel begged.

Cassian promised he would as the two went out into the cool, Summer night. Rhysand jumped as his phone began to ring. He searched his body helplessly before Cassian, laughing, pulled it out Rhysand’s pocket and answered.

“Hello? Rhysand’s phone.”

“Your hand touched my dick, asshole!” Rhysand yelled.

And Feyre laughed on the other end. “Sounds like a good time over there.”

“Your future husband and the father of your children is a drunken mess, but don’t worry, I’m walking him home.”

“Thank you,” Feyre said, voice quiet. “Can you tell him I won’t be home tonight?”

“Sure,” Cassian said, dragging Rhysand by the arm, down the sidewalk, as he stared up at the moon with wide, violet eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just at Nesta’s-” As if remembering who she was talking to, her words trailed off. “I’ll be home in the morning though...if you could let him know.”

“I will,” Cassian said, clearing his throat. “Um, is Nesta alright?”

The line went quiet. Then, Feyre said, “She will be.”

“Did Tomas hurt her?” he asked, unable to stop the question from coming out of his mouth.

“Tomas isn’t here,” was all she said. “Make sure my fiance gets safely inside of our house, will you?”

Cassian chuckled, although the light never reached his eyes. “You just like any excuse to call him your fiance.”

“True,” Feyre said. “But I mean it. My fiance is a sloppy drunk.”

“Oh, I know,” Cassian said. “I’m walking him up the stairs, literally having to hold his hand.”

Feyre laughed. “You’re a saint. Thanks Cass.”

“Yep,” he said. “Bye.”

He hung up and shoved the phone back into Rhysand’s pocket.

Once he made sure Rhysand was safely inside of his apartment, Cassian left, and before he even walked out of the front door, Rhysand was snoring on the couch.

Cassian climbed into his truck and sat in the silence for a minute.

Feyre and Nesta didn’t get along. Something must have happened, something must have been wrong. Something must have happened.

As Cassian started his truck, his mind began to wander. Then, he just got mad, reminding himself that he shouldn’t care. Nesta had made it very clear that she didn’t want him in her life. And he had told her the same.

Although, when he said it, it had been a lie.

When he pulled up in front of his own building, he had grown tired. Nothing sounded better than making his way up the stairs, closing himself inside of his apartment, and going to sleep.

But when he made it to the second floor landing, Feyre was standing in the middle of Cassian and Nesta’s apartments, holding a bag of-

“What the fuck?” he asked, and when the girls shushed him, he grabbed it out of her hand. “What are you doing with this shit? You can’t just wave it around in the open, shit, Feyre.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was giving it to Mor to flush, idiot.”

“Why do you even have this?” Cassian snapped.

And then it dawned on him.

He looked at Nesta’s closed door and sighed.

Cassian’s hand fell to his side, grabbing the little plastic bag tightly in his hand.

“She’s fine,” Feyre whispered, knowing full well the string of thoughts that were running through his mind. “Me and Elain are going to make sure this shit stays out of her apartment.”

“And Tomas?” Cassian asked, voice low. “Did she get this shit from him?”

When Feyre didn’t answer, Cassian was turning around, to storm off, to beat Tomas’s ass, but Feyre caught him by the wrist and pulled him back. She took his face into her hands, and even though he was a head taller than she was, she made him look down at her.

“You’re going to take that inside and get rid of it,” she whispered. “Then, you’re going to get your ass in bed. Beron’s already pissed he had to pick you for a bar fight this month, don’t make him take you to prison for killing some useless dealer.”

That anger was simmering, was beckoning to be released, but Cassian saw the fear, the exhaustion, in Feyre’s eyes.

He nodded.

Feyre sighed, and kissed his bearded cheek before telling them all goodnight.

“Cass,” Mor whispered, after a moment of him staring at the closed, apartment door across from his. “Come on.”

Amren took his hand, and when he looked at her, she was wearing a small, sad smile. “Time for bed.”

Cassian nodded and, every step he took feeling heavier than the last, he followed Mor and Amren into his apartment.

He sent the drugs down the toilet and threw the bag away, just like Feyre had asked.

But he didn’t go to bed.

Instead, he went to the couch and sat down, Amren on one side of him, Mor on the other.

He should have seen it as a sign. Should have known something was wrong with Nesta, that something wasn’t right. But he had pushed her away, let his anger in and allowed it to cloud his judgement.

Mor and Amren stayed with him. They each laid their heads on his broad shoulders and comforted him, as the night passed him by in utter silence.

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

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @iliketoasterstrudels

@6255igntm @moondancer-204

@littlehoneyybee @acourtofbookworms

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s @nightcourtcinnamonroll

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn @bamchickawowow

@julemmaes @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta @nickjgoodsell

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nessian #feysand #elriel #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #tacmc aita #modern au

226 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {13}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Enjoy the roller coaster.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“Hers was not a story of darkness. This would not be the story. She would fold it into herself, this place, this fear, but it would not be the whole story. It would not be her story.” ― Sarah J. Maas, Kingdom of Ash

“Why don’t you come in?”

Ferye shook her head, refusing to show fear or discomfort. Tamlin was leaning against his doorway, all too casual. He had no reason to be fearful, no reason to be uncomfortable. In his eyes, he had never done anything wrong. In his eyes, he was running the show. He was the manipulator, the ringmaster, the man in charge.

“I’m fine out here,” Feyre said, voice steady. “And this is where I prefer you answer my question.”

Tamlin cocked his head to the side, studying her. His eyes narrowed as they swept over her body. “You look different.”

Feyre’s jaw set. “Happy, for once?”

A pause. “No,” he said, at last, shaking his head “No, that’s not it. Come in, Feyre. Please.”

“You left him on the side of the road,” she breathed, fists shaking at her sides, “unconscious, bleeding, with broken ribs. There’s not an inch of his body that’s not bruised and battered.”

With a sigh, Tamlin raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve talked to Eris. He’s always had anger issues, unable to control himself. It was meant to be harmless fun. Accidents happen.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Feyre hissed. “I’m not stupid, Tamlin, I’m not a fucking idiot.”

Her ex shook his head. “I hate it when you swear. Doesn’t look right coming out of your mouth. Such foul language...such beautiful lips.”

Feyre felt sick. “Stay away from Rhys, Tamlin. I swear.”

“Or, what?” he said, lips quirked, eyes dark. “You’ll go to the police? I already made a point to show that I can handle the cops.”

Hating herself for tearing up, Feyre grunted out her earlier question, “Why?”

Tamlin looked at her for a long moment, stared at her until a tear finally fell down her cheek. He stepped forward and brushed it away with his thumb. His hand rested against her cheek. His touch made Feyre want to scream, want to cringe, want to hide. Those hands were the same ones that sent Rhysand, her love, to the hospital, and now they were touching her with such a monstrous gentleness that Feyre felt violated.

And yet, she held her chin up high.

She would not show fear.

“You know why,” Tamlin whispered. “I love you, Feyre, and he does not deserve you. He is a lowlife, an uneducated orphan who just so happened to be good at basketball in high school. Didn’t do him much good, did it? He’s a waiter, living in a crappy apartment, pathetically in love with a woman who is way out of his league.”

The need to slap Tamlin across the face was unbearable, but Feyre kept her hands, curled up, by her sides.

“Come home, Feyre,” Tamlin whispered, lips brushing across her forehead. Chills were sent down Feyre’s spine. “Come home and we’ll pretend like none of this ever happened.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Feyre whispered, looking up into his arrogant, green eyes. “Why the hell would I ever want to come back to you? You were horrible to me when we were together, you nearly get Rhys killed, and you still think that I love you?”

“Everything I do,” Tamlin said, fingers brushing back her hair, “I do for you. For us.”

Feyre shook her head, but when she tried to take a step back, his hands caught her waist and he pulled her forward.

“Come back, Feyre,” he said, voice low. “You shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

“Let go of me,” she hissed, pushing on his chest, and when he didn’t budge, Feyre spat in his face, right between the eyes.

His hands freed her as his eyes closed, and he wiped her spit off with the back of his hand before opening them up. His eyes were coated with fury.

“You’ll regret that,” he snapped.

“I regret every other moment we’ve spent together, so why not this one, too?” she shot back. “Stay away from Rhys, Tamlin, or you’ll be the one with regret.”

Tamlin had regained his composure, was watching her with that casual arrogance once more as she turned on her heels and walked away.

She hardly breathed until she was safely shut inside of her car. With shaking hands, she started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

Just make it home, she kept reminding herself, back to Rhys.

The words replayed in her mind as she drove down the road, but Tamlin’s touch lingered against her skin, making her paranoid, unsettled.

By the time she reached her apartment, she was doing better at pretending it hadn’t bothered her, at all.

The faux comfort didn’t last long.

Rhysand was standing in the kitchen when she got there, leaning against the island, arms crossed across his chest.

Feyre hesitated as she entered, closing the door tentatively behind her. “You okay? Why aren’t you in bed?”

His jaw hardened. “What did you get at the store?”

Feyre stilled.

She had completely forgotten once she left Tamlin’s. All she could think about was getting back home, away from him.

Rhysand shook his head. “I would ask where you really were, but I already know.” He pulled his phone off the island and read, “Your girlfriend looks beautiful today. Feels the same as I remember, too, but tastes even sweeter.”

The memory of the feeling of his mouth on her forehead made her nauseous, once again.

“Rhys-”

“You went over there?” he asked, and he was pissed. “Are you fucking kidding me, Feyre?”

“Nothing happened-”

“I don’t care!” he yelled, and Feyre cringed at the rise in volume. “I don’t want you going over there!”

Feyre scoffed, shaking her head. “And now you get to tell me what to do? Nothing fucking happened! I went to talk to him. Yes, he put his hands on me, and his mouth, on my forehead, but I didn’t react! I pushed him away!”

Rhysand stopped, eyes wide. His voice was low when he whispered, “You seriously think that’s what this is about? You think….that I think you went over there to fuck him?”

“Why else would you act like a jackass the moment I walk through the door,” she snapped.

Rhysand shook his head, his breathing shallow.

Feyre’s anger halted as she took in Rhysand, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair, as he stared Feyre down.

“Look at me!” Rhysand yelled, into the quiet apartment. Feyre jumped, not used to hearing him scream. “Look what he fucking did to me, Feyre! You lied and said you were at the store, but you went to see the guy that was capable of this!” He gestured to himself. “Alone! Without me knowing where you really were! And then I get this fucking text, and my first thought was, fuck! It wasn’t enough to get to me, now he’s got his hands all over-” His voice broke, and he slammed his phone down on the counter. “I’m over here thinking he fucking forced himself on you, and thank the Mother you walked in two minutes later, or I was going to hunt him down and, in the condition I’m in, probably end up in the fucking hospital again!”

She noticed now that he was wearing shoes, had his keys and his wallet on the island behind him. He was in a massive amount of pain, on high painkillers...and he was going to go to Tamlin’s, for her, because he thought she was in danger.

Knowing full well that he wouldn’t win in a fight, not in his condition.

Rhysand rubbed his forehead. “Damn it, Feyre.”

Three words, so broken, so ruptured, that Feyre’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Eyes blurring over, she went to him in the kitchen and stopped just in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “Rhys, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry.”

He wasn't looking at her, was looking off to the side, out the window, his jaw hard. Her palm pressed gently against his stubbled cheek.

“I went to tell him to fuck off, and I was reckless, and I’m sorry,” she said, voice quiet.

Although he still wouldn’t look at her, some of the tension in his shoulders faded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, again, and leaned her head into his chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist, careful of his ribs.

A minute passed before his arms, strong and steady, wrapped around her shoulders. He kissed her forehead, resting his lips against her skin.

Unlike when Tamlin did it, the gesture brought her an overwhelming sense of peace.

“I’m still mad,” he murmured into her hair, once Feyre stopped crying. “But I’m sorry I made you cry.”

“I’m sorry I lied.”

“You should be,” he muttered. “It was a dick move.”

Feyre chuckled, and pulled back to look at him. She leaned up on her toes and kissed him, softly.

His eyes were still worried, still weary, but the anger had faded.

“You should go back to bed,” she said, even though it was early in the afternoon. “Rest. I’ll make you some lunch.”

But Rhysand shook his head, slowly. “I want to go for a walk. And I told Azriel we’d be over for dinner tonight.”

Feyre nodded, slowly. “Then maybe I should take a shower first. I didn’t exactly get clean in my bath this morning.”

Rhysand chuckled, softly. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

But by the time she had gotten out of the shower, Rhysand was sound asleep on the couch, his shoes still on, his phone clutched in his hand.

He looked like shit.

He felt like shit.

And even then, he was going to come fight for her.

~~~~~

Nesta liked the way he looked at her, even if it made her toes curl and her mind grow weary. She wasn’t used to men looking at her that way: like she wasn’t a complete bitch. Like there was something there worth staying around for.

He drove his truck, one hand on the wheel, one on the gear shift. She kept asking him where he was taking her and, just like the night before, he wouldn’t budge.

Although he told her to put on a swimsuit, which she did, and noticed he had done the same.

“Must I tell you, once again, that I hate surprises?” she muttered, staring out the window. They were away from the city, going down a back road along the Sidra.

“You can,” he said, grinning, “but I love surprises, so I’m going to keep giving them to you.”

She rolled her eyes and they rode in silence for another five minutes before Cassian pulled off the road. He parked along the trees before turning off his engine.

“You take me to creepy places,” she muttered, throwing open her door.

“Only creepy on the outside,” he laughed. “Promise.”

After locking his car, he took Nesta’s hand and led her toward the treeline, where a narrow trail was. “I can’t believe you’ve never been here. We used to go here all the time in high school.”

Nesta chuckled. “Yeah, well, we didn’t exactly hang out with the same type of people in high school.”

Nesta was a year older than he was, and hung out with a group of people that appalled her parents. Tomas Mandray being among them.

“Then you’re in for a surprise,” he said, and when Nesta shot him a glare at the mention of a surprise, he laughed.

They walked down the trail, through the trees until the ground became more steep.

“Watch your step,” he warned, then took the lead. He let go of her hand, so she could balance as they climbed over fallen trees and down rocks. She could see the Sidra coming into view down below.

A minute later, she saw the waterfalls.

They were beautiful. Water flooded off the rocks and into the river below. There were places to climb around and through them, rock formations placed in just the right spot to make such a lovely display.

Cassian looked over his shoulder and grinned at her expression. “I think you’re starting to like my surprises, Archeron.”

He continued down the rocks, Nesta close behind. He offered his hand when the drops were far, and by the time they reached the bottom, they slipped off their shoes and their shirts. Nesta tossed her shorts aside, too.

“You can swim good, right?” Cassian asked. “The current isn’t too strong here, but it can still get you if you’re not careful.”

Nesta nodded, dipping her toe into the water and hissing.

It was fucking cold.

But Cassian didn’t seem to care because he had already jumped in, off the giant rock they were standing on. His head went under, and when he came back up, Nesta was gawking at him.

He grinned. “Come on! It’s not that bad.”

“It’s freezing!” she yelled, shaking her head. “No.”

His eyes trailed down her body, admiring her in her bikini.

That damned look, again.

“Please?” he asked, brows raised.

With a sigh, Nesta lowered herself down on the edge of the rock and slowly started sliding her legs into the water.

It didn’t work, though, because Cassian was back in front of her, hands on her hips, pulling her down beneath the icy current.

She yelped, and hit him in the chest, but he only laughed as he pulled her under. And when they came back up, she was scowling, but her arms were wrapped around his shoulders.

“I hate you,” she said.

“Good,” he winked.

She held onto his back as they swam across the channel, until they got to those rocks where the falls were raining down. Cassian helped Nesta onto the largest rock before he pulled himself up.

Nesta walked through the waterfalls, and Cassian stayed close behind her, undoubtedly watching her every move.

He liked to watch her.

It was stunning, unreal. Nesta didn’t get out of the city much, but she was starting to think she should. He was right - she did like his surprises, even though she would never admit it.

Nesta went through a little waterfall, into a small alcove in the rocks, and waited for Cassian to meet her there.

She could see him moving on the other side of the water, his form blurred as he walked toward her. And when he came through with his body soaked, his hair dripping, Nesta’s heart started pounding against the inside of her chest.

With a grin, he pushed back his hair before pulling Nesta close to him by her hips. She ran her fingers over the bruise on his cheek, and then he leaned down and kissed her, softly.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, pulling back, staring into her eyes.

Nesta hesitated. “You ask me that, a lot.”

Cassian chuckled. “You can be hard to read.”

That, she knew, and she preferred to keep it that way. “I think you like that about me, though. The never knowing. Keeps you on your toes.”

His laughter echoed off the rocks as he shook his head. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“You like that about me, too,” she said, feeling his wet skin with the tips of her fingers - his back, his abs, his chest.

“I like a lot of things about you,” he said, hazel eyes bright. “I like you.”

Nesta’s lips pursed, and she nodded.

“You can say it back, if you want to,” Cassian crooned.

“I could,” Nesta agreed, then dropped her hands from his body and stepped back. “But what fun would that be?”

He watched her, curiously, as she went back through the waterfall and down to the next rock. He stayed close behind, until Nesta dropped her body back down into the cold water of the Sidra. He joined her there, and before she could swim away, Cassian pulled her back to him by her arm. Nesta’s legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her.

~~~~~

“Mila seems to like her a lot.”

Azriel looked through the sliding glass door where Mor, Feyre, Elain, and Mila were playing a board game. He smiled, fondly. “Yeah, she does.”

“And do you?” Rhysand asked, sitting in a lawn chair with a cold beer.

Flipping the burgers over on the charcoal grill, Azriel shrugged. “Obviously.”

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “Alright. I’ll stop asking questions.”

“I should be asking you how you’re doing,” Azriel muttered.

“You already did,” Rhysand said, groaning. “And so did Mor and everyone else I’ve talked to today. I’m fine. Really. Looks worse than it is.”

Azriel didn’t believe him, but he let it go. He looked back inside of the apartment and caught Elain’s eye. She smiled, then quickly glanced down at her game piece.

She had spent the entire day there, and was now wearing one of Azriel’s t-shirts. He liked her in his t-shirt.

Breaking him out of his romantic thought bubble, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, stared at the number with his brows scrunched together, and answered.

“Hello?”

“An inmate is trying to reach you from the Velaris State Prison,” an automated recording said, in answer. “Press one to accept.”

Azriel hesitated.

“Can you watch these?” Azriel asked, gesturing to the food.

Rhysand nodded, looking concerned, as Azriel threw open the sliding door and hurried to his room.

He pressed 1.

There was a few seconds of silence before her voice came through, “Azriel?”

Azriel closed his eyes. “Amarantha.”

“I’ve been here for a month, and you haven’t brought my daughter to visit me?” she asked, in way of greeting.

“How’s prison?” he asked. “Good food? Got yourself a wife yet?”

“Fuck you,” Amarantha spat. “How is she?”

“Good,” Azriel said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Happy. Going to school now.”

Amarantha was silent for a moment before saying, “Good. Does she ask about me?”

Clearing his throat, Azriel shifted atop his mattress, thinking about just how honest he wanted to be with his adopted sister. “A couple times.”

“And what did you tell her?” she asked.

Azriel sighed, “Look, we’re kind of busy. What do you want?”

“Busy?” Amarantha said, barking a laugh. “I’m fucking stuck in prison, haven’t heard from you in a month, and you tell me you’re fucking busy? Fuck you, Azriel.”

“Alright, I’m hanging up,” he said, but she called out for him.

“Azriel, please.”

Azriel waited.

Amarantha sighed. “Look, just...bring her to visit me. Okay?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “She doesn’t need to see you in there. Doesn’t need to be in there.”

“I’m her fucking parent,” Amarantha said, “and you will do as I ask.”

“Or what?” Azriel said, voice hard. “You’re locked away for a fucking long time, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Or, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she’s taken from you and given to someone who will bring her to visit me,” Amarantha hissed.

Azriel’s entire body went rigid.

When he said nothing, Amarantha said, pleasure in her tone, “That’s what I thought. Visitations are on Mondays, from ten to noon. I’ll see you then.”

She hung up the phone, leaving Azriel pissed off and in shock.

Mila couldn’t see Amarantha in jail.

She also couldn’t get taken away from him.

When faced with two evils, Azriel had never been good at choosing sides. Take her to Amarantha and watch her innocence slowly be stripped away. Or, keep her and have to fight a hell of a fight to keep her against her mother’s hateful wishes.

Azriel shoved his phone back into his pocket.

For now, he would pretend like everything was fine.

For everyone’s sake.

Especially Mila’s.

He went back out on the balcony, where Rhysand was flipping burgers.

“You okay?” he asked, brows still scrunched. “Who was it?”

Azriel shook his head. “Food about done?”

Rhysand hesitated, before nodding. “Yeah, if you wanna get everything else ready, I’d give these about two more minutes or so.”

Azriel nodded and went inside, taking out buns, ketchup, mustard, pickles, and chips out of the pantry. He gathered a stack of plates and napkins, too, before opening a can of beer and chugging half its contents.

Rhysand came in, then, a plate full of burgers. “Let’s eat!”

The girls came into the kitchen, Mila running straight for Azriel. He picked her up, and helped her make a plate before sitting her down at the table.

“Rhysie, are you okay?” she asked, as she had many times since he’d arrived.

“I’m awesome,” Rhysand answered, plopping down next to her at the table, with a plate full of food. “Even better now that I’m sitting next to you.”

Mila smiled brightly.

“You okay?”

Azriel jumped, not even realizing Elain had come up behind him.

“Yeah,” he smiled, knowing fully well that he was an awful liar.

She nodded, just as Rhysand did, not believing him a bit. “Okay.”

He kissed her cheek before building his plate high with food and joining the others. Elain sat next to him a moment later, a hamburger patty and some pickles the only thing on her plate.

They ate dinner as a family, laughing and making jokes and telling stories. Mila talked the most, as per usual, but she was good at that, keeping everyone entertained.

Azriel tried to look like he was into it, tried to keep a smile on his face, tried to make it look like he was listening.

But he wasn’t.

All he could think about was Mila, about having to fight for her, about having her taken from him and tossed into a foster home.

And his heart broke as he realized the awful truth.

He would have to take her to see Amarantha.

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

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

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@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nessian #feysand #elriel #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #tacmc AITA

240 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {12}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Isn’t it uncomfortable being in that weird awkward angsty fluff phase of the story

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“Angry people are not always wise.” ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Rhysand walked through the front door of their apartment, Feyre right behind.

“Get in bed,” she said, shutting the door behind him. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Rhysand didn’t have the energy to protest. Instead, he slumped through the hall until he reached his bedroom and slowly lowered himself onto his mattress.

Every movement brought a stabbing pain, dominantly in his ribs. In his shoes and all, wearing everything he had been taken to the hospital in the night before, Rhysand laid back against his pillows.

He could hear Feyre poking about in the kitchen. She hadn’t been the same after what she had confessed the night before. Now he’s using you to prove that even though I left him...he can still control me. It’s all my fault. No matter how much he tried to convince her otherwise, she wouldn’t budge.

She came into his room a minute later with a sandwich and a glass of water. She saw him lying pathetically on his bed, dressed in his filthy clothes, and smiled softly.

He loved that smile.

“Maybe you should get yourself cleaned up,” she said, setting the plate on his nightstand. “After you eat, so you can take your pain meds.”

“I don’t need them,” Rhysand said, grabbing his sandwich off the plate and taking a bite, still laying down.

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Stubborn ass. They’ll help.”

Shaking his head, Rhysand said, “I’m fine, really.”

“I could hear you cringing while you laid down from all the way in the kitchen,” Feyre shot back.

Rhysand said nothing.

He took another bite of his sandwich.

“Listen to your woman,” Feyre said, stalking out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. He could hear the water running, filling up the tub, as he finished off his pb&j. When Feyre came back, Rhysand was drifting into sleep. “No, no. Bathe first. You stink and you’ve got blood everywhere.”

With a groan, Rhysand sat up and lifted his shirt over his head. Feyre must’ve seen the pain in his expression, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, because she was sitting on his bed, helping him take off his shoes, then his socks. Rhysand stood and unbuttoned his jeans as he walked toward the bathroom.

“You going to give me a sponge bath, Nurse Feyre?” he asked.

Feyre laughed from behind him. “Maybe. I even put bubbles in it for you.”

Rhysand grinned. “Now you’re just spoiling me.”

Kicking off his jeans, Rhysand slid into the bath, down into the steaming, bubbly water. He sighed, leaning back.

Feyre sat next to the bath as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Come in with me,” he muttered.

“You’re in no condition for that,” Feyre mumbled, but he could tell she was smiling.

Rhysand opened one eye and looked at her. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

With a look that said he was full of shit, Feyre slid off her dirty clothes and stepped into the tub. She sat on his lap, cautiously straddling his waist. Her fingers, softly and slowly, slid down his chest. With his eyes closed, and his hands resting on her ass, Feyre took a cloth and soaked it in soap and warm water before bringing it to his face. She dabbed above his split lip, erasing the dried blood, then moved to his neck, around his scratch, where Eris had pressed the blade into his skin. Once free of blood, she ran the cloth over his chest, his arms, his abdomen, being extra cautious around his broken ribs.

“Lower,” Rhysand begged, and Feyre’s body shook above him.

“You said you’d be good,” she laughed, quietly, dropping the rag in the water.

Rhysand sighed. “I lied.”

She was shaking her head when he opened his eyes. Beautiful, with her hair hanging around her shoulders, her lips parted, eyes watching her own slender fingers draw circles against Rhysand’s chest.

“I love you,” he breathed.

Feyre’s head shook, slowly, gray-blue eyes growing weary. “You love me too much.”

“Not possible,” he said, taking her hands from his chest and interlacing his fingers in hers. “I am so in love with you, Feyre.”

She smiled, but her eyes welled up with tears. “Rhys-”

“I love you,” he repeated, holding onto her hands. “I love you.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I love you, too.”

With a heavy heart, he wiped that tear away, unable to say anything more. He knew she felt guilty, and he also knew that no matter what he said or did, she would continue to feel guilty. It was who she was. She couldn’t help it.

He pulled her into him, even though she protested, at first. Eventually, she reluctantly obeyed, but the moment her head was lying on his shoulder, her hand lying on his chest, she melted into him.

They laid like that for a long while, and they had remained silent for so long that Rhysand didn’t realize that Feyre had fallen asleep until the water started to get cold. He shook her body, gently, and when her eyes opened, he suggested, “Bed?”

She nodded, pulled the plug, and got out. He followed, and she wrapped a towel around his waist before drying herself off and following him back to his room, where they laid together, naked, beneath the sheets, clinging to one another as they fell asleep.

~~~~~

Azriel woke up to the early morning sun peeking in through his blinds. He stayed perfectly still, though, because Elain was sound asleep, cheek resting against his chest.

But he really had to piss.

Slowly, he thought to himself, as he pulled himself out from under her. He let her down, almost as smoothly as he had hoped, but either way, she stayed asleep as Azriel scooted off the edge of his bed and tip-toed quietly to the door. He begged it not to creak as he opened it, slipped out, and shut it with a soft click behind him.

In the hallway, he finally let out a breath as he closed himself inside of the bathroom. In the mirror, his hair was a mess, his eyes still blurred, trying to wake up.

While relieving himself, a loud knock came on the door, making him jump.

“I HAVE TO PEEEEEEE!”

Azriel snorted. “Almost done, Mila.”

“Hurry up!” she cried. “Uuuuuuuuuugh.”

He opened the door and was met with a tiny human, eyes narrowed, hands on her hips, auburn hair in absolute chaos.

She pushed her uncle out of the way and hurried to the toilet. Azriel cracked the door, giving her privacy.

“Hungry?” he asked, through the crack.

“Yes,” she said, sighing. “I want pancakes.”

“Of course,” Azriel muttered, heading back down the hallway, toward the kitchen, where Mor was sitting at the table, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Her brows rose. “My back is killing me. There’s a reason I sleep on the couch. Which, I noticed this morning, my dear Azriel, is empty.”

Azriel gave her a look before opening the pantry and pulling out a box of pancake mix.

“Not to pry,” Mor went on, “but when I went to sleep last night, I had offered the couch to Elain, where I know, for a fact, she fell asleep.”

Azriel didn’t give into her interrogation. “Talk to Rhys this morning?”

“Yes,” Mor sighed, “he called on his way home from the hospital a little while ago. He claims he’s perfectly fine.”

“Of course he does,” Azriel murmured, making a note to call Feyre later to see how he’s really doing.

“Are you really going to make me ask if Elain is in your bed?” Mor asked, setting down her mug, forcibly, on the table.

Silently, Azriel opened the cabinet and pulled out a bowl. “I would never.”

“Azriel,” she begged.

Azriel laughed. “You can’t stand not knowing shit, can you?”

When he looked over his shoulder, it was written all over her face: no, she couldn’t.

Shaking his head, Azriel turned back around and found a measuring cup. “Yes, she’s in my bed. No, nothing...happened.”

Mor was instantly on her feet. “You hesitated. You definitely hesitated.”

She threw open the fridge, grabbed the milk, and met him at the counter.

“I hesitate a lot,” Azriel said, opening the box of pancake mix. “People typically don’t read into it.”

“I’m not people,” Mor said, opening the milk and measuring it out before pouring it into the bowl. “I’m your best friend.”

Azriel glanced at her through his side eye before shaking his head. “I don’t know. We kissed, and we…..cuddled, and it was nice.”

Mor’s smile widened. “Azriel just said cuddle. How sweet.”

Azriel jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow before pouring the mix into the bowl.

Looking his direction, Mor’s smile softened. “Jokes aside, I do think it’s sweet. I like Elain. She’s kind and gentle. The complete opposite of you, and opposites attract.”

Azriel lifted a brow as he pulled out a whisk and pointed it at Mor. “Are you saying that I’m not gentle?”

Mor cackled. “Have you met you? Gentler than Cassian, maybe, but that’s not saying much. No, Az, my love, you are not what I consider to be gentle. Unless it’s with Mila, but everyone’s gentle with that little princess.”

“Speaking of,” Azriel mumbled, hearing her run down the hall.

Mila came around the corner, bouncing up and down. “Pancakes! And chocolate milk, please.”

“Ah, getting sugared up first thing in the morning,” Azriel laughed, and caught his niece as she jumped into his arms. She climbed onto his back and held him around his neck. “I suppose since it’s Saturday, it’s okay.”

“Yay!” she yelled, right into his ear.

Azriel mixed what was in the bowl together as Mila jumped from Azriel’s back into Mor’s arms, who carried her to the couch to watch cartoons, just as Azriel’s bedroom door opened.

As Elain came around the corner, her cheeks were pink.

Even having just awoken, Azriel was blown away by her beauty.

“Hi,” she said, quietly.

“Hi,” Azriel replied, biting down on his lip to suppress his smile. “You like pancakes?”

Elain hesitated. “Everyone likes pancakes.”

“Well, you’re in luck, then, because I make phenomenal pancakes….that come from a box.”

Elain laughed, and Azriel noticed Mor peeking over her shoulder at the two of them.

Mila, just now realizing there was another person in the room, jumped up on the couch. “Lain!”

Elain smiled, brightly. “Good morning.”

“Why are you here?” she asked, still excited, but slightly confused.

A soft laugh tumbled out of Elain as she hesitated. “I...couldn’t wait until later to come see you, so I came a little early.”

“Yay!” Mila yelled, sitting back down beside Mor. “Come on, Lain, we’re watching Looney Tunes.”

“Looney Tunes still comes on?” Azriel muttered.

“Of course,” Mor called, as Elain joined the girls on the couch. “It’s a classic, Saturday mornings wouldn’t be the same without it.”

Shaking his head, every woman in the house abandoning him, Azriel made pancakes.

And then the four of them sat down at the table and ate, together, laughing over the sugary breakfast of pancakes with syrup and whipped cream, and chocolate milk.

Azriel kept catching Elain’s eyes, and all he could think about was the sweet taste of her lips the night before, and how he couldn’t wait to taste them, again.

~~~~~

The deep blue waters of the Sidra were sparkling as Cassian ran along it in the early morning heat, Bryaxis beside him on his leash, tongue hanging out as he jogged alongside his master.

He didn’t sleep at all, between what happened to Rhys and how he left things with Nesta.

Rhysand could take care of himself, Cassian knew that, but he couldn’t stop his anger. He knew it was a problem, that anger, knew it had often gotten him in trouble in the past, but it was stuck, simmering in the pit of his stomach, making his mind wander and, agonizingly enough, be alert at all times.

As for Nesta, he walked her up to her apartment after Azriel had dropped them off in the middle of the night. They walked in silence until they stood in the space between their doors. Hours before, they were fucking in his office, but before they parted, they just stared at each other awkwardly before saying goodnight.

Maybe it was because they were exhausted.

Or, maybe it was because she regretted it.

Or, even worse, maybe he was overthinking it, which was always a possibility.

He almost texted her before he left for his run, but he decided against it, assuming he would run into her at some point during the day.

Hoping to take his mind off everything, he leashed Bryaxis up and took to the riverwalk. It didn’t work, it only made him a little more tired and way more sweaty.

By the time they reached the little park along the river, in front of the heart of the city, Cassian was exhausted. He must have run at least four miles without even realizing it, although the moment he started to slow down, he was definitely feeling it.

He walked a little bit before sitting in the grass with Bryaxis and stretching out his long legs.

“Good boy, Ax,” he mumbled, as the golden retriever laid down next to him.

And then Cassian caught him, bright red hair, tall frame, jogging toward him.

Eris Vanserra.

Cassian’s blood turned cold.

He was instantly rising to his feet, whistling for Bryaxis to follow. He did, the good boy he was. Cassian stormed in Eris’ direction, and by the time Eris saw him coming, it was too late for him to turn around. Cassian dropped Bryaxis’ leash, demanding he sit as he came upon Eris and tackled him against the sidewalk. Their skin scraped, blood instantly drawn.

Eris’ eyes blazed as his back hit the pavement. “What the fuck, Nazari?”

But Cassian had his hand against Eris’ throat as he pinned him to the ground. “Stay away from my family.”

Eris pushed back, not the scrawny kid he’d been in high school, anymore. He rolled Cassian over into the grass, his fist hitting Cassian in the jaw. Cassian spat up at him, saliva and blood tainting Eris’ light tanktop.

To Eris’ surprise, Cassian grinned. Little did Eris know that Cassian thrived on confrontation, thrived on steady competition, thrived on the idea of giving Eris what he gave to Rhys.

They tumbled around in the grass, fists flying, ignoring the cries and glares they got from the few early morning riders that were around.

“Fuck you, Nazari,” Eris spat, elbowing Cassian in the jaw.

Cassian was quick though. He’d been in enough fights throughout his lifetime to make split decisions amidst the chaos. All the anger he had been feeling flooded him, ignited him. He pinned Eris to the ground, pinning him down with his knees as he landed a blow to his eye, another to his cheek, another, another, another, until someone was pulling him off- two someones.

Eris laid in the grass, hands covering his bloodied face.

“Stay away,” Cassian warned again, spitting in the grass. He shook the joggers, who had pulled him away, off of him and whistled for Bryaxis.

The pup came running.

Eris was on his feet, blood flowing from his nose. “You just made a huge mistake.”

“Fuck off, Vanserra,” he spat, taking Bryaxis’ leash.

The runners who had pulled Cassian off of Eris were standing between them now, but Cassian stayed, staring Eris down until his message was clear.

Stay away from my family.

Eris shook his head and turned away, walking back the way he had come.

Cassian waited until he was further down the walk until he turned around, too, heading back toward his apartment.

Bryaxis whined, looking up at Cassian.

“I’m okay,” Cassian reassured him, patting him on the head as they walked, along the Sidra.

By the time they reached the apartment complex, Cassian was about to fall over. Blood trickled down to the collar of his t-shirt.

He stomped up the concrete stairs, Bryaxis at his heels, worrying about his dad.

When Cassian reached the second floor landing, Nesta had just stepped out of her door.

She took one look at Cassian and cursed. “What the hell happened to you?”

Cassian shook his head, but Nesta stepped in front of him, blocking him from going into his apartment.

Reluctantly, Cassian stopped.

“I asked you a question,” Nesta hissed.

Cassian met her gaze. “Ran into Eris Vanserra.”

Nesta stilled, then took him by the elbow and pulled him into her apartment.

“Sit,” she demanded.

Cassian didn’t see a point in fighting it.

He sat on her couch, Bryaxis lying at his feet.

She stomped into the kitchen and soaked a rag with cool water before meeting him on the couch. She sat beside him and pulled his chin toward her. Gently, Nesta wiped the blood from his face.

“He got you good,” she muttered.

“He looks worse,” Cassian muttered back.

“Not that point,” she said, adding more pressure as she wiped the blood from his lip.

Cassian hissed.

Nesta didn’t care.

“Be still,” she ordered.

“Then be gentle,” he snapped.

Nesta rolled her eyes as she continued to clean him up. Once she wiped him off, she pulled out some ointment and rubbed it on the parts of him that were split open.

“Violence often makes things worse, you know,” Nesta said, screwing the top back on the tube of the ointment.

Cassian grunted, watching her walk back into the kitchen to wash her hands. “Going to scold me?”

“No,” Nesta said, drying off her hands, “but I’ll tell you it was stupid, because even you know it was.”

He did, he was grateful that no cops were around, but he couldn’t help it, not after what Eris and Tamlin had done.

“They can’t just get away with doing bad shit,” Cassian mumbled.

Nesta sat on the couch next to him, dressed in her running clothes. He assumed he caught her just before she left, herself, for the walk along the Sidra.

Nesta didn’t disagree, but she said, “Just don’t do anything stupid.” Then, she added, “Again.”

Cassian looked at her, leaning his head back against the couch. “Holy shit. Nesta Archeron cares about me.”

Nesta stilled. “No, I don’t.”

But Cassian was grinning. “Yes, you do.”

With narrowed eyes, she jabbed him beneath his eye, where a blue bruise was forming.

“Ow,” he laughed, pushing her back.

Even Nesta couldn’t help but smile as he crawled on top of her and pinned her down.

“Mean,” he muttered, and her eyes lit up. “Cruel.”

“I was going to go for a run,” she said, but her legs wrapped around his waist.

“It can wait,” he said, voice muffled against the warm skin of her neck.

Nesta didn’t protest as her eyes fell shut.

~~~~~

Rhysand was fast asleep as Feyre scribbled a note and put it on his nightstand.

Running to the store. Be back soon. Stay in bed. Love you.

She hurried out of the apartment, careful to keep quiet, careful not to wake him.

As she got in her car and headed for the grocery store, Feyre decided to take the long way around. She stopped short at an apartment complex she was all too familiar with.

Before she could convince herself otherwise, Feyre hopped out of her car and walked up the stairs, down the landing, until she was standing in front of her old front door.

She pounded her first against the thick wood.

He opened it, a minute later, looking like he just woke up. His golden eyebrows rose. “Feyre?”

She shook her head, fists shaking at her sides as she looked at Tamlin. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, but only one word came out, full of anger and hostility and judgment.

“Why?”

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

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #fanfic #fanfiction #tacmc #nessian #tacmc AITA #feysand #elriel #sjm

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {7}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Enjoy this long, emotionally charged chapter. Review trigger warnings above..

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“Have you ever had so much to say that your mouth closed up tight struggling to harness the nuclear force coalescing within your words? Have you ever had so many thoughts churning inside you that you didn’t dare let them escape in case they blew you wide open? Have you ever been so angry that you couldn’t look in the mirror for fear of finding the face of evil glaring back at you?” ― Ellen Hopkins, Crank

Mor was at Azriel’s.

Feyre knew, because she had called her in a panic. After waking up to a naked Rhysand on the couch, his arm tossed around her waist, Feyre snuck away and closed herself in the bathroom, where she called Mor.

Hi, I need you, something happened.

Are you okay? I’m at Azriel’s, got in early. Come over.

After throwing on a pair of athletic leggings and a tank top, Feyre slipped on her flip flops and was running to the other side of the apartment complex, where she knocked quietly on Azriel’s door.

Mor opened it up, a steaming mug of coffee in her hand. “Well, hello, beautiful.”

“I fucked Rhys,” she whispered.

The two stared at one another in silence, Mor’s eyes wide, the mug in her hand long forgotten. She looked over her shoulder at the quiet apartment - Azriel and Mila must have still been asleep - and took a step outside, closing the door gently behind her. “You did what?”

The panic set in again. “I….we had a little bit to drink and then, I don’t know, we were talking about that one time he banged Macy Woodsworth in high school, then I told him I had a sex dream about him, and it all escalated pretty quickly after that.”

Mor blinked, lips parted. “You...slept with Rhys.”

Feyre’s face fell into her hands. “Fuck me.”

“It sounds like my cousin already did.”

Feyre’s hands fell to her side and she glared at Mor, who was smiling.

“Why are you smiling?” Feyre whined, sitting on the concrete outside of Azriel’s apartment.

“Well, this is a good thing, right?” Mor asked, sitting next to her, legs crossed. “I mean, Rhysand has been in love with you for years, and you obviously care for him.”

Feyre tensed. “What?”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you’ve never noticed. Everyone knows.”

“He’s my best friend-”

“No, no,” Mor said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Don’t give me that shit. Yes, he is your best friend. You two know each other more than anyone else. You have a bond that is unbreakable. To me, that sounds like the foundation of some solid soulmate-shit.”

Feyre fell silent. Rhysand was in love with her. He had never said anything, never hinted at it. But, Mor was right. There were times when he would look at her, and she knew.

“The second I woke up this morning, I felt so peaceful,” Feyre began, remembering the early morning light streaming through the living room window, lighting up his tanned skin. “But then I started to freak the fuck out. What if that was a mistake? What if I mess it up? What if we were to try something, and then it went to shit? Or, what if we don’t try something, and then it’s awkward because we had sex? I don’t want to lose him, Mor. He has been my one constant for all these years.”

“Want to know what I think?” Mor asked.

Feyre nodded.

“You need to go wake his ass up and talk to him about it,” she said, patting Feyre’s knee.

Feyre sighed. Of course, Mor would say the one thing she didn’t want to do. “I know.”

Mor smiled, and took her friend’s hand. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Feyre winked. “Sorry I woke you up so early to tell you that I banged your cousin.”

Mor shrugged. “I like being the first to know things.”

Feyre snorted, and repeated, “I missed you.”

Mor grinned. “We’re going out tonight. I expect you and Rhysand to have talked it out and not make it awkward.”

Feyre nudged Mor’s shoulder. “Yeah, thanks, no pressure.”

“Just saying,” Mor crooned. “If you show up acting weird, I’m getting you drunk and making you sing Madonna on karaoke again.”

Feyre would never live that down.

A few minutes later, she was walking back toward her and Rhysand’s apartment. The walk seemed to take forever, the nerves inside of her stomach growing wild and untameable.

But when she opened their door and let herself inside, Rhysand was gone.

~~~~~

“I’m fucking coming!”

Cassian stumbled out of his bedroom and down the hall, Bryaxis on his heels. He glanced at the clock above the stove as he passed the kitchen.

It was just after 8.

The knocking started again just as Cassian was throwing open the door, still half asleep. “Rhys?”

Rhys was covered in sweat, his shirt off and tossed over his shoulder. “Hi. Yeah. Good morning.”

He swept past Cassian, into his apartment.

“Did you run here?” Cassian asked, brows raised.

Rhysand nodded.

“Are you-“

“I had sex last night.”

Cassian halted, then nodded. “Nice. Proud of you. Thanks for coming by so early on a fucking Saturday to let me know.”

Rhysand mumbled something as he opened Cassians fridge.

“Hmm?” Cassian asked, closing his apartment door and pulling a chair out from the kitchen table. Once he sat, Bryaxis laid by his feet.

Rhysand closed the fridge and leaned against the counter. As he opened the water bottle he had grabbed, he said, “With Feyre.”

Cassian blinked, then a smile spread wide across his face. “Well, it’s about damn time.”

Rhysand rubbed his temples with his index fingers. “No, you don’t - she was gone before I woke up this morning. I tried calling her, but her phone was on the kitchen table. She’s fucking ignoring me. Probably regrets it.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Doubtful. I bet everything I have on the fact that you’re overreacting.”

“Feyre doesn’t just get up and haul ass in the morning,” Rhysand continued, lost in his thoughts.

With a sigh, Cassian got up and pulled a bottle of whiskey off the counter and a glass out of the cabinet. He poured it a fourth of the way up the side and handed it to Rhysand.

“It’s eight o clock in the morning.”

“Yeah, well,” Cassian said, pushing the glass into Rhysand’s chest. “You need it.”

Taking the glass, Rhysand hopped up onto the counter top and gulped it down.

“Take it easy,” Cassian muttered. “Did something happen? Was it awkward? Like that one time with Macy Woodsworth?”

Rhysand shot him a glare. Cassian brought up the Macy Woodsworth situation at every opportunity. “No. It was great. Natural.”

“Was she...pleased?”

Rhysand took a deep breath in before punching Cassian in the shoulder.

He just laughed. “Ow. I’m just saying. It’s a valid question. Maybe her expectations were too high….”

“Prick,” Rhysand mumbled. “Trust me, I did my part well.”

“And did she?”

“I hate you.”

“Just curious.” Cassian grinned. “Look, I’m sure she’ll be waiting at the apartment when you get back. Alright? We’re all going out tonight, though, and if you two make it weird, I swear I’ll kick your ass.”

“I-”

“Go home, Rhys. Proclaim your love. Have a Shakespeare moment.”

Rhysand lifted a brow. “A Shakespeare moment?”

“Yeah, like Romeo and Juliet,” Cassian said, pulling a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

“I’m assuming you’ve never actually paid attention to Romeo and Juliet, Cass.”

“True,” he agreed. “Not the point. Go home. Talk to Feyre.”

“But I-”

“Home. Feyre. Fucking go.”

Rhysand’s lips tightened but he nodded. “Fine.”

“Good boy,” Cassian grinned. “And I’ll see you both tonight.”

Rhysand mumbled something incomprehensible before flipping him off, giving Bryaxis a quick tummy rub, and storming out.

He was always so over-dramatic.

“Wanna go for a walk, Ax?”

Cassian had barely gotten the words out before Bryaxis was running toward him. After hooking his leash onto his collar, Cassian slipped on his tennis shoes and fled.

Cassian preferred walking in the morning. The heat wasn’t out in full force yet. Bryaxis, however, liked walking, always, and getting him out of the house was much easier than getting him back in.

“Do you ever wear a shirt?”

Cassian tugged on Bryaxis’ leash and turned around. Walking behind him, along the Sidra, was Nesta, one earbud in her ear. She wore a pair of shorts, a black sports bra, and her tennis shoes.

Cassian looked over his shoulder, then back to Nesta. “Shit, are you talking to me?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Yes, and I already regret it.”

Cassian smirked. “And you’re admiring my body, it seems.”

“Asking you why you’re half nude is not the same as admiring you,” Nesta said, stopping in front of him, hands across her chest. “You shouldn’t think so highly of yourself.”

Cassian shrugged. “Someone has to.”

He swore she almost smiled.

“Look,” she began, looking away. “I was going to come by later. To tell you thank you. For yesterday.”

Cassian tried not to look too shocked. “What are neighbors for?”

She nodded, starting to walk past him. “Right. Well, I’ll see you around, then.”

Cassian watched as she picked up her pace before calling out, “Hey! A bunch of us are going out tonight, you should come.”

Nesta turned around, jogging backwards. “Don’t push it.” She turned her back to him, and then she was gone.

~~~~~

Azriel cursed. “When was the last time we all went out together? High school?”

“Something like that,” Mor grinned. She looked in the backseat, at Mila. “Are you excited to play with your friend?”

“Yes!” Mila grinned, just as they pulled into the driveway. “We’re here!”

Azriel laughed as he parked his truck. “Be right back.”

Mor nodded and bid Mila goodbye.

She hopped out of the truck into Azriel’s arms and, along with her backpack, he carried her to the front door and rang the bell. Elain opened the door a second later, smile bright. “Hi, Mila!”

“Lain!” she giggled.

Azriel set her down. “Hey, thank you again for agreeing to watch her.”

Azriel had felt uncomfortable asking, but he didn’t trust many people with Mila, and Mila really seemed to get along well with Elain.

“It’s really no problem,” she smiled, leaning against the doorway. “I figure we’ll play some games, have dinner, and watch a movie.”

“Yay!” Mila laughed, bringing her backpack inside.

“Sounds great,” Azriel said, attempting his best smile, hoping he didn’t look too unconvincing. “I’ll be back around 10 or so, if that’s not too late.”

“Not at all,” Elain said, eyes soft. “You have my number. Feel free to call.”

“Likewise,” Azriel said. “Alright, Mila. I’m leaving. I love you. Be good, please.”

She rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “I’m always good!”

Azriel snorted. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Go enjoy yourself,” Elain said. She truly had a beautiful smile. “We’ll be fine.”

Azriel nodded. “No, I know. I just...call me if you need anything, yeah?”

Elain nodded. “Of course.”

After one last goodbye to Mila, Azriel was back in the car. The second he closed the door, Mor was staring him down.

“Yes?” Azriel sighed, pulling out of the driveway.

“You are so into her,” Mor said, shaking her head.

“Wipe that smile off your face,” Azriel said. “No, I’m not.”

“Are too. I was watching every second of that.”

Azriel eyed her. “You couldn’t even see my face.”

“Az, honey, I’ve known you for a long time. I know your body language. I have never seen you as relaxed as you were for those three minutes.” Mor grinned. “You’re fucking smitten.”

Azriel cleared his throat. “I don’t even know her. All I know is that she was the fucking prom queen. Do you know what I did at prom? I was getting baked under the bleachers.”

“Well, we’re not in high school anymore, are we,” Mor added, clearly amused. “You should ask her out.”

“No.”

“You should know by now that I don’t take no for an answer.”

Azriel just laughed, and shook his head. “You drive me crazy.”

“But you love me.”

“Yes,” Azriel sighed. “Yes, I do.”

~~~~~

“Just come to the bar, alright? I’ll ask the guys if they know where he’s at.”

“Fine. Be there in ten.”

Mor hung up. Feyre had called her nearly ten times that day, freaking out. Although, if Mor slept with her roommate and that roommate had avoided her all day, Mor probably would freak out, too.

She sat back at their table in the corner alongside Azriel and Cassian.

“Have either of you heard from Rhysand today?”

Azriel shook his head, but Cassian sighed. “Yeah, he showed up at my place way too early this morning. He was panicking.”

Mor raised a brow. “Is he still at your apartment?”

Cassian chuckled. “Fuck no, he left like twenty minutes later.”

“Why was he panicking?” Azriel asked, sipping his rum.

“Because he slept with Feyre,” Mor and Cassian said, simultaneously.

Azriel slowly set his glass back down on the table. “And I’m the only one that didn’t know?”

Before either could reply, a small woman with short, black hair and a deep, green mini dress slid into the booth next to Cassian.

He grinned, throwing his arm around her. “Ah, Amren. How I’ve missed you.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and Amren just scoffed. “Don’t flatter me. Continue talking about how Rhys fucked Feyre, please.”

Azriel blinked. “Seriously? You knew? You just got here!”

“I’ve seen it coming for some time,” Amren grinned, and Mor loved that grin, because it typically terrified men.

Too bad the two men at the table were used to that grin.

“Can you see where Rhys is now?” Mor asked. “Because, apparently, he’s missing.”

“And Feyre?” Amren asked.

“On her way,” Mor supplied. “She’s been wound up tight all day. The woman needs a drink.”

“Well, good thing we’re at a bar,” Cassian said, calling the waitress for a pitcher of beer.

Then, his smile faded as he looked toward the door. “Ah, fuck.”

Mor looked over her shoulder where Rhysand stumbled in. He was still wearing his running clothes, which were wrinkly and surely smelled like shit. He saw his friends and waved, obnoxiously, before heading to the table.

“Mor,” he smiled, eyes glazed and lids heavy. “Amren, fuck, so fucking nice to see you. Welcome home.”

“You okay, bud?” Azriel asked, cautiously.

“Oh, I’m fucking great,” Rhysand beamed. “Yeah, no, I’m so...so fucking great.”

“Have you been back home today?” Mor asked. “Feyre’s been looking for you.”

Rhysand’s hand clutched his chest and he frowned. “Oh, fucking Feyre, I fucking...No, no no no, I’ve been ignoring her. Because she hates me.” He threw his hands in the air.

“How much have you drunk? Have you been drinking all day?” Cassian asked. “Because you're scaring me. You know, a little.”

“Let him make a fool of himself,” Amren muttered. “Entertainment for all.”

“Let’s sober him up before Feyre gets here,” Mor said, reaching for Rhysand’s hand.

But he stumbled back. “Feyre,” he began, “is coming now? Oh, no, no, no...I’m not-not ready.”

But the front door opened, once more, and Feyre came in. She spotted them all, then Rhysand, and froze, before taking a deep breath and walking their direction.

“Feyre!” he called out to her, holding his arms open. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

Feyre eyed him wearily as she approached, then turned to the others. “He’s already “fuck” drunk?”

Rhysand’s mouth became significantly dirtier as his alcohol consumption increased, it was true.

“Yeah,” Mor said. “He was drunk when he got here.”

Feyre blinked, then looked to Rhys. “Rhys-”

“D-Dance with me,” he slurred, before grabbing her hand and pulling her onto the dance floor.

“Poor Feyre,” Azriel muttered.

“Poor Rhys,” Cassian followed. “Because I’m never going to let him live this down. This falls right under Macy Woodsworth.”

Amren snorted. “For someone so handsome, he certainly knows how to embarrass himself.”

Mor watched him dance with Feyre, brow furrowed. Rhysand wasn’t okay. She knew her cousin, he didn’t get this drunk for no reason. He was in love with Feyre, she knew he was, but something wasn’t right. He had waited for years to have a moment like this with her, and now, he was drunk as fuck and acting like an idiot.

Feyre let him swing her around the dance floor, but she was watching him intently.

“Should I go save her?” Mor asked. “Come on, Az.”

Azriel hesitated. “What? Why me?”

“Cause you’re sitting next to me and Cassian likes dancing with Amren. She lies and tells him how great he is.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a great dancer.”

Amren grinned, that little, wicked grin. “Yes, you are. Now come.”

Cassian followed Amren out of the booth, sticking his tongue out at Mor as he did so.

Mor just rolled her eyes. “Come on, Az. Please. For me.”

Azriel sighed. “I hate dancing.””

“But you love me,” she smiled, pulling on his hand. Reluctantly, Azriel let her drag him out onto the floor, next to Rhysand and Feyre.

Feyre was watching Rhysand wearily.

“You okay?” Mor mouthed, as Azriel pulled Mor into his arms. As much as he claimed he hated dancing, he was a lovely dancer.

Feyre nodded, attempting a smile, but Mor knew better: her eyes were full of worry.

“Enjoy yourself,” Azriel whispered into her ear. “They can take care of themselves.”

Mor knew he was right, but it was hard watching your closest friend and your cousin in such an odd situation. “Fine,” she called back. “Now, tell me how you’ll ask Elain out.”

Azriel shook his head, but he was smiling, faintly. “You are a pain in my ass, you know that?”

She nodded, and twirled herself around. “Yes, yes I do.”

~~~~~

“I like this movie.”

Elain had dug up The Land Before Time, which her father had kept through the years from her childhood. It was on VHS, but was eventually transferred to a DVD, which was how they were now watching it.

“I like Littlefoot,” Mila continued. “He’s nice.”

“Yes, he is,” Elain chuckled. “Your uncle will be coming to get you soon, but I think we’ll be able to finish the movie before then.”

Mila looked over at Elain, on the opposite end of the couch. “Do you think Uncle Azzie is cute?”

Elain’s brows rose. “Why do you ask that?”

Mila shrugged. “Some girls at the store were telling Uncle Azzie he was cute. Do you think he’s cute?”

“I suppose so,” Elain said, trying not to laugh.

“He thinks you’re cute, too,” she said, looking back toward the t.v.

Elain froze. “Why do you say that?”

“I asked him,” she said, as if it were nothing.

Then again, could she really trust the word of a four year old?

“Well, that’s very kind,” Elain continued, unable to find anything else to say.

“I love Uncle Az,” Mila smiled, stifling a yawn. “But I miss mama.”

Elain watched the little girl for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry to hear that, Mila.”

Mila looked over at Elain. “Uncle Az says she has to go bye-bye. I won’t see her for a long time.”

Elain tried to connect the dots, but came up short.

“Will you marry Uncle Azzie?” Mila asked, when Elain said nothing.

Elain nearly choked on nothing, the air growing thicker. “I don’t think so, Mila.”

“But I want you to,” she said. “I like you.”

“I like you, too,” Elain said.

Mila didn’t say anything more after that. She watched the movie for about five more minutes before she was sleeping soundly.

It wasn’t much longer until the doorbell rang, and Elain hurried toward the door. Azriel stood on the front porch, hands in his pockets.

“Right on time,” Elain said, stifling a grin. “You could’ve stayed later, you know. She’s been great.”

“I have trouble letting loose,” he said, then shrugged. “So I’m told.”

Elain laughed, and nodded. “I see. Well, she’s asleep on the couch.”

She stepped aside and, after a polite nod, Azriel came in. He saw Mila and chuckled. “She’s an interesting four-year-old, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Elain agreed. “She’s very….observant.”

Azriel’s smile wavered, but he nodded. “Yes, she is.”

Elain grabbed Mila’s unicorn backpack off a chair in the corner and handed it to Azriel. He put it over his shoulder.

“Thank you, again,” he said, quietly, smiling at Elain. For once, his smile didn’t seem forced. “Really, I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Elain said. “Truly.”

That smile returned, and Elain felt it throughout every inch of her body.

Azriel scooped Mila up off the couch and cradled her in his arms.

Azriel walked to the door, but then he stopped. “Hey, um, I was….wondering. I know we don’t know each other that well, at all, really, but, I...would you like to go out to dinner? Maybe Friday night?”

Elain froze. He was asking her out? She hesitated, and a nervous laugh shook her body. “Okay. Sure. Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

Elain nodded, that nervous laugh returning.

Azriel smiled, and cleared his throat. “Alright. Great. I’ll text you?”

Elain bit her lip. “Perfect.”

“Okay,” Azriel said, quietly.

“Okay,” Elain said, too.

Azriel laughed quietly as he pushed open the door and carried Mila to his truck. “Goodnight, Elain.”

“Goodnight,” she breathed, but the door had already shut. She watched him put Mila into her car seat, then got behind the wheel, himself.

She noticed a woman sitting in the passenger side.

She must be a friend.

Family, maybe.

After they drove away, Elain gingerly shut the door and leaned back against it, the Land Before Time still playing in the background.

He’d asked her out.

Elain was going out on a date.

~~~~~

“Not that I don’t love having you, but why don’t you wanna stay with your parents?”

Amren snorted. “My dad is a dick and my mom kisses his ass. I prefer the company of Bryaxis.”

Cassian laughed, under his breath. “Not my company?”

Amren debated it. She shrugged. “You’re the bonus.”

“I’ll take it,” Cassian grinned, pulling into his parking spot. “Speaking of Bryaxis, he’s probably aching to go out.”

He got out, and Amren was close behind. She had left her belongings at her parents house earlier that day. She’d stopped to visit them before she took the bus to meet the others at the bar. She promised to get her bag filled with necessities tomorrow; but, until then, she’d sleep in Cassian’s old Velaris High Basketball tee.

They reached his apartment, and went inside. The moment they entered, Bryaxis was jumping up on Amren.

“I’ll never understand why he likes you more than me,” Cassian muttered.

Amren grinned as she scratched Bryaxis behind his ears. “I love you too, Ax. Yes I do.”

Cassian slipped off his boots and crashed on the couch. “So, tell me what’s been going on lately. What have I missed while you’re away at school?”

Amren sighed. “In a year, I will finally have my degree and be able to open my own law practice. Until then, I will be hiding away in my apartment in Adriata, hoping all the other college assholes leave me alone. I’m so fucking sick of going to school.”

Cassian chuckled. “Well, I’m proud of you. You’re almost done.”

Amren agreed and stretched out on the floor, alongside Bryaxis. “I met a guy.”

Cassian’s gaze snapped to where she laid atop the rug. “Yeah?”

Amren nodded, still focused on petting Bryaxis. “Yeah. Varian. He’s a good guy.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll pretend I’m not offended that you didn’t tell me.”

Shaking her head, Amren snorted. “Mor knows, but that’s all. I didn’t want to tell everyone if it was nothing.”

“And?” Cassian asked, tossing an arm behind his head. “Is it nothing?”

Amren took a moment to answer. She laid on the rug, petting Abraxos, who was in Heaven. “He’s special.”

Cassiain’s smile softened as he said, “Good.”

The two sat in silence for a moment - a comfortable silence. He and Amren had known each other since high school. They had spent many nights, up late talking about everything and nothing. After Cassian’s mother died his senior year, it was Amren who laid awake with him at night, sitting with him in complete silence, keeping him company so he didn’t feel so alone.

“What about you?” Amren asked. “Is there a woman?”

A woman with spiteful, gray-blue eyes popped into his mind, but he quickly shook the thought away. “Happily single.”

“Which means you have a lot of meaningless sex.”

Cassian laughed, voice light. “Sex isn’t such a bad thing.”

Amren was quiet for a moment before she said, “It’s better when you care about the person, though.”

Cassian stayed quiet. She wasn’t wrong, he knew as much. And he agreed with her. But, finding someone you cared about, who cared about you, too, was much easier said than done.

“Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to find that soon, then,” he said, quietly.

Amren had closed her eyes, but she still said, “You will, Cassian. I know it.”

“Since when did you become such a romantic?” he laughed.

“Since Varian,” she confessed. “Since I grew older and realized there was more to companionship than pleasure.”

Cassian sighed. “I’m too busy at work to find anything serious.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” Amren scoffed. “You spend half your time rebuilding motorcycles. That doesn’t affect your ability to find someone who cares for you, Cass. We’re inching up into our thirties, it’s time to settle down.”

Thirties.

Cassian groaned. He felt like, just yesterday, they were all seventeen without a care in the world. Then, suddenly, they were adults. He was twenty-seven. There was only so much time left. Life went by fast. Some days he felt like an adult, sure, but other days he felt like a kid playing dress up, pretending to have his shit together when he really didn’t.

“This Varian guy,” Cassian began, “he treats you good, yeah?”

Amren nodded, and she smiled, and for once her smile didn’t make Cassian fear for his life. “Yeah, he does.”

“Good,” Cassian whispered, and the room fell quiet.

He closed his eyes, wondering what his neighbor across the hall was doing. He couldn’t read her, not one bit. Last night, she was biting his head off. And yet, this morning, she had thanked him.

Maybe he would invite her over for a drink, one more time.

Really. How many times could she say no?

~~~~~

By the time Feyre dragged Rhysand into their apartment, he was finally starting to sober up. Considering he was already drunk as hell when he got to the bar, they all vowed to let him not drink anything else - besides water. It worked, for the most part, although Feyre caught him sneaking a shot out of the corner of her eye at one point.

The car ride was silent, and she only had to pull over once for him to puke on the side of the road.

The moment he walked through the front door, he was stumbling to the couch, eyes half-closed.

Feyre got him some ibuprofen and a lemon-lime Gatorade before plopping down next to him.

“Here,” she said.

He took them, gladly.

Then, he asked, “Are you going to yell at me?”

Feyre shrugged.

Rhysand sighed, closing his eyes. “I wish you would. Yelling is better than silence.”

“Yelling would imply that I’m mad,” Feyre said.

“Aren’t you?” he asked.

Feyre took a minute to consider. No, she wasn’t mad. She was confused. “I’m not mad, Rhys, I just….where the fuck were you all day? After last night…” Feyre’s words trailed off and she tried to convince herself that her eyes were growing blurry because she was tired.

Rhysand must have heard it in her voice because he opened his eyes and looked at her. And she knew the emotion that sparked in those beautiful, violet eyes: guilt.

He hung his head as he said, “I know, I was an idiot today. But, I woke up and you were gone, and I panicked.” He met her gaze, his brows furrowed. “I thought that, if you were hauling ass so early in the goddamn morning that I did something wrong. So, I went for a run, somehow ended up on the other side of town at Cassian’s, and his go-to for everything is whiskey, so he gave me a shot, and that calmed me down, but then he kicked me out because I was being a fucking idiot, so I left, and I was coming back here….but then I passed a bar where everything on draft was half price, so I went in there….”

Feyre was trying not to laugh now, and Rhysand gave her an apologetic smile.

“Long story short,” he went on, “is that I got intolerably drunk and made a fool of myself.”

“Mhmm,” Feyre grinned, wiping at her eyes. “Yeah, you did.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand whispered, and placed his palm gently, lovingly, against her cheek.

She leaned into his touch.

“I was at Az’s this morning,” Feyre said. “Seeing Mor. Because I was panicking, too.”

Rhysand tensed.

“Not because I regret it,” Feyre added, quickly. Rhysand’s body relaxed. “We’ve just been friends for so long, Rhys, and you’re the most important person in my life. I thought that you might regret last night, or that we’d start...dating, or whatever, and I would mess it up. Then I got worried because I thought it may be too soon, after Tamlin, you know? I mean, I know our relationship was shit for a long time, but I only moved out a month ago. Then, after he knocked you on your ass last week-”

“I was unprepared,” Rhysand muttered.

Feyre huffed a laugh, fingers grazing over the fading bruise on his cheek. “That’s not the point.”

Rhysand nodded, smiling affectionately. He held Feyre’s hand in his as he said, “I won’t pretend that I know what’s going to happen with us, Feyre, but even if one of us messes this up somewhere along the line - which, it would definitely be me, I think I proved that today - I wanna do it. I wanna do this, us. I don’t regret last night. I could never regret it, Feyre, I’ve wanted to do that for a fucking long time, with you.”

Those tears returned to Feyre’s eyes, and she cursed herself for getting so emotional. But it was Rhysand, her Rhys, and she couldn’t help it.

“I love you, Feyre,” he breathed. “I have always loved you.”

Feyre laughed, and she didn’t know why she was laughing, why she was crying while she was laughing. Confusion swept over Rhysand, but even he was unable to stop his smile as he watched her.

“Why the fuck are you laughing?” he said, smiling brightly as he wiped away her tears.

“Because today was ridiculous,” she said, laughter still lacing her tone. “Rhys, I love you, too. You know I do.”

Her voice was quiet, but Rhysand clung to every word.

“I’m sorry I was gone this morning,” she said, pushing his hair back, off his forehead.

Rhysand chuckled. “I’m sorry I was getting drunk all day.”

Feyre laughed, and Rhysand leaned into kiss her, but she stopped him, fingers against his mouth. “Take a shower, brush your teeth, and meet me in my bed.”

Rhysand’s eyes lit up, and then he smiled, playfully. “I have a better idea.”

“Oh no,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “That smile - I don’t trust that smile.”

Rhysand stood up from the couch and pulled Feyre toward him, picking her up, tossing her over his shoulder.

Feyre yelped, and laughed. He was still in the clothes he wore running that morning. “You smell so gross!”

Rhysand’s body shook with laughter, and then he bit her ass, through her jeans, which was right by his face - which, Feyre was certain, was why he picked her up in such a position.

Feyre shrieked and smacked him in the back as he brought her into the bathroom, started the shower, and stripped her down.

~~~~~

Nesta couldn’t sleep.

Her father’s words replayed in her mind. They were always replaying in her mind. Everyone says you shouldn’t hate your blood, but Nesta loathed that man.

Your mother…good thing she didn’t wait to see how you turned out.

Maybe he’d been right. Her mother would not be impressed with her. She would surely be ashamed, disappointed, embarrassed.

Maybe it was better that she was dead.

The thought shook through Nesta’s core, and she instantly felt guilty for thinking such a thing. Her mother had been a saint - a kind, beautiful woman.

Nesta tried to convince herself to cry at her mother’s memory, but nothing came.

Emotionless.

Numb.

She wandered into her bathroom and flicked on the lights, cringing at her reflection. Her hair was a mess, her eyes glazed over from exhaustion and the bottle of chardonnay she had downed. She barely filled out the thin, black nightgown she had on. She’d barely eaten that day, barely eaten since the failed dinner the night before. Constant anxiety and crippling depression had that effect.

She opened the top drawer and took out a bottle of painkillers, prescribed to Tomas after his shoulder surgery the year before.

She took out two, took out her toothbrush from the glass toothbrush holder, and used the bottom of it to crush them up until they became a fine, clumpless powder. She found a thin comb and used the straight end to gather the remnants into as much of a straight line as she could. .

She pulled back her hair and took one last look in the mirror.

No.

Her mother would not be proud.

Her father was definitely not proud, even though he was no better than she was.

Elain was worried.

Feyre ignored her.

Tomas, the dick that he was, even thought she wasn’t worth it.

But none of it bothered her.

“Fuck,” she breathed, anger brewing. She just wanted to fucking feel something, anything, other than fucking anger, all the fucking time. “Fuck!”

She was tired of it.

Tired of the numbness.

Tired of being pissed the fuck off.

She hated it.

Hated what she had become, hated what her life had become.

Her dad had been right.

He was always right.

Nesta clenched her teeth, closed her lips, closed one nostril with her middle finger, and breathed in the line with the other.

Maybe now she would get some fucking sleep.

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

Tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

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@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nessian #feysand #elriel #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #tacmc AITA

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {21}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Can you tell I love movies from the 80s? Also, reread warning above. This chapter says “cock” a handful of times...so....you know...warning.

ps i love how everyone’s on edge, even though things are going well....it’s almost like y’all don’t trust me or something.....

“As you wish.” - The Princess Bride

Azriel held Mila’s hand as they walked into the prison.

She didn’t get as nervous, not any more, wasn’t so scared of the looming building or the guards inside. It was becoming their norm - as much as Azriel hated that fact.

At least Amarantha had been pleasant when they visited.

The moment she walked into the visiting room, Mila was jumping up and down. “Mama!”

She smiled, surprising even Azriel with her gentleness. “My baby.”

She gave her daughter a quick hug and kiss before sitting on the opposite side of the table.

“Tell me what’s happened since the last time I’ve seen you,” Amarantha said, smiling brightly.

Mila thought about it for a minute. “I got a pretty dress for Rhysie and Feyre’s wedding!”

“Oh?” Amarantha asked, then looked to Azriel.

“They’re getting married,” Azriel clarified.

Amarantha rolled her eyes. “I picked up on that, thanks.”

“And I learned new songs at school,” Mila began, before diving into a deep, never-ending, extraordinarily detailed story.

Azriel spaced out. It had been a long week.

Elain was pregnant, and had woken up the last four days puking her guts up. He was staying with her at the townhouse, or she was at his apartment. They had lied to Mor, who asked her why she had been getting sick so much, saying that she was still getting used to her new diet.

It was a shitty lie.

But Mor had bought it, no more questions asked.

“Azriel, I’m talking to you.”

Azriel came back to the present, brows raised. “Sorry, what?”

“Next Monday, I won’t be here. I’ve been called to court Monday morning, to testify,” Amarantha said.

“Alright,” Azriel said, sighing, rubbing the back of his neck.

He glanced at the clock. He must have been in his own mind longer than he thought. It was nearly noon. Visiting hours were almost over.

Mila was in the middle of a sentence when Azriel cursed. “I can’t come the Monday after, Elain has a doctor’s appointment.”

Amarantha raised her brows. “Now you’re bringing her to the doctor? Surely your little girlfriend can take herself.”

Azriel hesitated. “No, she can’t, I have to go with her.”

Amarantha watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“None of your business,” Azriel snapped. “But I can’t bring Mila when you want me to. It’ll have to be the week after.”

“You expect me to go three weeks without seeing my daughter?” Amarantha scoffed.

“You signed up for that shit when you landed yourself in here,” Azriel said, voice low.

“Don’t piss me off,” Amarantha warned.

Mila sat, perfectly still, staring at the table.

“I promise to bring her the week after the appointment,” Azriel said, voice gentler, feeling guilty at Mila’s reaction. “I have to go with Elain to this appointment.”

Amarantha leaned on the table, eyes lit with curiosity. “Shit, she’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Azriel didn’t answer.

Amarantha shook her head. “Looks like you’re not so different from me, after all. Knocking up some poor-”

“It’s not like that,” Azriel said, trying to keep his calm for the sake of Mila. “Keep your mouth shut on matters you know nothing about.”

“Don’t speak that way to me in front of my daughter,” she whispered, voice hard.

Mila climbed onto Azriel’s lap.

Her place of comfort.

“Speaking of, what will happen to Mila once this baby comes?” Amarantha asked.

Azriel stilled. “What do you mean?”

“Mila is not your child,” Amarantha went on. “Surely this baby will push her out of the picture.”

Azriel pulled Mila closer to his chest. “Don’t say that shit in front of her. It’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Amarantha shrugged. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

“Uncle Az,” Mila said, lip wobbling. She may not have known exactly what was being exchanged between her uncle and her mother, but she knew something wasn’t right, and she knew they were talking about her.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “Just a misunderstanding.”

Amarantha rolled her eyes as the guard by the door announced it was noon.

“Bring her to see me the week after next,” Amarantha said. “If not you, ask Rhysand. It’ll be good to see him again. We can….reminisce.”

She didn’t give him an opportunity to answer.

She stood, kissed Mila’s forehead, and was gone.

~~~~~

Elain pulled out an unopened bottle of champagne from her refrigerator along with glasses for all of the girls. They had been all over the map lately, unable to all come together at once, but now, on a Monday night, Mor, Amren, Feyre, Elain, and Nesta gathered together in Elain’s townhouse for dinner.

“Everyone grab a glass,” Elain announced. “We have a lot to celebrate. Feyre’s getting married and Nesta’s almost a full month clean!”

Nesta rolled her eyes, but Feyre nudged her in the ribs. “Yes, that is something to celebrate.”

“I agree,” Amren said, winking at Nesta as she grabbed a glass. “Um, Elain, you’re one glass short.”

Elain hesitated. “Oh, no, I’m not drinking.”

“Why?” Mor asked, popping open the bottle and filling everyone’s glass.

When Elain didn’t answer, Mor slowly set the bottle on top of the table.

“Elain,” Feyre began.

Even Nesta was looking at her, curiously.

Elain took a deep breath. “I’m….pregnant.”

No one spoke.

The room was completely silent.

“Is this a joke?” Feyre asked. “Because if this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

Elain shook her head, and her voice was quiet when she said, “It’s not a joke.”

All at once, they stood up from the table and were hovered around Elain, wrapping her in a massive group hug. Everyone began talking at once, and Elain’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

“You little liars,” Mor said, grabbing her glass and taking a sip. “I knew something was going on!”

Feyre grinned, kissing her sister on the cheek. “Not to bring up Azriel’s penis again, but, apparently, he’s got fast swimmers, too-”

“Please, no,” Elain begged.

Amren howled.

Even Nesta cracked a smile.

“It’s amazing,” Feyre said, smiling at her sister. “Really. Congrats.”

“Thanks,” Elain said, sighing. “Azriel’s been really great about it.”

“Of course he has,” Mor followed. “He’s madly in love with you.”

Elain rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop her smile. “Don’t tell, though, no one else-”

Elain’s front door was thrown open and Azriel entered, Mila sound asleep on his shoulder. Mor, Amren, and Feyre were instantly on their feet, running toward him, all talking at once - even though their voices were hushed, careful not to wake Mila.

He stilled, looking overwhelmed, but then he laughed. “I see the secrets out.”

“Sorry,” Elain muttered, as Azriel carried Mila up the stairs.

“What secret?” Rhysand asked, stepping through the front door, Cassian just behind him.

The moment Cassian entered, his eyes caught Nesta. She smiled, softly.

Elain hesitated. “Maybe we should wait until Azriel comes back down-”

“Elain’s pregnant!” Mor said.

Rhysand and Cassian froze in the entryway.

Azriel was coming back down the stairs a minute later, having laid Mila down.

Both Rhysand’s and Cassian’s eyes shot to him as he entered the living room.

Azriel blinked. “What?”

Rhysand and Cassian didn’t explain. Instead, they were running into the room, tackling Azriel to the floor.

“Savages,” Nesta muttered.

“They really are children,” Feyre agreed.

But Elain was laughing, watching as Cassian and Rhysand loved on Azriel.

“You’re going to be a dad,” Cassian said, holding Azriel down to the ground. “Fuck.”

Rhysand was smiling broadly as he rubbed his fist against Azriel’s head, leaving his hair in disarray.

Azriel was letting them do it. Elain thought he secretly liked the weird, man-ish show of affection.

The night went on like that, everyone celebrating and congratulating them, giving them hugs and affectionate kisses on the cheek.

Elain slumped into the kitchen, filling up a glass of water.

Azriel followed her in, a soft smile on his lips.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he said back.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “How are you feeling today?”

“Honestly?” She asked. He nodded. “Tired. Nauseous. Like I’m growing a child inside of me.”

Azriels eyes softened as he brushed her hair back. “What can I do to help?”

“Kick all these people out of my house then rub my feet,” she said, laughing.

“I can do that,” Azriel muttered, pressing his lips to hers.

Elain wrapped her arms around him, breathing him in. The last week had been better than she could ever imagine, since Azriel found out they would be having a baby.

Elain was caught in a dream.

“I’m serious,” she muttered, and Azriel grinned.

“How about you and I just go up to bed?” He asked. “They’ll leave when they’ve drunk all your liquor.”

Elain laughed, and nodded. “True.”

He took her hand and led her toward the stairs, telling the others to keep it down as they trailed up the staircase. Elain was exhausted, but she was too nice to tell everyone to go home. She was grateful to them, after all.

They had made her feel loved within the chaos.

~~~~~

“I can’t believe Az is gonna be a dad.”

Rhysand and Feyre were driving home. He had one hand on the wheel, and one hand in Feyre’s draped across her lap.

“He’ll be great,” Feyre said, eyes bright as she watched him drive. “Elain will, too. She’s always had motherly qualities. The most out of any of us.”

Rhysand looked at her, quickly, before moving his eyes back to the road. “You have motherly qualities.”

Feyre snorted. “Sure.”

“I’m serious,” he said, fingers tightening around her hand. “You take care of me.”

Feyre nodded. “You are practically a child.”

Rhysand chuckled. “Not the point I was trying to make, but I’ll go with it.”

Feyre grinned as she pressed her mouth against the back of his hand. “I do wanna have kids. Someday. Not too soon, though. When it happens, I’ll be glad, but I want it to just be you and me for a little while longer.”

“I like the sound of that,” Rhysand replied. “Maybe we can travel the world first. Oh, speaking of travelling, I booked our honeymoon shit today.”

Feyre lifted a brow. “Our honeymoon?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at the look of utter surprise on her face. “Yeah. Honeymoon.”

Feyre looked out the front window. “I...hadn’t even thought about the honeymoon. I’ve been so focused on the wedding.” She reached over to smack him in the chest. “You could’ve talked to me about it first!”

Rhysand laughed. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

She waited for him to continue.

He didn’t.

“That’s all I get?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Rhys.”

“Yes?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “I can’t go months without knowing where we’re going!”

“You’re gonna have to.” Rhysand winked. Feyre scowled.

“Fuck you,” she muttered.

Rhysand took her hand in his, once more. “Please do.”

“Oh, no,” Feyre began, although she didn’t take her hand out of his. “Not until you tell me where we’re going on our honeymoon.”

Rhysand stilled. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh yes it is,” she said, satisfied with his reaction. “No sex until you spill.”

Rhysand opened his mouth to reply, but he was speechless.

As Feyre leaned back, smugly, into her seat, Rhysand took his hand away from hers.

Then he pulled into a parking lot at the last minute, making Feyre yelp as she held onto her door.

“What are you doing?” she yelled.

Rhysand put the car in park. “Take it back.”

“No,” she said, humored, arms crossed. “Tell me where we’re going.”

“No,” he shot back.

“Stubborn ass,” she said, shaking her head.

“Me?” he laughed. “You’re way more stubborn than I am.”

“Am not.”

“Then take it back.”

“No. No sex until you- Rhys!”

He was climbing over the center console. Feyre laughed as he straddled her waist.

“Get off me, you brute!” she said, hands on his chest. “You’re a giant!”

“Take it back,” he crooned, pressing his mouth to her neck.

“We’re not in high school anymore,” she giggled, “you’re going to get us into trouble.”

“Take it back,” he said, again, pulling the strap of her tank top down with his teeth.

“I’m not taking it back,” she said, running her hands up his back, beneath his shirt.

“You can’t keep your hands off of me,” he muttered, kissing down her chest, between her breasts.

Feyre pulled her tank top back up, and Rhysand frowned. “I’m serious.”

“You’re smiling, you’re not serious.”

Feyre shook her head. “Tell me where we’re going...Please.”

Rhysand raised a brow. “Feyre Archeron using manners? Oh, she must be desperate.”

“Fuck you,” she laughed, fingers looped into the belt loops of his jeans.

Rhysand groaned. “I’m trying to fuck you but you’re not making it very easy.”

“We’re in a parking lot.”

Rhysand looked out of all the windows before looking back down at Feyre. “An abandoned parking lot. Trust me, the cops in this city have a lot more to worry about than two grown ass adults doing a quickie in an abandoned parking lot.”

“Doing a quickie?” Feyre repeated. “My future husband is so romantic.”

Rhysand laughed, quietly, as he took her face into his hands and kissed her lips.

“Take it back,” he said, once again, against her mouth.

“No,” she said, palming the hardened bulge beneath his jeans.

He groaned. “Cruel, wicked woman.”

She nipped at his lip as she unzipped his jeans, and tugged them down, just a little bit. She reached into his briefs and wrapped her fingers around his cock as his head fell back, his eyes fell shut. His fingers gripped the passenger seat behind her to keep himself steady as she stroked him, gently, teasingly.

“Tell me where we’re going,” she whispered, voice laced with amusement.

Rhysand hesitated, then shook his head. “You can’t go without sex from me for that long. I’m winning this battle.”

Feyre barked a laugh. “Why do you think that?”

“We haven’t gone a day without it since we started,” he laughed, putting his hand over hers, begging her to stop with the teasing. “You’re just as bad as I am, Feyre, darling.”

Feyre pulled her hand away.

Not exactly what he’d had in mind.

But all she said was, “Damn it,” and pulled him down against her. She kissed him, passionately, slipping her tongue between his lips. Rhysand flipped her around, so she was sitting on his lap.

She sank down to the floorboards, onto her knees.

Her mouth wrapped around his cock as the radio played softly in the background.

Rhysand let his fingers tangle into her long, golden-brown hair as he watched her head bob, felt her tongue slide across his dick. He cursed, quietly, voice low and breath hitched.

He yanked up her head, by her hair, so that she met his eyes.

She was smirking.

“Fuck me,” he breathed, begged.

Feyre crawled on top of his lap, skirt hiked up as her knees settled on both sides of him. She moved the thin layer of her panties aside before pushing herself down upon him. He held onto her ass as she rolled her hips. His grasp grew tighter at the little sounds that fell from her lips. Her fingers clung to his shirt, just over his chest, as her head fell back, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders.

Rhysand’s eyes stayed open, his breathing unsteady as he watched her, lost in her own little world. Her eyes were closed, tightly, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Her eyebrows were furrowed as the sensation of making love took over her body.

Rhysand had never seen anything so beautiful.

She was ethereal, wild and free, lost in a moment that they could only be lost in together.

Nothing else mattered.

The world faded away.

Until a fist pounded on the passenger side window.

“Fuck,” Rhysand spat, as Feyre, his dick still inside of her, fell into Rhysand, planting her face in the crook of his neck.

Rhysand rolled the tinted window down, just a smidge, to meet the eyes of Beron Vanserra.

Surprise lit his brown eyes as he said, uncomfortably, “Was passing by when I saw your car. Just making sure it’s not two teenagers getting themselves into trouble...or, you know.”

Rhysand cleared his throat. “Got it.”

Beron nodded, slowly, then said. “Go home, Rhys.”

“Yep,” Rhysand said, quickly.

Beron said nothing more as he shook his head and walked back to his patrol car. As Rhysand rolled the window back up, Feyre broke into a fit of laughter.

“The cops have better things to do, do they?” she asked, leaning back.

“Apparently not,” Rhysand laughed, running his hand down his face. “I guess we should...”

His words broke off as Feyre ran her fingers through his hair. She didn’t move herself off of him.

“Beron can kiss my ass,” she muttered, eyes bright. “You started this, and I’m not done with you yet.”

Rhysand grinned as her lips found his.

~~~~~

Cassian set a stack of DVDs on top of Nesta’s dresser. He picked up The Princess Bride and turned to Nesta. “You have to start with this one.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her legs beneath her on her bed. “Looks weird as-”

“Fuck, I know,” Cassian said, finishing her sentence.

She smiled. “Fine. Put it in.”

“Now?” he asked, brow raised. She nodded, and he opened the case and slid the disk into the DVD player beneath the little television.

“How are you getting home?” she asked.

He and Rhysand had ridden there with Azriel, who was sound asleep with Elain in her bed. Rhysand went home in Feyre’s car, Amren had left with Mor without a second thought, leaving Cassian to take public transportation. “Bus. Bus stop is only a block away.”

“Stay for a while,” she said, voice quiet. “Watch it with me.”

Cassian didn’t need convincing. He nodded, kicked off his shoes, and sat on the opposite side of her bed, leaning back against the headboard, one ankle tossed over the other. “Alright. Only to convince you how incredibly awesome this movie is.”

“I doubt that,” she murmured, then picked up the remote from her nightstand and pressed play. The minute it began, Nesta cursed. “This is another fucking movie from the 80s, isn’t it?”

Cassian just grinned. “Give it a chance, damn.”

Nesta sighed and settled back into her pillows. They watched the movie in silence, Cassian glancing at her every so often to check her reaction. She could bash on his movie suggestions all she wanted, but he could tell she was enjoying it from the light dancing in her eyes.

“This one’s better than the Lost Boys,” she whispered, about halfway through.

“The Lost Boys is a great movie,” Cassian muttered back.

She just rolled her eyes.

It was quiet for a moment before she said, “You can stay here tonight, if you want. I can drive you home in the morning. So that you don’t have to take the bus. It’s getting late.”

Cassian looked at her, but she was still watching the t.v.

“You can sleep on the couch,” she continued. “Or, in here, if you want.”

Cassian nodded, slowly. “Yeah, okay, thanks....the couch sounds nice.”

Nesta’s body tensed, and Cassian laughed, quietly. She reached across the bed and shoved him in the shoulder. She shook her head, lips tight to keep her smile from spreading. “Ass.”

Cassian took off his socks - sleeping in socks was the worst - and put them on the floor next to his keys, his wallet, and his phone. He flopped himself back on the bed, pulling the comforter over his body.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I regret this already.”

“You should,” he said, making himself comfortable. “I sleep spread-eagle.”

“I know,” Nesta said, laughing breathily. “Control that. Try to keep the blanket hogging to a minimum, too.”

“No promises,” he said, an arm slung beneath his head.

Rolling her eyes, Nesta crawled under the blankets beside him. At first, she laid against her own pillows, keeping the distance between them.

But as the end credits began to roll, she closed that distance and laid her head against his chest. He put his arm around her, holding her close.

They both fell asleep, just like that, and when morning came, she hadn’t moved an inch.

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

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s @sensitiveillyrian

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books @mockingjayusa

@mis-lil-red @mini-monster-amren

@shhhimreading03 @brittneym15

@emilyrose111294 @queen-of-glass

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides @candid-confetti

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @iliketoasterstrudels

@6255igntm @moondancer-204

@littlehoneyybee @acourtofbookworms

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s @nightcourtcinnamonroll

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn @bamchickawowow

@julemmaes @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta @nickjgoodsell

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #nessian #feysand #elriel #tacmc AITA

221 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {14}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Drank margs all day with my mom and im 2 beers in at home....excuse typos lol this chapter is to be continued....

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“That's everyone's dream, isn't it, really? Instead of many who give you little pieces of themselves-one who gives you everything.” ― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

Mila was sitting in the backseat, knowing they were going to see Amarantha, but not really sure of anything else. Azriel hadn’t known how to explain it to her. She was only four. He was trying to make light of it, even though he hadn’t slept at all the night before.

He hated Amarantha.

But he loved his niece.

“Are we almost there?” she asked, looking out the window.

The prison was on the outskirts of the city, and that, to a toddler, felt like hours.

“Yes,” Azriel said, glancing at the clock.

It was just after ten.

“Excited to see mama?” Azriel asked.

Mila’s voice was soft when she said, “Yes.”

It must have been scary, confusing, going to see your mom after you hadn’t seen her in a while, in a new place. Azriel had told her that they would have to not touch Amarantha, there were to be no hugs, and they wouldn’t be able to stay for long.

Mila was confused.

Azriel tried to ease her confusion but wasn’t successful.

By the time he made it through the gates of the prison, Azriel just wanted it all to be over. He pulled Mila out of the car and held her as he walked through the doors.

They were stopped and searched. They forced Azriel to put Mila down as they searched his person, then they sent Mila through security, looking terrified.

“Alright,” Azriel began, gently, when they were inside. “All done. Now we get to go see mama.”

“Why mama here?” Mila whispered.

Azriel just gave her a smile.

They were led to a big meeting room and told to sit, where inmates were already talking with friends and family. Azriel sat with Mila on his lap at a small, round table, and they waited.

Neither of them spoke.

Even Mila, who loved to talk about anything to anyone, stayed silent.

Amarantha was escorted in five minutes later, dressed in her tan scrubs. She saw Mila, and smiled. Azriel didn’t react as his sister met them in the corner, where they sat at the table.

“Hi, my baby,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to Mila’s head.

“Uncle Az says we can’t touch,” Mila said, hand in Azriel’s.

Amarantha hesitated, before sitting across from them. “Well, I can still kiss my baby. How are you? I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Mila said, quietly. “I like staying with Uncle Azzie, though. I go to school and have a unicorn backpack. Uncle Azzie makes me lunch for my batman lunchbox, too.”

“You and Batman,” Amarantha chuckled, and for once, Azriel thought she almost looked human. He and Amarantha used to watch Batman on Saturday mornings - a tradition Azriel brought to Mila the moment she was born. Batman, the best of all superheroes.

“Uncle Azriel seems to be taking good care of you,” Amarantha said, glancing at Azriel.

His eyes were watching his sister, clinging to every word that came out of her mouth, ready to bolt the moment she said something wrong.

“Yeah,” Mila said, finally starting to sound like her real self. “And Aunt Mor and Lain.”

Amarantha raised her eyebrows, then looked at Azriel.

“Mor is home from school for the Summer,” Azriel explained. “Elain is a friend of mine.”

“Lain and Uncle Az are getting married,” Mila beamed.

Amarantha’s brows shot into her hairline.

“No, we’re not,” Azriel began, clearing his throat. “How have you been?”

It was obvious that he was only asking the question so that the spotlight would be off of him.

“Not awful,” Amarantha said, sighing. “Would be nice if you sent money from time to time.”

Azriel, despite himself, laughed. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Help you get a candy bar while you’re locked up.”

Rolling her eyes, Amarantha looked back to Mila. “Tell me about your school, baby.”

They went on talking. Azriel sat still, Mila on his lap, as she talked to her mother. He let them catch up, watching the clock as it ticked by. They would leave soon. He would carry Mila to the car and get her away from there, buy her some ice cream, some chicken nuggets, and return to normalcy.

As much normalcy as they could have.

“You don’t let her stay the night, do you?” Amarantha asked.

Azriel blinked, and when he looked at Amarantha, he realized it wasn’t the first time she had asked. “Sorry, what?”

“This Elain,” she repeated, and Mila was looking back and forth between her mother and her uncle. “She doesn’t stay the night, right? With Mila there? She shouldn’t be seeing that.”

Azriel hesitated. “You’re kidding, right?”

She gave him a look that told him no, she definitely wasn’t.

“I…” Azriel trailed off, laughing. “You’re in fucking prison, and you’re worried about me setting a bad example?”

With thinned lips, Amarantha said, “I still care about my daughter, Azriel.”

“Yeah,” Azriel began. “So do I, which is why I’m fucking here. Don’t ask questions about my personal life. She’s well taken care of. I’ve always taken care of her. You know that, perfectly well.” He took one look into Mila’s eyes and instantly felt guilty.

They were wide, scared, confused, lost.

Azriel sighed. “Sorry, babe. Uncle Az is just tired.”

Mila leaned into his chest, and Amarantha watched the sight with jealousy. “I would like for Mila to come see me once a week, at least.”

Azriel shook his head. “I have a job, Amarantha. And she has school. I can’t get her here every Monday morning.”

“Then find someone who can,” she snapped.

The threat she dished him over the phone days before replayed in his mind. Get her here, or I’ll have her stay with someone who can. You’re replaceable, Azriel.

“Fine,” he gritted out.

Amarantha stood. It was five minutes until twelve. It was time to go.

“I love you,” she smiled, and pressed her lips to Mila’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Mila’s lip wobbled as she nodded. “Love you, mama.”

Amarantha looked at her brother. “Azriel.”

“Amarantha,” he muttered.

She walked away, Mila crying as she watched. Azriel felt helpless. He couldn’t make the situation better. A little bit easier, maybe, but never better. He held Mila closely to him as he stood, thanked the guards, and walked outside.

Mila didn’t say anything else until they were back in the truck.

“Why did mama have to go with those men?” she asked, as Azriel buckled her into her carseat.

“They were guards,” Azriel said, then realized she had no idea what that meant. “They were there to make sure she knew where she was going.”

Mila nodded, slowly.

“Lunch?” Azriel asked. “I was thinking of chicken nuggets and ice cream.”

Mila clapped. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Chicken nuggets and ice cream healed all. Azriel pulled out of the prison’s parking lot and headed back toward the city. Five minutes later, Mila was asleep.

Azriel’s phone rang.

“Hey,” he answered, picking it up quickly, hoping his obnoxious ringtone wouldn’t wake Mila.

“Hey,” Elain said, and he knew she was smiling, which made him smile. “How’d it go?”

“Okay. Could have gone worse,” he said, honestly. “Mila actually handled it pretty well, considering. She only cried and broke my heart a handful of times.”

“It must be hard for her,” Elain said. “She’s a tough little girl, though. And she had you with her, thankfully.”

Azriel shook his head. “You always look at the bright side, don’t you?”

“I try to,” Elain said.

Azriel propped the phone on his shoulder. “I like that about you.” She laughed, quietly. “What are you up to?”

“Getting ready for work,” she answered. “Ready to go sell overpriced kids clothes to a bunch of stay at home moms.”

Azriel chuckled. “Sounds fun.”

“Not so much,” she laughed. “But, I’m excited to see you later.”

“Me too,” he breathed. “I thought maybe, if you want, you could stay over...again.”

Elain paused. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Azriel said, trying to pretend he wasn’t ridiculously nervous every time he asked Elain to stay with him. It wasn’t that he expected anything, but he liked sleeping with her, lying with her in his arms. They kept saying they were going to take things slow, and they had, only sharing kisses and lying together, fully clothed, through the night. But, there was something intimate about sharing a bed with someone, no matter what you were doing in that bed.

Azriel loved that intimacy. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“Yeah,” Elain said, softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

~~~~~

“At least the swelling is going down.”

It was true. A few days had passed since Rhyasnd’s incident with Tamlin, and he was able to see out of his eyes more and more as the swelling progressively went down. He had the day off of work, had most of the week off of work, but it sure didn’t make anything any easier. The more time he had off, the more time had off to dwell on everything. Feyre came home on her lunch, every day, fussing over him, even though he claimed he was fine.

And he was fine.

The pain wasn’t so bad. He still looked much worse than he felt. The broken ribs were the worst of it, but it was bearable. And the swelling of his eyes was much better - it was nice to be able to see.

“I thought we could go out tonight,” Rhysand said.

Feyre had just got home not long ago and she was already searching through the fridge, figuring out what to make for dinner.

She hesitated. “I thought it would be nice to stay in.”

“Why?” Rhysand said, trying not to grow frustrated. “I haven’t left the house in days.”

“I just prefer to stay home,” she murmured, closing the refrigerator before opening up the freezer.

“Afraid people will stare?” Rhysand snapped. “I get I look like shit right now, Feyre, but I can’t hide in the house.”

Feyre slammed the freezer door shut before turning to look at him, arms crossed. “No. I’m not afraid people will stare. But I am afraid that everyone we pass is going to report back to Tamlin, and he’ll find a way to make things worse.”

Rhysand raked a hand through his messy, black hair. “You act like he’s the head of the fucking mob.”

Feyre’s lips tightened, but she said nothing. She simply opened the fridge, once more.

“Whatever,” Rhysand shook his head. “I’m going out.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not!” she said, slamming a thawed package of chicken breasts onto the counter. And Rhysand instantly felt guilty, because there were tears in her eyes. “Please.”

Rhysand shook his head. “I’m not scared of him, Feyre, and you shouldn’t be either. It’s fucking Tamlin. He can only do so much harm.”

Feyre stared at him. “I just don’t feel like going out. And if you love me, you won’t fight me on this.”

The words were soft, all of her bite gone, her eyes dry.

“You can’t keep using that,” Rhysand mumbled. “If you love me...You know I do.”

“Too much,” Feyre said.

“Not possible,” Rhysand breathed. “Even though you’re being a pain in the ass.”

Feyre’s eyes rolled. “The only pain in the ass here is you.”

Rhysand pushed himself off the couch and walked into the kitchen, Feyre watching each of his steps with narrowed eyes. When he reached her, he took her face into his hands and planted his mouth on her forehead. “I know.”

This earned him a smile. She traced the black designs inked across his chest. “It has nothing to do with you, with how you look. I’m just not ready to go out yet. I feel violated. And, yes, I feel scared. I know you can handle it, you can take care of yourself and all that, but I’m not ready to get another call, calling me to the hospital because you were knocked unconscious.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pushing her hair back. “We can stay in. I’ll help cook.”

Feyre arched a brow. “You’re going to help me cook?”

“I can cook.”

“We both know that’s total bullshit.”

Rhysand barked a laugh. “Challenge accepted.”

Feyre stilled. “What?”

“I’m making you dinner.”

“That’s not what-”

“Sit back and relax, Feyre, darling. I’ve got this.”

With a look of pure uncertainty, Feyre sat down by the island, hesitantly, and folded her hands together. “Can I at least-”

“No.”

“But I-”

“Nope.”

Feyre scowled. “Fine. But I’m going to sit here and judge you the entire time.”

Rhysand grinned, grabbing a bottle of wine from the stand and a glass from the cabinet. He poured it, the glass filling halfway, and slid it to Feyre on the island. “Enjoy.”

“Enjoy watching you burn everything?” Feyre asked, fingers pulling the glass of sweet white wine toward her.

“Would it help if I were naked?”

Feyre howled. “Although I wouldn’t mind, I prefer you don’t jeopardize my favorite part. If little Rhys were to get burned, I’d be heartbroken.”

“Little Rhys?” he grinned, pulling out a bunch of asparagus. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”

“What do you usually call him?”

“I don’t know,” Rhysand said, shrugging. “Something that sounds a little more dangerous than Little Rhys.”

Feyre sipped her wine as she watched Rhysand cut up the raw chicken. “Like what?”

Rhysand laughed, tossing the cut-up chicken into a skillet. “I don’t know. Maybe Bruce. Or Wolverine.”

Feyre nearly spat out her wine. “You want me to start referring to your penis as Bruce?”

“You’re right,” Rhysand hummed. “Definitely Wolverine.”

Their night went on like that: nice, easy, light. He did everything he could to make her laugh, to make her smile, to make her forget about Tamlin, her fears, her discomfort.

To her surprise, Rhysand didn’t burn their food. And to both of their surprise, it actually tasted pretty damn good.

After they ate, Rhysand did the dishes, no matter how much she protested, saying that he needed to relax.

He was tired of relaxing.

With a little more wine, her protests died down, and after Rhysand was done cleaning up the kitchen, she dragged him down the hall, to his bed, where they made love until Feyre was sleeping, soundly.

Rhysand watched her sleep, admired her soft snoring.

He hated Tamlin for making her scared.

Rhysand couldn't live like that, Feyre could live like that, full of fear and paranoia.

It seemed Rhysand would have to do something to end it, once and for all, sooner rather than later.

~~~~~

“Hey, Bartender.”

Nesta’s eyes snapped over to the other end of the bar, where Cassian sat, grinning.

“Come to get drunk on a weeknight?” She asked. “Don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Bright and early,” he said, eyes narrowed. “Whiskey.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “It’s always whiskey.”

“Of course it is,” Cassian agreed. “Be nice to me, though. You don’t want me to leave you a shitty tip.”

Nesta snorted. “You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, watching her lean over the bar, toward him. “I promise to give you a good tip. And an even better tip, once you clock out.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed as his grin widened.

“Fuck off,” she muttered, but was unable to control her smile.

Cassian laughed, but Nesta had frozen halfway to fulfill his request, because the door had opened, and someone new had walked in. He caught Nesta’s eye and walked toward the bar, sitting close to Cassian, only a stool away.

“Beer,” he said, grinning. “Whatever’s on tap.”

Cassian had seen him, too. Of course, he had. There weren’t that many people there, and he’d sat right by him. Nesta shook it off, grabbing a glass and filling it with whiskey. She slowly walked back to Cassian and set it down in front of him.

Cassian didn’t touch it.

He was looking at Tomas.

~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit

@6255igntm

@littlehoneyybee

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn

@julemmaes

@regular-nessian-trash

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #tacmc AITA #feysand #nessian #elriel #sjm #modern au #fanfic #fanfiction

215 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Alone in the Ashes {10}

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I figured two chapters in one night is okay since, you know, it’s short....and everyone should go to bed sad.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“He left bloody fingerprints on the rock, but there was something satisfying about that. I was here. I exist. I’m alive, because I bleed.” ― Maggie Stiefvater, Blue Lily, Lily Blue

Rhysand sat in the quiet interrogation room.

At least they had uncuffed him.

He’d been sitting there, in the silence, running on pure adrenaline for at least forty minutes. He wanted to call Feyre, but even if he had his phone, they would have taken it from him.

On the ride to the station, no one answered his questions. And he had asked a lot of them. Eventually, he had given up and let the nature of things take its course.

The door to the white, nearly empty room opened and Beron Vanserra walked in. Rhysand said nothing as he sat in the chair opposite of him.

“Rhysand,” Beron began, and cleared his throat. “Tell me why you’re here.”

Rhysand blinked. “Surely you’re aware, because I sure as hell am not.”

Beron nodded, face grave. “Look, Rhys,” he began, using that old, familiar nickname. “We got a call-”

“From Tamlin?” Rhysand guessed. “Beron, you’ve known me since I was five. Alright? You know my character. I’m not some dumbass teenager who gets high in his mom’s basement then thinks it’s fun to go spraypaint dicks on historical landmarks.”

Beron rubbed his temples. “Rhysand-”

“For fuck’s sake!” he said, unable to keep his cool. “I just get home from work, get handcuffed and dragged out of my fucking apartment - while my girlfriend and the entire fucking neighborhood watches, might I add - for what?” Rhysand shook his head. “Because Tamlin’s rich and his daddy has a lot of power? Because that’s my fucking guess.”

“Rh-”

“If you’re going to interrogate me, I have nothing to say. I was at work all day, every day, and when I’m not at work, I’m at home with Feyre-”

“Rhys, if you do not stop talking, I will have an actual reason to throw you in jail,” Beron snapped.

Rhysand blinked, and closed his mouth.

“Thank you,” Beron hissed. “Now, I’ve talked with the officers that picked you up.”

Beron hesitated, and Rhysand was certain it was the only time he had ever seen the man hesitate.

“You were always a good friend to Lucien before he moved away,” Beron said, voice quiet, “and because of that, I won’t lie to you, but if you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, and I lose my job, I will find a reason to lock you up.”

Rhysand’s jaw went stiff.

He nodded.

“You and Tamlin have never gotten along, I understand that,” Beron went on, and Rhysand stilled. “And as you said, he hails from a powerful family - one that owns this force and half of everything else in this city. Unfortunately, Rhys, whatever you’ve done recently to piss Tamlin off, he’s vengeful. As far as the police go, I’ll do what I can to set matters straight, but this isn’t the only thing he’ll try.”

With a muttered curse, Rhysand shook his head.

“Now,” Beron said, tossing a plastic bag on the table with Rhysand’s wallet in it that was taken from him when he entered the station, “go home.”

He snatched the bag from the table and pushed back the metal chair, which screeched along the tile.

“Thanks,” Rhysand said, as he and Beron walked toward the door.

Beron gave him a curt nod. He’d always been a hard man, unreadable, but Rhysand appreciated his honesty.

“Need a ride home?” Beron asked.

Rhysand shook his head. “I’ll take the bus, thanks. Can I use the phone, though?”

He made a quick call to Feyre before he left, promising to be home soon and to explain everything when he got there.

Beron said nothing more as he and Rhysand parted ways. He exited into the station lobby before ending up in the steps out front. The streetlights were on as the sun had completely disappeared.

He was so fucking tired as he slumped down the steps and down the sidewalk, towards the bus stop.

He couldn’t wait to get home.

But he didn’t even make it to the bus stop before someone grabbed him by the elbow.

Rhysand didn’t have the chance to turn around before he was knocked in the back of the head, and everything went black.

~~~~~

Feyre paced back and forth as Mor, Azriel, and Amren sat on her couch, Mila asleep on Mor’s lap. Rhysand had called Feyre from the police station, telling her he’d be home in thirty minutes, tops, and he’d explain when he arrived, but that had been over an hour and a half ago.

“I don’t understand,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “I don’t fucking understand.” She had googled for news stories after Rhysand left. There was nothing on any vandalism done to the chapel. Amren had even stopped there on her way over and confirmed it.

“I wish you’d at least try to relax,” Amren said, calmly. “It won’t do Rhys any good if you have a panic attack.”

She had already cried and gotten pissed off. Now, Feyre was just worried.

“At least let me get you something to drink,” Mor said, patting Mila softly on the back.

Azriel was the only one who hadn’t said a word since he’d arrived.

“He doesn’t have his phone?” Mor asked, for the third time, when Feyre didn’t answer.

Feyre shook her head. “It’s in the kitchen.”

The front door burst open and everyone’s eyes shot to the entryway.

Cassian strode in.

Nesta at his heels.

Feyre froze.

“Sorry,” Cassian said, walking to Feyre and taking her face into his hands. “I came as soon as I got the message. You alright?”

Feyre shook her head before stepping back and looking at Nesta. “Why are you here?”

Nesta didn’t answer. She showed no emotion as she sat in the armchair in the corner.

“She was with me at the garage,” Cassian said, softly. “What happened?”

“Cops came in,” Amren began, “arrested Rhys for vandalism that never happened.”

Cassian’s brows scrunched together. “That makes no sense.”

“Obviously,” Mor said, sighing, “which is why we’re all sitting here looking confused as shit. Doesn’t help that he said he’d be here an hour ago and, as you can see, he’s not.”

Amren was looking back and forth between Cassian and Nesta, but as she opened her mouth to say something, Cassian shot her a look and shook his head.

Feyre’s hands raked through her tangled hair. She kept going back to the same thought, the same man. Rhysand didn’t have enemies, just one. “It was Tamlin. I know it was Tamlin.”

Azriel looked up at this, and Feyre saw the wheels moving inside of his mind. Feyre had sounded certain, and Azriel had never doubted her. “What’s his number?”

“What?” Feyre breathed. “No, you’re not calling-”

“No, I’m not,” Azriel said, words clipped, “but give me his number.”

She did so, and Azriel fiddled on his phone for a few minutes. As he concentrated on whatever it was he was doing, Feyre felt like she was going to puke. The rest of the room sat in tense silence.

Nesta included.

As the minutes passed, which Feyre felt lasted far too long, Azriel didn’t give much away, but then he froze. “Fuck.”

Cassian was instantly turning around. “What?”

But Azriel was already on his feet. He looked to Mor. “Take Mila home, put her to bed.”

Mor nodded, no questions asked.

“What’s going on?” Feyre asked, that panic returning in the pit of her stomach.

“Stay here, keep your phone on,” Azriel said. “Cass and I are going for a drive.”

“Azriel,” Feyre begged, hurrying after him.

He stopped at the door to pull on his shoes. “He’s sitting in the middle of nowhere, near the forest on the other side of town. Either he’s looking for a fight or he’s fucking some poor girl in the backseat of his car.”

Feyre froze, and paled.

“Cass and I are going,” Azriel repeated, his voice calm. Cassian was already throwing open the door. “I’ll call.”

Feyre nodded, but by the time she had, they were already gone.

~~~~~

Rhysand woke up to nothing but darkness.

His head hurt like shit. He was dizzy. He was stuck in a compact compartment, the world moving around him.

He was in the trunk of a car.

A small one, he imagined. He couldn’t move, at all, his body, tall and lean, scrunched together and lying awkwardly.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out.

Didn’t know where he was.

Didn’t know who had him.

He didn’t have to wait for long, though, because the car came to a screeching halt.

Rhysand jolted in the trunk, hitting every inch of his body against something.

Didn’t help his headache.

A minute later, the trunk opened and Rhysand was staring into the eyes of Eris Vanserra.

He took Rhysand by the collar and dragged him out of the trunk. The second Rhysand’s feet hit the grass, he felt like he was going to fall over.

His head.

His vision was blurry.

“It’s been a while, Lunasa, hasn’t it?” Eris crooned, forcing Rhysand down on his knees before jamming something hard into Rhysand’s side.

He grunted, trying to keep his vision steady.

Rhyasnd saw a gleam in the side of his eye, the moonlight reflecting off metal.

He’d been hit with the hilt of a knife.

Let’s hope I don’t get the other end.

The driver’s side door opened and he got out, his hair cut shorter than Rhysand remembered, but still that bright, golden hue. He could be seen from a mile, even in the darkness.

Tamlin said nothing as he walked, slowly, to where Eris had Rhysand.

He stopped in front of them and tilted his head. “Second time I’ve seen you get your ass kicked recently.”

Rhysand said nothing.

Instead, he fought to get up, but didn’t get far.

A long blade snuck up beneath Rhysand’s chin, against his neck.

Rhysand stilled.

Tamlin shook his head. “Did you enjoy your run in with the law?”

Rhysand stayed quiet.

“I thought it’d be pretty funny,” Tamlin grinned. “Turns out, I was right. Anyway, I won’t keep you long. Just wanted to talk.”

Rhysand scoffed. “I have a phone.”

“This is much more interesting,” Eris said, from over his shoulder. “For us, anyway.”

Prick.

Tamlin went closer to Rhysand before he said, “Feyre promised me you two weren’t together, that you weren’t the reason she left, but she forgets that I know a lot of people in this city, as does my father. It seems you two are closer than ever lately.”

Rhysand grinned. “Stalking us? Surely you have better things to do.”

Tamlin’s eyes hardened. “How long has she been whoring around in your bed, Rhys?”

Rhyasnd didn’t answer, but his eyes flared. The minute Rhysand tried to move toward Tamlin, the blade pressed into his neck.

Rhysand could feel a streak of blood trailing down his neck as he spat at Tamlin’s feet.

Tamlin didn’t seem bothered, though, as he said, “You didn’t answer my question. Has it been a few months? A year? Has it been going on all along and I’ve just been there to get her nice things and take her nice places, because you sure as hell can’t on a waiter’s salary.”

“Fuck you,” Rhysand said, lifting his chin, his vision blurring, once more, as the pounding in his head returned at the faint movement.

“Tell me!” Tamlin screamed, his voice echoing in the silence of the abandoned street. “Feyre has been mine since high school, and then she leaves without feeling any sort of guilt and goes straight to you, her lowlife lover, and that’s not a coincidence.”

Rhysand, despite feeling the need to pass out, laughed. “She left you because you’re a fucking cunt, Tamlin! You’re possessive, and manipulative, and make her feel like shit about herself. She didn’t feel guilty because she was so fucking tired of your bullshit!”

Rhyand screamed the words so violently that the blade Eris was holding pressed tighter against his skin.

Tamlin didn’t react, though. He simply looked at Eris, and nodded.

The blade was removed from Rhysand’s neck, but the moment Rhysand let out a breath, Tamlin had kicked him in the abdomen.

Clutching his stomach, Rhysand fell forward as Tamlin’s boot met Rhysand’s knee, then his side, his back. He could hear his nose break, but couldn’t convince his hands to reach up, to try and stop the blood. Tamlin’s boots made contact over, and over, and over again.

Rhysand didn’t bother to fight.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t move.

For the second time in a matter of months, Tamlin had caught him off guard and weakened him - the only way Tamlin knew how to win was to play dirty, and he was good at it.

His eyes fluttered shut as he heard the car engine turn on.

Rhysand’s world was dark before they even drove away.

~~~~~

Cassian and Azriel were driving with their windows down, speeding down the road where Azriel had tracked Tamlin’s phone.

They hadn’t seen a car in a while, but that didn’t mean anything. If anything at all, it meant that it was the perfect place to kick somebody’s ass.

“Anything?” Azriel called from behind the wheel, eyes scanning the road.

Just as Cassian was about to say no, he stopped himself. “Fuck- stop!”

Azriel slammed on the breaks, his truck sliding before it came to a complete stop. Cassian was already unbuckled and throwing open the door, though, before Azriel had even put it in park. He hurried to the shoulder, at the limp body that laid there.

Azriel came up behind them, face paled. “Fuck.”

Cassian was on his knees, rolling Rhysand over. He pressed his cheek against his chest, felt his pulse. “Breathing is okay. Come on, let’s get him up.”

With Azriel on one side and Rhysand on the other, they carried Rhysand into the backseat of Azriel’s truck. He was completely unconscious. In the light, he hardly looked like himself. His nose was bloody, definitely broken, his eyes swollen, his neck cut. A dark, black and blue bruise covered the faint one that had just about healed, on his cheekbone.

“Shit,” Cassian breathed, and met Azriel’s gaze.

There were very few times Cassian had seen Azriel’s murderous gaze.

This was one of them.

“Let’s get him to the hospital,” Azriel said, pulling up the hem of Rhysand’s torn shirt, his eyes hardening at the discoloration. “Make sure he doesn’t have any internal bleeding.”

Cassian nodded before hopping back into the truck. The minute Azriel sped off, Cassian pulled out his phone.

Calling Feyre, hearing her heartbreak, was the last thing he wanted to do.

~~~~~

Feyre couldn’t stop herself from crying. “Okay, I’m-I’m on my way, I’ll meet you there.”

She hung up the phone, turned to the others.

Amren and Nesta were already on their feet, Mor clung to Mila, still asleep, on the couch.

“They’re taking him to the hospital. He…...They’re taking him to the hospital. I have-I have to go to the hospital.”

“Give me your keys,” Nesta said, instantly.

Feyre shot her a glare. “Why.”

“Because you’re in no condition to drive,” she explained. “I will bring you.”

Feyre hesitated, but nodded.

“I’ll come, too,” Amren said, then looked to Mor. “Go home, put her to sleep, we’ll call as soon as we hear anything.”

Eyes weary and lined with silver, Mor nodded.

The three of them piled into Feyre’s little car, Nesta behind the wheel. She wasted no time starting it up and pulling out of the parking lot.

Feyre couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t stop panicking, couldn’t stop sobbing.

Amren reached up from the back seat and put her hand on Feyre’s shoulder.

“It’s my fault,” Feyre sobbed. “It’s my fucking fault.”

“It’s not your fault that Tamiln’s a hateful prick,” Amren said.

Nesta stayed quiet, but she drove, quickly, through the city.

Feyre screamed, loudly, deafening.

No one stopped her.

They couldn’t go to the police, couldn’t say anything. It would just be brushed under the rug. Feyre felt helpless. Feyre felt sick. Feyre was terrified of getting to the hospital, terrified of seeing Rhysand in pain because of her faults.

Because of her past.

By the time Nesta pulled into the hospital’s parking lot, Feyre could hardly breath. Nesta looked in the rearview mirror and caught Amren’s eye. “I’ll drop you both off at the door?”

Amren nodded, and when Nesta pulled up to the doors, Amren got out, and waited for Feyre, but Feyre couldn’t move.

She looked at Nesta.

Her oldest sister was already watching her. For once, her eyes were not hard, emotionless. She gave Feyre a nod of encouragement.

Feyre got out of the car.

Hand in Amren’s, they walked into the hospital.

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

Tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #nessian #feysand #elriel #tacmc aita

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