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damedechance · 1 year

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the story starts when it was hot and it was summer and

ACOTAR Writing Circle - Part 1

Read on AO3: Pt 1

Please keep reading below for the first installment of a Feysand fanfic!

The ACOTAR Writing Circle is an event organized by @azrielshadowssing where several writers each start a fic, and then pass it off to someone else for the second and third parts. Please go to her page for more information, and to see the masterlist so that you can read all of the fics! Part 1 is posted today March 26th, Part 2 on April 9th, and Part 3 on April 23rd!

I had the tremendous honor of writing for Feysand, so please keep reading below for all of part 1 <3

Pairing: Feysand Word Count: 3.6k Rating/Warnings: This part is rated T, with no content warnings. This may change for future installments! Summary: Newly single, Feyre decides to crash at Mor's apartment while she's away on a European vacation. However, she quickly realizes that the next few weeks might not pan out exactly as she wants for two reasons: 1) Rhysand is there, and 2) the AC breaks. Will they be able to come out of it without falling in love killing each other? Or will they succumb to the heat?

PART ONE

With every cumbersome step up the stairs, Feyre’s duffel bag swung back into her knees, threatening to send her tumbling back down the six flights she had just managed–against all odds–to climb. She clung onto the railing with a white-knuckled grip, using it to heft herself up even further as her breaths forced their way up her throat in heavy, humid rasps.

For not the first time that afternoon, Feyre mentally berated herself for not working out more. Her bag was, perhaps, too full than it ever should have been, considering she had simply stuffed it full with whatever she thought she couldn’t live without before hastily leaving her apartment. Still, she should have been able to climb up seven stories with a single bag without feeling like she was on the verge of collapse.

Then again, how was she ever supposed to have known that canceling her gym membership three months ago would have had such disastrous consequences?

With a groan, Feyre hauled her bag up onto the next landing, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor with such blatant disregard that she was likely to have broken one of her precious few belongings. She leaned over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath, vainly attempting to ignore the way that the dry, brittle breeze caught on the sweat that dripped down her temples, the back of her neck, her shoulders.

Then, she forced herself upright, tugging a hair tie off her wrist so that she could attempt to rake her hair back. She should have done this sooner, especially since it became clear by the second set of stairs that the sweltering combination of a broken elevator and the hottest day of the year would have led to this horrific end. But she had been so worried that if she paused to simply tie up her hair, she never would have been able to get herself started again.

Now, with only one set of stairs–twelve measly steps–between herself and Mor’s luxuriously deep, ridiculously long bathtub, Feyre felt reasonably sure that she’d be able to make it. If not for the ice bath she was fantasizing about taking, then surely for the shelter from this oppressive heat.

Reinvigorated by the thought of long hours spent in the cool tub, Feyre bent back down to pick up her bag, groaning as she stretched for the handles, only for a hand to suddenly swoop down into her line of vision, plucking her bag up into the air as though it weighed nothing at all.

“Got it,” someone said, whisking her bag away far too easily.

“Hey!” Feyre exclaimed, shooting up only to have to clutch onto the wall to keep from falling over. She was lightheaded from the heat and all of the climbing, her heart already racing worryingly fast, but the person swept past her so casually, already starting on the next set of steps.

Feyre trotted after him, ignoring the way her thighs burned, screaming at her in protest, and hauled herself up the stairs right behind his broad, decidedly not sweating form, which was unnatural at best, infuriating in reality. Hadn’t he just come from the same six flights as she did?

She might have been exhausted, but she wasn’t about to allow some asshole to abscond away with all of her belongings.

“Relax,” the man said.

The one word fell upon her as did a staggering realization that she knew this man, and his voice that curled elegantly out of his mouth, like night-chilled wind. A cool, not wholly unwelcome feeling, given the blistering heat, but ultimately startling. She faltered a step, staring open-mouthed at his back.

He glanced over his shoulder as he cleared the last step, and then turned to face her. As she stumbled up after him, he stepped back to make room for her. He looked entirely unbothered, stoic even. But she could see his irritatingly gorgeous face, which only cemented the fact that he wasn’t actually a stranger to her at all.

Rhysand watched as she finally made it up, regarding her like some kind of insignificant pest, like one of the insects swirling around their heads. He had her bag slung over his shoulder, his hands deep in his pockets, and his own book bag on his back. His eyes were obscured by a dark pair of sunglasses, but judging from the angles of his face alone, he was the picture of nonchalance.

“You looked like you were about to keel over,” Rhysand said, even as she attempted to brush past him. Her plan had been to pretend like he wasn’t even there, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to raise her gelatinous arms to shove him.

Rhysand chuckled at the ineffective gesture, following after her at a leisurely pace as she dug through the pocket of her shorts for her keys. Mor had given her a key to her apartment a while ago, and she found it easily before casting her eyes up to make sure she was heading to the right door.

“What are you doing here?” Feyre asked bitterly. “Mor isn’t home.”

Rhysand leaned against the wall beside the door to the apartment, grinning lopsidedly at her.

“I’m aware,” is all he said.

Feyre turned the key and then shoved the door open, sighing in relief as a wave of cool air fell over her. So overcome by the marvel that was modern air conditioning, that she hardly registered the fact that she had left the door open behind her until it was too late.

At the sound of the door clicking shut, Feyre spun around to glare at Rhysand.

“She’s in Europe,” Feyre snapped, eyeing him warily. “Which means you don’t have a reason to be here.”

Rhysand merely lifted an eyebrow, before gently dropping her bag on the ground and tossing his sunglasses onto the kitchen counter beside him. He took his time, shaking out his hair with his fingers and shrugging his backpack off, before responding to her.

“I don’t?”

Feyre could have screamed. There it is, she thought. That insufferable tone of voice. The one he always used, phrasing things like a question when in fact he already knew the answer. The loathsome, grating know-it-all. Like he was so above everything, like he didn’t just know the answer–he had all the answers. In a flash, she recalled all of the events that had led to her forced acquaintance with him, dinner parties and gatherings with mutual friends. His overly dignified, pretentious voice saying: Really? You think so? Is that right?

Yes, Feyre thought, gritting her teeth. That’s right.

“So shoo,” she said aloud.

“Shoo?”

Rhysand’s grin widened, his deep blue eyes flashing just a shade darker until they were almost violet, and Feyre’s fingers twitched with the urge to snatch his glasses up off the counter and shove them onto his face again. It was enough that she was forced to look at him. She didn’t want to have to look at his eyes, too.

“Mor asked me to house sit,” Rhysand finally said. “Water the plants, collect the mail. You know.”

He edged deeper into the apartment, causing Feyre to take a step back before she could even realize it. His eyes flashed down to her feet, and then back up to her face–amused at the fact that she had subconsciously attempted to maintain the distance between them.

The lie flew up to her mouth, unbidden. “She asked me to house sit.”

He only stared at her, his head tilting to the side curiously.

Feyre doubled down. “I understand your delusions of grandeur can sometimes lead to you inflating your own importance in other people’s lives–I empathize, truly–but perhaps you should–”

“She asked you?” Rhysand interrupted. Again, that arrogant tone. Like he knew that she was lying.

Feyre glared back, long seconds passing between them as Feyre considered whether or not he actually did know. She tried not to glance at her bag, which she knew was full of the evidence of her hasty exit from her apartment, or the key in her hand which had never been given to her under the pretense of house sitting. Feyre wasn’t supposed to be here, at all. She’d only assumed that her best friend, Mor, would be too busy on vacation to care if she crashed here for a while.

But did that mean he was supposed to be here?

That smug smirk on his mouth was entirely too unreliable. He would have been smirking at her, regardless. But she tried to dig through her memories, for any small tidbit of information Mor had passed onto her during her preparation for her European vacation. There was nothing. Whether it was because Mor knew Feyre wasn’t particularly eager to hear any details about Rhysand, or if it had simply slipped her mind, Feyre couldn’t recall any mention of Rhysand staying at Mor’s apartment while she was gone.

Finally, Feyre responded, glowering at him as if that would deter him, when history had typically proven otherwise. Rhysand was not so easily dissuaded.

“Mor asked me,” she hissed. “So you can go back to your overpriced penthouse–”

“Nope.”

“Excuse me?”

Feyre gaped at him, shocked more at his audacity to interrupt her for the second time in only as many minutes, and felt her hands drop down to her sides. She must have been gesturing angrily with them, at some point, but was now deflating in her exasperation. He was impossible to deal with.

“I don’t live in a penthouse,” he corrected.

This time, when he stepped forward, she was too annoyed to remember that she was supposed to fall back. To recall how important it was to stay away from him, instead of carefully watching his approach and being enraptured by that aloof angle of his shoulders, the crooked smile. It was cool inside Mor’s apartment, but she felt her cheeks heating up, regardless.

Water. She needed a glass of water.

Rhysand continued stalking towards her, with swinging, almost feline footsteps to match that imperious grin. He stopped only when he was close enough to lift a hand, his fingertips landing cool on her flaming cheeks. He brushed aside a curl of hair that had escaped out of her hastily made bun.

“I live in a townhouse,” he reminded her, voice almost gentle. “And I assure you, Feyre darling, that it is reasonably priced.”

The term of endearment shocked Feyre back into herself, as she gasped. She shoved him away with both hands flat on his chest, as if she could physically reject what had just happened–could deny the blush on her cheeks or her racing pulse.

“Let’s just call Mor, then,” Feyre suggested, attempting to maintain a healthy amount of rancor in her voice. “She’ll tell us who’s supposed to stay.”

Rhysand sighed, as though disappointed either in her proffered solution, or her reaction. He brushed past her, and she spun around to watch as he–slowly, sluggishly–made his way into the living room. He flopped down onto the couch and threw his arm up, allowing his wrist to rest delicately over his forehead, and propped his feet up on the other end of the couch, lightly crossed at the ankles.

“Sure,” he said noncommittally. “Go ahead.”

For a moment longer, they stared at each other with equal amounts of animosity, but eventually Feyre relented. She whipped her phone out of her pocket, tapping hard enough on the screen for there to be an accompanying clicking sound, and completed the call to Mor.

She had the phone up to her ear, listening to the dial tone go on and on, when she mouthed to Rhysand, ‘You’ll see.”

He only beamed at her.

Just when Feyre thought the call would go to voicemail, Mor picked up.

“Salut!” came Mor’s voice, crackling over the phone speaker. “Qui est-ce?”

“Mor!” Feyre said, brightening immediately.

She grinned haughtily at Rhysand, and switched to speaker so that he could hear when Mor declared that he should go home. Feyre might have been lying–profusely–but she felt positive that Mor would either be too distracted or too drunk to refute anything.

“Feyre!” Mor greeted her, abandoning the shotty accent. “What’s up? I’m on layover in Belgium, and I’m about to head out with some new friends, so I only have a minute.”

All the better that Mor was in a rush. Now, she was practically guaranteed to go along with whatever Feyre had to say.

“I’ll be quick, then,” Feyre said, walking further into the living room so that Rhysand wouldn’t miss anything she was about to say. “I’m here to look after your apartment, like you asked, but there must have been some confusion because your cousin is here, too–”

“Rhys!” she squealed, clueing Feyre into the fact that she was likely considerably tipsy. “Bonjour! Ça va?”

Rhysand sat up, reaching for the phone in Feyre’s hand, but she pulled it away before his fingers could make purchase. Rhysand recovered easily, laughing, and leaned forward.

“Oui, ça va. Aimes-tu la Belgique?” he said.

“Great, yeah, you’re both here,” Feyre cut in dismissively. She raised a palm, indicating that Rhysand should shut up, which he surprisingly obliged. She was worried that if she let them go on chatting for too long, Mor would easily be persuaded over to Rhysand’s side. “Anyway, he seems to think that he’s supposed to be staying at your place, so I just wanted to call you so you could tell him I have it covered.”

“Oh no!” Mor said.

“Yeah, I know,” Feyre said, pretending to frown pityingly at Rhysand. He rolled his eyes at her. “I’d hate for him to be put out, you know, because he has that big business meeting coming up.”

That was another lie. Feyre was not privy to his work schedule, nor did she care. But he didn’t chime in to correct her, either, seeming perfectly happy to just watch everything as it played out. Which, unsurprisingly, grated on Feyre even more than it would have for him to have argued.

“No, I meant I spilled my wine!” Mor groaned over the phone. She sighed. “Listen, Feyre, I must have been so busy prepping for the trip that I accidentally asked you both. Why don’t you guys settle it between yourselves, okay? I really don’t mind. Make yourselves at home, I have to go now! Au revoir!”

And then came the sound of Mor’s lip smacking together in a farewell kiss, followed closely by a foreboding silence.

Stunned, Feyre glanced at her phone. Call disconnected.

After a few more beats of silence, Rhysand stood up. Gently, he took the phone out of Feyre’s hands, and then set it down on the coffee table.

“She sounds like she’s having fun,” he remarked. He patted her on the shoulder placatingly, and little stars of irritation sparked out beneath his touch. “Would you like me to help you carry your bag back down?”

“What?” Feyre said, her brows drawing together as she looked up at him. Which was a mistake, because the late afternoon light coming in through Mor’s floor-to-ceiling windows fell across his cheekbones in a way that nearly stole the breath from her lungs. She shook her head. “What makes you think you are staying?”

“Aren’t I?” Rhysand tilted his head to the side as he studied her for a second. “I was under the impression that those stairs were a bit much for you. I thought you were about to collapse from heat stroke, but if you think–”

“My bag was heavy, asshole,” Feyre said. “I’m staying. Because I’m still not fully convinced that Mor even asked you to look after her apartment in the first place.”

Her cheeks flared up again, but she could only hope that he still didn’t see through the blatant lie.

“Then I guess the only option is for both of us to stay,” Rhysand said offhandedly. “Saves us the argument. Besides, they’re redoing the plumbing in my house. It’s practically uninhabitable.”

He skirted around her easily, his arm grazing across hers, and then settled into one of Mor’s bar stools in the kitchen. She watched as he took out his phone and began scrolling.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, his tone sounding almost bored. “We could order something. I can cook, too, but that would mean going back downstairs for groceries, and I wouldn’t want you to pass out.”

“Do you even have a key?” Feyre snapped, ignoring his question. She stomped forward, and peered around his shoulder to confirm that, yes, he was perusing a takeout menu. He didn’t even glance at her.

He nodded absently. “In my bag. You can check, if you want.”

She didn’t. “There’s no way the two of us can stay here for three weeks. We’ll kill each other.”

“Will we?” he drawled. Feyre watched as he selected a Thai restaurant, skimming through its menu. And then, as if he had forgotten she even existed, he muttered to himself, “Ridiculous. Fifteen dollars? For something I can make at home…”

Feyre groaned in frustration, letting her head fall into her hands as she leaned over the counter. She was keenly aware of Rhysand’s eyes on her, now, but she was too busy spiraling to smack the smug look off his face. She mentally cataloged her options, and felt her shoulders drooping when she could only come up with two.

First, and the far less preferable option, she could go to her Dad’s house. Lug her stuffed duffel bag back down the seemingly ten-thousand steps and throw it into her car, only to drive fifty minutes out of Velaris so that she could spend the next few weeks sleeping in a bed with a Barbie comforter, surrounded by her childhood posters of Justin Timberlake. A mortifying prospect, to say the least.

Or… or she could stay here in Mor’s apartment. On the seventh floor, with an outdoor stairwell in the middle of the hottest summer in recent history. Here, where surely Rhysand would be staying, as well. Whether out of pure stubbornness on his part, or the fact that he was the only one with a legitimate invitation, it didn’t matter. Rhysand would be staying.

But as much as she hated him, there was only one other person she hated more. And as heavy as her bag was, it felt so blissfully light after Feyre had taken the engagement ring out of it and thrown it in Tamlin’s face.

Going back to her apartment was not an option, because there was only one name on the lease, and it wasn’t hers. It belonged to her ex-boyfriend of just three hours. The one who had denied he was having an affair, even when she flipped through the screenshots right in front of his face.

Feyre’s head whipped back up, as if in rejection of that still so vivid memory, only to find that she was eye to eye with Rhysand, who had this absentminded, starry-eyed expression as he looked at her. Her lips curled into a grimace.

“I’m taking a bath,” she said, stalking off towards the bathroom. She could think up a plan to get him out of this apartment while she was soaking in a tub.

She heard the bar stool scraping against the ground, and then footsteps behind her.

She whirled around. “What are you doing?”

Rhysand stared back at her with a wide-eyed, far too innocent expression. “What do you mean? I thought you said we were taking a bath.”

“Me,” Feyre said, feeling her anger mount to dangerous heights. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. “I am going to take a bath.”

The lopsided grin returned on his face. “Wasn’t that an invitation?”

A scream tore up Feyre’s throat, caught only by her teeth, which were clenched so tightly no sound could escape. She stared up at the ceiling, begging any and all gods that might exist in this merciless universe for some patience. She counted to ten–twice–and then looked back down at him.

“You are staying here,” she said with considerable effort. “I am going to take a bath alone, and when I’m done, we can discuss the possibility of me refraining from strangling you.”

“Don’t trouble yourself on my account,” Rhysand said. He slipped his hands into his pockets and inclined his head towards her. “You can wrap those pretty hands around my throat whenever you feel like it, Feyre darling.”

Feyre opened her mouth to admonish him, or scream, or cry, or something, but just then she became aware of a peculiar lack of sound. Of a winding down, something that previously had been going on in the background that she had only been aware of on some sort of subconscious level, but now was dwindling to nothing. A vague, mechanical whirring.

“What was that?” Feyre asked slowly. She looked up at the ceiling again, but this time she was searching for the source of that noise.

Rhysand did the same, the corners of his mouth slightly turned down. “I’m not sure.”

But he said it like he said all things–in that way that suggested he was keeping to himself all of the things he really knew.

“Yes you do,” Feyre said. She was frowning now, concerned that there was some sort of bad news he was neglecting to tell her. And if he wasn’t already gloating about it, then surely it was something terrible. “What just happened?”

Rhysand sighed, carding his fingers through his night-black hair. His eyes darted away from her.

“I think,” he said cautiously, “the air conditioning just went out.”

END PART ONE

Please go to @azrielshadowssing's page to see all the other fics, and to stay tuned for parts 2 and 3 of this fic!

#acotar writing circle #acotar #acotar fanfiction #feysand #feysand fanfiction #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotarwritingcircle

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

Note

Hi, I love your Nesta fanfics! You’re one of my favorite Acotar writers. Could you write a story where Gwyn and Emerie stand up for Nesta to The IC?

I hate how almost no one is ever on Nesta’s side and the IC constantly insults her and Cassian just lets it happen.

I know you probably have a lot of different prompts you’re working on but I would love it if you did something like this.

Thank you so much. This is just a short snippet. In my mind, Gwyn is like a chihuahua when she's mad so I tried to calm her down a bit.

‘That’s an awful thing to say.’

Rather than trembling addressing the inner circle, Gwyneth Berdara’s voice held firm. It was quiet, but her words carried in the training ring for all to hear. Her copper hair splayed out behind her, caught on a breeze at the altitude.

‘Gwyn,’ Nesta murmured, shaking her head slightly.

But Gwyn wouldn’t let it drop. She’d planted her feet, readying herself for a fight. Her teal eyes scanned Mor’s face first then Feyre’s. There was a crinkle in the centre of her brow where she frowned.

‘She is your sister.’

The disbelief rang out in Gwyn’s tone. Other priestesses had stopped training now too, following Azriel’s suspension. The shadow singer stood with a knife hanging limply in his hand observing from the side line with a wary expression. Rhys and Cassian had been speaking at the edge of the roof. Cassian seemed stuck between inserting himself to the situation or kickstarting training to break the stalemate while the former remained watching, a flinty look in his eyes.

Nesta did not know what had been said about her. Only Gwyn’s voice ringing out, demanding Mor say it again had halted Nesta from sparring with Emerie. Mor had refused to repeat it, claiming Gwyn shouldn't have been eavesdropping on a private conversation. Feyre had risen, trying to smooth over the situation then Nesta had heard Gwyn’s voice again.

How dare you say that about Nesta? How dare you let that be said about your own sister?

She ought to have told her friend to step down, to not worry about defending her in front of the Court of Dreams, but Nesta couldn’t. For once, somebody was fighting her corner. All the times where she thought that she was being paranoid that they picked on her or when she wondered if she was too sensitive for feeling hurt when they nit-picked her was not in vain. Gwyn had noticed it too. Gwyn was on her team.

A rustle of wings sounded on her left as Emerie took up a position by Nesta. The Illyrian tilted her head slightly to the side, assessing the situation.

‘You don't know half the things your friend has done. Did Nesta tell you that she sat back when her younger sister hunted for her family? That they were saved from poverty because of Feyre?’

An oily guilt slid down Nesta’s throat. This argument would be repeated for an eternity. No matter what she did, there would be no atonement.

‘And you throw it in her face every day to keep her in line,’ said Emerie.

There were nervous murmurs from a couple of priestesses. Their discomfort worried Nesta. She did not want them to cease their training with the belief that these showdowns were an every day thing. It had been a long time since she had even seen Mor – or Feyre for that matter. Perhaps Cassian had told them stay away so she could remain at the House of Wind for the recovery that they demanded of her.

‘My sister died for me,’ Gwyn said. She set her jaw, not allowing the pain to take root. ‘She died so that I could live. She sacrificed her life because she loved me. Not because she wanted to throw it in my face whenever she was displeased with me. Not so that she could hold it above my head like a debt I can never repay.’

On instinct, Nesta rested her hand on Gwyn’s back. If Catrin was half the female that Gwyn was, then she was sure to be spectacular. There was a gaping hole in Gwyn’s heart without her twin, Nesta knew, but to talk about her this way – to defend Nesta – left her without words. Her eyes prickled with hot tears.

‘Why did you hunt?’ Asked Emerie, shifting closer to Nesta and Gwyn. One of her great, sprawling wings cocooned them to her, sheltering them from the wind. ‘Was it out of love or so they would always owe you?’

Mor’s noise of outrage was drowned out by Cassian’s forced laughter as he tried to change direction. ‘We’re all very sharp with our verbal sparring today. Now, can we get back to hand to hand combat? Az, start your drills?'

‘You should be honoured to have Nesta as a sister,' Gwyn said pointing a long finger at Feyre. 'I know I am.’

Like a harrumphed animal, Mor’s brows were raised as she and Feyre returned to the interior of the House of Wind with Rhys hurrying to follow.

Azriel’s deep voice seeped over the roof, moving the priestesses back into formation, drilling them with his steady commands. She felt Cassian’s eyes still on them, even as he barked out his own commands and patrolled the roof.

‘You didn’t have to defend me,’ Nesta said quietly. Her cheeks felt hot, her throat thick, and all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around the two females in front of her. There were no words for what they had done for her today.

‘Yes, we did,’ Emerie replied firmly. She jerked her chin towards Cassian. ‘It wasn’t like he was about to either.’

‘You spoke against the high lady and the third in command of the Night Court in front of the high lord.’

‘And I’d do it again,’ said Gwyn, smiling so brightly that her teal eyes glowed.

Emerie raised a slender finger. ‘We were speaking up for our Cauldron blessed, King of Hybern slaying Valkyrie.’

Nesta slung her arm around the neck of both females, drawing them into her so their heads touched. ‘My Valkyries.’

#the valkyries

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secret-third-thing · 11 months

Text

Fictional Part 3/3

A massive thank you to @azrielshadowssing for putting the Acotar Writing Circle together! I had so much fun and met so many lovely writers. Congrats to everyone involved!

Here's part three of Fictional, started by @mercarimari and continued by @rosanna-writer! This was a lot of fun (and a bit cathartic) to write! Hope you enjoy! 💕

Be sure to check out Part One and Part Two FIRST! My part (part 3) is under the cut!

Summary: Nesta has always hidden herself in books. Most if not all of her real life relationships had ended in fire and chaos. She was an expert in self destruction after all. But when a birthday gift from her sister brings a touch of magic to the world, and a piece of fiction into her reality--- Could things really change for the better?

🚨 Warning: Smut ahead. Also, mental health struggles. 🚨

When they entered Nesta's apartment, she didn't bother turning on the lights. After fucking so many men, she had memorized the way through her kitchen, how to avoid the couch. And if they made it to her bedroom, Nesta already knew how many steps it took to reach her bed.

But tonight, Nesta didn't have the patience to make it to her bedroom. In the cab ride home, she had all but climbed onto Cassian to continue kissing him. However, the driver insisted that Nesta take her seat for safety reasons. Instead, she had to settle for Cassian's teasing touch as he rubbed her thigh, skimming his thumb under the hem of her dress. He bore an infuriating smirk as Nesta squirmed in her seat.

So the moment they were alone, Nesta grabbed Cassian's face to continue the devastating kiss from before. He had chuckled then, the bastard, letting her bite his lower lip and take control. It was exasperating how willing he was, how he easily met Nesta's challenge. She was used to men insisting she submit, sometimes grabbing her and forcing her to her knees. And how eagerly she obliged, like some wanton slut.

But Cassian wasn't shoving her down or pulling at her hair. Instead, he had her pinned against the kitchen counter, the cold granite biting into her thighs. His kisses turned lazy and teasing again, moving across her cheek and jaw until he was by her ear.

"You like this, Nes?" he asked. His breath sent shivers down her spine.

"You fucking tease," She hissed, spreading her legs and wrapping them around him, pulling him toward her so that the front of his pants were pressed against her soaked underwear. Cassian groaned at this, rolling his hips against her. Nesta bit back a whimper and ran a hand up his chest.

"Go on and fuck me already," she said, pulling his jacket off him and tossing it to the floor. She reached for his pants next, fumbling with the button. Cassian clasped a large hand over hers and pulled it to his lips.

"Not here," he said, pressing soft kisses against her wrist. "I want you on your bed."

Nesta shivered at this and swallowed hard. She could imagine him behind her, hair in his fist as he railed into her from behind.

"Fine," she said, biting her lip. Cassian wrapped his arms around her and kissed her lips once more, lifting her from the counter and taking her to her room.

Cassian placed her on the bed with too much gentleness. Nesta locked eyes with him for a moment, the passion in his face giving way to something far softer. He climbed over her and stroked her face, thumb softly running across her flushed cheeks and lips.

It made something in Nesta churn, the tenderness eating away at her. So she took his thumb into her mouth. Cassian's eyes widened briefly before he groaned as Nesta began to lick across the top of his thumb. She smiled and sucked it deeper into her mouth, watching how Cassian was palming himself through his pants. At last, he pulled away to unbutton the denim.

Nesta eagerly crawled to him and grasped him through his underwear. He was impossibly hard and very thick. She wondered how it would feel to have him pounding into her, to feel him stretch her so wide she would break.

Nesta looked up and squeezed Cassian. He let out a sharp exhale and flexed his hand.

"You sure about this, sweetheart?" he said, meeting her gaze. His voice was low and filled with promise.

"Shut up," she said, pulling his length from his boxers. Her mouth went dry. She hadn't realized just how big Cassian was. His cock was thick with veins running along the underside and so thick that Nesta could barely hold him in one hand. She let go for a second and watched Cassian's cock bounce against his toned stomach. Carefully, Nesta took him in hand again and pumped him once, admiring the bead of precum welling at the tip of his angry, red head.

Cassian watched her, eyes glazed and swallowing as she experimented with him, squeezing and pulling at his length. She knew it was torment, looking up at him with a saccharine smile. She didn't break her gaze as she paused to run her thumb over him, smearing the bead of precum against the silky head of his cock. Cassian's breath hitched, eyes rolling back into his head as Nesta worked him.

Nesta chose to take him into his mouth then, pressing forward until her nose brushed his pubic bone. Cassian let out a guttural moan and grasped the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair.

"Fuck, Nes," he started, "you don't have to-," but Nesta ignored him and began bobbing her head. She hummed, memorizing the flecks in Cassian's eyes. Watching him, watching her.

They stayed like this, Nesta tormenting Cassian with her mouth as he twitched and groaned under her touch. She saw the telltale sign of his oncoming orgasm, the rippling of his abdomen, the twitching of his cock. Nesta took his balls into her hand and rolled them gently in her palm. At this, Cassian pulled her head off without warning. A line of saliva still connected them.

"On the bed," he ordered in a low voice.

Nesta didn't budge, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She flicked her eyes between his face and his cock. Cassian's eyes darkened.

"I said, on the bed." He whipped her around and bent her over, pushing her face into the mattress and pulling her short dress over her ass. He kicked her legs apart and wasted no time pulling her panties aside and pushing his cock into her.

Nesta yelped and gripped the sheets. She felt so full, unable to help how her cunt spasmed around him. And yet Cassian kept pressing in and in and in.

She arched her back further to coax more of him into her. And as he pressed forward, so agonizingly slow, he rubbed the curve of her ass before reaching down to spread her so he could watch himself press himself in the rest of the way.

"You look so good," he said, tracing a finger around her rear entrance until he was buried in her cunt. He pulled out a bit and pushed himself back in until he was as deep as he could go. "And you take my cock so well."

Nesta whimpered at his praise and rolled her hips, chasing the friction he was denying her by waiting. She took deep breaths against the bedsheets, feeling exposed as Cassian waited behind her, watching her stretch, teasing her with his finger.

She was sure she would lose her mind when he finally grabbed her hips to stop her and set the pace.

"Please," she moaned as he slid in and out of her, too slow for her to chase any kind of release.

"Hm?" Cassian teased. He pulled out, leaving only the head of him at her entrance. "What do you want, Nesta?" He reached around her to lazily rub circles against her clit.

"Move. Please. I-" Nesta ground out. Her hands clawed at the white bedsheets. She couldn't get the words out. Wanted him to know for her, to take like the others had.

"If you insist," he said and then plunged back in.

Nesta swore she saw stars as he hit the deepest part of her. He was relentless, pushing in and out of her so rapidly that she could only ride the wave of what he gave her. She sank to the bed, her face pressed against the mattress as Cassian held onto her hips. He snuck his hand between her legs and rubbed her clit again until she felt herself spasm, gripping his cock so fiercely that Cassian hissed behind her.

After the ripples of pleasure had subsided, Cassian pulled her up so that she was leaning against his chest. He was sticky with sweat, but Nesta didn't care. She relaxed into his warmth, ignoring how her thighs trembled. Nesta turned her head so that when she was tucked into his neck, the faint scent of black pepper and citrus hit her nose. She wanted to bathe in the smell.

If Cassian noticed, he didn't seem to mind. He placed a kiss on the top of her head and rubbed his thumb along her stomach as she caught her breath. They rested that way for a moment, her body pressed against him. It was comforting, but the poke of his cock against her ass reminded her that they weren't finished.

Nesta bent over again, spreading her legs for him, and glanced back.

"Again. Harder this time," she said. Cassian met her gaze, pupils blown wide, and plunged back in again without warning. Nesta's arms nearly buckled under the force.

Cassian's pace was slower but brutal, hitting deeper than before. She grimaced as a rush of pain seared through her as he reached the back of her. Then again. Nesta crawled a bit forward to give herself a reprieve until Cassian pulled her back, keeping himself buried in her.

He leaned over her, pressing his front to her back, and kept going, this time faster. He nipped at her ear as she whimpered incoherently, the pain finally blurring with the pleasure. As she was going to cum again, Cassian pulled out and turned her over, hoisting her legs onto his shoulders.

Nesta watched him from hooded eyes, admiring how Cassian's brows knit together as he thrust into her. She wanted to trace his lips, kiss along his jaw. To remember every detail of him when he left her. Her heart skipped as he finally looked up at Nesta and smiled.

Nesta felt herself clenching around him as he picked up the pace. It was brutal and rough and everything she craved. When she closed her eyes, she could pretend it was another one of the men she had found in the bar, smirking and marking her, thoroughly using her until they had met their satisfaction. It was a small, shameful thought, one that brought her barreling towards release as Cassian shifted his hips and pistoned into that part of her. Her back bowed of its own accord, and she felt herself fall off that anticipatory cliff into a blissful nothingness.

Cassian kept going, kept pushing in roughly, beyond whatever was rippling through her. Nesta lay exhausted, letting him continue to use her. He looked so lovely above her, his hair falling out of his bun.

Cassian, however, slowed and lowered himself to hover over her, so close she could almost lean up to kiss him, his eyes meeting hers and the thrusts slowing to a glacial pace. He carefully pulled her hand from where it gripped the sheets and wove his fingers through hers.

They stayed like this, the languid pace burning a hole in Nesta. And then Cassian pressed his mouth to hers again, coaxing her into a tender kiss. He then kissed her jaw, her temple, her forehead. It was too gentle, too much, and Nesta froze, glassy-eyed. She felt it then, the sadness, fear, and rot in her bubbling up until a tear finally fell down her cheek.

Cassian stopped the moment he spotted the evidence of her shame. He wiped the tear from her face.

"Nes?" he asked. She didn't respond, his voice a faint buzz as her mind reeled. You don't deserve this, a voice taunted in her mind. You aren't worthy of this.

Cassian pulled out of her and sat back for a moment, eyes scanning hers.

"Nesta, can you hear me?" he said again. The corners of his mouth turned down. He took his hand and squeezed hers. "Come back to me, sweetheart."

At this, Nesta grimaced, tears brimming her eyes. She felt like she was breaking, splitting in half. She feared he could see right through her and would learn to hate her soon enough.

Nesta pushed herself up and covered her face with her hands, burning with shame, wanting to will herself away to some faraway place. Her tears leaked from between her fingers.

Cassian tentatively put his hand on her shoulder, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her against him when she didn't flinch. Nesta wept, wept for the relationships she couldn't seem to keep, wept for the hatred she had for herself, wondering if she really had earned someone kind and gentle and soft. Cassian rubbed her back the entire time.

Finally, Nesta stopped and sniffled, wiping away a stray tear falling down the side of her nose. Cassian pulled a tissue from her bedside stand and handed it to her. She dabbed her face and sat back, away from him.

"Are you alright?" he asked her. Nesta avoided his gaze. It was too concerned, too laced with care. She stared at the floor.

"It's nothing," she said.

"Nes," Cassian said, ducking to catch her gaze. "I don't think what happened just now was nothing,"

Nesta sighed and felt herself tearing up again.

"It's just... She started. This was too much. She barely knew the guy. But somehow Cassian seemed to know her, at least book-her. But Book-Nesta wasn't as fucked up, wasn't as damaged.

Cassian waited patiently for her to finish.

Nesta shook her head again. "I don't deserve good things. I- I'm not that Nesta, you know. I've done awful things. I've-"

"Stop," Cassian interrupted gently, touching her cheek to halt the onslaught of her self-deprecation. Nesta tried to pull away, but Cassian held her gently, didn't let her retreat into herself again. He tucked her against him and stroked her hair.

"I get there's a lot going on, Nes, but we all deserve some kindness."

"It's not that easy," she whispered. "I've messed up so badly."

He pressed a kiss to her hair. "It's okay, you're going to be okay. But it's late, and we've had an exciting day. How about we talk about it tomorrow after we've gotten some sleep?" he said.

Nesta's breath hitched. She pulled back to look into Cassian's hazel eyes. He pushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled, the same smile he gave her when she first saw him at the bar. The smile that made her heart flutter in adoration and pain and shame. She blushed and looked anywhere but at the man in front of her.

Cassian leaned to her, his lips nearly brushing hers. "I promise we'll figure it out." Then he kissed her. His lips pressed against her tentatively, featherlight and cautious. Then they deepened, his tongue sweeping over her bottom lip.

Nesta reached down to his semi-erect cock, but he caught her hand.

"But you didn't…" she trailed off as he brought her hand over his heart.

"We have all the time in the world for that later, Nes." He kissed her nose. "Let's get some rest."

Nesta nodded, her body feeling so heavy and warm. She let Cassian wrap the blankets around them, and she fell asleep curled against him.

Nesta woke up the following day with a pleasant soreness between her thighs. She felt okay despite a mild headache from her drinks last night.

When she looked to her right, her alarm clock displayed 1:02 p.m. She let out a groan. Just how late had she and Cassian stayed up last night? She reached over to jostle him awake but met with empty air. She looked over, and the book that Elain had commissioned lay there instead.

"Cassian?" Nesta said. No answer. She called out his name again but was met with silence. She felt bile rise on the back of her throat. No, he couldn't have gone back? She grabbed the book and stumbled through her apartment, not bothering to put on clothes. The living room was exactly as she had left it yesterday, books piled high on the coffee table. He wasn't in the kitchen either.

"Fuck," she said, "fuck, fuck, fuck," She scoured the counter for a note but found nothing.

"No," she hissed. Everything looked like before she had left for the bar last night. She rushed back into the bedroom and tossed the pillows from her bed. He couldn't have left. Not all that they went through last night. He promised.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" came a voice from the doorway. Nesta whipped her head around so fast that she was almost dizzy.

Cassian stood there, leaning against the door frame. His hair was wet and twisted into a bun, a towel loosely wrapped around his hips.

"You were in the bathroom," Nesta stated plainly, still staring at Cassian. Her heart was racing.

"I didn't want to wake you. We had a long night," he said. Nesta nodded, shoulders dropping. She let out an exhale and put the book back onto the bed.

"I read it by the way. At least to where you were," he said, nodding towards the book.

"What did you think?" Nesta asked. She let her eyes wander across his body. He was just as beautiful in the daylight as he had been last night. Cassian took a step forward.

"It's cheesy," he said. Then, another step. The towel around him loosened, and Nesta felt herself flush.

"It is cheesy," she said in agreement, watching his hips.

"But... it has its merits," he said. He was smirking now.

"Yes," she said, a smile tugging at her lips as he finally stood directly before her. The towel fell.

#acotarwritingcircle #nessian #nesta x cassian #cassian acotar #nesta archeron #acotar au #acotar writing circle

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rp-partnerfinder · 4 months

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⚔️ (18+ writers only!) The Masked Beast of the Wood. A cryptid to some, a cursed nobleman to others. Commoners whispered of the great parties he threw, rumored to all be in the name of finding a solution to the bane inflicted upon him. A true lover, they said, was the only one to take the plagued mask from his face. It the capability to turn him into a feral beast at random, though one would think with his already great size and easily excitable temper that he was predestined for thoughtless chaos. If only someone was capable of falling in love with a savage and breaking the curse that tormented them all.

Hey! I’m a 21 year old female university student from the US who would be interested in a partner willing to play the female love interest of my monstrous little shapeshifter (he is neither little or in control of his shapeshifting but that’s besides the point). I write strictly in the third person and like my responses to range anywhere from multi-paragraph to novella. I can respond fairly regularly, but I’m a patient partner so please take your time as life outside of this hobby is way more important. My preferred platform to roleplay on is Discord, so if we seem like we’d be a good match we could exchange that information privately! NSFW is welcome, but any information regarding that should be discussed in private. I left the aforementioned plot relatively open ended so we can establish if we want any supernatural species and additional lore to supplement. I’m heavily inspired from the ACOTAR series, so of course I’d be open to fae or any other not-too-crazy species beyond just human to be the identity of either character.

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theultimatefandomnerd · 1 day

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ACOTAR anyone? 1x1 but doubles are welcome!

Heyo! 25 year old female writer here. I’m eighteen plus so please please please ensure you are before writing to me! Now about me, I do work but on a part time basis, quick fire would be nice but I can’t always be here. So you may see me post more depending on what ideas I’ve got and what cravings I have. But with my time off you can guarantee I’ll be posting more! I do prefer discord to conduct roleplays purely for the purpose of being able to keep things more organised, my discord is eleanorewinchester! To make you aware I am a new fan to the verse, I read the first three books and needed to take a break. I’m doing a reread and I’m hoping to finish the series.

So I’m looking for those of you who can use third person, past tense and lots of detail. I say this not to be mean but because I do consider myself to be advanced literate, I expect potential partners to be the same! I’m looking for oc (me) x male canon characters from the above movies but I will enclose further fandoms and movies with in the post! I use third and past tense and would be grateful if you do too! Please note I do have dyslexia.

I’d love to get some aus going as well as some love triangles. Doubles are welcome! But please note ALL my roleplays are doubles. I will be prioritising those of you who don’t want to double and are happy to play canons. I’m just getting to a point where doubles feel transactional, I’d like to do something for myself where I can :). I’m not fussy with pairings I basically pair with any of the high fae and Illyrians aha. I have multiple ocs I’ve been working on for this verse and would love the opportunity to try them out. The characters I would be searching for are: Lucien, Rhysand, Cassian, Tam and Az. At a push I could do Tarquin my only concern with him is plot opportunity. I’d kill for a well written Cassian right now, ideally with someone who has either read or like me is reading the fifth book as I have so much muse!

I’d love our roleplay to be something of comfort to us both. Something to cheer us up and keep us engaged in the story! If you’ve got any wild ideas you’ve been dying to do for the below fandoms send them my way if it’s doubles I’ll do my best to accommodate them! In your message include Calanmai somewhere in the response so I know which post you’re responding too!

#advanced rp #long term only #18+ only #acotar #third person #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #cassian #rhysand #azriel #oc x cc

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floresfinds · 6 months

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ACOTAR Story prompts (part 1)

I hate writing but I love daydreaming so I keep on coming up w possible fic ideas 😩 so I’m just gonna a bunch of drop them here

Note: I’m just going to post some blurb version here and try to link other posts that expand on story/lord so I don’t clog up tags and so any writers who feel inspired can have more creative freedom ;)

I’ll probably work on my own full versions after I get these drafts done but that may take a while :|

Dawn 🌅

Long ago the high lords of Dawn and night made a pact that states “Dawn’s [next] daughter will be promised to Night’s son”

Centuries pass as Y/N is born and is betrothed to Rhysand. Initially they hidden away ‘for protection’ but was then abuducted again by Amorantha who forced Y/N to be her personal servant. While working as her healer under the mountain she meets her mate, Lucien, and the Dawn-Night deal is broken.

Dusk 🌄

When the dusk court fell the high lord put his now only child under a spell that practically stopped time in an attempt to preserve their history. There Y/N would wait until the shadowsinger breaks the curse while looking for a way to escape Valaries and save his high lord.

Fic would deal with themes of fate vs free will mainly cos Azriel is Y/N’s mate but Lucien is endgame.

Night 🌃

Y/N is Rhysands other* sister

When Tamlins Father and brother end up killing their mother and sister, Tamlin helps the reader escape and to help convince that he actually killed her you to sacrifice your wings and go into hiding.

Day ☀️

Y/N was a typical member of the day court with goals to expand what Fae knew about magic. After Amoranthas reign, their progress was erased and all energy went to preserving and healing the court with their new High lord. With life returning to normal Y/N heads of with Lucien as Phrygian ambassadors and to collect information from the continent… and court parentage drama ensues.

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #story prompts #pls tag me in your versions if you write any of these #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #lucien x reader #tamlin x reader

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captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship · 1 year

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im new to the acotar fandom but my goodness my heart just melts for gwynriel ❤️ ive been reading some posts on gwynriel/elriel and heres a couple of observations:

1. az for sure lusted over elain, but i dont think he has real feelings for her. or if he thinks he does, its not genuine. it felt like he sort of force himself or lied to himself to have those feelings bc of the fact that az mentioned the 3 brothers and 3 sisters pairing to rhys when he told az off for kissing elain.

2. if sjm straight up said that lucien and elain are mates, that means someone is az’s mate. she may or may not be introduced in the book yet (hoping its gwyn). we all know how much az longs for a mate. once his mating bond snaps to whoever it is, do we really think he would reject or abandon his mate? for elain? this is a guy whos practically desperate for a mate. i dont think he would just choose elain over her bc he lusted over elain for a little while.

Sorry I have left this in my ask box for a million years!!!

yay! I am glad that you love gwynriel too <3 they are such a unique couple and encompass a lot of traits from my favorite SJM couples to create their own dynamic and I cannot wait to see it play out in canon <3

Azriel is a tragic and extremely damaged character. He was denied the love of his mother as a child, and was treated like trash by his family. He never knew love and comfort in his formative years, and all these years later he has never had a healthy attachment to a female. He developed a savior complex at a young age. What people don't realize is that as a coping mechanism for this lack of healthy attachments as a child, he has only ever fallen for women who are emotionally unavailable and he subconsciously knows will never love him back. He fell for Mor because she was miserable in her life and was everything that he couldn't be: warm, bright, and capable of love. He saved her in a way that he couldn't save his mother and took those attachment issues and latched them on to Mor. I think Az knows that she is bi, but subconsciously tortured himself with the idea of this unrequited love because if he lets go of it, he has to finally come to terms with his childhood trauma.

Mor shows time and time again that she can take care of herself, and when she slept with Helion I think that it snapped something in Az that was just a drop of water in the waterfall of his emotional turmoil. Instead of dealing with his trauma and emotions, he finds his next target to transfer his attachment and self loathing issues to and that is Elain. Azriel holds the mating bond in high regards- to the point that he is so worked up about Elain's that he thinks the Cauldron might be wrong. Because he believes that the only way for another female to return his love is for them to be bound to him (which is incredibly unhealthy). However, the scent of the mating bond between Elain and Lucien bothers him so much because he KNOWS that Elain could never be his the way he wants a female to be- but it is easier to keep in the same 500+ year torture pattern than to break the mold. Being with Elain would only further his emotional attachment issues because Elain will always be attached to Lucien in some way- even if she breaks the bond. She will never be fully his like he so desperately craves.

We all know by now that SJM is a fated mates writer and is someone is mated to another, she takes the time to craft the couple's personalities to fit with each other without being the same. Lucien is one of her favorite characters- for him not to end up with his mate that she has spent years talking about them as a couple together and how they will heal is shortsighted on a lot of the anti-elucien stans.

This is the beauty of Gwynriel. Az saved gwyn, but did not form a romantic attachment to her. Then, unlike with any other female, he trains her in a group and privately. Az respects Gwyn as a person first, not as an unattainable love. He trusts her to get herself out of situations (look at the blood rite) and pushes her to do more. His shadows, which are a physical manifestation of his inner darkness and his soul, dance and play and are intrigued by Gwyn in a way they have never been with anyone else. Gwyn and Az will be the ACOTAR friends to lovers couple. They will build a foundation of friendship that blurs into being in love with each other. For Az to truly get over his trauma, he and gwyn need to choose each other for who they are without a bond, and then a bond can snap later. He needs to have someone love him without any strings attached.

(Feysand is enemies to lovers, Nessian is grumpy x sunshine, Gwynriel is friends to loves, Elucien is reluctant soulmates and second chance romance, and Emorie is chosen soulmates).

In the bonus chapter, SJM clearly puts the nail in the coffin for E/riel with her use of negative prose and Rhys (who in her mind can do no wrong) warning Azriel off of Elain. Then SJM shows us the interaction with gwyn and has positive prose and connotations noted in their interactions, that he feels at peace and something settles within him. She basically just threw in a million different phrases that she used previously for mated couples to tell us "LOOK HERE. LOOK AT THIS." And then she said in an interview that it would be obvious who the next book was about? I am sold its an Azriel book. I don't think elain has hit her rock bottom yet. In ACOMAF, Feyre hits her rock bottom, in ACOSF, Nesta is at hers, in HOF Celeana is at hers, and at the end of ACOSF Azriel is at his. If she set up the next book to truly be Elain's then she would have added elain into ACOSF and made her a more prominent character. Instead, the next two who have the most page time other than Nesta and Cassian are Azriel and Gwyn. Which mirrors what she did for Nessian in ACOWAR. Every pattern says that the next book is the gwynriel book.

Sorry that this kinda turned into a rant lol

#thanks for letting me word vomit #i have intense thoughts #gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #elucien #anti e*riel #anti e/riel #azriel is a deeply scarred character

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starfall-spirit · 1 year

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Hate to break it to you, but Feysand has always been a retcon and SJM is a liar who says she’s always had them planned to sound cooler and to cover up the fact that she’s always said 1) she never plans her books and 2) she had to add Rhys in earlier and that she’d originally planned for him to be the villain.

Detailing the actual story of how ACOTAR came to be from her own former newsletter, she wrote two and half ACOTAR books in 2009 (then originally only a trilogy). In 2014, SJM scrapped and rewrote the entirety of that original second and half of a third book and completely started over with them, creating what is now ACOMAF and ACOWAR. She did not change anything in ACOTAR, though, but she did add things in during editing. She’s also said Nesta and Lucien were originally supposed to be mates and that she didn’t even plan for Nessian until she wrote the scene where the IC goes to ask Feyre’s family for help.

If Nesta and Lucien were originally endgame, that would infer that Feyre in the original second book actually spent a majority of her time in the Spring Court because how else would Nesta meet Lucien? He doesn’t live in the NC. He doesn’t live the AC. And if a majority of the plot is taking place in Spring and the story is from Feyre’s pov, it would also imply Feyre was still with Tamlin. 🤷🏼‍♀️ And a quick reminder that the entire series was originally a Beauty and the Beast/Tamlin retelling, not just the first book.

You can love Feysand, no one is telling you not to, but if you’re going to try to debunk what others are saying, then at least find out why they’re saying it in the first place so you can provide a proper counter argument. There’s overwhelming evidence within the first book that anything after it was never planned.

In fact, you could take Rhys out of the first book and the Calanmai scene would still work if Lucien had been the one to find her. The dresser would still work if Feyre and Elain’s drawers were swapped. Amarantha’s whore could be anybody, and the scene where Rhys forces Tamlin and Lucien to beg for Feyre could’ve happened with that anybody, not just Rhys. Maybe you should think about why the first book of a book series, where he’s supposedly been the plan all along, could still play out without him. 😬

Hi, anon.

I would first like to let you know, my inbox is not a place to start ship wars or attack people for their opinions of canon fandom matters. I hope in the future you respect the simple request at the top of my page to leave me polite asks.

But, to clarify a few points you've addressed here, look under the cut

"She never plans her books."

Anon, I'm not sure what precisely you mean when you say plan. There are many types of writers. When you're drafting an original story you may create an outline detailing the step by step plot, conflict, character development, call to action, etc.

Or perhaps you are an author like me, who instead prefers to free write. I won't hesitate to admit I can't stick to an outline beyond points A, B, and C. For example, my Anastasia AU

Chapter 1: The Rumor, The Legend, The Mystery (St. Pete)

Rumors

Plan Con

Meet Elain

Chapter 2: Things My Heart Used To Know (December)

Learning Heritage

Rhys’ 1st appearance

Chapter 3: The High Lord Lies Cold (Neva flows)

Rhys Bonus

Chapter 4: Let Me Say Goodbye (Stay I pray you)

1997 ~For the Magic~

Carriage out of Dusk

Carriage stopped enroute

Escape

Chapter 5: In a Crowd of Thousands

Nightmare/Talk

Travel on foot to gate to Day

Meet Helion

Chapter 6: Could it Be? (Quartet)

2. "She had to add Rhys in earlier than planned to be a villain."

What exactly is the point of this statement? Maybe Feyre could have stayed inside the manor on Calanmai. Maybe Lucien could have stumbled upon her and the three fae who targeted her. If you think she's the only author to rewrite a story or add characters in an earlier or later position, I'm going to guess you don't have much of a concept of the natural writing process.

3. "Detailing the actual story of how ACOTAR came to be from her own former newsletter, she wrote two and half ACOTAR books in 2009 (then originally only a trilogy). In 2014, SJM scrapped and rewrote the entirety of that original second and half of a third book and completely started over with them, creating what is now ACOMAF and ACOWAR. She did not change anything in ACOTAR, though, but she did add things in during editing."

Again, the natural writing process. Rewriting a hundred times over if it's necessary to get the book published. Editing for the sake of a fluid storyline.

4. Your points on Nesta, Lucien, and Cassian have nothing to do with a Feysand of Feylin endgame. There could have been a dozen different ways SJM planned on Lucien and Nesta meeting outside of Spring that we will never know. The fact is that in the end, SJM decided "Lucien and Nesta would be at each other's throats. And not in a good way". Or something along those lines. In walked Nessian.

5. "You can love Feysand, no one is telling you not to, but if you’re going to try to debunk what others are saying, then at least find out why they’re saying it in the first place so you can provide a proper counter argument."

I am aware I have the freedom of expression in the fandom. I would also like to clarify I was entirely polite in "debunking" the counterargument to defend Tamlin. Did you feel particularly attacked when I told a new fandom member to try the second book and see if it was to their liking when they saw Rhysand's story?

Or was it my assessment of Tamlin's lack of anger management and every marker of an abuser he shows from the second he comes to take Feyre across the wall.

TL;DR

No matter how many rewrites ACOTAR went through, there was no character retcon on Tamlin or Rhys. Book one was an adaptation of Beauty and the Beast and Book two was an adaptation of Hades and Persephone, even if very few elements were taken from the actual tales.

For any others who wish to drop in and give me a polite hello, my inbox is always open and I'm chugging along so I have some lovely Feysand and crack ship snippets to provide you with.

#acotar #feysand #feylin #feysand has never been a retcon #rude anon #don't waste my time with pettiness #just do a little research please

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cptnbvcks · 8 months

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Hi! Hope you are doing well ✨️ i just found your fic the nature of living things, and i wanted to say how amazing it is. Youre a really good writer! Do you still write? I see its not updated for a while. Wish you a good week💕

ah thank you sm for enjoying it!!!

i'd love to get back to writing – this past year or so has been a fuckin' rodeo admittedly and i feel like, just like so many, stuff has been kinda rough and writing has sorta fallen to the wayside a little bit ☹️

personally, i've been dealing with my own lil mental and physical health stuff alongside two job layoffs in less than a year but I'm trying to return back to stuff that made me happy and maybe that might include writing! though i'm not sure if it'll be for the mandalorian fandom or something else (i've been really enjoying the ACOTAR series by sarah j maas hehehe) but hopefully one day i'll exercise my writing chops again!

i did also recently start up an etsy shop for the rug making i took up during quarantine, if anyone wants to check that out! (etsy's running a sale rn so you can save $10 on anything in my shop, and use my lil discount code BESTIES15 and it'll give you an additional 15% off!!!) 🥹

i'll be adding some stickers there next including a few designs i did for ACOTAR (ill have to get them licensed tho!) but anyway ksjldhaf that was a long response but that's what i've been up to while i take a lil break from writing!!! thank you so much for your kind words, truly, you're wonderful and lovely for sharing such a lovely little sentiment mwah kiss on your forehead from me 2 u

#asks #anonymous #mwah mwah mwah all of you get kisses from me

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vikingmagic33 · 11 months

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Part 3/3 is ready for this wonderful Helion/Lady of Autumn fic started by @thehaemanthus and @hlizr50

As a preson who writes mostly Gwynriel, I've had a wonderful time meeting new writers and flexing my sklls for some of the smaller and delightful ACOTAR ships. Thank you to @azrielshadowssing for organizing ACOTAR Writing Circle 3. Here is the link to the entire collection of amazing fics. ACOTAR Writing Circle 3 Masterlist.

Someday, Today | Helion x LoA

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 are also on AO3. For those of you who are all caught up, the NSFW text of my contribution for Part 3 is below.

The feel of his warm mouth on hers was more intoxicating to her senses than the single flute of champagne she’d allowed herself at the gala. Cora hadn’t been kissed in longer than she cared to admit, even quietly to herself. Beron had never been one for kissing and she hadn’t even thought about dating since the divorce.

People had assumed that seven kids meant a healthy, amorous marriage, but that had never been her life. Socialites at the club used to titter behind their hands and wiggle suggestive brows, ‘Beron just can’t keep his hands off you.’ No. He could not. Only a handful ever saw past his smooth words to notice his too-tight grip on her upper arm or his disapproving glare at some invented misstep she’d pay for when they were alone. He was always looking for reasons to prove that she belonged to him.

When she dared to sit on a committee with some handsome donor, she paid. If she spoke to another man at a fundraiser, no matter how briefly, she paid. If one of the boy’s many coaches, tutors, or even the few male members of Beron’s household staff chose to approach her, she was the one who paid.

Beron was insane. She hadn’t seen it at first. It started so slowly that she could hardly notice or object. His devotion shifted until stifling. His protection contorted to control. His manipulation was so thorough that she hadn’t even been surprised by the first slap. She thought she might even deserve it. Either way, he didn’t have the time or the inclination to try to kiss her. When he had, it was all pressure and teeth and filled with anger until it hurt. It was meant to hurt. With Beron everything was meant to hurt.

Perhaps that was why she’d risked a night with Helion those years ago. She was tired. She was lonely and sad. She needed something to cling to that was beautiful and her own. Helion had been hers. They’d been young and stupid, but they had loved one another, she was sure of that. As he kissed her, she could recall how tenuous her hold had been years ago. She knew that unless she found something beautiful to believe in she would die. She would die and leave her children alone with a monster.

She could never think of harming herself, but Beron would break something inside her irrevocably, eventually. It hadn’t been honorable, but it saved her nonetheless.

Where Beron was lean and handsome but hard, cold, and sharp, Helion was muscular, warm, and rolling. He managed to hold his massive body in a way that promised care and tenderness. He was power, but all promise with no threat. He was a heat that fed and never burned.

Beron used sex to demean her. That part had been a shock that Cora hadn’t been ready to learn. Helion had broken her heart with indecision and fear, but when they’d been together he was sensuality that only cherished and worshiped. She’d seen him four years ago and she’d known that she needed him. She’d needed him to remind her of that tenderness like she needed air.

That one night had kept her alive for years. She’d felt his tenderness take root inside her and she’d known that Beron had not broken her yet and he could never claim her again. Her proof had quickened and squirmed. Then she’d birthed it into the world in pain and hope and defiance.

His warmth surrounded her again. She craned her neck to kiss him and felt her back stretch up along the wall. He pressed harder and they tumbled away from the bedroom and her sleeping boys.

They made it down the hall, their backs gliding along outdated wallpaper and nearly toppling the tiny thrift store table she’d painstakingly restored. It held her keys, her mail, a whistle, and her mace.

“Shhh.” She giggled, reaching out to right the table before the noise clattered down the hall. She relished in the sound and the proof that she could still laugh. “And don’t you dare break my table. I like this one.”

“God, I’ve missed you.” He breathed. “I was such a fool, Cora.” She loved the sound of his voice. She loved the way he pressed her against the wall.

Thankfully, her boys were deep sleepers. But, what was her plan exactly? Helion pulled her leg up over his hip and she arched into the feel instinctively. She wanted him and that fact alone floored her. She’d been on autopilot for years, decades really. She’d locked that part of her personality away. She’d hidden her need and her desire from everyone, but mostly from herself. She could be that and live, but that was before. Feeling him against her, holding her up against the wall with his strength and his promise, she let the locked box dissolve and she welcomed that freedom with a moan.

She slid her leg down his thigh to stand again against him but on her own weight. Helion spun her around. They loved this position in college. It was feisty and raw. He pressed his cock against her ass, as one massive hand clamped down on the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder. Her whole body froze, frigid with horror and slick with shame.

Cora was frozen in his arms. He felt that immediately. “Cora?” He whispered her name and released his grip on her neck and her hip. His hands remained on her, but they were soft and waiting.

“Don’t.” It was a grunt, not a world. “Please,” Cora begged. “Just not like that. I can’t,” She tried to continue, but her voice was rough and strained. “I mean… I could try.”

“No.” He cut off her words. She didn’t need to explain. She didn’t need to beg, and she certainly didn’t need to try. Whatever that meant. “Hey, babe. It's okay. I’m sorry. We don’t have to do anything. You know that, don’t you?”

“I don't want it to ruin this.” She hissed and finally turned to face him. “To ruin us. I can try.”

“Cora, stop,” Helion spoke more firmly than he’d intended and he caught her wince. “I don’t want you to try. Whatever we do tonight or in the future, I want you to love it.” Helion tilted her chin up so he could see her eyes. He kissed her again softly, once on the cheek, then her nose, then her lips. “Show me what you want. What sounds fun to you, Cora? You were very turned on a minute ago.” She blushed at his words. “Don’t try to deny it.” He teased.

“Very.” Her breathiness held no shame or embarrassment and they both relaxed at the sound.

“Okay.” He kissed her again. “Let's start there.”

“Let's.'' She pressed her face up into his next kiss. Then she kissed him hesitantly, but he could tell she was back. She was her and she wanted him.

Cora felt it stir again. It was just like the last time. She let her eyes drift closed and her body melted into this warmth. She felt whole and safe and sexy. She saw herself then and she was a woman, not a wife owned and not a mother doting. That woman wanted him and that woman would take him. Cara thanked her doctor for her IUD and giggled again.

“What's so funny?” Helion kissed a little spot on her ear. She smiled, remembering that it had been a favorite of his.

“I just told you that you’re a father.” It still felt a bit heady to admit it out loud. “And that my life has been a horror.” She refused to turn away from his knowing gaze. “And you still want me, just like we were teenagers out after curfew.”

He didn’t move, but his face sobered a bit. “We can sit and talk. We will eventually need to make a plan about Lucien.” He started to pull away, but she grabbed his wrist and held it somewhere near her hip. “But honestly, Cora, I just want to touch you right now. I want to feel you. I want to be close and show you that it doesn't have to be bad or hurt. I see a strong woman, a mother doing the best she can for her boys, but I also see a sexy coed who turned my head and drove me fucking wild. Whoever you want to be, I want her in every possible way.” His intensity was potent.

“I don’t know what or who I am yet, not really.” She paused. “but I want you, Helion. I’ve always wanted you.”

“Show me.” He begged and she liked the sound. She could feel his muscles bunch under her hands. He was holding back. He was waiting for her to lead him. She was in charge and her world tilted a bit on its axis. It tilted toward happiness and possibility.

Cora reached up and unclasped her pearl studded earrings and dropped them into the dish on the tiny table beside her. Helion collapsed back against the opposite wall and moaned slightly, entranced by the sight of her starting to undress. The sound startled her. Shit.

“Wait here.” Cora dashed down the hall to the kitchen. She’d just seen that stupid thing in the junk drawer and had been meaning to drop it in the donation bin at work. Thankfully, she’d been too distracted at the time. “Aha!!” Cora fished out an old baby monitor and punked it on the counter to keep rummaging for a cord, handset, and hopefully a fresh set of batteries. All of which she found quickly. She thanked the powers that be, who apparently wanted Cora to get laid.

She crept back into the boys' room. She’d never used it in that room, but after seven kids she knew the exact spot to angle the camera. Once back in the kitchen, Helion was nibbling on her ear, as she bent over the counter fumbling with the pack of spare batteries for the handset. She felt him rub his hands over her body and pull her flush against his erection. He was kissing her ear and her neck and it was nothing like the sensation that had froze her lust before. This was all heat and pleasure. She finally got the batteries in. An image sparked to life on the device, just as a screech of feedback cracked the air.

“Shit.” She huffed as they both froze. Her house was so small and the monitor was only a few feet away. She turned it off,

“Did we wake them?” Helion whispered through a nibble. She listened. Nothing.

“No.” Cora tugged him down the hall toward the front door. “Let's go.”

“Go where Cora?” He asked, but she noted he was still following her. He always would.

“To your car.” Cora turned and kissed him again as she pushed him out her front door. “Now, dammit.”

“Whatever you say.” He purred and she knew it was true.

Helion would stop the second she was uncomfortable. He’d pivot perfectly if she changed her mind. He was truly confident and open and he’d never needed to prove his worth on her flesh. His type of love seeped into her marrow and steeled the strength that had always been there.

He watched Cora pull open the passenger side door to the buttery leather backseat of his new Jaguar. It was impractical and selfish, but he drove it rarely to compensate for the conspicuous luxury.

“Get the fuck in here.” She hissed at him with want and suddenly he was twenty years old again and horny as fuck. His body pumped every spare drop of blood down into his throbbing cock. Damn. She’d always had that effect on him. Thankfully, she seemed willing to help him with his condition. Though the feeling of her freezing in his hands still lingered in his mind. What had that fucker done to her?

If only he’d been ready all those years ago, maybe he could have spared her. He’d traveled the world and built his empire and fucked anyone he wanted. That had been his plan and he’d been happy. Then he'd seen her and held Lucien in his arms and all he could think was that he’d missed the first three years of his son’s life. Then he’d heard about Beron and all he could think was that he could have saved her from it. Every one of those boys could be his. She’d have never had to endure all that she’d shared.

His hand clenched on the door handle. He wanted to rip it from its hinges. He wanted to find Beron and unleash the same level of harm that he’d shoveled onto Cora for all those years. He wanted to feel Beron freeze in terror and watch his eyes go round and furtive, looking for an escape. He wanted to watch the bright color in his face shift to a haunted pallor. He wanted him to be afraid of any movement.

Helion grit his teeth. He felt the energy in his body changing for a fight instead of for a fuck and that just could not be born. Cora was the one who deserved his undivided attention. By some miracle, she still wanted him and he wouldn’t let her feel any of his menace or his rage. He’d find a way to ruin Beron later. That fact was clear. He would ruin that man, but he would never become the monster that he hunted. He could be vicious, but he was way more creative and Beron wouldn’t see him coming.

He silently vowed that he would commit his life to Cora. They would both learn what it was to have love and respect. The boys would see what it meant to be your best for your family. They would see what was to cherish and to love. He would be the example for them that Beron never could be.

But that was for later. Beron and the boys would be something to sort out later. Standing at that car door, Helion would worship, fuck, and tease that woman in a way that was only for them.

He hunched down and slid onto the seat. He’d never been in the backseat of his own car before and it was weird to see it all from back there. He turned in the dark to Cora. The windows were tinted. The lights of a passing car barely registered on her cheek, but it illuminated her smile and he melted.

“Come here.” She demanded and Helion complied.

He’d always been drawn to her. He’d had many lovers over the years but nothing compared to touching Cora. He needed her. He needed to taste her and to be inside her. He prayed that was what she had planned.

He watched as Cora reached under her gown. Her shoes sparked from the floorboard. She was still in her dress from the gala and he watched as she slid her panties off. They were not lace. They didn’t match her gown as he’d been imagining earlier in the night. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that to himself. They were hot pink and clearly made more for the gym and never intended to go under a designer dress. It was dark and he reached for them, but she batted his hand away. He could have sworn they had tiny barbells in the pattern. For a thong, they had a shocking amount of fabric and probably came up to her waist. She blushed and started to speak, but he’d never seen anything hotter. She was a grown woman owning her sexuality and her body and she was what it meant to be sexy without even trying.

Helion took in the sight of her. This woman’s body had created seven people. He noticed a few stray marks of those miracles etched into her physical strength. His gaze snagged on a few scars. There was still the one from when they first tried rollerblading at the waterfront. She’d needed twelve stitches just above her knee. He ran his thumb over it and they both laughed. His laugh died on his lips though as he saw the others. Beron’s evil had stayed on her skin in a few raised welts and tiny jagged snarls. But Beron was her monster and she had conquered him. The scars were part of her and she was beautiful.

He devoured her mouth in seconds. His hand gripped one luscious thigh as he dragged her leg across his lap. She turned to face him as he notched her knee into the leather, pressed into the curve of his waist. She moaned and lowered her weight onto his straining lap. Then she giggled at his sigh.

Another passing car cast light across her beautiful face and that time she ducked into his neck with a slightly nervous laugh. His hands slid down to her ass and he rolled up against her core suggestively.

“What do you want, Cora.” He breathed, but it was begging.

“Want?” Her voice was a raspy snarl that he hadn’t heard all night, that he hadn’t heard in years. “We are well past want, Helion. What I need is for you to fuck me. Show me what I’ve been missing. Make me remember.” He had been begging, but she was commanding and he was game.

“Fuck.” Helion muttered as he reached down to his waistband.

She rode him slowly dragging her dress further up around her waist. She arched back and draped one pale arm out over the headrest of the front passenger seat. Her shoulders settled in the space between the seats and everything he’d ever wanted was on full display before him.

Helion was frantic. He unzipped his pants and lifted slightly to drag them down over the muscles of his thighs. She hissed at the sight of his length.

“Oh.” Cora breathed and licked her lips “I’m starting to remember already.”

Many women were intimated by his size. It was a blessing and a curse and had ruined more than one night of passion in his life, but never with Cora. It was like she’d been built just for him. As though she could hear his thoughts, she lifted up onto him.

“Go slow, babe. Don’t rush it.” He warned her. He didn’t want to hurt her. He never wanted to hurt her. It wasn’t really fair to expect that they would just fall back into their old patterns as though no time had passed. She leaned forward again. This time dragging her core over his naked cock. She was wet.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Hel.” She nipped at his ear.

There she was. She was the fiery woman he’d fallen in love with so many years ago and never managed to find a way to fall out. She reached between them and wrapped her long cool fingers around his throbbing length. She swiped her entrance a couple of times with the tip and he nearly came. Then slowly she pressed down hungrily until she was perfectly flush with his body and his cock was buried deep inside her.

He ground his teeth to keep from screaming. There was a real chance that he’d alert the whole neighborhood to the fact that two grown-ass adults were fucking the backseat like horny teenagers. A light snore came from the monitor on the seat and Helion nearly laughed, until she started to move. Just a slight roll of her hips at first. It wasn’t timid, but testing. She was adjusting, feeling.

“Oh god.” She moaned.

“Is it coming back to you now, Cora?” Helion teased.

“I never really forgot.” She breathed the words and his chest tightened.

She gripped the front of his shirt with her right hand and he squeezed her ass. He expected to pull her closer, to feel her face against his neck, but Cora held the tension in her arm. She hooked the tops of her feet into the inside creases of his knees and pulled his thighs apart as she leaned further back and sunk even deeper around him.

Then she started to move with more authority and he held his gaze in the darkness. She was claiming something with each movement. Was it him? Perhaps, but also so much more. She was claiming and she was giving. She rode him harder. There was no fucking way he was going to last. Not with all his emotions so close to the surface, not with the weight of every single revelation she’d offered him that night, and not with the years he’d spent pining for this amazing woman.

“Yes.” She huffed. “Right there.” She grunted.

He had to admit that loved the position. He loved the view of her small breasts bouncing slightly under the silk of her dress and the way her eyes blazed and her lips parted on the animalistic sound. He needed her to come. He needed her to know that it was about her. He needed to know that she would let him take care of her. His hand slid up her thigh. He splayed his fingers around her hip and dug deep into the flesh as his thumb found her clit.

“Come for me, Cora,” He begged. “Let me get you off. Let me give you that.” Please. He thought the word but managed not to say it.

She was taking her own pleasure on his body. That much was clear and he loved to see it, but he wanted her to let him give something too. He wouldn't manipulate her, especially in the bedroom or even in the backseat of a car. He’d have to be careful with her though. There would be so many triggers after so many years of abuse, but he was honored to navigate them. He wouldn’t trust anyone else with her ever again, except for her.

A few strokes of his thumb and her forehead settled against his own and her mouth opened in a silent scream. He felt her walls clamp down around his cock and her movements were jerky and erratic. She managed those few small squeaks that he remembered so well. Her eyes were closed but he felt her breath on his face and felt her attention on every bit of his body and soul. He would never walk away again. He would never again fail to be the man she needed.

The sound of their breaths filled the space and then she smiled a lazy sated smile only inches from his face. She kissed the tip of his nose as she lifted herself slowly along his length. Both his hands grabbed her hips and he looked down to watch his glistening cock disappear inside her warmth and then reappear covered in her release and chilled by the air. He shuddered. Cora was fucking perfect.

She built the rhythm that he craved and she devoured him with a ferocity that had his body threatening to finish with an embarrassing quickness. A few more thrusts and he clamped his hands on her hips to keep her still as he spilled deep inside her. He opened his eyes and she was watching him closely. There was a nervousness creeping back into her gaze.

“What happens now?” She asked quietly, but not shyly.

“Now, you should consider going back inside that house. Maybe kiss your boys. I do suggest a shower though, you reek of sex, my love.” She swatted him on the shoulder.

“You don’t get to judge. You’re the reason I smell this way,” She smiled. “Plus you’re no better.”

“True, but I don’t have anybody to hide it from.” He said it casually, but his tone carried the weight he wasn’t saying. She nodded once with a satisfied smile. His message had been received.

“The boys wouldn’t understand anyway.”

“Unless Eris comes home again.” He hadn’t meant to mention the boy. His rudeness from earlier still prickled. She started to apologize for him but stopped.

“He’s just a senior in high school.” She said with a tone that told him that she recognized her foolishness. He cut her a glance of knowing eyes. She just rubbed her hands over her face. “I can’t deal with that right now. Can we not talk about that tonight? Can we not talk about Eris?”

“Yes, anything you want.” He purred. “But I want you to go inside and kiss the boys, shower, and I want you to fall asleep knowing something for sure: I'm ready, Cora. I’m not some green boy anymore.” She raised her eyebrow and glanced around the car. “Fine. Backseat shenanigans aside. I’m a grown man and I’m not afraid. I’m a father and I plan to do everything in my power to be that every day for you, for them, and for myself. I won’t squander this chance.”

“I should tell you.” She paused and he slid from her body with a hiss. “I can’t have more.”

“More? What do you mean?”

“Kids.” Cora rushed ahead. “The doctor said it could be dangerous for me.”

“Should we have waited?” His heart raced in panic. He’d only just vowed to protect her. “Did we just put you at risk?”

“Oh no. It's fine. It's taken care of.”

“You’ve had surgery?” He was relieved. That was probably the safest solution for her. Her face went stony.

“Beron golfed with my doctor. Beron wouldn’t allow it. Kids were his… well. Nevermind.” She shook her head. “I went to Planned Parenthood. I got an IUD. No record for him to find.” She locked gazes with Helion, needing him to understand. “He’d have beaten me if he’d suspected.” She paused again. “He’d have killed me if he’d known.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I send a little bit of each check to them and a few other charities for women.” Her voice softened. “I’m not telling you this for sympathy, but you should know that I cannot give you more children. I wouldn’t even if I could. I’m done.”

He grabbed her in his arms and she sighed. It was easy to let whispered promises fall from his lips into her ear and against the skin of her neck. He tried to stay in the moment with her. He knew that his drive home would be full of moments spent relishing the scent of her on his skin and the memory of her pleasure seizing and rippling around him.

He’d also be hatching a plan. The seeds of which had already taken root. He’d need to use someone good. He needed someone he could trust and who was subtle enough to pull it off without any blowback on him, but most importantly on Cora or the boys. Thankfully, money was no issue. He could afford the best. Shit. He could afford The Shadowsinger. He was just the man to bring Beron to his knees and to know how to leave him there long enough to break him.

Beron had his chance to be a good man and to be a good father to those boys, but he’d been nothing but just poison. He’d manipulated his money and his power to harm those he could have loved most. Never again.

“I don’t need more kids, Cora. All I need is you.” He kissed her once on the cheek. “Plus…” He laughed. “We already have seven, my love. I think we are good on the kid front.”

She pulled back and studied his face. “You mean that don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“I do. Now get some sleep and I’ll be back to take you all to breakfast.” He smiled back. “I plan on wooing you, Cora. In the full light of day. Are you ready for that?”

“I guess we will find out.” Cara giggled and beam back at him.

“I guess we will, my love.”

#acotar writing circle 3 #acotar fanfiction #helion x loa #helion spell cleaver #lady of autumn #acotar modern au #single mom of many #second chances #grown ass people getting naked in the backseat #i had so much fun writing this #let me know what you think #helion's thighs are my new drug of choice

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