#acotar fanfic idea

[born-to-riot]

Idk if this counts as a Drabble but basically it starts as me theorizing an event in Prythian and then turns into ‘what if Azris’

WC: 3,325

(TW: ABO, loosely nsfw, talks of breeding, male omegas have cocklets and boypussies).

Okay but hear me out.

I want a Prythian mating run

Make it abo (along with their regular magic powers) (however maybe there’s some traditional powder that participants are required to take so that it dampens their powers and awakens the alpha/beta/omega inside of them)

It’s primal, the lopers start first. Battling each other to find and make the best den and claim territory for them to bring their runner back to once they catch them.

After a while, they catch the scents of the runners filtering throughout the forest. That’s when the game truly begins.

the runners don’t make it easy (usually betas and omegas)

(What’s point of making it easy when you’re strong and want to make the alpha/beta prove they are worthy and can breed you full of strong pups)

(Any second gender is allowed to sign up in any position: runner or loper)

(For example, just last season the alpha prince of Adriata, Varian, shocked Prythian when rumors spread that he signed up to be a runner. The shock multiplied when it was rumored that he was caught by the scariest and tiniest alpha of Prythian, Amren of the Night Court. Legend has it the two came out four days after the mating run covered in blood and scratches but are now inseparable).

It’s all about scent.

Only unmated faes can participate. Think of the occasion like an annual festival to see if two halves of a whole can find one another.

Not every pair who comes together will be mates as an actual mating bond is rare to find (also sometimes the pairs aren’t even the most compatible scent-wise be it alpha athleticism, an omega caught in a trap, or just the luck of the catch) but usually by the time an loper catches an runner, both of their pheromones have their instincts roaring.

But if you are mates or just are the most compatible for one another… oh the mother will let you know. There will be some other force pushing the runner to go faster, there is something that pushes the loper to be more violent about ridding the runner’s trail of other lopers running after the same scent. The closer they get to one another the wetter the omegas cunt gets the heavier an alphas cock, even betas will adjust accordingly depending on whether they are a runner or a loper.

Azris below the cut

Now let’s say Eris enters the race this year as a runner. Years prior he’s been forced by his father to sign up as a loper despite the fact that he’s technecially an omega, which is fine (but dangerous- some fellow lopers would get distracted by his scent and try to go after him. While he always fought them off he can’t deny the inner thrill of the chase) and Some years he’s caught good scents and has even followed some of them, hunted them. Usually though, his interest would fade and he would just return to his den and hang out in his nest until the event was over.

Not this year, this year, instead of just going to the Autumn run, Eris heard a rumor that a certain Shadowsinger would finally be participating in an intercourt run. He hated himself for being weak to the temptation but ever since he felt the other’s scarred hands around his neck Eris’ inner omega can’t fight the fantasy of being knotted by the Illyrian.

Eris doesn’t tell his father that he’s signing up as a runner, of course. He just lets the man know that he is going to try his luck with a wider pool of runners to choose from- which Beron accepted.

There is a gathering before the run, this is where runners and lopers can mingle and familiarize each other with scents that intrigue them. Legend has it that it is at one of these minglings where Thesan and his lover first made contact. Eris goes to this meeting and tries to mingle. He talks to many handsome and beautiful lopers, but he doesn’t feel his cocklet twitch until he makes eye contact with Azriel, who is staring at him from across the room, over the head of the third archeron sister. Elain.

Shit. Eris can’t believe he let himself forget about the newest object of Azriel’s affections. He can’t believe he even allowed himself to hope for just a minute that the Shadowsinger might return his interest. He can’t believe he let himself think that he smelt the other’s cedar infused arousal back when he whispered in his ear at the High Lord’s meeting.

Eris quickly sidesteps so that he’s out of view of the Shadowsinger but he can’t rid himself of the memory of his hazel eyes. Maybe his father was right, he should never be a runner because omegas let their thoughts get clouded by their cunts.

Eris knows he should leave the gathering before Azriel could have the opportunity to spread the word to whatever other members of the Inner Circle that are present. But his inner omega is waging war against him. Give him your scent. We are the most worthy omega in here. Eris isn’t so sure if he agrees with that, but he’s come this far and defied his father by opening up the possibility for a son of Autumn to be caught and bred. He supposes it won’t hurt to give the alpha a reminder of the scent he should be hunting.

So Eris moves, head held high. He walks around the edges of the room, dodging wanting alphas who approach him. He stops once he’s two meters away from the present members of the Night Court Inner Circle, facing the back of Azriel’s wings that separate him from the two ladies in front of him—Mor and Elain. The two female fae are chatting with one another and Azriel is clearly focused on analyzing the room around him— at least Eris assumes so based on the slight movements of the black haired man’s head.

Shining gold twinkles at the corner of Eris’ eye and grabs his attention. He spies a tall spring court alpha adorned in gold jewelry. The male is not Tamlin but he sure is beautiful, Eris can’t help but think. He sees the golden male approaching his direction at the same time Eris recognizes a semi-familiar shadow flitting by him. He has an idea.

Eris waits as the golden alpha comes closer and closer and he makes note that the shadow that was passing by has stilled and attempted to blend in with the natural darkness of the wall nearest to him. Eris feels a smirk form on his face as he thinks about the fact that the Shadowsinger has no idea that Eris knows each and every time the male is watching him.

Finally, the golden alpha gets close enough and Eris purposefully angles himself so that the other will ‘accidentally’ knock into him. The plan goes accordingly and soon Eris is letting out a pointed gasp as the Spring Court Alpha catches him by the waist with an apology. Eris laughs then, purposefully emitting his toasted maple and almond scent as if he was truly embarrassed. Eris waves the golden alpha away, smiling as if he wasn’t disgusted by his musk of freshly cut grass, and calmly readjusts his blazer before walking towards the exit of the gathering. It’s not until after he takes two steps out of the door that he hears footsteps behind him and sees a shadow in front of him that mimics the lines of the familiar pair of wings that never seem to escape his mind.

“Why hello Azriel,” Eris says, pausing his movements, listening as the footsteps get louder as the Shadowsinger approaches him from behind. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I think I should be saying that to you,” Eris can’t help but bite back a keen as he smells the other’s cedar aura. Azriel grabs him by the waist—his hand covering the exact same spot where the Spring Court alpha had held Eris earlier— and turns him around to face him. Eris is proud of himself for maintaining an unimpressed expression on his face as he feels his cunt clench around nothing.

Eris tries not to show how much Azriel affects him, he tries not to cry as the Shadowsinger releases him and puts his hands back in his pockets. He tries to convince himself that he isn’t desperate for this alpha to chase him tomorrow, to accept his challenge, to want him.

“Are you a runner or a loper?” Azriel asks, surprising Eris as the Autumn Court male was expecting some sort of snarky comment that is typical of a member of the Night Court when it comes to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eris smirks in a manner that he knows irritates the other, hoping for Azriel to let out more of his scent.

“I’ve heard you usually spend your mating run in Autumn as a loper… that you haven’t…” Azriel trails off, his scent growing stronger as he completes the sentence internally. Eris takes a step closer to Azriel.

“That I haven’t taken anyone back to my nest? That I haven’t been bred yet?” He asks, “What is it Azriel, what have you heard?”

What do you want, alpha? Eris shushes his inner omega.

“I’ve heard you’ve chased hundreds of runners but none of them have satisfied you enough to finish the chase.”

Eris spies Azriel gulp and his wings twitch as he says so.

“What you’ve heard is true,” Eris admits and shivers as he senses Azriel’s cedar musk grow stronger. He feels his own inner omega screaming inside of him, begging him to let out his own maple and almond in response. He feels heat pooling in his stomach and he knows he needs to exit this conversation soon before his inner omega takes over completely.

“Are you running?” Azriel asks, stepping even closer to Eris. Eris glares at him, hating that Azriel’s curiosity is feeding into his inner hope that the male might be interested in him.

“Maybe, not that it should matter to you with the remaining Archeron sister in the mix,” Eris crosses his arms over his chest.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I just want to know,” Azriel insists. Eris rolls his eyes. Liar.

“Okay Shadowsinger, whatever you say,” Eris nods at the other and starts to walk off towards his tent, trying not to get his hopes up.

“Eris, wait!” Azriel calls out to him, causing Eris to pause.

“Yes?” He asks, turning around to face the other who hasn’t moved from has spot.

“I…” Eris feels more heat pool into his core at the growl of frustration that Azriel lets out.

“I fucking hate you, but I need to know,” Azriel sounds a mix of conflicted and determined. That is more than what Eris was expecting so he’ll take a win where he can.

“The only thing I will tell you,” Eris starts as he approaches Azriel, figuring this is his best chance to let the other know his intentions. Almost as if the Shadowsinger is in a trance he takes a couple steps forward to meet Eris, bringing the two chest to chest. Eris is taller but Azriel is wider with muscles and his wings.

“Hmm” Azriel hums, prompting him. Eris watches as Azriel removes his hands from his pockets and starts to clench and unclench them.

Tell him, his inner omega encourages. Eris knows this is his only chance to get what he wants. If he were to get caught by another loper, not mate him, and his father finds out Eris knows he will never be allowed to participate in another mating run again unless it’s in Autumn and he is loping.

“I’m tired of being empty, Azriel. I want pups, I want a partner, I’m tired of pretending I’m not interested in you,” Eris ignores how Azriel widens his eyes in surprise and continues before he loses his courage, knowing he would be executed by his father if the man ever found out Eris was so weak to his instincts.

“I know what I smelled in that High Lord’s meeting, your hands were around my throat but your alpha was in your eyes and he was daring me not to disobey. I could smell that you wanted me and I can tell that every time you’ve looked at me since you’ve been thinking about it,” Eris sniffs as he feels a tear coming to his eyes, he knows his dream is impossible but he also owes himself one last chance to see it through.

“Remember my scent, Azriel,” Eris shakily reaches out for one of Azriel’s scared hands and takes it into his own, ignoring how his inner omega screams in delight at the contact. Azriel doesn’t resist as Eris brings the shadowsinger’s wrist up to his neck and rubs it against his scent gland before releasing it. He briefly eyes how Azriel’s wings seem to spread wider around the two of them, almost like he’s trying to block Eris from the sight of anyone who may walk by. Eris refuses to get his hopes up, even as he notes how carefully Azriel brings his now-scented hand back to his side.

“Do know, Azriel, if you decide to try and catch me, I won’t make it easy for you. If you successfully catch me, I’ll try to break loose and force you to catch me again. If you give me no other options but to submit to you, I will never let you go. I don’t give second chances, I can’t afford to,” Eris’ amber eyes stay locked on Azriel’s returning hazel gaze, “I refuse to settle for anything less than what I deserve and do not think I will wait for you if some other alpha proves to be stronger.”

Azriel alpha lets out a growl at that statement. Eris ignores the surprise that blinks into Azriel’s eyes at his own reaction and he takes a step back so he can communicate his thoughts clearly—he also begs his inner omega to shut the fuck up about how badly Azriel’s alpha clearly wants them, Eris knows that hope only leads to disappointment. However, Eris also knows that he can’t afford to have any regrets here, so he must finish his piece.

“Think about what you want, Azriel. Don’t let your guilt or loyalty influence your decision. I will say this only once: I refuse to be your back-up option, if you come after me, you better want me.”

With that Eris turns around before Azriel can say anything or shift his expression in response to Eris pouring out his soul for the other to see. He quickly walks away, trying to ignore the eyes he can feel boring into his back as he does so.

That night in his tent Eris weighs the merits of following through with running. The mating run is about lopers chasing the most compatible scent. It’s a bloody affair, lopers often fight each other if they sense another alpha on the path to their runner of desire and even once the loper catches a runner any respectful runner will fight back and make them work for it.

The pre gathering is often a time for lopers and runners to first get familiarized with some scents so they can maybe find one they want to chase the next morning. If he is being honest with himself, Eris is a little embarrassed at how much weakness he showed Azriel in admitting he wants the other to consider him. But Eris also is someone who isn’t afraid to go after what he wants and he knows that realistically this is his only chance. Also he knows that Azriel’s family has probably planted doubts in Azriel’s head so Eris needed to make sure the other saw him as a possible mate.

As Eris lays down to sleep that night, he imagines how tomorrow could go if Azriel decides to choose him. The lopers would get up earlier and paint themselves in their chosen ritualistic symbols from their courts and that represent themselves. The runners would all gather behind the lopers as they line up to race into the forest, ready to compete to find and make the best den before the runners begin. Maybe if Eris is lucky, Azriel will give him a sign that he’s made his decision, that he is going to be coming after him. If that’s the case then Eris knows he won’t be able to stop his cunt from releasing juices as he bathes himself in preparation during the dedicated time while the lopers are in the forest and building dens. Eris would wait with the other runners once he was done, strategizing and planning against possible traps and obstacles that will be in his way. He knows he has an advantage as the heir of Autumn, even if the special powder they take dampen his powers, he grew up jumping from tree to tree along with all his siblings. Eris knows his inner omega will be singing and he will happily take a backseat once it’s finally time to run. He trusts his omega to guide him where to go and he trust in his own strength to keep him safe.

Eris knows he smells good, maple and almonds make a lovely mix and he knows his inner omega won’t be able to stop radiating his scent like a beacon. Eris is only interested in one alpha, and the powder doesn’t affect his wings as they are additional limbs. So he knows if Azriel comes for him, he would come from above. Eris imagines hopping from tree to tree staying under the cover of leaves. He imagines being stuck at one point, up high, the next tree too far for him to make the leap and a crowd of drooling alphas waiting for him to fall. He imagines Azriel finally swooping in and growling at them all, taking care of them viscously. Eris knows his cunt would be dripping at the sight but he also knows that he couldn’t watch he’d have to keep moving.

Eris doesn’t know how Azriel would finally catch him but Eris knows that he’d fight with every fiber of his being, he’d want Azriel to prove that he wants him, that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to claim him, that he’s strong enough to father their pups. He knows that his cunt will be throbbing once he finally submits and he hopes Azriel will take a moment to taste him before he flies them to his den.

Eris imagines that Azriel would probably set up his den in a cave on a mountain, higher than other alphas, easy to defend and probably close to a water and food source. He imagines that Azriel would be thoughtful and supply the cave with nesting materials for Eris to use once he brings him there.

Eris doesn’t even want to imagine what comes next as he knows the idea of Azriel breeding him over and over and claiming him will give him too much hope.

Eris falls asleep, oblivious to the shadows that occupy his tent, their master not planning on letting his dream omega slip away from him when he finally has a chance to make him his.

____________

OKAY so I wasn’t planning to write all of this, it’s kind of just a story I want to happen but I am too lazy to fully write myself.

But any thoughts?

Also lopers don’t have to kill rival lopers but there’s nothing against it if they do… azriel most definitely will eliminate threats.

(Also this is just an idea, if someone were to write something like this I would spread my legs for them especially if they added smut and gore WOOT)

[viktoriaashleyyx]

I think Tamlin, at the very least, needs a love interest who is a stark contrast to Feyre, hear me out:

ACOMAF Feyre (post fae) is a damsel who wants to be a badass. She's a baby in fae years and cannot control her powers.

Tamlin needs a badass that wants to be a damsel. Like yeah, I could protect myself, but why would I, you're here. Like she's way more powerful than even he is, but she just wants the soft life. She wants to feel protected.

Like this vibe ^

You were gonna save me? I can go back inside!

Like when he's not around she kills like 5 Naga that tried to interrupt her walk but when he is around she won't even lift a finger.

I think it would drive him insane.

I started a fic

[nova-stardragon]

I had a dream last night.

In this dream, I was stealing an evil man’s boat in order to escape him, since he was holding me hostage.

BUT WAIT

I’ve successfully escaped, but I’m not doing so well on my own. I don’t know how to sail a boat on the ocean.

But suddenly, I’m set upon by pirates. Steampunk pirates.

And Rhysand is their captain.

Also the evil man I was running away from became Tamlin.

My subconscious knows what it’s doing sometimes that was a good dream.

[daycourtofficial]

We’re Bumping Booties, Having Us a Ball

Summary: Nesta and Azriel are suspicious of you and Cassian spending so much time together.

It was unusual for Nesta to speak individually to Azriel. This might be the first time she’s ever sought him out to have a discussion, and frankly, it slightly terrified him.

She approached him, and after looking around for wandering ears, deeming it safe to speak, she asked “have you noticed something different between our mates?”

Azriel blinked. He had no idea what he expected Nesta to talk to him about, but it certainly wasn’t about you and Cassian.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“They’ve been spending a lot of time together lately,” she huffs, clearly annoyed he doesn’t see what she does.

“We all spend an absurd amount of time together, Nesta,” he replies.

She rolls her eyes, “why she wants to be with you is beyond me, you insufferable bat. Okay, fine, maybe I’m making it up. Next time we’re all together at Rita’s, just pay attention to them.”

And so he did. He noticed you and Cassian conspiring over something, he just wasn’t sure what. You didn’t spend the whole time with Cassian, just whenever Azriel went to get you more drinks, you’d immediately start speaking to Cass and your conversation would conveniently end when Azriel returned.

He didn’t think anything nefarious was going on. You two had been mates for ages, before Cassian ever even met Nesta. You and Cassian had a friendship best described as siblings - honestly seeing his brother love you so much warmed his heart.

So he wasn’t worried you were doing anything scandalous with Cassian, but he knew when you were conspiring, and oh were you conspiring.

The next time Azriel gets up for drinks, he stops by Nesta and tells her, “they’re up to something. Let’s find out what.”

-

It didn’t take long for them to catch a hint that you and Cassian had plans. Two nights later, Cassian told Nesta that he had to drop his leathers off to get patched, and you told Azriel you were going to a cobbler to have your shoes fixed.

Nesta and Azriel met in the hallway after their respective mates had left. “She told me she had a cobbler to visit - at 9 PM.” Azriel knew you were much better at crafting lies than that - he likes to think you have a hard time lying to him. And you do.

“He muttered something about getting his leathers repatched.” Nesta scowled.

Azriel just stared at her, honestly shocked at this mission they’re embarking on.

A few minutes of silence pass. Nesta feels compelled to break it, unsure of what they’re waiting for, before a few shadows come back and dance slowly around Azriel’s ears.

“They’re on the roof.”

-

“Okay, put your hand here. Do it like this. No, you have to put your hips into it. OW! That was my foot!”

Azriel and Nesta crept up to the door to the rooftop - a flat area designed to entertain guests and occasionally watch Starfall. Hardly anyone used the rooftop during the year, especially not during the winter when it’s freezing up there.

Nesta and Azriel can hear you way before they see the two of you, sharing a quizical look when they hear you muttering explitives about your foot.

“Can you see anything?” Nesta whispers.

“No, we can peak around the corner though,” Azriel replies, starting to crouch to peer around the corner.

He and Nesta peer around the corner at the same time, the sight being even more surprising than if their mates were cheating on them.

“Are they..?” Nesta asks.

“Dancing.” Azriel says.

“She’s dancing, he’s doing… something. But it’s not dancing.”

They continue to watch the two of you for a while, amazed at your patience with teaching Cassian how to dance. You’re being exceptionally kind and patient with him, taking time to help him practice, despite the pleas from your toes to have him stop.

“She’s teaching him to dance, he’s never been good at formal dancing,” Azriel whispers to Nesta, an idea of why you’d be doing this forming in his mind.

“Cassian wants to know how to dance?” Nesta asks, confusion evident across her face. Azriel turns to look at her, amusement across his face, “Why do you think he’d want to learn to dance when he’s never been interested in doing more than dancing at Rita’s before?”

Realization dawns across her face, “he wants to dance with me.” She says quietly. She continues to stare at her mate, in awe of how incredibly sweet this gesture is, and a little upset that he went to you to teach him how to dance instead of her.

“Okay, I’m calling it. I’ve spun you around enough tonight. I want to go to bed.”

Cassian’s voice breaks Nesta train of thought. She grabs Azriel’s arm, almost making him fall over with how hard she’s trying to get them to move. “We need to go - he’d be devastated if we ruined his surprise.”

Nesta and Azriel hurry down the stairs, back down to the hallway where they met each other thirty minutes earlier.

“So, Nesta,” Azriel says, very amused at his brother’s surprise, “how do you feel about their little secret?”

Nesta sighs and says quietly, “that I have an incredibly thoughtful mate and I almost ruined his surprise due to some jealousy.”

“Good,” Azriel replies, “and that I have an incredibly kind mate who loves the two of you greatly.”

Azriel left Nesta to consider that, and when you returned to your shared room smelling briefly of Cassian, he chuckled to himself and offered to rub your feet while you two take a bath.

Azriel waits until Starfall, when Cassian takes Nesta on the dance floor for a while, looking pretty decent, to tell you, “hmm, someone looks like he’s finally figured out how to dance.”

Your eyes snap to his face, “He must have had a wonderful teacher.” Azriel’s mischievous smile tells you that he knows just who Cassian’s teacher was.

“I wonder if his teacher’s available to show me some moves,” he says, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer.

“I heard she’s booked for months. She’s very hard to get in to see,” you reply, placing your hand on his jaw.

“You think she’d make a special exception for me?” He says, giving you an incredibly pitiful look.

“I think I can get her to pencil you in,” you reply, grabbing his face and kissing him.

[xxvalkyriesxx]

But hear me out:

Nesta is a decorated equestrian, one of the best in the world. She's on top of her game, going to international events and even making the Olympic team earning medals and bringing pride for her country. Being sponsored and making content. Becoming the IT girl in equestrian.

Until she's not.

A major accident happens at a competition, where Nesta is rushed to the hospital waking up nearly a week later to find out her horse didn't survive the fall. Her glimmer of hope dissolves. Spiraling into depression as she drinks, goes to rehab, rinse and repeat.

Her sisters are all that she has left in this world and watch this unfold until they couldn't anymore. Feyre needs to save her big sister before she loses Nesta for good.

In comes the big guns.

Nesta was charged for public intoxication with a possible sentencing but luckily enough her lawyer was able to snag her a better deal. She must complete over 350 hours of community service and the judge so happens to send Nesta to the House of Wind, a non-profit horse ranch offering therapeutic programs for adults.

And the owner of the ranch? Cassian Valyrian. A decorated war hero who has put all of his energy into helping others has met his match as Nesta Archeon is ordered to stay with him until her probation is lifted.

[gwandas]

it’s going to be pretty funny when fanon elain and canon elain end up being nothing alike. I don’t think any of us are ready for the consequences of an entire fandom spending 3 years living inside fanfiction having to deal with SJM’s reality

[cassiefromhell]

Bats and Fire: The Very Beginnings

What if we took y/n (who is, in this fic, a monster researcher/hunter) being mated to a couple acotar men... then made it all the acotar men (batboys, eris, lucien)....

So this was a silly joke. Then I wrote it. Then I realized that this could be multiple parts... so welcome to:

Bats and Fire

01 - The Very Beginnings

(this is such proof that i will write anything and i'm 6x more likely to write it if its MESSY and CHAOTIC)

Warnings: none

WC: 2k

Finding out you’re mated to all the ACOTAR men would be a doozy.

At first it’s Rhys, when you make eye contact with him while on a business visit in Velaris…

“I know,” you laugh, gently nudging your friend’s shoulder. “Boo hoo, you don’t like the Night Court. But it’s beautiful. We’ve been in worse places on business.”

“That’s tru— oh my cauldron, look who it is!” She points to the back of a man walking with a tall blonde woman, and you can immediately sense the power radiating off of him. He must be who you’re looking for: the High Lord of Night.

“Yes!” you grin, tightening your grip on the jar in your hands — which holds a very menacing pixie that has been stealing magic from residents of Prythian all over. The High Lord of Autumn had commissioned its capture, and you had tracked it back to night, and well… here you were.

“Lord Rhysand!” you call out, gracefully sliding your way through the crowd. “Lord Rhysand, I must speak with you!”

Someone bumps into you, and you stumble, crashing straight into the High Lord’s chest. 

“You bellowed?”

“Yes, yes— sorry, my Lord. But you see, this pixie—”

But then you look up, meeting his stunning violet-blue gaze.

You drop your jar, and it shatters on the cobblestone ground, the pixie exploding out of the rubble, trying to make a break for it. The creature is immediately surrounded by darkness, unable to make its grand escape.

“You’re…” you whisper, covering your mouth with a hand. 

“…My mate.”

Cassian and Azriel came shortly after. You and Rhys got close quickly, so why wouldn’t you be introduced to his friends?

“Darling?” Rhysand says, glancing around the room, his eyes finally landing on you. “Oh, good— you’re all ready. Remember that it’s cold, so wear plenty of layers—”

You blink up at him, gesturing to the not one, not two, not three, but four layers he’s made you put on. “Rhys. I’m going to be very warm. I’ve been to the Illyrian mountains on hunting trips before and I can confirm that this is too much.”

“It’s gotten colder in recent years.”

“Sure.”

Rhys grins, kisses the side of your head, and takes your hand. “Ready? We won’t be there for two long, I just want to do a little surveillance with the camps and introduce you to my brothers while we’re there.”

With a quick nod, you’re  enveloped by darkness and wind. And then it all fades, and chill air bites at your cheeks and nose.

Rhysand holds you close to his side as you trudge through the snow. You wrap your coats tighter around yourself, leaning into his warmth.

And then you feel it.

You freeze.

An electric connection stuns you, seeming to form at your heart and spread through your chest. 

And then another.

You reluctantly look over your shoulder, cursing when you see them. Two tall Illyrian males, staring at you. They definitely know. And you have the gut feeling that these two males are the Cassian and Azriel that Rhys told you about.

“Ah, look, there they are,” Rhys grins, waving towards the two males, who have both started in your direction.

This is your moment: fight, flight, or freeze? Your heart pounds in your chest—they’re getting closer—and the crowd is so thick with people…

As a monster researcher and hunter, you’ve never fled once in your life.

…But now is a fantastic time to start.

“Restroom,” you blurt, and then sprint from Rhys’s side, burying yourself in the crowd of taller Fae and wings and fur coats.

You weave between the people, attempting to mask your scent, and then burst into a small corner shop. A bakery, filled with the smells of bread and pastries. Perfect to cover your trail.

You walk up to the counter, fishing out a few coppers. “Do you have anything particularly smelly?”

The baker raises a brow, his wings shifting behind him as he gives you a once-over dripping with judgment. “Excuse me?”

“Love?”

You curse under your breath at the sound of Rhys’s voice. And then you slowly turn around, finding your mate… and your other two mates.

So you face your fate.

The Illyrians were easy to love. You got to know them in a matter of weeks, but you had other jobs to attend to, and was soon in the Autumn Court, where you had to finally turn in that damned pixie to High Lord Eris…

Are you sure you feel safe there? Azriel asks down the bond. One of us can come and accompany you.

Yes, you confirm. All is well. I’m just turning in this little beast. I’ll be back before sundown.

He sent you a wave of love, paired with a sarcastic you have fun with that.

So here you are, climbing a ladder to get to the top level of the Autumn palace. It’s built like a treehouse, with ladders separating the levels unless you’re nobility or a special guest, in which case you get to use the fancy-dancy wooden staircases in the center. 

But being a monster specialist is pretty damn far from nobility. So you get the ladders route.

You decide that you hate this place.

Hoisting yourself up onto the final platform, where the throne room is, you climb to your feet. 

A guard gives you a dirty look, holding out a spear to stop you in your path. “Female. State your name and business.”

You say your name, and hold up the jar containing a very angry pixie. “The High Lord commissioned this pixie’s capture. Now, if you’ll let me go, this Tinkerbelle is very eager to find an escape route.”

“You didn’t give advance warning of your visit.”

“I sent word a month ago,” you snarl, baring your teeth.

His spear strikes you quicker than your Fae reflexes can react. It collides with your cheek, sending you stumbling back, blood rushing down your jaw.

“What in Prythian are you doing, Magus?” an unfamiliar male voice enters the encounter, and you immediately see boots approaching.

“She was trying to force her way in—”

“Liar,” you hiss. You wipe away the blood and face the guard once more, free hand tightening on the pixie jar. “I have proper certification, if you would just let me—”

“She’s aggressive, your majesty.”

Your majesty?

You look up at the male who had approached. You’re met with a golden-skinned male, with a  scar through one eye and a whirring, mechanical eyeball. When he too looks at you, you feel the slightest… ittiest bittiest… tug.

Shit.

His jaw drops, long ginger hair falling over his shoulder. “You’re…”

The doors to the throne room swing open, revealing a male that looks like your newfound fourth mate. But he’s wearing a crown, so he must be the High Lord that you came for.

And when his stunning copper eyes turn to you, it happens.

For the fifth time.

“Nope,” you say, throwing the jar in High Lord Eris’s direction. “Nope. Not again. Not doing this.”

With that, you turn on your heel, starting back towards the ladder.

“Wait,” the first male jumps in front of you, eyes glimmering. “You’re… you’re my mate.”

“What do you mean?” Eris jumps in, stepping into view and rapidly approaching. “She’s my mate.”

“See, so there’s this phenomenon,” you start, gritting your teeth. “I already have three mates. I don’t feel the need for another two. The Mother is cruel and she thinks that building me a harem is great entertainment. But you two are officially out. Capishe?”

The two males looked at eachother, and then back to you—

But you were gone.

We have an issue, you stated down the bond to your Illyrian mates.

You knew that blocking out two mates would not work. And it didn’t. They sent you flowers and gifts, and... oh, the gifts... such expensive and exquisite things... for weeks, until you caved… and called a meeting for all of your mates.

You sit in silence at The House of Wind’s dining table, monitoring the males’ expressions. They're all glaring at each other. The Mother definitely could have given you a less… volatile… group.

“Okay,” you start, scratching the back of your neck. “So… I think this is it.”

“I’d like to put it on the record that you said you were sure we were all last time,” Cassian grits out, wings rigid at his back. 

“This is different. Now, we need to go over rules, boundaries… anything that comes to mind?”

“Separated court times,” Lucien starts, seeming rather open to the situation. “Eris and I manage the Autumn Court, and these three are always in Night, so it makes sense to do a week-on, week-off schedule.”

“Her work requires her to travel,” Azriel joins in, twirling Truth-Teller in his hand. “You couldn’t expect her to just stay in your court for a week at a time.”

“Of course he didn’t mean that,” Eris snarls, ear twitching. “He meant during her off time.”

“I could—” you try to join in, but it doesn’t really work out for you.

“I plan on making her my High Lady, which she has already agreed to,” Rhysand growls. “So she’ll be spending a lot of time in the Night Court.”

Cassian nods, joining in. “And we don’t want her to give up her passions. Which seems to be what you want. So she’ll be either at the Night Court or traveling. You two can… visit… her.”

“I really wouldn’t mind—”

“And what if I want her to be my High Lady?” Eris stands, lips pulling back as he faces Rhys. “Perhaps she’d prefer to reside in a more respectable court than Night.”

That prompts both Azriel and Cassian to stand, growling and wings flaring. “You’re a piece of scum and she does not deserve to be tied to the likes of you,” Azriel responds, bitterness and anger dripping in his tone.

“Have you lost all your dignity?” Lucien shoots to his feet too, and Rhys follows suit.

They start yelling. And arguing. And every time you try to cut in, they ignore you.

So you conjure up something that should get their attention.

“Contraceptive brews!” you shout, throwing your arms in the air.

Sure enough, the males go silent, turning to look at you.

“Sit down.”

And they all do.

Like puppies taking a command.

“Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel and I have all agreed that the males take the contraceptive brews. I have a rigorous travel schedule that often includes random overnights in the woods or mountains while hunting or researching, so I don’t always have access to them,” you explain, gesturing to the Illyrians.

Eris raises a brow. “Wouldn’t it make sense for you to just carry it with you rather than all five of us taking—”

“Drink the brew or you don’t get it,” Cassian growls, making a lewd gesture.

“New rule. No more fighting. It’s overwhelming and stupid.” you announce, taking the ribbon out of your hair and putting it in the middle of the table. “This is the Talking Ribbon. When you want to talk, you must have the ribbon. Else you shut the fuck up.”

“That is your—”

“Rhys. Talking Ribbon.”

Rhys obediently takes the ribbon, then tries speaking again. “This is your favorite ribbon. I wouldn’t risk this being used… it could get torn.”

Lucien takes the ribbon gingerly, and then faces you. “Then we will not tear the ribbon. Right, everyone?”

The males all nod.

You sigh, and then gesture around the group. “My time will be spent as I please. Now, I think I’ve been here for as long as I need to, so you five can work out the details on your own.” You stand, and walk away from the table.

“Love,” Rhys calls after you. “Love, I think that maybe we would benefit from your presence—”

“I can’t always be your mediator. I have a Wyrm to hunt. Good night.”

And you leave the males to grumble amongst each other.

If you'd like to be tagged for future 'bats and fire' chaos, comment and I'll add you to the taglist!

Read 02 HERE

[crazy-ache]

Chapter 9 Update

Summary: One moment. All it takes is one singular moment to change the trajectory of fate. Following the events of Hybern, everything changes when Lucien instinctively grabs his mate—Elain Archeron—and brings her back to the Spring Court with Feyre and Tamlin. 

In the midst of war and ruin, Elain and Lucien will have to face the bond that connects them together if they hope to survive the unintended consequences. To do so, they’ll have to prevail through games of deceit, powerful forces of magic, and deadly enemies. And hope their hearts survive the journey. 

A retelling of A Court of Wings and Ruin (ACOWAR) and a Canon Divergent AU. 

Notes: Chapter 9 Update - Water. Weekly updates begin now!!

Start on AO3 | Read Chapter 9

"I wanted to know…how do you feel about a little exploring?” Elain felt the corners of her lips tick upward. “You mean explore…Velaris?”

Tag List: @zenkindoflove, @bonecarversbestie, @little-fierling, @teddyhoneybear, @the-darkestminds, @yaralulu, @ataraxiasflame, @slipmerfoot, @areyoudreaminof, @comeonladiesitstime2yearn, @goghwilde, @positivelyruined, @sad-scarred-sassy, @works-of-heart, @sonics-atelier, @mr-agent-mulder, @shadowqueenjude, @christeareads, @emmers-bens123

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones - II

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

biggest shoutout to @abruisedmuse ♥️ without you, I don't know how I'd finish this fic. ily!

Tagging: @sabrinaacarpenters | @vanserrass | @climb-the-mountian | @positivewitch | @ladyelain | @helion-ism |@readthelastpaage | @sarions | @spinachtz |@elizab3th-grace | @ladystarrynight | @zenkindoflove | @animezinglife | @eastofatlanta | @carolynmezzosoprano | @daily-dose-of-sass | @highlady-fireheart | @carnythian | @thedarkinmansfield | @krem-does-stuff |@that-golden-lyre | @lovedbyth3sun | @moonfawnx | @runningwiththeoceans | @sweet-but-stormy | @illyrianshadowhunter | @this-is-rochelle | @comingupbexx | @foxybananaaaz | @weesablackbeak | @thewilderheart | @rityrooroo | @electromagnetic-waves | @secret-third-thing | @feysandfeels | @mali22 | @theeternalstruggle | @devilsfoodcake22 | @maidr-00 | @the-midnightwriter | @moobell55 | @alohaangels | @readychilledwine | | @ladywhilemia | @easchies | @goldenmagnolias | @princessofmerchants | @clockwork-ashes | @bibliophiliaxvignette

Find it all here.

Iris slammed the door shut behind her, her trembling legs barely keeping her upright.

She was now shackled to that male. Tied to him forever. 

“I would never harm you.”  

But she knew about his mother. Everyone heard the whispers of what their High Lord put her through. His favorite son couldn’t be too far off.

“This wasn’t how anything was supposed to go.” she whispered, covering her eyes in frustration. She had been so close. So close to escaping to her mother’s home in the Day Court. Her father never dared venture there since her mother’s death. She would’ve been safe. 

But no. It was like her wretched father had sensed it, sensed something in her change, and needed to act fast.

A whole month. He had sold her off a month before. No wonder his leash had gotten tighter. His fist harder.

How stupid was she to think she’d ever had a chance to run away from him?

And now, Iris was stuck here. Until she either died trying to kill Eris or he killed her. This wedding that was no wedding. This marriage that would likely result in a nightmare. The husband that held no love for her or she for him. Nothing was the way it should’ve been and Iris sank to the ground, her white gown pooling around her as she finally broke down in quiet sobs. 

He had said he wouldn’t touch her. But for how long? How many times could she threaten him with a stabbing before he called her bluff? 

Iris gave herself a few moments — a few moments to shatter before she had to step back into her reality. She had been patient for so long, hoping for some kind of miracle, for an out from her father. This wasn’t what she had expected. 

Sniffling, Iris finally wiped at her eyes a few moments later and forced herself to stand. Tears wouldn’t help. She would not let him win. 

Glancing at herself in the bathroom mirror, Iris wrinkled her nose and then let out a breath. 

“It’s fine.” she whispered and wiped at her eyes again. “It’ll be fine.”

But it took Iris a few agonizing moments of trying to unbutton and remove her dress to realize it wouldn’t be fine. There were just so many damn ties, making her frown. Nothing about this union was her choice, including the dress she was wearing; her father had simply had it delivered without saying a word. Sighing deeply, Iris moved on to the pins in her hair instead, digging out as many as she could until she couldn’t reach the ones in the back and let out a growl of frustration.

She would need her stupid husband’s help and that idea had her imagining death. 

Iris looked at herself in the mirror again and huffed a piece of hair out of her face, briefly thinking about just ripping the dress off and leaving her hair as is. Who cares if she looked like she’d been attacked by a Suriel? She could just sleep like this. 

Maybe if she looked like a wild animal he really wouldn’t touch her.

Iris looked at herself in the mirror again and grimaced. She was a mess with red, slightly puffed eyes and disheveled hair... but more importantly, she was exhausted. The sooner she could get out of this, the sooner she could attempt to sleep.

Sighing in defeat, Iris slowly unlocked the bathroom door and opened it, already glaring in Eris’s general direction. 

He had almost kissed her. And she had almost let him. They had barely spent time together and she couldn’t even hold up against an attractive male, never mind if he was a piece of shit. 

Color bloomed on her cheeks thinking about how close he had stood, towering over her. She shouldn’t have allowed it...but again...how long would he allow her to refuse him?

Iris quietly stepped back into the room and froze at the sight of him. He had removed the jacket and dress shirt, standing in front of their shared closet, shirtless. Her eyes zeroed in on his back and she blinked at the number of scars found there.

Eris slowly turned at the sound of her return and quirked a brow, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking about. 

“Change your mind about the touching? If you want me to ravish you, I’ll need a minute to find the perfect silk sleeping bottoms to seduce you with.”

Iris’s expression flattened. “Go die.”

“Gladly.” 

And he turned back to his closet.

Iris clenched her fists and glared at his back. And to think, she had been seconds away from being sympathetic. Her fingers flexed and she envisioned grabbing the dagger still rooted in the table and cornering him against the closet, putting it to his throat. She could easily picture it and would get a thrill out of cornering the pretty little son of the stupid High Lord. She refused to feel sympathy for him.

But he was her stupid husband. And she did need help with her dress. And her hair. And she needed something to sleep in. Which would all require her to walk up to him.

Closing her eyes, and taking a deep quiet breath, Iris braced herself. 

“I need help with my dress.” she mumbled. 

She watched Eris pause and her whole body heated in embarrassment. She felt his flicker of amusement before he turned again and smirked at her.

“Come again, wife?”

“I said, husband,” she began through clenched teeth. “I need help with my dress.”

“And the hair, I’m assuming?” he added drily, scanning her from head to toe. “Did you fight with someone in there?”

She glared at him. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Eris chuckled then held up a finger. “I will. On one condition.”

The nerve.

“And before you throw the dagger you stole at me, it’s a reasonable condition,” he said and she rolled her eyes.

“And what is this condition?”

Eris paused again and their gazes locked on one another. A curious feeling blossomed in her chest at the look and before Iris could let her mind wonder if the look meant more, she gestured with her hand for him to continue.

“You and I don’t know each other,” Eris began and moved a step towards her, holding out his hands. “I was given no chance to speak with you before the wedding and you didn’t even know until last week.”

Iris pursed her lips, crossing her arms. “And?”

“And, there is no out for either one of us now.” he continued and gestured between them. “We are stuck with each other unless we want to take the very romantic route of mutual suicide, which I am not interested in. Are you looking forward to death?”

Iris rolled her eyes. “It depends on how much more talking you plan to do,” she replied and he chuckled, giving her a look that suggested he would plan to do nonstop talking just for that comment and Iris scowled. “Your point?” 

Eris shrugged as casually as possible. “A question for a question. To get to know each other.“ he proposed and Iris blinked. “The pleasant conversation we had prior to you hiding in the bathroom inspired me for such a solution.”

Iris glanced at him warily. “Must’ve been exhausting for you to think so hard with such a little brain,” she mumbled and Eris’s eyes lit up. 

“That tongue of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble with me.”

“If it bothers you so much, rip it out then.” she challenged, the smirk on his face igniting a furious rage in her and doubled when he only chuckled.

“Oh wife,” he only said and gave her a rather suggestive look. “We both know how much of a waste that would be. I’m sure it’ll come in handy for me eventually.”

Iris glared at him, the color deepening on her cheeks and her loathing for him grew by the second. “If you don’t stop talking to me in that tone, that dagger isn’t too far out of reach and will find its way into your throat faster than you could stop it.”

“Big words, little gazelle,” he said with a smile. “But your threats don’t bother me so use your big brain and think for a moment about what I’m saying.”

She bristled at the dismissal of her words and only crossed her arms, glaring at him in silence. She wasn’t going to dignify him with an answer and Eris scoffed at her body language.

“The point of my condition here, wife, is that I had no say in this marriage and clearly, neither did you,” he said and waved a hand. “I’d rather we attempted some civility than resort to murder.”

Iris rolled her eyes with a scoff. “You really expect me to believe that you, Eris Vanserra,” she began and he scowled. “The high lord’s firstborn, didn’t have a say in who you married? I thought you had a list to choose from.” 

Eris shot her a withering look, his body tense. “You overestimate how much my father values me and my opinion,” he replied quietly then took a step back and turned away from her again, closing the closet door. “I was ordered to get married, not asked.” 

Iris blinked and the annoyance towards him dimmed slightly at the way his expression had shifted, at the look he shot her. 

“Why attempt civility?” she asked. “Why not just make me?”

Eris sucked his teeth and scoffed, turning back to her again. “Are you determined to make me the villain in your story? Have I shown you any ill will at all?”

“How do I know it’s not all an act? To catch me off guard? This is only our first night together.” she said and if Iris had blinked, she would’ve missed the anger that he schooled off his face.

He shook his head, turning away from her again and Iris kept her eyes on his stance, tense once more, his fists clenched at his side. “If I wanted to be the villain...do you think you’d still be standing in that dress and not sobbing on the floor by now?” he said quietly and Iris froze. “If I wanted to be the villain, wife...you would be tied to that bed with my hands all over you. You would’ve already been covered in fresh bruises. I would’ve already been buried deep inside you and whatever shot you thought at a happy life with me would’ve already been long gone.”

He turned his head to the side and met her gaze over his shoulder. “It would take me very little time to make you miserable.”

Iris backed a step, trying to muster disgust in her paled expression. “And yet?”

“And yet…” Eris said then took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, running a hand down his face. “The person you are expecting is my father. And I am not my father. Nor do I ever want to be.”

“Aren’t you daddy’s favorite boy?” she sneered shakily. “Why wouldn’t you want to be like him?”

“Because my father has chosen violence in every instance of his life. I do not wish to continue his legacy of living that way.” Eris said sharply and Iris’s brows furrowed at the tone.

“Even if it gets you what you want?” she asked quietly. 

When he turned to look at her fully again, Iris stood with narrowed eyes, her heart treacherously beating quickly at the violence found in his words. Words he knew would hit home, for as much violence she threatened him with, he would always be a warrior who was stronger than she was. He had fought in wars. He had seen battles she hadn’t even dreamed of. 

Iris hadn’t underestimated how easily he could overpower her and yet…what was throwing her off was that so far, he was choosing not to.  

Eris slowly walked up to her again and when he paused in front of her, Iris met his heated gaze full-on. 

“Every moment outside of this room, I have had to fight and claw my way through this court. I do not want my bedroom and this relationship, however, it came to be, to be another battlefield,” he said quietly. “Nevertheless...should you insist on making me the demon in your fairytale, know that I have been fighting demons worse than you for years. I will break you and feel no remorse.”

“Is that a threat?” she growled and the corner of his mouth went up.

“Oh, my little gazelle,” he said sweetly. “It is a promise. One I do not wish to keep. So please don’t make me.”

Iris hesitated, scanning his face for any signs of treachery, any sign of menace, but he was too good at hiding his thoughts. 

“I could kill you if I wanted to,” she said softly. “At any moment. At any time.”

“I have no doubt you’d put up a good fight.” he agreed, in that same soft tone. “But in the end, I would win and it would not end well for either of us, I think.”

They stood in pregnant silence, one opponent seizing up the other. 

“What are you going to do to me, Eris?” she asked quietly and Eris tilted his head.

“Nothing that you wouldn’t want me to do,” he replied, his hands clasped behind his back as she assessed him.

His signature stance, it seemed.

Iris eyed him quietly, her eyes taking the time to shamelessly gaze at the sharp panels of his toned body and slowly moved up to his face, the ever-present smirk causing her cheeks to flush when his brows quirked. Her husband had a handsome face, indeed. A handsome face that tragically needed to be smacked. 

“Like what you see?” he teased and she scowled. “It’s yours for the taking, wife. Just say the word.”

“Please die.” was her only response and he chuckled.

“Only if we die together,” he said sweetly.

“We’ve been married for barely a few hours and you’re already planning to follow me in death?” she said with a snort.

“What can I say, I am a simple male. A beautiful female tries to stab me...how can I do anything but yearn?” he replied and Iris rolled her eyes at his sarcasm.

“Charming.” she deadpanned, his smirk grating on her every nerve.

“Would you still like my assistance or do you plan to sleep like that?” he asked. “All it would take is a few tears in the dress here and there and they’d believe I did my duty by you so well, you simply couldn’t be bothered to remove the dress before fainting from pleasure.” 

Fury fueled her body, for she was sick of his taunting and Iris had barely raised her hand, ready to strike him, to show him exactly how much she’d tolerate his bullshit when Eris caught her arm.

“You got away with it once. I will not allow it again.” he said, his tone ever so pleasant but Iris didn’t miss the fire in his eyes.

“Then don’t say things that make me want to rip your fucken throat out.”

Eris smiled. “You want to rip my throat out?”

Iris smiled at him in return. “Desperately.”

Tension rose between them as they shared an unexpectedly heated glance. If it had been any other two people, their lips might have already met.

“Don't threaten me with a good time, wife.” he said quietly, his eyes scanning her face before she yanked her hand away.

“Stop calling me wife. I have a name. Use it.”

He chuckled and Iris wanted to throttle him. 

“But you are my wife, Iris.” he said softly and she was embarrassed to note the goosebumps that erupted on her arms when her name slipped from his lips. “I like saying it. Or would you prefer I gave you a pet name?”

Iris scowled, shaking out her arms and she knew he noted the movement when the corner of his mouth turned up. “I’d prefer if you didn’t speak at all actually.” 

“Ah wife, I’m afraid that’s a preference I won’t be catering to.” was his reply, and Iris whirled at him with a glare. 

“Cut the bullshit. Will you help me with my dress or not?”

“A question for a question.”

Iris pursed her lips, curious even as weariness started to weigh on her. 

“You have no reason to distrust me this much, you know,” he said casually, pulling the hair tie from his ponytail and running his fingers through his hair. 

“I have no reason to trust you either.”

Once again, Eris shrugged as casually as could. “This is why I’m proposing a middle ground. A question for a question, Iris.”

“And you’ll be honest?” she asked with a quirked brow. 

“As honest as you’ll be.” 

“And you deem me trustworthy enough to share information with me?”

Eris raised his brows. “Well...as my wife, you can’t run off anywhere and share this information. I’d just kill you.”

Iris gave him a small smile. “Not if I kill you first and then run off,” she said and he had the nerve to look delighted. 

“Oh, I do love the way you flirt with me.”

Iris shot him a look full of loathing but turned away from him, finally weighing her options. She could give him a chance. He hadn’t broken his promise of not harming her so far. If she was being honest with herself, Iris had imagined the exact scenarios he had described earlier to happen to her this evening but...her husband seemed to be surprising her. At least the expectations have been made clear. 

“Fine,” she said and took her sweet time walking over to their shared vanity, making sure to stop by the dagger still stinking into their dining table and grab it. She placed it on the vanity, gripping the handle tightly, meeting his gaze in the mirror as she sat. “Just in case you get any ideas.”

And for the first time that night, Eris’s lips curled into a small genuine smile.

[ghostedgrim]

So there are like hundreds of interpretations of merfolk. One of my favorites is the Monarch Beta. Mostly because they tie in beauty and danger.

So it is a subspecies of mermaid that are known for being rare and elusive. I like to imagine they'd live around an isolated and extremely deeps coves, making their homes in underwater cliffs. The Beta Monarch can live to be thousands of years old, and can grow to be 20ft long (human upper body takes up 2ft-3ft obvious smaller if baby).

Monarch comes from their sheer size, regal look, and the fact that they prey on smaller species of merfolk. (Don't worry they enjoy clams, fish and other stuff). Beta comes from the appearance of their tails. The average tail of an adult ranges from 16-20ft, most have vibrant iridescent colors and their tails are somewhat covered with many long and wide (3-5ft) whispy fins, (like a beta fish and all their dramatic fins).

Culture wise, very territorial, and they love collecting trinkets (like crows) and braid said trinkets into their hair, or into handmade sachels or articles of clothing worn around the waist and arms. They tend to be curious, mostly while young. When pregnant (lasts about 9 months) the female will build a nest and during the last 4 months she will not leave the nest, or her home cave, until after birth. During that time, the mate is constantly hunting to bring food and nest materials to their mate. Because of this, most Beta Monarchs interested in a female will present shiny and pretty trinkets as a form of courting to show how well they are at hunting and scavenging.

Powers: The Monarch Beta can change their gender and sex at any time, however the ability is kinda like a muscle so unless they're genderfluid, the ability will slowly weaken and fade the longer they stay as their chosen gender. Some can also turn into human.

I also kinda find the idea of their human or fey lover struggling to carry them. Like the mermaid is in their arms bridle style, or over their shoulders and the tail is like wrapped around the lovers waist and neck, with the tailfin still dragging on the floor and the poor lover struggling to ensure they don't step on the fins.

[goddessofwisdom18]

Day Court doodles

[ninthcircleofprythian]

I'm heading out of town for my birthday - but before I go I wanted your opinions!

I have a couple ideas for short/drabble fics (knowing me they will end up longer than intended but oh well). I'm not making any promises on how quickly I will post them but I will definitely work on the winning choice first.

Let me know which one you want to see first.

Also, heads up -- Part 2 of Unbound will be posted Friday. Earlier than I planned but IT'S MY BIRTHDAY. So consider it my present to you all.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Okay but imagine a biker au where reader is rhysands sister and has watched him and his friends ride growing up, and then they teach her too because she asks and Az is mostly give the responsibility since he's better in patience than the other two and Reader and az slowly start to have a little something going👀🤭

[potatoplace]

Omega Needs - Chapter 6

Feylin, eventual Feysand

chapter 5 | chapter 7 | series masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, not proofread

Words: ~6.3k

Author's Note: this came out sooner than I expected! It is only covering another day and a half, but there will be another chapter before Tuesday for the rest of Feyre's first week in the Night Court. I hope you all like it!

18+ only pls

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre was awoken a while later by Cerridwen knocking on the doorframe of the bathroom.

“Feyre? Lunch is ready,” She said gently, her eyes considerately avoiding her naked form, still in the bath.

“Oh, thank you, Cerridwen. I’ll be out in a few minutes, you can leave it there, for me,” Feyre replied, a sleepy smile on her face. The shadow wraith nodded her head, then turned and walked away.

Feyre got up once she heard the snick of the door, wrapping her body in a fluffy towel. Her skin was pruney, but she felt more refreshed than she had before getting in the bath. She returned to the main room and got into her wardrobe, looking for something to wear until it was time to sleep.

She rummaged through the drawers at the bottom that she had yet to look at, and pulled out a soft set of matching shorts and a tank top in a pale, minty green. The color reminded her of Spring, and she quickly dried her body off and slipped the items on, along with a pair of socks that went up to her mid calf.

Feyre then moved to the table, where Cerridwen had left a tray holding a soup, tomato, she would guess, and a grilled sandwich filled with cheese cut into two triangles. Feyre tucked in, loving the basil and slight creaminess the soup had, and the sandwich went perfectly with the soup.

She had just sat down in the plush armchair with one of the novels she had picked out earlier when Cerridwen returned for the tray.

Before Feyre could second guess the request, Feyre blurted “Would you be able to get me a sketch pad and some charcoals, Cerridwen?”

The wraith turned around, tray already in her arms. “Of course, Feyre. I’ll be back in just a moment with it.”

“Thank you,” Feyre said, grateful that the other fae hadn’t questioned her on her request.

Cerridwen returned a few minutes later, three differently sized sketch pads and an assortment of charcoals, blending stumps and erasers in hand.

Feyre stood up and excitedly took the items from the other fae. "Thank you so much, Cerridwen, these look perfect!"

"I'm glad you like them, Feyre," she said with a warm smile, one of the few Feyre had seen from her.

Feyre set the supplies down on the table as Cerridwen left the room, closing the door behind her. The only thing missing was...

Quickly, Feyre dragged the armchair she had just been sitting in next to the table, close enough that she could reach the extra charcoals and supplies. She moved one of the smaller chairs in front of the armchair so that if she was here long enough, she could put her legs up without needing to move anything or risk getting charcoal on the fine furniture.

Feyre sat down and grabbed the smallest sized sketch pad and a piece of charcoal. Then, she began to draw the glorious view that had been calling to her the past three days.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre had completed three renditions of the mountains in front of her, one on each of the differently sized pads of paper. With each one, she became more and more confident.

She had thought any ability to create, to make something new in this world instead of just taking away from it had been taken away from her when her neck snapped.

But that wasn't the case. With her fingers covered in black dust, she had made something beautiful again- Feyre had just needed some inspiration, something out of the usual dullness of her life in Spring.

She was happy with Tamlin, that was true, but the constant season and Ianthe's hounding of every move she made had made her rather tired. But seeing another court, the other beauty that this world had to offer had rekindled the spark in her, the part of her that she had thought so useless as a starving human.

Feyre might even paint when she gets home- she did have a lovely set of paints from Tamlin that he had given her last Winter Solstice for her birthday.

She was brought out of her thoughts by a few gentle knocks on her door, and Mor's voice came from the other side. "Feyre? Can I come in?"

"Yes, come in Mor," Feyre replied, standing from her place on the chair and turning to face the door.

More breezed in, her striking golden hair in soft ringlets and dressed in a flowy white dress. "Dinner is ready, I thought I would walk you down there!"

"That would be nice, Mor. Let me just change," Feyre said, looking down at her attire. She was definitely not going to eat dinner with Rhys and Mor in pajamas.

She pulled another matching set in the same cut as the one she'd worn this morning from her wardrobe, this one in a shade of pale blue. Feyre went into her bathroom and quickly changed, folding the pajamas and setting them on the counter for tonight.

Once she was done, the two of them made their way down to the table they had been eating at while Feyre was here. Rhysand was nowhere to be seen, and they took their seats.

On the table was a bowl of salad, a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a small plate holding butter, as well as their place settings. There was an empty space in the middle of the table, and Feyre assumed that there was another dish that had yet to be put out.

Mor took to pouring them each a glass of wine, which Feyre gladly take a sip of. It was sweet, the flavor bursting across her tongue, far better than the usual wines they had with dinner in Spring, all chosen for their scents rather than taste. Why, Feyre could not fathom.

"Rhys brought out the good stuff, thank the Mother!" Mor exclaimed as she took her own sip. "I like the taste of wine and all, I just enjoy it even more when it tastes like there's no alcohol in it."

"I'll agree with you there," Feyre laughed. "Speaking of Rhys, where is he?"

"He's just bringing out the main dish," Mor replied, and as she did Rhysand came out of the darkness of the hallway leading to the kitchen. "Good thing you're here, Rhys, I'm starving."

Without saying a word, Rhysand set the bowl on the table and took a seat, dishing out food for all three of them.

"Thank you, Rhys," Feyre said gently after he had given her a piece of bread, her plate now loaded with salad and the creamy pasta dish he had brought. The pasta had mushrooms, onions, chicken, and pieces of crumbled bacon in it, and was absolutely delicious.

Rhysand said nothing, merely nodding his head in acknowledgment as he poured his own very full glass of wine, downing half of it in one gulp.

"So, Feyre, I saw you had some sketch pads...?" Mor prodded gently after a few minutes of tense silence.

"Oh." Feyre blushed, she wasn't quite prepared to talk about art yet, but she supposed now was as good a time as ever to start again. "I asked Cerridwen if she could, I hope that was okay."

"Of course, Feyre! Again, you can ask for pretty much anything you want and we will get it for you, it's no trouble to us at all," Mor interrupted with a sweet smile, and that combined with her scent, still calm, soothed Feyre's small bit of panic.

"Well, thank you. I just... the view out of my bedroom is so spectacular, I needed to commit it to memory."

Mor nodded, that smile still on her face. "I can understand that, our court is so beautiful. I wish I was any good with the arts, but I am rather dreadful at everything I’ve tried," Mor chuckled.

“Oh, I’m sure you aren’t that bad Mor. Maybe you could try again? It does take practice after all.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ll leave it to you and the other creatives,” Mor said lightly. She looked over to Rhysand, who was still silently eating his dinner and on his second glass of wine. “Is there anywhere else you’d like to sketch, Feyre?”

Feyre thought about it for a moment before answering. “There’s nowhere specific that I can think of. Right now, at least. But I haven’t been able to explore much of the Spring Court, I’ve been constantly busy this past year. But maybe you’ll be able to show me a few of your own favorites here?” She asked, hopeful for the idea of more glorious view to put on paper.

“I’d love to do that Feyre! Between that and our Dawn Court trip, I am going to have so much fun planning!” Mor clapped her hands together in excitement.

The blonde was definitely living up to Feyre’s first impression of her. Very bright and friendly, just like her personality.

Rhysand stoop up abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone beneath them loudly. He grabbed his glass of wine and stalked off.

Feyre stared after him, confused. “What was that all about?”

Mor sighed, and it was the first time had heard her sound tired. “One of our temples was attacked a couple of hours ago, we lost some of our citizens. He’s taking it rather hard, after all of the losses from… well, you know.”

Feyre grimaced. “That’s awful… Have you caught who did it yet?”

Mor pursed her lips, eyeing the hallway Rhysand had disappeared down. “Promise you won’t tell anyone about this?” Feyre nodded, she wasn’t sure what use the information would be to her or anyone she knows anyways. “We caught the actual people who went through with the act, but we believe it to be the work of Hybern.”

“Hybern?” Feyre had never heard of such a place, only Prythian and the Continent.

“It’s a large island kingdom to our west… Amarantha was one of their generals, and we believe they might be planning something. What, we aren’t sure of, but Rhys’s goal is to unite Prythian to stop whatever conflict is brewing. But… Today hit him hard. None of us were expecting a seemingly random loss of innocent life.”

Feyre frowned, looking to where he had exited the room from. “I am sorry. I can’t imagine what it must feel like, losing people again, so soon after everything.”

Mor loosed another sigh, slumping back in her chair. “It is difficult, for sure. But seeing you- seeing someone be able to create good in this world reminds me that it’s worth it. No matter what comes, we will need people like you, more than ever.”

“People like… Me?” Feyre asked, unsure of what she meant.

“Dreamers, Feyre. People who can look at the world and see the good in it, no matter what they’ve been through. It might take them a week, a month, a year…” Mor paused and smiled at Feyre knowingly. “But people like you always come back to what’s beautiful and worthwhile in the world.”

The words brought a smile to Feyre’s face. “Dreamers, hmm? I like the sound of that…”

Mor jumped up from her chair, startling Feyre. “Dreamers deserve cake, don’t you think Feyre?”

“Oh, they do Mor!” Feyre hopped out of her chair was well, loving the idea Mor had suggested.

Mor dragged her down the hallway to the kitchen, the two of them giggling all the way like children sneaking food in the middle of the night. They slid to a stop in front of the massive fridge, and Mor swung the doors of it open wide.

“Cake, cake, cake,” Mor sang, pulling out a beautifully decorated cake. It was wrapped in a lovely blue-grey frosting, which nearly matched her eyes, Feyre noted, and topped with blackberries, raspberries, and blueberries.

“It’s beautiful,” Feyre breathed, surprised by how lovely a cake could be. None of the wedding cakes she had tasted in Spring had drawn her attention like this one did.

“It tastes as amazing as it looks, Feyre, I promise,” Mor said as she grabbed a large knife, two forks, and two plates out of a cabinet. She cut two generous slices for the both of them and led Feyre over to the breakfast bar on the other side of the island counter.

They both let out a groan at their first bites, the simple but perfect vanilla cake and sweet berry filling was absolute perfection.

“So, Feyre… I didn’t want to ask when Rhys was around in case it made you uncomfortable, and you are in no way obligated to answer me… But how’s this past year been for you? How’s uhm… How are things with Tamlin?” Mor asked hesitantly.

Feyre smiled awkwardly, swallowing her bite of cake. “It’s been… it’s been tough, for sure. There’s been a lot for me to get used to, not even just with preparing to be Lady of Spring, but… I have a new body too.”

Mor grimaced. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, Rhys said you had grown a couple of inches, right?” Feyre nodded her head. “That must have been so disorienting to get used to.”

“It was, it took me a month to stop stumbling around everywhere, and two months for me to stop mangling the silverware at dinner,” Feyre laughed, Mor joining her. “And as for Tamlin… well, it would have been nice if the ceremony had gone as planned but I… I had a panic attack, and well… Rhys stepped in at just the right time to not ruin our relationship entirely. I am looking forward to going home, though, and seeing him again. I… I miss my alpha,” Feyre admitted in a small voice.

“Oh, Feyre. You’ll be back to him in just a few days, there’s no need to worry. I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you too,” Mor comforted her, rubbing a soothing hand on her back.

“I know, I just wish we had been able to talk before I left for a moment… But there’s no point to worrying now, I can’t do anything from here.”

“Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable? Rhys mentioned… He mentioned that you might go into heat, or the beginnings of it during this week.” Mor was looking at her with soft eyes.

“I’m not sure,” Feyre said, biting her lip. “You mentioned there’s a catalog with nesting materials?”

Mor’s eyes lit up. “Yes, there is Feyre. Would you like me to show you which one it is?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of them ran with their half eaten plates of cake into Feyre’s room, Mor giving her plate to Feyre and rummaging through the catalogs before pulling out the one they were looking for.

“Can I help you look?” Mor asked with puppy dog eyes, and Feyre couldn’t resist.

“You can help me make sure I get colors that mostly go together.”

“Yes!” Mor jumped onto Feyre’s bed, patting the spot next to her.

They spent the next hour going through the entire booklet, Feyre picking out a plethora of different blankets, pillowcases, and cuts of materials that she knew would look and feel perfect in her nest from the illustrations and descriptions. She insisted on only getting items in varying shades of purple, blue, and pink, making sure to get pastels and darker versions.

Feyre could almost see her nest now, the top of it colored like the sunset and the bottom resembling the sunrise. She fell back into her pillows, letting out a happy sigh as she did so.

“You good, Feyre?” Mor giggled at her.

“Mhm, I’m just excited to have all of it…”

“Well, you won’t have to wait long. I’ll go right after breakfast tomorrow. Did you want to look at any of the other catalogs?” Mor suggested, already getting up to grab said catalogs.

“I don’t see why not,” Feyre said as she caught one- seemingly for clothing- from midair.

Feyre found a few dresses that she wanted- all in the same color scheme as her nesting materials. One of them was absolutely gorgeous, it was colored like a soft pink sunset, lighter at the top and fading into a lovely violet at the hem. It was something Feyre normally wouldn’t wear on an average day, but she figures that her time here hasn’t exactly been average, so she might as well go all out when she feels like it. She also picked two skirts and their matching long sleeved tops, both in deep jewels tones. The description promised them to be silk, one of Feyre’s favorite materials for clothing, and the beautiful sapphire and amethyst colors were too tempting to resist.

By the time they had gone through three more clothing booklets, the sun had long since set and the two of them were laughing, slightly delirious from tiredness.

“Feyre, dear, I think I’m going to head to bed,” Mor said, finally pulling her body off of Feyre’s bed. “I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast, alright?”

Feyre smiled, a bright and genuine thing, and nodded her head. “I’ll see you then, Mor. And thank you, for this. It was fun.”

“It’s no problem at all, Feyre, I had fun too. Sleep well."

And with that, the Alpha left her room, shutting the door behind her softly. Feyre got up from her bed, stretching her limbs before walking to the bathroom. She changed into her green sleep set from earlier, then tucked herself into bed, staring out at the stars over the mountains.

A few minutes later, the excitement and sugar wearing off, Feyre fell into a deep sleep.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre woke when a knock sounded on her door. She didn’t move.

“Feyre, darling? Breakfast is ready.” It was Rhysand.

Feyre merely rolled over in her bed, pulling the covers over her head. She heard the door open, and soft footsteps crossing the room.

“Feyre.”

She stayed still, trying to breathe as little as possible.

“Feyre.” Rhysand’s hand wiggled one of her feet, and she reflexively pulled away from his grasp. “Fey-ruh,” he said in a sing-songy voice, grabbing her other foot.

“I don’t want to get out of bed,” She finally whispered when she pulled her feet in towards her body.

“You only need to get up for breakfast, darling, we can do your training in here if you still want to be in bed afterwards,” Rhysand offered. Feyre groaned, but moved the blankets off of her face to look at him.

“You promise?”

Rhysand beamed at her. “Of course, Feyre. I promise. Now, will you change and meet me outside?”

“Fine,” Feyre huffed, waiting until he had left the room to throw the covers off of her body. She got up and went to her wardrobe, picking out a soft pair of leggings and a dark green sweater, then pulled on a pair of matching green knee high socks.

She felt nice and cozy, a decent enough substitution for her bed. Feyre joined Rhys in the hallway, and they made their way down to the dinner table.

Mor was already seated, pouring orange juice and some kind of sparkling wine into glasses for all of them, and on the table there were omelettes already on their plates, as well as a bowl of diced melons.

Breakfast was delicious, as Feyre was coming to expect from her meals here, and the bubbly mimosas Mor had poured made all of them relaxed and the time fly by.

Soon enough, Mor was leaving, heading off to go do Feyre’s shopping.

“Don’t worry, Feyre, I’ll be buying things for myself as well,” Mor reassured her when Feyre had voiced a concern about Mor spending her day shopping for her.

“Mor is fantastic at finding new things she needs, especially if you two looked over any clothing booklets last night,” Rhysand chuckled, and Mor flipped him off before she vanished. “So, Feyre, did you want to get back in bed or go to the training room?”

“Uhm… the training room should be fine, I was just so comfortable…” she trailed off.

“If you change your mind, just let me know, Feyre.” She dipped her head in agreement, and the two of them made their way to the training room, sitting in the same chairs they had yesterday.

“Let’s start with shielding again. Your shield from yesterday was wonderful, you might try adding in some defenses to ward away intruders before they try exploring the waters of your mind,” Rhysand suggested.

Hearing that she had done well again, Feyre beamed at Rhysand. “I’ll do my best.”

She thought of what might be able to protect her in the water. Feyre had never seen the sea, though her father had told tales of great beasts that would take bites out of a ships hull. She couldn’t picture what that might look like. Though… she did have one idea for a defensive mechanism.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Rhysand entered her mind, finding some resistance in the initial push inwards. He attempted to dive below the water, but it was solid this time, as though an inch thick layer of ice had covered it- so he smashed his way through, plunging beneath the surface. He made it a few yards down before her defenses found him.

He was face to- well, maw- with the Middengard Wyrm- the beast Feyre had nearly died slaughtering. They weren’t able to swim in the physical world, but the one in Feyre’s shielding was a vicious swimmer, propelling itself towards Rhysand’s power at a rapid pace, and just before it swallowed him whole, he backed out of her mind, breathless.

“Feyre- that was brilliant! I’m so proud of you, it takes most fae months to get to the level you’ve already achieved.”

“Rhys, stop it, you’re just saying that,” Feyre countered.

“I am being serious, Feyre. Most fae have trouble coming up with anything but a literal wall for their mental barrier, but you’ve already created an ocean and have a terrifyingly realistic Wyrm to serve as both protection and a warning to daemati that do manage to breach the initial barrier of your mind. It is amazing how well you are progressing already.”

Feyre looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were eager and truthful, and his expression was softened by them.

“Are you… okay?” Feyre finally asked the question that had been at the back of her mind since he had woken her for breakfast. “Mor, she told me some of what happened yesterday.”

Rhysand sighed, holding his chin in his hand. “I am not okay, Feyre, but I hope to be soon. It will take a while for the loss of my people to leave my heart. Thank you, for asking Feyre.”

Feyre merely nodded, then asked, “Again?”

They practiced a few more times, each time Rhysand pushed Feyre to make the initial barrier of her mind stronger, thicker. Harder for his power to seep or crack through. By the end of the second hour, Feyre was sweating and tired, her mind feeling a bit fuzzy at the edges.

“We’ll stop here for now with the shielding, Feyre. Here, drink this,” Rhysand said, procuring a glass of water with a straw from nowhere, and handed it to Feyre. She gulped it down, feeling more present and alert after finishing the glass.

“Thank you, Rhys. Are we going to work on my magic now?” Rhysand bobbed his head in confirmation.

“I’d like you to locate your magic again, and then attempt to draw it out, a good place to start with that is through the hands, they give more of a physical point to lead the magic to.”

Feyre did as he asked, closing her eyes and finding that slowly writhing mass of cold energy within her chest. It seemed more active today, wiggling in time to her heartbeat instead of every other beat. She tried to stretch it out, move it towards her arms, but it wouldn’t budge. She let out a frustrated groan and opened her eyes.

“It’s stuck.”

“Keep trying, Feyre. You’ll get it,” Rhysand encouraged her, and she shut her eyes and tried again.

She tried to move it more gently this time, in time with its natural pulsing. It expanded slightly in the direction of her arm before snapping back into place. Feyre brought a hand to her heart, soothing the ache the sensation had left behind.

“I got it to move, but barely,” Feyre grumbled, feeling discouraged.

“That’s great though, Feyre, just a few minutes ago you couldn’t get it to expand at all. Keep trying, practice will make it looser and able to expand more quickly and with less intense after effects.”

Feyre sat trying for the next hour, and managed to get the magic to expand through most of her chest and able to hold it there for around three seconds. She was exhausted, though, and drenched in sweat.

She went to try again, grasping at the power contained within her once again, before Rhysand placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Feyre, you should rest for the day.”

“No, I can keep trying Rhys, I’ll be fine-” Feyre protested before Rhysand cut her off.

“I know that you can keep trying, Feyre, but there is no need to exhaust your body any further today, it will most likely do more harm than good. Your progress in both areas today has been fantastic, you should be proud of yourself! I know that I am proud of you, Feyre,” Rhysand said in a caring tone, and the words of praise made Feyre’s omega so happy she was on the verge of purring aloud.

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre responded with a blush high on her cheeks. She stood from her chair and stretched her sore, aching muscles. Rhysand followed suit, and walked Feyre back to her bedroom just as he had yesterday.

“Mor will be back in around a half hour with lunch for you and multitudes of shopping bags I’m sure she is going to bring home,” Rhysand informed her with a chuckle once they were by her door. “Make sure you’re eating well when you practice, Feyre, magic eats through out energy stores very quickly, especially at the start of learning to wield it.”

“I’ll pay attention to that, Thank you Rhys,” Feyre said. Rhysand smiled and turned around, heading back in the direction they had come from, and Feyre slipped into her room.

Like yesterday, she made her way to the bathroom and stripped herself of her clothing, tossing it in the laundry basket before sinking down into the water. She relaxed for a few minutes, letting the hot water soothe her aching muscles before she began to wash her hair, then moved on to her body.

In about twenty minutes, Feyre had just dried off and slipped on a soft black sweater dress when a knock came on her door. “Come in!”

The door busted open, revealing Mor carrying at least ten different bags, all stuffed to the brim with various colors and types of fabrics. “Today was so much fun! I got everything you asked for plus a few things that I thought might be nice that weren’t in the catalogs.” She dumped the bags on the floor, before going back out to the hall and grabbing a few more bags, one of which was giving off a deliciously spicy smell. “I also brought lunch, it’s from my favorite restaurant, I think it’s some type of curry but no matter what it will be amazing!”

Feyre moved to the bags on the floor first, instantly spotting an amethyst fabric that she snatched away, bringing it to her face and nuzzling into it. Mor dropped the bags that didn’t hold food on the ground with the rest and moved to the table, unpacking the food as Feyre continued rummaging in the bags.

“Oh!” Feyre exclaimed as she pulled out a pair of violet thigh high kitted socks, thick and soft and everything Feyre needed right now. She slipped them on quickly, and returned to her post of sorting through the massive amount of materials in front of her.

Before she could do much sorting- into piles of blankets, pillow cases, hemmed pieces of fabrics, pillows, and clothes- Feyre was interrupted by Mor.

“Feyre, you need to eat lunch.”

Feyre ignored her, continuing to pull item after item out of the bags, rubbing each one against her face before placing them in the correct pile.

“Omega.” That got Feyre to stop and turn towards the alpha who was already seated at the table, dishing food out for the both of them. “You need to eat, Rhys said you did a lot of training today. Be good and follow his instructions, okay?” Feyre bit her lip, gaze moving back to the still unsorted bags. “Omega, everything will be there when you finish eating, I promise. You can even sit and stare at them while you eat, if you’d like, but you need to eat, Feyre.”

Feyre finally got up from the floor, a pout on her lips as she took her seat. It was quickly erased when she smelled the food again, that wonderful spiced aroma filling Feyre’s senses. She sat so that she could see the bags out of the corner of her eye, but was still able to look out at the mountains if she wished.

“How’s the training going?” Mor asked a few minutes after Feyre had begun eating the creamy yellow chicken curry and rice.

“Rhys says it’s going well, but I have my doubts…” Feyre confessed. “I haven’t been able to summon anything, let alone move my magic into my limbs.”

“That’s true, you are in the beginning stages of learning to use your magic. It is the hardest part, I promise you, but from the few details Rhys has told me that you are progressing quickly, especially in the mental shielding aspect.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Feyre. And if I’m being honest, being able to keep Rhys out for any amount of time is impressive, even for someone who has practiced for years. The fact that you’ve been able to shows just how capable you are for magic. I think you’ll get the hang of it faster than you think,” Mor said sweetly, and every word from the alpha’s lips soothed the tension that had built inside of her body since this morning.

Hearing it from Rhys was one thing, he seemed to prefer training with a gentle hand for the moment, but hearing assurances from someone else was helpful. Calming, even. Feyre shook her head.

“I can’t believe I was so worried about that, it’s such a silly problem.”

“Feyre, it’s not silly. You’ve been given magic after being a human all your life, I think it would be more strange to not worry about it.”

“I suppose you’re right, Mor.”

Mor flashed her a smile. “I know I am, Feyre.”

The two of them finished their lunch, staring out at the passing clouds. As soon as Feyre was done, she washed her hands in the bathroom and returned to the bags to continue sorting them.

“Do you want me to help, Feyre, or are you fine on your own?” Mor asked from where she was still sitting at the table.

“I can do it on my own, but you can stay if you’d like. Or are you busy?” Feyre looked up at the other fae then, worried that she had taken up to much of the blonde’s time.

“No, no, I have nothing else to do today. I can stay for a while,” Mor said soothingly, and Feyre relaxed. “I’ll try reading one of those romance books you have over there, if that’s alright?”

“Oh, of course,” Feyre said, already focused on sorting everything again.

In a few minutes, all of the bags were emptied and everything sorted, and Feyre sighed. That part was done. Now, to arrange it all on her bed and around the room.

Feyre began to assemble her nest, carefully choosing which spot each item rested in to make it as perfect as possible. Her sunset to sunrise pattern was stunning, if she had to describe it in any way but perfect.

Her nest is perfect.

Tears fill Feyre’s eyes as joy bubbles in her chest.

It’s the first time her nest has felt right to her; every time in Spring something had felt off, like she didn’t have the right materials or patterns to satisfy her omega.

But now? Staring at the beautiful nest, with fabrics piled around the bed on the floor continuing the pattern she had created, her nest felt so welcoming and lovely.

Feyre slid onto the bed, rolling around on it and relishing in the soft slip of fabrics against her skin.

The door clicked shut, and Feyre’s head swung towards it, then back to the table where Mor had last been.

She was gone, as were the containers from lunch and the shopping bags.

Oh mother, did she see me rolling around in my nest? Feyre thought, color creeping up her neck.

But in a few moments, Feyre was back to basking in the happiness of her newly completed nest, her omega feeling the most at peace she had since Feyre had been turned into one.

Feyre pulled a violet body pillow into her body, wrapping her arms around it and stuffing it between her thighs. A series of deep breaths left her as her body relaxed into the nest, and she fell asleep just a few minute after curling up.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

“Feyre, darling, wake up,” came Rhysand’s voice, soft and comforting and oh so alpha.

She opened her eyes, met with the sight of Rhys standing in front of her nest before the fabric starts on the floor, holding a tray.

“It’s time for dinner, and Mor said you might not feel like leaving your room again today, so I brought dinner to you,” he explained with a smile. “Is it alright if I set the tray down in your nest, Feyre?”

Feyre nodded, and he placed the tray down in front of her as she disentangled herself from the body pillow and sat up.

He then dragged a chair over to the side of her bed, being mindful to not interfere with the boundary of Feyre’s nest, for which she was grateful.

In Spring, most of the maids had been mindful of her space, but Ianthe had never shown any care to keeping Feyre’s nest intact. This was a welcome change. Maybe she should stand up to Ianthe when she gets home…?

“How are you feeling, Feyre? Not too tired, I hope.”

Feyre blinked at him, the violet of his eyes catching her gaze. “Oh, uhm, I’m fine, thank you Rhys. A short nap helped, and the food Mor brought me for lunch was so good.” She turned her attention to the tray Rhysand had set in her nest and pulled it towards her. “This looks amazing too,” Feyre said, and started eating the thick slice of lasagna and roasted vegetables. “It is amazing.”

Rhysand chuckled. “It’s one of my favorites, lasagna was always a special meal for my brothers and I growing up. It meant we had done a good job that day, good enough for my mother to spend a few hours preparing the dish, all to put a smile on our faces,” he reminisced, a wistful look on his face.

“That was very kind of her, she must have cared about the three of you a lot,” Feyre said, thinking back on her own mother, who had hardly lifted a finger for Feyre’s well-being before she passed.

“She did. She did.”

The rest of their meal was spent in a comfortable silence, with Feyre still brushing her fingers against her different nesting fabrics every few seconds.

“When did you want to return home, Feyre?” Rhysand asked after they had both finished, a serious look on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re obviously nesting, I want to make sure that you still feel comfortable being away from Tamlin.”

“Oh. Normally I… don’t actually go in to heat for at least three days, I should be able to make it to the end of the week.”

Rhysand considers it before adding, “Let me know if you do feel it starting, either Mor or I can take you back to Spring immediately. And there no need to worry, I won’t add any extra time to your future stays, Feyre.”

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre replied with a smile.

“Now, I think I’ll leave you to sleep, I’m going to head off to bed myself,” Rhysand said as he stood, gathering all of their dishes together and heading out of the door. “Goodnight, Feyre.”

“Goodnight, Rhys.”

The door snicked shut, and Feyre stood from her spot in her nest.

Pajamas. Then she can go to bed. She rifled through the wardrobe before pulling out a pretty purple nightgown that matched the soft she was wearing, made of a smooth satin that Feyre was dying to have on her skin all night. She removed her dress and slipped her nightgown over her shoulders. The fabric felt just as lovely as she thought it would.

Feyre stumbled back to her nest, falling into the middle of it. She pulled the body pillow back to its previous position and wrapped a soft, pink blanket around herself.

Between the food warming her stomach and the soft fabrics surrounding her, Feyre fell asleep in just a few minutes, floating on a sea of clouds in her dreams.

Series taglist: @icey--stars

[stillwintering]

ACOTAR should be told as a modern political drama

The backstory:

Rhys is practically American political royalty. His father served 5 terms in the US Senate before his death. His grandfather had been a beloved governor. It was always expected of him to go into politics as well and run for office. Rhys' mother instead steered him towards the military (his parents had a tumultuous relationship and she didn't want him to be corrupted by politics before he found his moral compass and self-discipline -- Rhys had a wild and overly privileged youth). His father only agreed because having military experience is always good for running for political office later on in life.

Rhys meets Cassian and Azriel in college in ROTC. Rhys did not want to be there. Cassian grew up being passed from one foster home to another. It was through sheer determination and will that he was able to secure an ROTC scholarship to an elite college. Az grew up in a wealthy but neglectful home (he hated his parents who were abusive). He fell into ROTC because he wanted the comradery. The 3 of them became the bestest of friends, though they, of course, hated each other at first. After college, they enlisted together.

After serving 3 tours in the Middle East, Rhys returned home with PTSD. He meets Feyre around this time, and they quickly fall in love. They elope, much to Rhys' family's dismay (no prenup, the horror) but their elopement was attended by only the people Rhys and Feyre loved. Rhys wasn't sure he wanted to return to the military, but his relationship with Feyre made him realize that he wanted to make this world a better place for both her and their future children (around this time, Rhys mother and sister died in a horrific terror attack, and this also solidifies his determination to run for public office). He enters politics and becomes a congressman.

When we meet Rhys (this is where the story starts), he is contemplating a run for president. He had recruited his best friends (and blood brothers) to be on his campaign. Both Az and Cassian had stayed in the military after Rhys left. Cassian was a Colonel (he was on track to be promoted to Brigadier General). Az was working on military intelligence. Rhys needed people he trusted and they both said yes to help him.

The rest of the inner circle:

Amren - a political veteran, both feared and respected by everyone in Washington. She has successfully led countless successful national campaigns now. She helped Rhys with his first run as a freshman congressman and stayed on as his chief of staff. She is now his campaign manager. After Rhys and Feyre, Amren calls the shots.

Mor - Rhys recruits his cousin as his head of fundraising. Mor is blue-blooded as they come. She grew up in the same elite circles as Rhys, but unlike Rhys, she knows how to manipulate the power-hungry people around them (Rhys never had any patience with the aristocratic people they grew up with). Mor attended galas and state dinners all her life, and she knows everyone who is anyone. She was a political animal with a killer instinct.

Az - head of opposition research. His years in army intelligence have given him a vast network of contacts throughout Washington and in many foreign governments. Az knows everyone's dirty secrets and understands how filthy the political game is played better than anyone. Az has horrific scars on his hands and forearms from an injury he incurred when he was held as a prisoner of war for 6 months (Rhys and Cassian raized a town to the ground to get him back but Az never told them what happened and they don't ask).

Cassian - well, he doesn't know how he fits into Rhys' campaign, only that Rhys needed a deputy that he could trust completely. Cassian didn't hesitate when Rhys called - because Cassian knew Rhys would make a great president, because Cassian believed that Rhys could make the world a better place. Cassian doesn't understand politics the way the others do, but he is smart and capable. He knew he had to learn this job, quickly, on his feet.

(Rhys needs Cassian because Cassian is his moral compass - Cassian will always tell him if he has gone too far, or crossed a line, like he has always done for him even in their days as college kids. Cassian is fundamentally good in a way that Rhys knows he is not and knows he must be reminded of every day.)

Feyre is the heart of the campaign. She is the soft power behind Rhys' hard power. Feyre loves Rhys unconditionally and she would do anything to help him realize their dream of a better world.

Feyre knows someone is missing from their inner circle. She knows exactly who to call: Nesta, her estranged sister.

Nesta had made a name for herself as a writer and political commentator (she wrote a searing profile of the British Prime Minister for The New Yorker that was credited for making him lose the next election). When we meet her, Nesta is in the middle of working on a book - she has signed a big book contract but has not delivered a chapter yet. Her editor is hounding her constantly. Feyre wants Nesta to join the campaign as communication director since she has all the media contacts. Nesta couldn't turn down a front-row seat to one of the most compelling political stories of the year: a promising young US congressman with a dream running a long-shot campaign for president.

Nesta reluctantly joins Rhys campaign. She doesn't like Rhys at first and is constantly challenging him and his leadership. She is not sure if Rhys will make a good president (she will come around later though). Nesta is trying to figure out the dynamic of the inner circle as she works (but also because she wants to write a book about them).

The one person who infuriates her to no end is Cassian - everything from his stupid hair to his swaggering muscles. Amren keeps putting them together on projects (at one point, they go to Iowa together to set up a field office and end up sharing a hotel room because this has to be a romcom after all). Cassian finds Nesta equally exasperating but he also recognizes immediately that he is in deep trouble (at one point, Cassian ropes Nesta into training for a half marathon and Nesta cannot stop staring at his chest and Cassian cannot stop thinking about the way her cheeks flush and how she pants at the end of the workout).

Of course, Cassian and Nesta fall in love. That's going to be the story to tell.

Should I write this or what?

[acourtofladydeath]

All of them sound so interesting but Casris hounds piqued my interest 👀

Hello there Anon!

So as you may or may not have seen, there have been a few asks for me to write more about princess Eris. In this fic, Eris oh so sweetly and innocently asks Cassian to walk their dogs. (Side note Eris is not innocent AT ALL.)

These pups are always absolutely precious perfect little angels for Eris right? How bad could it be? So Cassian, wanting to please his partner, obviously agrees.

But oh, if Eris hasn't told those dogs to be absolute ASSHOLES as punishment for something (tbd). The walk is COMPLETE ANARCHY. Cassian is an absolute wreck and Eris has to go save him. Cassian then promises to take care of Eris do whatever else he wants if Eris agrees to never make Cassian walk those dogs again.

That's it. That's the idea.