#also mor and Cassian are fucking weird

[hugevanserrass]

reread the solstice scene from acofas and was surprised at how pleasant nesta was the entire time. from the way people talk about it, and from Cassian's reaction after she leaves, you'd think she was hissing and insulting everyone in the room. but no.

nesta wishes feyre happy birthday, she thanks elain for her gifts, and sits quietly, allowing them to continue with their presents. meanwhile mor gives cassian silk boxers that match the lingerie set he got her. nesta even kisses elain on the head before she leaves. she is 100% polite.

the next chapter is Cassian's pov and it starts with "he'd had enough. enough of the coldness, the sharpness. enough of the sword-straight spine and razor-sharp stare that had only honed itself these months"

BRO SHE WAS JUST SITTING THERE

[flowerflamestars]

Chapters: 15/? Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Elain Archeron & Nesta Archeron, Nesta Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra, Nesta Archeron/Cassian Characters: Elain Archeron, Nesta Archeron, Lucien Vanserra, Cassian (ACoTaR), Azriel (ACoTaR), The Lady of the Autumn Court (ACoTaR), Helion (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron, Rhysand (ACoTaR) Additional Tags: Lucien actually gets the story he deserves, Nesta and Elain: the Most Competent, Archeron merchant family legacy, ACOMAF AU, Who runs the world? Nesta and Elain, Archeron sisters who knew about the War before Feyre told them, Lucien Spring Court Traitor Vanserra, Found Family, fake engagment, ride or die means you can't fucking die, a very different take on the Hybernian war, Fix-it fic, Older Archeron Sisters & Lucien centric Summary:

So bleeding and burning, lost and found, Lucien Vanserra staggered into human lands, and found he wanted to live.

[velarisdusk]

Burning Desire

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Series Masterlist Part 4 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 6 - TBD!

word count: 17k (AAAAA?)

content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, BDSM, power dynamics, bondage, gags, sensory deprivation, pain play, spanking, paddling, flogging, begging, degradation, praise | infidelity, emotional infidelity, explicit language, alcohol, drinking, smoking (cigarettes, marijuana), bitches are fake as fuck, bad rebound choices, i.e. casually fucking someone who you KNOW has had an actual crush on you for years and not caring, the Vanserra family is a loving one in this he deserves happiness ]

summary: In a depression following being caught cheating, a troubling phone call brings a harsh revelation. Distraught and in need of comfort, you turn to Eris, who's been trying to reach out since that night. He provides the emotional and physical escape you need.

author's note: oh. my. god. i've been working on this for what feels like a decade i feel like years have been taken off of my life. school has been killer (negative), writing this was killer (positive), and i hope you enjoy >:)

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks of rotting in bed, drowning in self-pity, and starting your days with cigarettes and bottles of rum. Over a week ago, you threw your phone into the drawer of your nightstand, barely resisting the urge to post a pity-filled story for your close friends. Before you essentially vanished, you noticed texts from Feyre and Mor. That was nothing out of the ordinary, but you didn't read them, dreading their content. Were they upset? Angry? What did they think of you? Were the messages even about the situation? You couldn't say if they knew or not.

You also received messages from Az, Eris, and Tarquin. Their concern surprised you, figuring that bro code would have outranked you on the list of priorities. But then, were they even still talking? If you were Cassian, you’d probably cut off all communication.

It was a complicated situation. They all worked together and had for years. They couldn’t just walk away; they were bound by contracts. You wondered how practice was faring if it was even happening. By now, they must have realized that Cassian wasn’t speaking to you. Whether they kept things private or shared the news with Feyre, Mor, or anyone else, you had no idea. You hoped they had the sense not to all come downstairs at once after your departure with Cassian. But even if they were careful, it must have been noticeable when they started reappearing suddenly.

Two weeks of these thoughts hurtling through your mind.

You haven’t told your mother why you showed up disheveled at her door in the night. How could you? You couldn’t bear to face her after admitting what you’ve done.

But as the hours stretch endlessly, a surge of loneliness (only the latest of many) finally drives you to your phone. You respond to the texts from Azriel and Tarquin, reassuring them that you’re as fine as you can be. When you open the text thread with Eris, you’re caught off guard.

Hey, just checking in. How are you holding up?

If you need someone to talk to I’m around. Seriously.

Look, I get that it might seem weird coming from me, but I’m genuinely concerned. No strings, I just want to make sure you’re okay.

I’m not trying to pry, but isolation doesn’t help. If you need a break from everything, my line’s always open.

You sit there, staring at the string of messages, each one making you feel a little more seen, a little more cared for. You aren’t even sure you want to acknowledge that right now. It’s almost too much, the kindness wrapped in Eris’ words, especially when everything else feels like it’s crumbling around you.

But Eris’ texts… they’re a lifeline, a small thread of connection in a sea of isolation. You pick up your phone again, reading through the messages once more, feeling the sincerity behind them. The idea of responding, of reaching out, is both comforting and terrifying. But the thought of facing all of this alone, of letting it continue to eat away at you in silence, is somehow worse.

Your fingers start to move, typing out a response before you can second-guess yourself.

you’re not prying, thanks for checking in. captain morgan’s been keeping me company lmfao

No sooner do you turn your phone off and toss it onto the bed beside you does the screen light up again with a buzz. That was fast.

Sounds like he’s good company, but maybe not the best listener. How about a real conversation instead?

You can almost hear the playful tone in his words, a lightness that cuts through the heavy fog of your thoughts. It’s enough to make you smile, just a little, even as the weight of everything else still hangs over you.

Another buzz and his next message appears.

Seriously, if you want to talk, my door’s open. No pressure, just an offer.

You can tell he’s trying to strike a balance, not pushing it too hard but still getting through your head that he’s there. It’s disarming in a way, and it leaves you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you should take him up on that offer.

thanks eris, i might take you up on that. it’s just… a lot rn, yknow?

There’s a pause, the seconds ticking by as you wait for his reply. You don’t have to wait long, and it’s as straightforward a reply as you expected.

I get it. You didn’t make the mess alone, just wanted you to know you don’t have to deal with it alone. And if you want to get out of your place for a bit, my offer still stands. You can even invite the captain as your plus one if that helps.

You smile at that, a small huff of amusement escaping you. The thought of getting out of your old childhood bedroom, of not being surrounded by the same four walls that have seen you at your lowest, is more appealing than you’d like to admit. Maybe a change of scenery, and the chance to talk things out with someone, would help.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you think about how to respond. Part of you wants to dive in and take him up on the offer right away, but another part of you hesitates, unsure how it would look if Cassian found out. You decide to keep things simple. You don’t respond.

Without paying any mind to the countless social media, text, and call notifications from your other friends, you open your texts with Nesta and make a FaceTime call. The thought of her blunt honesty is a small comfort in your otherwise bleak current existence.

Her face appears on the screen, and though her expression is one of surprise and concern, you can’t help but feel a twinge of relief.

“Where’ve you been? You look…”

She trails off, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your appearance. You glance at yourself in the small window at the top corner of the screen. Your eyes are puffy and red, your face is pale, and the bags under your eyes seem darker than ever.

“Talk to me,” Nesta says, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to cut through the fog of your despair.

You draw a deep breath, the weight of your emotions pressing heavily on your chest. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice trembling. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart. I’m a fucking mess.”

Nesta’s gaze softens further, her concern palpable. She leans in slightly, her tone soothing yet resolute. “You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m here.”

The hesitation is palpable as you search for the right words, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. Finally, you find the courage to confess. “I messed up, Nesta. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’ve ruined everything.”

Nesta’s expression tightens, her eyes flicking to something off-screen for a moment before she returns her focus to you. She runs a hand through her hair, a sigh escaping her lips as she gathers her thoughts. “Just... try to explain what happened.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions before asking, “Do you know what’s been going on?”

Nesta’s gaze momentarily shifts away, a flicker of something you can’t quite read passing over her face. “I’ve heard bits and pieces,” she begins, her tone deliberately vague. “But I’d rather hear it from you.”

Sensing her evasiveness, you decide to give her a broad overview. You explain the guilt and confusion you're feeling, how everything seemed to unravel and make the situation worse than you could have imagined. You describe the betrayal and the weight of not knowing how to mend things. By the time you’ve caught her up, your words are coming out through hysterical cries and gasps for air between sobs.

Nesta listens quietly, absorbing the emotional weight of your words. Her expression reflects a mix of sympathy and contemplation as she processes the gravity of what you’ve shared.

“I broke that boundary to hell, Nesta. I ruined everything.” Your voice trembles with the weight of your confession, the words feeling like a leaden anchor pulling you down.

Nesta’s brows knit together, her concern deepening as she tilts her head slightly. “What boundary…?” she asks, her tone gentle yet probing, as if trying to piece together the fragments of your unraveling story.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breath, but a sniffle escapes you. “They’ve all been pretty flirty with me since the beginning, and Cassian and I… we decided early on that we didn’t mind it?” You pause, glancing down at your hands as you fidget with the red scrunchie around your wrist, twisting the fabric between your fingers. “So we’d just let them like… make comments… touch up on me a little–”

A sudden, sharp gasp crackles through the phone speaker, cutting through your words like a knife. Your eyes narrow as you stare at the screen in confusion. That sound hadn’t come from Nesta; you’d been watching her intently this whole time, and her lips hadn’t moved.

You furrow your brows, your heart quickening with unease. “What was that? Is there someone there with you?” you ask, trying to keep the edge of suspicion out of your voice, but failing.

But her face is the image of calm, save for the confusion in her furrowed brows. “Huh? Oh, it was just the TV,” she says, quickly flipping her phone around to show you the screen. The shaky camera reveals a reality show playing in the background, the exaggerated drama of strangers’ lives filling the awkward silence.

But your gut tells you something’s off. The way her hand shook just a little as she moved the phone, the tension still lingering in her posture. It all feels wrong. Despite her attempt to brush it off, the seed of doubt has been planted, taking root in the back of your mind.

Nesta flips the phone back to face her, and her voice is smooth and encouraging as she speaks. “So, what are you going to do? Are you going to talk to him?”

You hesitate, letting out a sigh as you rub your temple. “I don’t know. I’m scared of what he’ll say, or worse... what he won’t say. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of rejection, Nesta.”

She nods slowly, her expression softening into one of understanding. “You have to do what feels right for you, but running away won’t make it any easier in the long run. I know it’s—and I’m sorry to say this—your fault, but you still deserve to know where things stand, even if it’s hard to face.”

You shift uncomfortably, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “I know, I just... I need time to think. To figure out what I want, what I’ll do.”

Nesta listens patiently, offering her quiet support as you continue to spill your thoughts. The conversation drifts from your immediate fears to the what-ifs. She shares some of her own experiences, her voice a mix of tough love and genuine care, giving you just enough space to feel heard without feeling judged.

The minutes tick by, and soon you find yourself leaning back into the pillows, the exhaustion creeping in. You talk about other things too, and an hour passes before you even realize it, the conversation winding down naturally, both of you running out of things to say. It’s a comfortable silence now, a brief respite from the storm of emotions you’ve been weathering.

“I should let you go,” you finally say, your voice soft. “Thanks for listening, Nes. I... I needed this.”

Nesta smiles, a touch of warmth breaking through her usual stoic demeanor. “Anytime. You know I’m here for you.”

You nod, feeling a little lighter, if only for a moment. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

As you move to end the call, you hear it—faint, but unmistakable. A voice, muffled but clear enough to make out the words: “No way–”

Your heart skips a beat, but before you can react, the call disconnects, leaving you staring at the screen, that single phrase echoing in your mind. The voice wasn’t Nesta’s, and it sure as hell didn’t come from the TV. You know that voice. It’s familiar in a way that makes your stomach churn, your pulse quicken. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks, a cold wave of dread washing over you.

It was Elain’s. You’re sure of it. You sit there for a moment, phone still in hand, your mind racing. But why would she be there hidden from view? Why wouldn’t she just say hello or at least make her presence known? The questions tumble over each other, forming a gnawing pit of unease in your gut.

Then, like pieces of a puzzle snapping together, the thought hits you: Elain was listening in, but she didn’t want you to know she was there. The secrecy, the way Nesta quickly tried to cover it up. It wasn’t just about eavesdropping. No, it felt intentional, like Elain was trying to gain insight into your situation with Cassian. Your breath catches in your throat as the implications sink in. A cold, hard truth begins to crystallize in your mind. She wanted to know the details because it mattered to her. It mattered because she’s involved—because she and Cassian are…

You don’t want to finish the thought, but it’s there, undeniable and ugly. Elain and Cassian. It explains the secrecy, the way Nesta tried to protect her, and the sickening feeling gnawing at your insides.

The weight of it is almost unbearable, pressing down on you as you sit there, phone in hand, processing the cruel truth that’s just come to light. Elain and Cassian. How? Why? You never saw any sign in their interactions before. The bitterness of the revelation is a sharp, relentless edge in your chest — you need to do something, anything, to shake off this feeling.

You push yourself up from the bed with a determined resolve, your mind racing with anger and the need to reclaim some sense of control. First things first: you need to wash off the remnants of the last two weeks, the sweat and guilt that cling to you.

The hot water of the shower is a welcome relief against your skin, and you let the steam envelop you, trying to wash away the emotions churning inside. You lather up, scrubbing away the sweat and liquor and cigarette smoke, letting the water run over you until you feel clean, both physically and mentally. You stand under the spray, letting the water cascade down your body as if it could cleanse the memories away. When you’re done, you run a comb through your hair, detangling the wet strands with care before blow-drying and styling it, every strand perfectly in place and your arms sore by the time you’re done.

You reach for your phone, fingers hovering over the screen as you debate your next move. Finally, with a deep breath, you type out a message to Eris:

you still up for company?

It’s simple, to the point, and carries the weight of everything you’re feeling right now. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, but you hit send before you can overthink it, nerves and anticipation bubbling in your chest. As you wait for his reply, you glance at yourself in the mirror, taking in the freshly styled hair, and the clean skin. You look entirely different than you did this morning. You’re someone in control, someone who knows what she wants. Your phone buzzes.

Absolutely. I’ll swing by and pick you up.

You weren’t expecting that, but you don’t hesitate before replying with the address. His response is swift.

See you in 15.

Your eyes linger on the screen, absorbing his words as you double-tap and leave a heart his message. Something is grounding about the certainty in his response. No hesitation, no questions, just action. You set your phone down and take one last look in the mirror, a quiet determination settling in your chest. He’ll be here soon, and you have just enough time to get dressed.

You see Eris pulling up through your window, the white Jaguar rolling to a stop, and you take a deep breath before heading toward the door. As you walk down the driveway towards him, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the car’s window. Jean shorts and a hand-cropped t-shirt—casual and understated.

Eris’s eyes meet yours as you approach the car, his expression softening with concern. There’s no sign of the smirk you usually see on his face. Just a steady gaze that feels sincere. He leans over the center console and opens the door for you, a simple gesture, but one that makes your heart feel lighter.

As you settle into the passenger seat, you set your tote bag down in the footwell. It holds a mostly full bottle of Captain Morgan, a pack of Newports, some gum, and a lighter you grabbed on your way out.

Eris’s eyes flick to the neck of the bottle sticking out of the bag before he asks, “Bringing the party with you?”

You shrug, offering a faint smile. “You did say I was allowed a plus one.”

He nods, his tone softening. “That I did... You okay?” he asks, pulling away from the curb.

You glance at him, a bit surprised at the shift from teasing to concern. “Not really,” you admit quietly.

Eris gives a small nod, his eyes still on the road. “Could’ve guessed the answer, huh?” he remarks, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

You offer a wry smile and a quiet “yeah.” You glance out the window as the sunlight reflects off passing buildings. “But I figured getting out of the house might not hurt. What were you thinking of doing?”

Eris keeps his eyes on the road. “I can swing by somewhere if you need to grab something or,” he pauses, a sly grin forming. “Or if you’re up for unwinding a bit…”

You raise an eyebrow, catching the playful glint in his eye. “What are you suggesting?”

He shrugs, one hand gripping the steering wheel casually. “We could stop by my plug’s place and pick something up, if you’re looking to take the edge off. He’s got some good shit.”

You lean back in your seat, considering his offer. The idea of numbing your mind with something other than liquor is very tempting. You glance at Eris, his casual demeanor giving nothing away, but you can sense that beneath the surface, he’s paying close attention to your reaction.

You nod, feeling a sense of resolve settling in. “Let’s do it. I could use a change of pace.”

Eris keeps his eyes on the road, but there’s a flicker of approval in them. “Alright, then,” he says with a grin, shifting lanes smoothly as he changes direction. His hands move with practiced ease, one gripping the steering wheel and the other shifting gears with effortless precision. You glance up from your phone just in time to see him reach into the center console. He pulls out a sleek pack of Dunhills, taps one out, and lights it with a quick flick of his lighter.

The cigarette sits casually between his lips, its ember glowing softly as its smoke curls lazily around him. “Want a cig?” he asks, his tone casual as he cracks his window.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod, reaching out for the cigarette sticking out of the pack. Eris passes it to you with a small knowing smile, his eyes flicking briefly to meet yours before returning to the road and lowering your window for you. You take a drag, the smoke filling your lungs and momentarily dulling the edges of your lingering unease. It’s quite the difference from the menthol kick of your usual Newports. The flavor is richer, with a deep, earthy undertone that’s almost woody. It feels more refined, less about the immediate hit, and more about a lingering, sophisticated aftertaste. You exhale, the smoke curling in the air, and the taste leaves a warmth that’s oddly comforting.

“Helps, doesn’t it?” he glances at you, a touch of curiosity in his gaze.

You exhale slowly, watching the smoke get pulled out the window. “A little… Thanks,” you say, and you both know it isn’t just for the cigarette.

Eris nods, his grin widening slightly. “Anytime. We’ve got a bit of a drive, so just get comfortable. We’ll hit the place soon.”

You settle back as Eris merges onto the highway. The sun is high, casting a warm light over the passing scenery. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the classic rock on the radio make for a relaxing ride. You gaze out the window, watching the landscape shift as the car speeds along. After finishing your cigarette, you hold onto the butt, not willing to litter. Eris is focused on the road, so you just hold onto it, unsure what else to do.

A few minutes later, Eris chuckles and glances over, eyebrow raised. “Were you going to hold onto it the whole ride? Come on, you can’t be serious.”

You give a small laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I wasn’t going to throw it out the window.”

Eris smirks, his eyes flicking to the cigarette butt in your hand. “Just give it to me.”

He reaches over, fingers brushing against your wrist as he tries to take it from you. But you’re quicker, pulling your hand away with a playful glare. “No!” you protest, holding the butt out of his reach. “You’re gonna throw it out the window!”

His grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans closer, making another grab for it. “I won’t, I promise.” And for some reason, you believe him.

He takes the cigarette butt from your fingers and, with a practiced motion, opens the center console and undoes the locking mechanism on a glass jar. He drops it in, the jar already filled with likely a pack’s worth. The jar seals with a soft click, likely why you hadn’t noticed any lingering smell before. He shuts the jar and console, his attention never wavering from the road.

The smell-proof jar, not even considering littering, doing it all while keeping his eyes on the road—it’s the kind of thing that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

The drive stretches on with the radio playing softly in the background. You watch the scenery blur past as the car weaves effortlessly through traffic. With the windows still cracked, you catch a glimpse of Eris’s auburn hair tousled by the breeze. The sun casts long shadows across the highway, and you find a strange comfort in the steady rhythm of the drive. Eventually, Eris slows the car, steering off the main road and into a sleek, gated driveway. The place is an upscale, modern mansion with neatly trimmed hedges. Not what you expected. He parks near the entrance and turns to you with a casual smile.

“I’ll leave the car running,” he says. “Lock up, I’ll be quick.”

You nod, watching as he gets out and heads toward the front door. The gate closes behind him with a gentle click, leaving you alone in the plush interior of the car. After a few minutes, Eris reappears with a small, discreet bag in his pocket. He slips back into the driver’s seat, the bag placed neatly into the center console.

The car pulls out of the driveway, and Eris’s eyes flick toward you as he navigates the streets with practiced ease.

“Any special spots in mind, or are you up for anywhere?” he asks, the hint of a grin in his voice.

You shrug, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, yours is fine.”

He gives a teasing scoff, putting a hand on his chest as he speaks. “My place is special, (y/n), you wound me.”

His words pull a genuine laugh from you. It really wasn’t that funny, but hearing your name on his tongue so casually stirs a nervous flutter in your chest.

“What’s so special about it?”

“Besides the view, or the pool, or the game room?” he pauses for dramatic effect, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Yours, truly.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that so? And what makes you so special?”

Eris lets out a soft laugh, his gaze flicking to you before returning to the road. “Well, I’ve been told I’ve got a talent for making things unforgettable.”

“Someone’s got a massive ego.”

He grins, his eyes glinting with confidence. “Guilty as charged. You like it though.”

You roll your eyes at that, unable to keep the smile from creeping onto your face any longer. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Ah, you didn’t deny it. I’ll take it.”

“You’re impossible,” you laugh softly, shaking your head.

As the highway fades into the background, the road before you begins to wind through lush greenery. The towering trees start to crowd in, their canopies forming a dappled, sunlit tunnel. Fields of wildflowers stretch out on either side. The road curves gently, revealing glimpses of a large, elegant house nestled among the trees, its silhouette framed by the tranquil lake shimmering in the late afternoon light.

When you step inside, the first thing you notice is how effortlessly cool the place feels—like it’s been designed with a blend of sophistication and laid-back charm. The living room is spacious and airy, with large windows that let in plenty of natural light, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors. The furniture is a mix of sleek modern pieces and cozy, oversized cushions that invite you to sink in and relax.

Eris heads over to a low cabinet and retrieves a small grinder and some neatly rolled-up papers from a hidden drawer. He moves with casual confidence, clearly in his element. You couldn’t help but wonder how many women he’d invited here for a smoke before you, having to remind yourself that this wasn’t that. You’re here as a friend who needs an attentive ear.

“So,” he says, flashing a grin as he begins grinding the weed, “what do you think of the place?”

You settle into the sofa, taking in the room’s ambiance. The walls are adorned with tasteful art, and the scent of cedarwood and something subtly herbal fills the air. It’s inviting.

“Not bad, huh?” Eris continues, leaning against the cabinet and looking down at the papers in his hand.

You chuckle, glancing around. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

His eyes dart up to meet yours, a playful, mock-surprised smile on his face. “Crazy…” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “Oh come on, you know it’s a nice place. I'm not gonna shower you with more compliments than you need.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he sits on the couch, starting on the joint. The sound of the grinder and the rustle of the papers are the background to your conversation. “Fair enough. But before we get too cozy with this,” he nods toward his work, “let’s talk. I’d rather hear how you’re really doing.”

You hesitate, feeling a bit vulnerable all of a sudden. “I don’t know if I can get through it all sober.”

Eris looks at you with a soft, reassuring smile, his fingers pausing briefly as they work the paper. “Just try.”

For a moment, you’re silent, the sound of the grinder filling the space between you. You look around the room, at the art on the walls, the low light casting a warm glow over everything. It’s easier to focus on that than on the storm inside your head.

But then you find his gaze again, and the quiet concern in his eyes makes something inside you crack, just a little. "It’s just… everything’s been so overwhelming lately," you begin, your voice soft. "I keep making these choices that… I don't know how to explain it… I’m digging myself into a deep, deep hole. And I don’t know how to get out." You hesitate as you try to find the right words. “It’s just… I don’t even know why I let it happen. I mean, I love Cassian, he’s everything to me. But every time I’m with you,” the words catch in your throat, and you quickly clarify, “with all of you, I mean… I feel like I’m losing myself, like I’m just drifting through all of it without thinking. It’s like I’m not even in control anymore.”

Your voice trembles as the floodgates open, the words spilling out faster than you can stop them. “And the guilt… it’s eating me alive. Every time I’d see Cassian, it was like I was drowning in it. When we went to sleep at night, when he’d kiss me, when we cooked dinner, when he’d tell me he loves me and I said it back with a straight face, knowing what I’ve done… I keep asking myself why I did it, why I kept doing it, but I don’t have an answer. I don’t even know if I’m looking for one or if I’m just trying to justify something that can’t be justified.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of it all is too much. “I thought I could handle it, that I could keep everything separate, but it’s all tangled up now. I’m tangled up. And I don’t know how to fix it, or if I even can.” You pause, swallowing hard as you try to gather your thoughts. Focusing on how methodically he rolls the joint is the only way you can keep from crying. “The past couple of weeks have been a nightmare,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “Every day feels like I’m just… going through the motions. I wake up, and for a split second, everything’s fine. But then it all comes crashing back, and I remember what I’ve done. It’s like this constant weight on my chest, and I can’t breathe.”

There’s a heavy silence as you finish, the room feeling almost too quiet. You glance at Eris, the exhaustion in your eyes reflecting your need for a break from the emotional turmoil. “I can’t keep talking about this right now,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “I just need to… I don’t know.”

Eris nods, a knowing look in his eyes. “Yeah, I got you,” He stands up, moving with a relaxed confidence, and heads towards the kitchen. You watch him, feeling a small flicker of relief at the prospect of a distraction. He returns with two glasses of ice, setting them down on the coffee table before lighting the joint and pointing towards your bag for the rum. When you reach to pour the drinks, he gently takes the bottle from you, pouring them himself.

You take the glass when he offers it, the alcohol warming your insides and helping to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts. Eris hands you the joint, a small, encouraging smile on his lips. “Here’s to a temporary escape,” he says, his tone lighter now.

You take a slow drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs and the effects of the alcohol and weed start to mingle in your system. The combination is soothing, and you feel the tension begin to ease. As the minutes pass, you can feel the fog of intoxication settling in, and your thoughts become less jagged.

A while later, the room is darker now, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamp on the side table. The drinks are empty and the bottle of rum you brought stands proudly, and emptily, in the center of the table. The joint is long finished, and the conversation has shifted from heavy to light. You and Eris are more relaxed on the couch, and the air is filled with more classic rock, the remnants of laughter, and the gentle hum of your voices.

You lean back, feeling pleasantly buzzed, the haze of the alcohol and weed wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth. Eris is sitting right next to you, his leg pressed against yours, his hand resting casually on the cushion next to you. The shared warmth and comfortable silence between you feel natural.

“You know,” you say, your voice slightly slurred but lighthearted, “I didn’t think I’d find myself here tonight, like this. But... I’m glad I did.”

Eris glances over at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Sometimes the unexpected turns out to be the best part of the night.”

You chuckle softly, the sound mingling with the music playing in the background. “Yeah, it’s funny how things work out. I definitely needed this more than I realized.”

He nods, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “It’s good to let go now and then. Just don’t forget there’s still shit to unpack when you’re ready.”

You let out a deep sigh, your gaze drifting around the dimly lit room. There’s a moment of hesitation as the weight of your earlier conversation looms on the edge of your thoughts. The alcohol and weed have softened the edges, but the heaviness is still there.

Eris shifts slightly, his hand moving a bit closer in the process. Whether it was intentional or not, you don’t know. “You know,” he says gently, “it’s not every day you find someone willing to listen without judgment. You should take advantage of that.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the pressure build behind your eyes. “Cassian… he’s been nothing but loving, nothing but kind to me. And it kills me, Eris. It kills me to look at him and know that I’ve betrayed him in the worst possible way. Multiple times.” You feel the lump in your throat as you continue, the warmth of the alcohol making it easier to let your words flow. “I keep trying to think of ways to fix it, to find some sort of answer or way to redeem myself. But...” Your eyes search the dim room as if trying to find some clarity in the shadows.

“I keep going over every moment, every decision, wondering where things went so fucking wrong. It’s like replaying a movie where I know the ending is tragic, but I can’t look away. I did this shit to myself…

“The hardest part is that he saw everything. He didn’t even need me to confess; he saw it with his own eyes. And everytime I replay that night, I think about how coldly he looked at me. He’s never looked at me like that before. Not that I don’t deserve it.” You glance at Eris, the weight of your emotions clear in your eyes. “I’m trapped in this cycle of guilt and regret, and it’s suffocating. I don’t even know what I’m looking for anymore—whether it’s forgiveness, understanding, or just a way to get rid of all this guilt. The thought of facing Cass again… God, I can’t…”

Eris’s eyes narrow slightly as he takes it all in, draping an arm across the back of the couch. You aren’t quite close enough for it to wrap around you.

You mentally chastise yourself for wishing you were. Thinking like that is what got you into this mess.

His voice is low but steady when he speaks. “You’re human. You made choices. Bad ones, sure, but it doesn’t make you a monster.” He pauses, his gaze intense. “It’s easy to get lost in guilt. But you’re not doing anyone any favors by going MIA. Especially not Cassian.”

You scoff. “Cass doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“How are you so sure?” he asks, his fingers drumming lightly against the couch, the rhythm steady and patient, unlike the chaos unleashed in your mind by the simple question.

The Facetime with Nesta shoves itself to the forefront of your mind as if your subconscious has been holding it back all this time. You’d heard Elain’s voice in the background, imagined her laughter mingling with Cassian’s, imagined him sharing her breath, his tongue deep in—

The thought hit you like a sucker punch, just as the air had been knocked out of your lungs the moment you’d put the pieces together.

“I’m pretty sure Cassian is fucking Elain,” you blurt out, your voice shaking with the weight of the confession.

Eris’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes sharpen. “Why do you think that?” he asks calmly, though there’s a new edge to his voice.

You swallow hard, the memory still raw. “When I was on a call with Nesta, I heard Elain in the background. She was trying to listen in on me ranting about this all to Nesta… She didn’t even say hi to me, didn’t let me know she was there. Why would she do that unless she was hiding something?”

Eris raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical but curious. “You might be reading too much into this,” he says, but the sharpness of your gaze makes him backtrack quickly. “Alright, alright, I didn’t mean it like that. Just… how are you so sure they’re involved?”

You exhale sharply, frustration evident. “Cassian is incredibly vindictive in bed,” you say, thinking back to all the times he’d gone hard on you just for catching you making eyes at one of the guys. “I’ve been through his friends, I’d be more shocked if he didn’t try to go through mine.”

Eris’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Most of his friends.” He doesn’t elaborate but the implication is clear. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but it’s not always best to assume the worst.”

A fleeting thought crosses your mind. Eris is right. You and he never crossed that line, despite the heated moments over the years, despite the events the night of Ianthe’s party. If Cassian is dropping you off on your mom’s doorstep just to go after your friends, maybe it’s time for you to stop moping around and start embracing some fun yourself. Why should you sit at home and stew when he’s out there doing who knows what? Who knows who? For all you knew, Nesta had fucked him too. And, honestly, Eris doesn’t look half bad in that black, fitted t-shirt and tailored jeans, the thin silver chain around his neck glinting in the low light. There’s a roguish charm about him, just as there’s always been. It’s something that makes him undeniably tempting.

You look down at your lap with a sigh, a feigned sadness in your eyes, and a playful pout on your lips. “Well, if Cassian’s going to do whatever he wants, maybe I should too.” You look up, letting your gaze linger on him, lowering to his lips before meeting his eyes again.

Eris’s eyes flicker with surprise, but he maintains his cool as he raises a brow. “Is this where we’re headed now? I thought we were in the middle of something a bit more serious.”

You scoot closer to him, close enough for the hand on the back of the couch to rest on your shoulder if he wanted it to. “Maybe I’m tired of pitying myself. Or maybe I’m feeling adventurous.” A glint of mischief sparkles in your eyes before you slip back into your act.

Eris chuckles, a faint smile curling his lips. “A distraction, huh? You know that won’t fix anything.”

You shrug, maintaining your demeanor. “Who says it has to be about fixing anything? Sometimes a little distraction is just what you need,” you level. Tired of the theatrics, you scoot even closer and grab that god-forsaken hand, placing it gently on the back of your neck.

Eris’s fingers linger there, his expression shifting from playful to intrigued before he traces soft patterns on your skin. “Is that right? And here I thought you were just looking for a friendly ear.”

You lean closer, your voice dropping to a softer, more flirtatious tone. “You mean to tell me you didn’t have any other intentions? Not a single fleeting thought?”

Eris’s gaze drops to your lips, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. “So, what are you suggesting? Are we breaking some rules tonight?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, something like that. A night of enjoyment. No strings attached, just...”

Your words trail off as you close the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a slow, heated kiss. His hand grips the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. It starts slow, almost exploratory, but quickly deepens as you both lose yourselves in the moment. The taste of liquor lingers on his tongue, a heady mix of rum and something uniquely Eris. You savor it, letting the alcohol-infused warmth of the kiss sweep over you. Your lips move against his with increasing urgency, and you gently tug at his lower lip, pulling him closer.

Eris’s hand tightens around the back of your neck, his fingers sliding into your hair as he angles his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue meets yours with a bold, almost possessive stroke, and you pull back just slightly, your breath mingling with his. Your eyes lock, the heat still palpable between you. “I like the taste of you,” you murmur, a playful glint in your eyes.

He exhales, a low, throaty sound that’s part groan, part sigh, as if you’re unraveling him with every word, every touch. It’s the kind of sound that sends a shiver through you, making you feel like you’ve got him right where you want him. His eyes darken with desire and amusement before he leans back in to capture your lips again. This time, the kiss is more intense, a dance of passion and need. His hands roam to your waist, pulling you even closer. The world outside seems to fade away as you both lose yourselves in each other.

Eris’s lips trail down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You arch into him, the sensation of his touch making you shiver. You let out a soft moan as he kisses a sensitive spot just below your ear, making your pulse race. You’re left feeling lightheaded from the drinks and the smoke, and every touch, every caress feels electrifying. His hands slide up to your back, pulling you tighter against him, if possible.

His lips return to yours, and this time, the kiss is unrestrained, filled with a raw, urgent need. You can feel the strength in his arms, the way he holds you close, as if afraid that letting go might make this moment slip away. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. There’s a breathless pause, the intensity of the moment hanging between you. “You said you were feeling adventurous,” he says, and you shrug. “How adventurous?” His voice is low and his words are laced with an intensity that wasn’t there before.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost breathless from the heated kiss. “You’re not planning on taking me out back and murdering me, are you?” you joke, looking out the large windows at the sea of tree silhouettes around you.

Eris’s lips curl into a half-smile. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it, but now that you mention it…”

You nudge him playfully, your smile widening.

Eris’s expression turns serious again, though the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I promise, nothing like that. But I do have something in mind that might be a bit… beyond what you’re used to.”

You look into his eyes, feeling a mix of anticipation and excitement. “I sincerely doubt that,” you say, your voice steady. You’ve had more than your fair share of sexual escapades, indulging in all kinds of experiences in past relationships. And with Cassian, the bedroom was never without a spark—rarely did things stay simple.

Eris’s eyes brighten with satisfaction. “Good to hear.”

He stands and grabs another joint he’d rolled earlier, offering you a hand to help you up. You take it with a playful smile and follow him.

The music fades as you follow Eris down a short flight of steps. The hallway is lined with eclectic art and framed photos. One with Eris surrounded by a bunch of dogs, a grin on his face that’s more genuine than you’ve ever seen. Another with the Vipers, his arm slung casually around Azriel, all of their faces flushed with victory. You have to talk yourself out of paying too much attention to Cassian in that one. There’s even one of him with who you assume is his family, standing in front of a cabin, all smiles and warmth. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before, and it makes you see him in a different light—one that’s more personal, more real.

At the end of the hall, a large bookshelf stands against the wall. Eris pauses, throwing you a sly glance before reaching for one of the books. He pulls it, then pushes the bookshelf open, revealing a short set of steps leading down into a hidden space below. How cliché.

“After you,” he murmurs, gesturing for you to step inside.

You look at him with creased eyebrows, to which he only gestures his arm in again. You find a lounge, set slightly lower than the rest of the house, with five or so steps leading down into it. The room is richly decorated, with dark wood paneling, plush seating, and warm, ambient lighting that adds to the intimate, secluded atmosphere.

Eris follows you inside, closing the bookshelf door behind him. The room is completely private, a hidden sanctuary within his home. He steps closer, holding the joint he rolled earlier between his fingers. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice carrying a note of quiet pride.

You take a moment to absorb the space, your eyes drifting over the rich details—the king-size bed on the far wall, the soft glow of the lighting, the floor-to-ceiling mirror on one wall, the smooth texture of the dark wood, the way the room seems to envelop you in warmth. It's intimate without being suffocating, luxurious without feeling ostentatious. You notice cabinets discreetly integrated into the walls, their contents hidden behind polished doors. A smirk tugs at your lips as you turn to face him. “I can honestly say I wouldn’t have expected this from you, Eris. A sex dungeon? Really?”

Eris arches a brow, looking mildly offended. “Dungeon? That’s what you’d call it?”

You raise an eyebrow in response, your teasing tone unwavering as you gesture around the room. “Isn’t that what it is? Hidden room, dark wood, all the ambiance… seems like a dungeon to me.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Dungeons are cold and grimey. This is a private lounge, a sanctuary, carefully curated for… specific tastes.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound echoing softly in the room. “A curated sanctuary, huh? You really do have a way with words.”

Eris’s lips curve into a smirk as he reaches for your hand. “Words, among other things.”

He lets the words hang in the air, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. You arch an eyebrow, leaning in slightly as if challenging him. “Among other things?” you echo, your tone playful. “Care to elaborate?

He steps closer, his gaze steady and full of intent. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. “But first, I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

Your heart skips a beat, not out of fear but from the thrill of the unknown. You’re no stranger to pushing boundaries, and something about Eris’s confident, almost predatory demeanor only heightens your anticipation.

Instead of answering directly, you take a step closer, closing the remaining distance between you. “You really think this kind of thing is—What was it you said? ‘Beyond what I’m used to’, was it?” you tease, your lips curving into a smirk.

Eris’s smile widens, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “Alright, alright,” he murmurs before he pulls you in by the small of your back for another heated kiss, and he speaks against your lips. “You have full say in how this goes, I don’t want to go any further than you’re okay with.”

You pull him off by the hair on the nape of his neck, and the muted hiss that escapes him shoots straight to your core. “Oh, well if I’ve got full say,” you say, sarcasm lacing your words. “Give me whatever you think I can take, and then some.” You give him a dazzling smile, but he can only look at you in wonder.

His hands find your waist, giving the flesh there a tight, possessive squeeze. He leans forward, bringing his lips to your ear. “C’mon, pretty girl, strip for me.” His voice is low, almost coaxing, with a soft yet commanding tone that makes your skin tingle.

Though you’re surprised at his suddenness, you don’t hesitate. As you begin to strip away your clothes, Eris steps away, moving toward a large set of deep drawers. He looks back at you as he goes, drinking in your every movement as you peel off each item of clothing. First you shed your shirt, then the shorts, followed by your socks, underwear, and even the scrunchie on your wrist. The air thickens with anticipation as you wait, rather impatiently, to see what he’s looking for.

“Y’know, most guys wouldn’t have their back turned to the beautiful, naked woman in their basement,” you muse, examining your nails as you stand perfectly tall.

“First, it’s not a basement.” He turns to you, black rope in hand, his smirk tinged with an emotion you can’t quite place. “But you’re right, baby. I’m sorry. How about I make it up to you?”

You have to suppress a shiver at his words, or maybe it’s because of the cool air on your bare skin. He takes you in like it’s his first time seeing you, like he didn’t have you practically grinding against the heel of his hand two weeks ago. You’re not sure if it’s the substances in your system or the prospect of doing whatever he can imagine to you, but he feels different today than he had then.

Eris reaches into one of the drawers and pulls out a small, sleek controller. With a quick press of a button, a rig begins to descend from the ceiling, the soft hum of the motor filling the room. He keeps his eyes on you, holding the controller loosely in one hand as the rig stops at around eye level.

His tone is almost casual as he walks back towards you with the rope, the controller goes into his pocket. “Ever use one of these before?” You can only shake your head in response as you walk around the metal hook, thinking for the first time that you may be in over your head. “Good. Go ahead and kneel there for me.”

Eris moves behind you as you kneel, working the rope through the rig and instructing you to place your hands behind your back. The rope isn’t as rough against your skin as you anticipated. His hands work with practiced ease, securing your wrists together. He steps back, watching you with a satisfied expression. Then, with deliberate slowness, he begins to raise the rig, the rope tugging your wrists upward. The position forces you to stand as it continues to rise, his eyes narrowing as you do.

Once you’re in position, bent forward with your arms forced behind you, Eris steps closer again, his fingers tracing the line of your spine. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs against your ear. His fingers skim up your arm, lingering at the nape of your neck. His touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the tension in the room. “Is it okay if I–”

“Do whatever you want,” you interrupt, your voice steady even as your heart races. “If I don’t like it, I’ll let you know. Just do something, please…” You needed a distraction from your thoughts, and the newness of this all was sobering you up.

A slow, approving smile spreads across his lips as he nods. Without another word, he goes to a cabinet, selecting a few items with deliberate care. When he returns, the scent of him envelops you as he carefully ties a blindfold around your head, plunging you into darkness.

You hear the soft rustle of fabric and the click of something plastic. Before you can dwell on it, the world goes silent as something is placed over your ears. The shift is sudden, disorienting. The subtle hum of the room, even the sound of your own breathing, everything fades away, leaving you in an almost eerie stillness.

The rope tugs uncomfortably, but not painfully, at your wrists, the tension in your arms pulling you taut. Your heart pounds, each beat echoing in your chest, reminding you of the vulnerability you’re allowing yourself. Then you feel it—a gentle tap on your jaw, followed by his thumb brushing against your lower lip, pulling it down slightly. You take the hint, opening your mouth for him. The next thing you feel is cool metal pressing against your lip as he slides a ring gag into place.

“If you need to stop,” he says after raising an ear of the sound-canceling headphones, “shake your head and I’ll check on you. Nod if you understand.”

Just as you do, the pad is back over your ear.

You feel the air shift as he moves around you. Deprived of your sight and sound, your body becomes hypersensitive to every touch, every brush of fabric, every subtle shift in temperature. The tension in the air is palpable, your anticipation growing with each passing second.

A light touch trails down your spine, causing you to shiver involuntarily. The sensation is followed by the warmth of his hand as it settles on your hip, steadying you. You can barely hear your own breath, the sound muffled and distant, heightening the sense of isolation. Then, a gentle tap against your inner thigh. You instinctively spread your legs, the vulnerability of the action sending a rush of heat through your body as his touch lingers, waiting.

Then, without warning, a sharp sting lands across your ass. Your body jerks in response, the sting quickly dissolving into a low, throbbing heat. The unexpected strike pulls a soft whimper from your gagged mouth, but before you can even process it, another comes, and then another, each one precise and measured.

The blows alternate with the soft caress of his hand, the contrast between pleasure and pain pushing you deeper into the headspace he’s crafting for you. The strikes aren’t overwhelming, but each one is enough to remind you of the power he holds in this moment, the control you’ve willingly surrendered.

You lose track of time, each sharp strike followed by soothing touches, the rhythm lulling you into a dazed, almost meditative state. The gag keeps your mouth open, forcing you to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing, each inhale and exhale carrying a mix of adrenaline and endorphins. The warmth of saliva trickles from the corners of your mouth. The rhythmic stinging across your ass slowly transforms into a heated, throbbing warmth that radiates through your body. Each strike, followed by the soft caress of his hand, leaves you in a heightened state of arousal and anticipation, melding into pain and pleasure that lull you deeper into the experience.

Suddenly, the warmth of his touch disappears, and you’re left in disorienting solitude. The absence of his presence makes you acutely aware of the emptiness left behind, amplifying your anticipation. Without warning, you feel something cool against your inner thigh, followed by the unmistakable sensation of a vibrator pressed against your dripping cunt. It’s startling, and though you can’t hear it, you moan, loud and needy.

His hand is on your hip, steadying you as the vibrations increase in intensity. The buzzing becomes loud and clear as he gently pulls the headphones off, and you hear them thud as they fall somewhere. The sudden reintroduction to sound is jarring as the room’s noises flood back in—the loud hum of the vibrator, the sounds you hadn’t realized you were making, the now husky tone in his voice. Each sound is more vivid than before.

Eris’s voice breaks through this new sensory flood, warm and approving. “You’re doing so well for me, baby,” he murmurs, his tone a soothing balm. After being spanked, then paddled for God knows how long, between his calm, reassuring voice and the relentless vibrations against your cunt, you aren’t sure how long you’ll last.

His fingers replace the vibrator, brushing lightly against your clit. He teases your folds, just enough to drive you wild with need. You squirm against the rope, desperate for more contact, for release.

“You want more, don’t you?” Eris’s voice is low, almost a purr as he leans closer. His breath is warm against your ear. “Tell me what you need.”

He rubs slow circles against you, his fingers like fire against your skin. You try to articulate what you need, but the gag muffles your words into incoherent sounds. The frustration of being so close and unable to finish draws an exasperated groan from you, and he responds with a deep, dark chuckle. Eris’s touch withdraws entirely, leaving you in aching anticipation. The sudden absence of his touch is maddening, your body craving the completion he’s denying you. You can’t see him, but you can feel the warmth of his presence lingering near.

Minutes pass, or maybe just seconds—time has lost all meaning in this swirling haze of sensations. Without warning, you feel the sharp sting of a flogger grazing your inner thighs, just enough to remind you of his control. The flogger’s strikes alternate between gentle taps and more forceful hits, never quite enough to satisfy your growing desperation, but enough to keep you on edge. Each touch pulls you further into the comforting fog he’s woven, and your whimpers morph into sharp yelps of pain, each one more urgent than the last.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Does it hurt, baby?” His tone is tender, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it that promises much more pain.

You groan, the sound a mix of frustration and need, but Eris’s expression hardens. The flogger lands on your skin again, a sharp crack that reverberates through your body. He grips the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, yanking you closer until your breath mingles with his. You can feel the heat of him, the solid presence that’s both terrifying and intoxicating. His lips hover near your ear, his breath raising goosebumps on your skin.

“Do you have something to say?” he asks, his tone noticeably darker and more dangerous. There’s a tense, almost impatient edge to it, a sign that stepping out of line is not an option. “A complaint? Are you ungrateful for what I’m giving you?”

The flogger’s strikes become more deliberate, more vicious. Each one lands with a stinging, biting pain that blossoms across your skin, the sensations mingling with the ache of your muscles straining to hold the position he’s put you in. He’s toying with you, savoring your helplessness, the way your body trembles and arches under his control, the way your breath hitches in anticipation of each new strike.

“Who’s in charge?” he whispers in a slow, deep voice, every word dripping with malice. You try to answer, but the gag in your mouth turns your response into a pathetic, muffled sound. Your eyes squeeze shut in frustration, tears of helplessness welling up and quickly absorbed by the blindfold. You can’t form the words, can’t tell him what he wants to hear, and that only makes it worse.

He clicks his tongue, a sound of feigned disappointment, and tugs your hair again, forcing your head back. “Ah, couldn’t quite catch that,” he sneers, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

You whimper, the sound a pitiful mix of plea and frustration, and he chuckles, a dark, cruel sound that sends a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. He’s enjoying this — enjoying how easily you bend to his will, how every strike of the flogger makes you jerk forward with a cry. He wants to see it all, the way you crumble under his touch, the way you surrender every last shred of control and hand your worries away to him.

“I control how this goes,” he growls. “You said you’d be good for me, baby. Did you lie? Do I need to stop treating you like a good girl? Because I can do that if that’s what you want.” The flogger strikes down in the middle of your back with a crack that feels like it splits you open, and you cry out, the sound desperate. Your body lurches forward, but Eris’s hand is still in your hair, holding you in place, forcing you to stay still, to take every single lash he’s giving you.

“Look at you,” he hisses, his voice dripping with condescension. “So fucking needy. You love this, don’t you? Being my little toy, something I can break however I feel like.”

The words cut deep, the filth of them sending shockwaves through you. You hate how true they feel, how much you crave the pain, the degradation he’s giving you. The flogger strikes again, harder this time, and your knees almost buckle from the force of it. But you don’t fall. He won’t let you.

“Oh, you like when I treat you like this. You like this a lot better than before, I can tell. You’re just a fucking hole, aren’t you?” he continues. “A pretty little slut who’ll do anything to please me. Do you even have any shame left, or do you need me to fuck some sense into you?” The flogger descends again, and again, each strike punctuating his filthy words. “I’m going to break you, baby. Turn you into the perfect little slut who’ll take everything I give and then beg for more. And you’ll love it, won’t you? You’ll love being nothing but my whore, thinking about nothing except wanting my cock.”

Each word, each degrading, filthy word, sinks into your mind, pushing you further into the haze of submission. The pain of the flogger, the sting of his words, they’re all you can think about. Your world narrows to just him — his voice, his hands, the way he’s tearing you apart and building you back up, molding you into what he wants, what you need.

He pauses, the flogger still resting against your skin, the rough leather a reminder of what’s coming next. He drags it slowly down your back, letting it scrape over the welts he’s already raised. The sensation is entirely new, a subtle pleasure and pain that leaves you trembling.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, his tone a bit gentler now, but still laced with that underlying cruelty. The change gives you whiplash. “I can see it. You want to be good for me, don’t you? You want to show me just how perfect you can be.”

The flogger strikes again, and you gasp, the sound a desperate cry. But this time, he doesn’t stop. He strikes again, and again, the rhythm relentless. Each lash pulls you further from the chaos of your thoughts, dragging you into a dark, twisted place where nothing exists but him. The pain and pleasure blend together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

“You’re going to remember this, baby,” he promises. “You’re going to remember how it feels to be mine, to be owned. And you’re going to beg me for it again, aren’t you? You’re going to come crawling back desperate for me to use you, to turn that pretty little mind off and break you all over again.”

He’s right. You can feel it, deep in your bones, in the way your body responds to him, in the way your mind clings to every word he says.

Eris’s eyes never leave your face, his gaze predatory as he watches you fall apart for him, unraveling under the weight of his dominance. You’re exactly where he wants you — lost in the moment, completely detached from anything and everything happening outside these walls. As the flogger comes down one last time, sending a final, searing wave of pain through your body, you know that this is exactly where you need to be tonight.

Finally, when you’re trembling, he lowers the flogger and returns to your clit, the light, teasing touch of his fingers reigniting the fire within you. “You feel that, baby?” he whispers, his tone teasing. “Feel how wet you are for me? You like when I hit you, don’t you?” He drags two fingers up your center, gathering your slickness on them before bringing them up to your open mouth. “How badly do you want to come?”

You nod, desperate to show him how much you need this, but he’s not finished with you yet. “Tongue out,” he purrs, his voice a low, silky command that sends a shiver through your already trembling body. Without a moment’s hesitation, you obey, sticking your tongue through the cold metal of the ring gag. A string of saliva spills out at the motion, glistening in the low light, and you hear a soft, satisfied exhale from him.

Eris drags his fingers down your tongue, cleans them off inside your mouth, pressing them against your tongue. “Can you taste how badly you want it?” His voice is a dark, teasing caress, each word wrapping around your mind, sinking deeper into that place where only his voice and touch matter.

You can’t respond, not even attempt to, but the question is rhetorical anyway. He doesn’t need an answer; he knows. He withdraws his fingers, leaving your mouth empty, yearning for more. The loss makes you whimper, as does the ache in your jaw — a pitiful sound that he savors as he continues, his tone a mix of mockery and care.

“You can taste how good I’m making you feel, how much you love it when I hurt you. You want to taste something better, baby?”

Before you can process what he means, you hear the familiar flick of a lighter, the soft his as the flame catches. Your heart thumps in anticipation. A moment later, the smell of weed fills the air, earthy and heady.

Eris takes a slow, deep drag from the joint, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before he leans in close. His lips brush against the edge of the gag as he exhales, blowing the smoke directly into your mouth. It’s so unexpected, so sudden, that you choke, your body convulsing slightly as you try to inhale and cough at the same time.

The thick, pungent smoke fills your lungs, burning them and reigniting your high. You can feel him watching you intently, relishing the way your body reacts.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively gentle. “I want to see how much you can take.”

Your chest heaves as you fight to draw in air through the second cloud of smoke he blows your way. He chuckles, and with an almost casual motion, he reaches up and unfastens the gag, pulling it away from your mouth. The relief is immediate, but it’s laced with the residue of his control, the taste of smoke lingering on your tongue.

“There we go,” he coos, running his thumb over your wet, trembling lips. “Such a good fucking girl, taking what I give you. But we’re not done yet, are we? No, you’re going to give me more, right?”

His thumb presses against your lower lip, parting your mouth slightly, and you instinctively suck on it, the action almost automatic. Your body responds to him without thought, driven purely by the need to please, to submit, to give him everything.

When he finally, finally begins to untie you, his hands are gentle but firm, his touch careful as he releases the ropes one by one. The sensation of freedom is almost overwhelming after being bound for so long. But before you can fully process it, his hands are on you — supporting you and guiding your arms back down slowly and carefully. He pulls the blindfold from your eyes, and you try to readjust to the lighting.

He’s taking another pull, holding the joint between his lips as he takes you in. But that isn’t what stops you in your tracks. At some point during your immobility, he’d rid himself of his shirt, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from taking him in. His hair is tied back into a bun, strands having fallen loose around his face, and his chest is covered in a glistening layer of sweat. Images of Eris spanking you, walking around you and assessing where to land the next blow, of the muscles in his arms flexing as he strikes. The hungry look in his eyes and the tightness of his jeans as he watches you writhe under his touch.

“How do you feel, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity. “Did I get you there? That nice little headspace where it’s just you and me?”

His voice is soft, but there’s an edge of satisfaction in it as if he already knows the answer. “Did it help?” he continues, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “Did I get you out of that busy little head of yours?”

You nod, still dazed by the intensity of the experience. You’d felt blissful before, sure, but this was entirely different. This was unadulterated endorphins and adrenaline. He grins, the expression both proud and wicked. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the lingering sensations.

But he doesn’t stop there. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Now, let’s see how long I can keep you floating, yeah? You’re not done yet.” Eris tosses the flogger in the general direction of the shelf it goes on, and guides you with a commanding yet gentle touch to a mat on the other side of the room, placed in front of full-length mirrors. The surface underfoot is soft and inviting, and he helps you kneel in the center, the plush cushioning molding to your knees. He moves behind you, his hands brushing along your arms until they rest on your shoulders, a comforting weight as he leans in close. He hands you the joint, inviting you to take a few hits before handing it back. The smoke in your mouth, in your lungs, it only boosts the floating feeling you have from the experience of this all.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvety whisper that wraps around you like a warm embrace. “So beautiful, so ready. But I need you to understand something, sweetheart.” His hands slide down your arms until they reach your wrists, guiding them up to the back of your head. “I need you to be ready to trust me completely. How far I push you now is all about helping you relax, so you can completely lose yourself.”

He pauses, letting his words sink in, his breath warm against your ear. “This isn’t about making things difficult, not for either of us. It’s about you letting me guide you through this. I want you to be my good girl, to follow my lead and take everything I give you.”

His hands rest on your shoulders again, squeezing you lightly. “You’re going to do everything I ask, aren’t you? You’ll be obedient, you’ll let me push you, because you know I’m going to take care of you, don’t you?” His voice is soothing, like honey, and you can’t help but melt into it. “You’re going to give me all of you, every last bit, and in return, I’ll give you everything you need. Remember how you begged for this last time we were together? I want you to be that good girl for me again.”

As his words echo in your mind, you recall the last time you were with him, at Ianthe’s party. The memory is all too vivid — your desperate need, your willingness to surrender completely. You had been so open, so eager, voicing all your desires and pleas. The way you had let go of all inhibitions, the intensity of your submission, and the way your words had spilled out in a fervent, almost frenzied confession. The memory is as intoxicating now as it was then, all things considered.

His words are a gentle invitation, luring you in with a calm confidence that makes it impossible to say anything but yes. You feel hesitant as you consider the depth of your commitment. The tension in your chest tightens for a moment, but then you nod slowly, your voice soft. “Yes,” you murmur, the word barely a whisper but laden with an unspoken promise to embrace whatever he asks of you.

Eris’s fingers brush lightly over your hands, guiding you to interlace your fingers. He steps back to observe you, his eyes raking over your form, taking in every detail. The floor beneath you is hard, unforgiving, but his presence—his authority—keeps you grounded. The anticipation builds as he circles you slowly, like a predator assessing his prey.

“Knees wider," he orders, his voice still soft but with a firm undertone that brooks no disobedience. You adjust, spreading them further apart, feeling the strain as your muscles stretch. You watch him through the mirror, watch how he gives a satisfied smirk as you obey. You finally see how blissed out you look. A dewy sheen of sweat covers your body, your chest rises and falls deliciously with each breath, and your skin is red where you remember him flogging you. You couldn’t imagine what your ass and thighs looked like; red as fire, you imagined, if the lingering, stinging pain was anything to go by.

“Arch your back for me.” His hand is at the small of your back, applying gentle pressure until you curve just the way he wants. The uncomfortable position has you on edge, completely exposed, and yet there’s a strange comfort in the way he controls you, in how thoroughly he’s taking over your body and mind.

Eris takes his time, relishing the sight. “Look at you, already so perfect for me,” he purrs, his hand trailing down your spine in a slow caress that sends shivers through you. “You’re going to stay just like this, sweet girl, you hear me?”

You nod as he runs a hand over your head in a soft caress, trails that hand down your spine. Then, without warning, his touch sharpens—a sudden, firm grip on your hips, followed by the sting of his hand against your ass. The first slap is light, almost playful, but it quickly escalates. The next one lands harder, and he pauses to run his hand over the reddened skin, soothing it briefly before delivering another, even harder.

"Does it hurt, baby?" he teases, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "Or does it just make you want more?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he continues, alternating between sharp spanks and gentle caresses, pushing you to embrace the pain, to find pleasure in the way he’s handling you.

"You’re so good for me," he continues, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Taking everything I give you. I bet you love it, don’t you? The way I’m making you feel?" He chuckles a bit at your lack of response. “You can speak now, sweetheart, I took the gag off for a reason.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath. “Hurts…” you manage to whimper, your muscles shaking. “Hurts really good. I want more.” He spanks you again. Hard.

“Is that how good girls get what they want?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed and you recover from the sting of pain.

“No, I’m sorry,” you rush out, wincing from the pain of the spank, the soreness in your legs and arms. It’s too much. “Please, will you give me more?”

He takes one last, long drag from the joint, finishing it off and throwing the roach towards a bin. He drags his fingers down your back again, only to grip your hips and pull you further back, adjusting your position until you’re even more exposed, your knees straining to hold you up. The discomfort is intense, but the way he’s pushing you has you on the brink of something deeper, something more primal.

Finally, he moves in front of you, his eyes dark with intent. He cups your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "If you want more you’ll have to work for it, baby.” You nod eagerly and he smiles endearingly. “You’re going to show me just how badly you want me," he says, his voice a mix of tender command and raw desire. "And you’re going to do it the way I like."

He steps closer, guiding your face until your lips hover just in front of the zipper of his jeans. "Open that mouth wide for me," he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before pressing it down. "That’s it. Nice and wide."

You obey without hesitation, the need to please him overwhelming everything else. He pulls you into him, his hand resting over your interlaced ones, rubbing your face and mouth into the denim. You feel pride at the way his cock grows stiffer without having taken him into your mouth. You can only imagine how good it must feel to get fucked by that cock, to have it slam into you from below when you ride him, to take it so deep down your throat you can’t even taste his release. A low ‘Now, look at that’ pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t even have to ask you to keep going,” he says, his voice laced with arrogance. Your ears turn red with embarrassment when you realize you’ve been practically nuzzling your face against his cock, but oddly, there’s a twisted sense of contentment mingled with it.

He takes his time undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, mere centimeters from your still-open mouth. No one can make taking jeans off hot. No one except Eris, apparently. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, but not too much—just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. His cock is hard and throbbing, a rich, warm shade of pink with a slight flush at the tip. The girth is impressive, making your mouth water with anticipation. It stands proudly, the pre-cum at the tip glistening slightly under the dim light. You lean in, ready to take him into your mouth. The heat and tension in the air are palpable, and you’re just about to close your lips around him when he gently but firmly grips your hair.

"Not yet,” he murmurs, a playful edge in his voice. “You’re in a hurry, aren’t you? I haven’t given you permission yet.”

You pause, your lips hovering inches away from him. Your eyes flick up to meet his, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in your gaze. “You’re cruel, you know that?” You drop your arms, the strain of holding them there finally too much. He notices the shift, but to your relief, he doesn’t say anything, letting it slide.

Eris smirks. “Cruel? I prefer to think of it as… thorough. You wouldn’t want me to rush, would you? A little patience never hurt anyone.”

Your eyes narrow playfully. “Patience, huh? I expect a good reward afterward.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grip on your hair loosening slightly. “Is that so? And what kind of reward are you hoping for, baby?”

“Something a little more satisfying than just this,” you say with a teasing smirk, your wit finally returning after being silenced for so long. “I’m thinking you could make all this worth my while.”

Eris chuckles softly, looking down and relishing the view of his cock hovering over your face. “I will, without a doubt. But you need to be patient,” he repeats. His eyes linger on you as he shifts, rubbing his cock slowly against your cheeks and lips. The touch of his skin is warm and firm, and each movement is calculated, gliding with a teasing pressure. The pre-cum at the tip leaves a subtle, slick trail that only adds to your arousal.

You feel the ridges and veins of his cock brushing against your skin. His touch is firm but purposeful, making sure you feel every bit of his arousal. He takes pleasure in the way your lips part involuntarily, the way your breath hitches with each stroke. Eris’s breathing grows a bit heavier, his gaze intense as he watches your reactions, savoring the build-up and the control he exerts.

As he continues, he lightly traces his cock along your jawline and over your closed eyelids, creating a delicious blend of sensations. The warmth of him mingles with the coolness of the room, heightening the contrast between the two. He pauses occasionally, teasingly pressing his cock against your lips or rubbing it against your forehead, only to shift and start again.

Your need intensifies with each passing moment, the teasing just shy of maddening. You try to keep your composure, but the craving to have him in your mouth is overwhelming. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you whisper, “Please… let me.”

Eris’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, clearly pleased with your plea. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, his grip tightening slightly in your hair as he guides you closer. “Go on, baby.”

With a soft breath, you lean in, finally closing the small distance between you and him. The moment your lips wrap around the head of his cock, a soft groan escapes him, and it sends a thrill through your body.

Slowly, you take him deeper, your tongue gliding along his length, savoring the warmth and the weight of him. The slickness of his pre-cum makes it easier to slide him into your mouth, and you hollow your cheeks as you move. His fingers thread through your hair, guiding your rhythm, and you can feel the tension in his body, the barely contained control he holds over himself.

You focus on the sounds he makes—the low, husky breaths, the occasional hitch in his voice when you find a particularly sensitive spot. Each reaction spurs you on, encouraging you to take him deeper, to push the limits of your own control. Eris’s voice, rougher now with desire, breaks through the haze of your focus. “That’s it, just like that,” he praises, his grip on your hair loosening slightly to let you set the pace.

His hips start to move in time with your motions, a slow, steady thrust that matches the rhythm you’ve established. You relax your throat, taking him in further, feeling the head of his cock brush against the back of your throat. The sensation is overwhelming, yet you revel in it, the sheer intimacy of this act, the way you’re entirely at his mercy, yet completely in control of the pleasure you’re giving him.

Eris’s breathing grows more ragged, the tension coiling tighter within him. He watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust, his usual composure slipping just enough for you to see how much he’s holding back. The knowledge that you’re the one drawing out these reactions from him makes you bolder, urging you to take him deeper, to drive him closer to the edge.

But just as you think he’s about to let go, he pulls back slightly, halting your movements. “Not yet,” he breathes, voice strained but firm. “I’m not done with you.” His words are a promise, and though you’re aching to continue, you obey, releasing him with a mix of anticipation and frustration.

Eris's hand slides from your hair to your cheek, his touch gentle now. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a brief, almost tender kiss before he straightens up. Without a word, he helps you to your feet, his hands steady and reassuring as they guide you toward the bed.

He lowers you onto the soft sheets with care. The roughness from before has melted away, replaced by something softer, almost reverent. As you settle onto the bed, Eris kneels at the edge, his hands gliding over your thighs, spreading them slowly.

He looks up at you, and there’s a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart stutter. But just as quickly as it appeared, it fades away. He’s silent as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment before he continues, trailing soft, slow kisses up your leg. Each touch is feather light, as if he’s savoring every inch of you.

When he reaches your core, he pauses, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, and you feel a shiver of desire run through you. But instead of diving in, Eris takes his time, pressing a soft kiss just above your clit, then another, slightly lower. His lips are gentle, tender.

Finally, his mouth closes around you, and he begins to work with a slow, deliberate pace, his tongue moving in languid strokes that send waves of pleasure through you. There’s no rush, no urgency—just a steady, sweet rhythm that makes you feel cherished in a way that takes your breath away.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting them slightly as he brings you closer to his mouth, his tongue swirling in a way that’s both gentle and utterly consuming. Each movement is tender, every touch filled with a quiet, unspoken affection. He takes his time, coaxing soft moans from your lips with each delicate flick of his tongue, each gentle suckle.

The pleasure builds slowly, like a tide rising within you, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge, not from overwhelming intensity, but from the sheer tenderness of it all. Eris’s name escapes your lips in a soft, breathy moan, and he hums in response, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of sensation coursing through you.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t rush you to the peak, but lets you linger in the sweet, tender pleasure for as long as possible. It’s only when your body begins to tremble, when you’re right on the brink, that he finally picks up the pace, his tongue moving with a little more pressure, a little more focus, guiding you gently toward the release you’ve been craving.

And when you do fall, it’s into the softest, most blissful release, the kind that leaves you feeling weightless and utterly at peace. Eris stays with you through it all, his mouth never leaving you until the last tremor of pleasure has faded, and then he pulls back, pressing one final, lingering kiss to your trembling thigh. When he does pull away, it’s with a soft, almost reluctant sigh. He moves up your body with the same tender care, his hands trailing lightly over your skin, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a softness there.

Eris doesn’t rush. He leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours in a way that’s more about comfort than urgency, more about reassurance than demand. His mouth moves slowly, languidly, tasting you as if he has all the time in the world.

Your hands find their way to his back, sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as your body arches instinctively toward his. There’s a quiet, almost reverent intensity in the way he touches you, his hands moving to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours.

He shifts slightly, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist as he settles between your thighs. You can feel the hard, insistent press of him against you, the heat of his skin melding with yours, and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft.

You nod, breathless, your eyes meeting his with a trust that’s unspoken but absolute.

Eris presses a soft kiss to your forehead before lining himself up with your entrance, and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and comfort, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he begins to move.

He sets a gentle pace, his hips rolling in slow, deep strokes that leave you gasping. There’s no rush, no frantic rhythm — just a steady, measured movement that builds a different kind of tension. Eris’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he watches you, his gaze never leaving yours. Each thrust is accompanied by a whispered word of encouragement, a soft murmur of praise that only heightens the intimacy between you.

Your bodies move together in perfect harmony, each roll of his hips sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. The world narrows down to just the two of you, the softness of the sheets beneath you, the warmth of his body above you, and the gentle rhythm of your bodies coming together.

Eris leans down, his forehead pressing gently against yours, his breath warm and ragged as he moves inside you. “You feel so good,” he whispers, his voice husky, laced with a deep sense of awe. “So perfect.” His words send a shiver down your spine, the intensity of the moment wrapping around you both.

He shifts his angle slightly, his hips pressing deeper, and you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The new angle has him hitting just the right spot, each thrust making your toes curl with pleasure. “Eris…” you moan, the sound of his name on your lips seeming to spur him on.

“Right there?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand trails down to grip your hip, holding you in place as he drives into you with slow, deliberate thrusts. “I want to hear you, baby. Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s so good,” you gasp, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “You’re perfect, Eris, just like that.”

His pace increases slightly, still measured but with a growing urgency that matches the heat building between you. Each thrust is powerful, and precise, and sends waves of pleasure rippling through your entire body. You can feel the sweat starting to slick your skin, your breaths coming out in short, desperate gasps as he brings you closer to the edge with every movement.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, his voice gentle yet firm, and when you do, you find his gaze locked on yours, his amber eyes dark with lust and something deeper, something that makes your heart stutter. “I want to see you when you come,” he adds, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek as his other hand slides between your bodies to find your clit.

The moment his fingers touch you, you’re lost. He circles your clit with slow, deliberate strokes that match the rhythm of his thrusts, his gaze never leaving yours, his lips curling into a knowing smile as he watches your reaction.

“Please…” The word slips from your lips before you can stop it, desperate for more, for everything he’s willing to give. Your hips lift to meet his thrusts, your body arching into his touch as the pressure builds inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap.

“Please, what?” Eris’s voice is teasing, but there’s an edge of intensity there, a deep desire to hear you say it, to have you begging for him. “Tell me what you want, baby. I’ll give you anything.”

“Please, I want to come,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you. “I need it, Eris, please.”

His eyes darken with satisfaction, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss as he picks up the pace, his fingers moving faster against your clit. “Then come for me,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

That’s all it takes. The combination of his words, his touch, and the deep, steady thrusts of his cock send you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body clenches around him, your back arching off the bed as you cry out his name, the pleasure so intense it’s almost too much to bear.

Eris doesn’t let up, driving you through the waves of your orgasm with steady, unrelenting thrusts, his fingers never leaving your clit until you’re trembling beneath him, completely spent. He watches you the entire time, his gaze heated and possessive, a soft groan escaping his lips as he feels you come undone around him.

As your orgasm begins to subside, he leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, his hips still moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “So fucking perfect.”

You’re barely able to respond, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you manage to whisper his name, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continues to move inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent.

Eris doesn’t hesitate, sensing the way your body melts beneath him, still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. With a smooth, practiced motion, he flips the two of you over, his hands guiding you to straddle his waist. Your limbs feel like jelly, weak and trembling, but he shushes you softly, his hands firm on your hips.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm as he brushes your hair away from your face. “Just lay on me. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”

He pulls you down gently, your chest pressed against his as your head rests on his shoulder. His hands slide up and down your back, grounding you, before they settle on your hips again, holding you steady. You barely have time to catch your breath before he starts moving, his hips thrusting upward with powerful, controlled strokes.

The sensation is overwhelming as he fills you completely, the force of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You can feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the strength of his body beneath you, and the way his cock drives up into you with unrelenting intensity.

“Eris…” you moan, your voice muffled against his neck as your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he takes control.

“Shh, just feel me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he continues to thrust up into you, each stroke hitting deeper, harder. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your body responds instinctively, your hips moving in time with his as he drives into you over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and his low groans, the intensity of it all threatening to unravel you once again.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his pace relentless as he chases your pleasure. His hands roam your body, one sliding up to cradle the back of your head, pressing your face against his neck, while the other grips your waist, pulling you down onto him with every thrust.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice rough with need. “So tight, so perfect. You’re gonna make me come, baby. Just like that.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your body clenching around him as you feel yourself spiraling toward another climax. The intensity of his thrusts, the way he holds you so close, the deep, reverent way he whispers your name — it’s all too much.

“Eris, I’m…” you start, but the words dissolve into a moan as he slams up into you with a particularly hard thrust, your vision going white as another orgasm crashes over you, more intense than the last.

“Oh, you giving me another one, sweetheart?” he growls as he feels you tighten around him. “Let me feel you.”

Your body convulses in his arms as you shatter, the pleasure ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Eris’s grip on you tightens, his own release just seconds behind yours as he thrusts up into you one last time, pulling out as he comes with a low, guttural groan, his cum spilling over your ass in hot, erratic bursts.

He holds you there, both of you trembling, your bodies entwined as you come down from the high together. His hands are gentle now, soothing as they trace patterns on your skin, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

After the intensity of your release subsides, Eris’s touch becomes gentle and soothing. He cradles you in his arms, his fingers brushing tenderly over your back and sides as he presses soft kisses to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and filled with concern. “You did so well, you know that?”

You nod, your body still shivering slightly from the aftershocks, but a soft smile plays on your lips. “I’m okay,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

Eris gives you a reassuring smile, his hands moving soothingly up and down your back. “Good,” he murmurs, his tone tender. “I’m here. Just relax, let me take care of you.”

He carefully disentangles himself from you, his movements slow to avoid startling you. As he rises from the bed, he gently helps you shift so that you’re on your stomach, your hips slightly elevated. “Just a second,” he says softly.

Eris heads to a nearby cupboard, opening it to reveal a small, built-in towel warmer. He retrieves a warm, damp towel from inside, the comforting heat emanating from it as he brings it back to you.

He returns to the bed and carefully unfolds the towel, its warmth a welcome sensation. “I’m going to clean you up now, okay?” he asks gently but doesn’t wait for an answer as he begins to dab at your skin. The warmth of the towel is soothing, easing any lingering tension.

His hands are gentle as he tends to you. “You’re doing great,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “Just wanted to make sure you’re all clean and comfortable.”

Once he’s finished, he places the damp towel aside and returns to your side, pulling the comforter over you both. He settles next to you, pulling you close and pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. You snuggle into his embrace, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence. His arms are steady and reassuring around you, and his murmurs of affection make you feel cherished and adored.

You finally find your voice, looking up at him with a tired but content smile. “That was incredible. I didn’t expect to feel so…” So good? So much? So intimate?

Eris grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You snuggle closer, your head resting against his chest. “I feel like I’m floating. In a good way.” You mentally kick yourself — of course, it was in a good way. Who says floating in a bad way?

Eris wraps his arms around you a little tighter. “You deserve to feel this good. Just know I’m always here for you, not just for things like this, for whatever. Whatever you need, (y/n).”

You sink deeper into Eris’s embrace, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. The comforting weight of his arms and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lull you into a state of serene contentment. The intensity of the earlier moments fades into a gentle afterglow.

As you relax, your thoughts begin to wander, drifting back to the complexities of your life outside this moment. Cassian's name surfaces in your mind, but it's quickly followed by the image of him with Elain. The idea of them together interrupts your peace. It should sting, but somehow, it doesn’t.

Instead, the memory of Cassian and Elain feels distant, almost abstract, overshadowed. You'll deal with it another time.

You shift slightly, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. The world outside, with its complications and unresolved emotions, feels like it’s receding. In this moment, the only thing that matters is the warmth between you, the sense of being cared for, and the gentle hum of satisfaction that lingers from your shared intimacy.

Eris’s soft breathing and the comforting pressure of his touch anchor you, and you let yourself drift in the quiet aftermath, content that you’ve found a moment of peace and connection that you can hold onto.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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[shadowqueenjude]

The most disturbing things portrayed in ACOTAR

Victim-blaming: Lucien tries to help Feyre and gets physically abused by Tamlin as a result. Feyre then proceeds to call him a dog despite Lucien doing everything he could in a difficult situation. And we're supposed to...support Feyre on this? And Rhysand throws around words like "can never forgive" man stfu you prick.

Sexual Assault: The most disturbing thing is not that Rhysand sexually assaulted Feyre. It's that he's never held accountable for this and never even apologizes at ANY point in the series. There are so many examples but this is the one that is the most disturbing.

Double Standards: We have Tamlin locking Feyre up for her own good being vilified, yet Rhysand is championed for locking Lucien and Nesta up in houses for their own good. Huh? WTF.

War Crimes: What Feyre did to the Spring Court, manipulating the sentries with the whole Ianthe thing and basically getting them killed, then weakening the Spring Court rulership which resulted in all those villagers in the Spring Court getting killed, then laying the Summer Court bare to Hybern as well, are nothing short of war crimes. And...instead of feeling regret, we have the main characters saying "Hybern's actions are their own." Like bitch what? Hybern wouldn't have been able to do shit if it wasn't for you! Have some damn accountability! And the fact that Tamlin and Tarquin are vilified for this never ceases to irk me.

Grooming: Rhysand groomed Feyre. He made excuses for everything he did with trauma, then sent Feyre out to do tasks for him like she's some kind of weapon he can use. WITHOUT giving her proper information, there is no choice. And everything he does is constantly explained away, until eventually Feyre becomes his trophy wife. Rhysand basically assigns Cassian to do the same for Nesta. I'm holding out hope that Elain will be saved from the Night Court.

The pregnancy debacle: the whole thing with the baby having wings and Rhysand withholding information from Feyre is just...disturbing. Idc if you're not telling her FoR hEr OwN gOoD, it is HER life at stake and she deserves to know. They didn't even try to shapeshift her to try and save her life? Like why is everybody seemingly more concerned about the baby than the mother? Disgusting. And why is Nesta vilified for being the only one to tell Feyre? She said it to hurt her, blah blah blah. She also wanted to show Feyre that their situations are similar. That they're BOTH being shit on by the Night Court. And when she's close to a breaking point...Nesta is forced to hike a mountain? That is physical abuse. Also, Rhysand being extremely territorial putting a shield over her and barely letting Feyre go anywhere is beyond weird.

Suicide baiting: What Rhysand did to Tamlin in ACOFAS is nothing short of suicide baiting. And...only Lucien seems to really be that concerned about it? Like...are you telling me I'm supposed to be supporting Rhysand after he basically told a depressed male to kill himself?

Segregation: Separating the Hewn City from Velaris IS segregation, no matter what excuse you try to come up with. You can't claim they're all shitty people, since your bestie Mor comes from the CoN. So, there are good people stuck in the CoN unable to get out of their torment because Rhysand decided that only certain individuals are allowed in Velaris.

Performance Feminism: Establishing laws to help women and not doing shit to enforce them is performance feminism. If he's as powerful as he says, he can 100% stop wing-cutting and r*pe. But, he's a goddamn virtue signaler so he doesn't fucking care. The thing is, SJM could've handled these topics in a much better way and it would've been fine. But she completely fucked shit up here and it's crazy that some people don't see it. Part of me is still waiting for the final book where she says, psych rhysand was the villain the whole time. If so, I'll take everything back.

[littlemisssatanist]

my acotar unpopular opinions

taking this time to come out as an acotar reader. yes i've read all the books and i've spent way too much time thinking about it. i enjoy the books in the sense that i enjoy hating on many of the characters and loving a few of the others.

be forewarned inner circle fans. you will not like this.

rhysand is not a 'morally grey' character. he's a rapist and a groomer. he sexually assaulted feyre utm, he groomed her (reminder that she was 19 in acotar), and he withheld important medical information from her. 'you'll always have a choice' my ass.

nesta telling feyre about her pregnancy was not a bad thing. why do people act like it is? 'oh she did it to hurt feyre' hurt her by doing what? revealing the lies that her beloved husband had woven? revealing the fact that she'd die giving birth? the fact that rhysand told literally everybody but feyre?

mor is not the champion for women everyone thinks she is. this i will give to sjm it is truly impressive to make a character like women and still be a pick me. i'm not even going to go into her whole weird ass relationship with her dad (i still don't understand why she wouldn't just kill him. 'oh rhys needed the army' rhys is supposed to be the most powerful high lord ever. either admit he's a fucking loser or give me an actual good reason for this) or the fact she's seemingly incapable of doing anything to help the women in the court of nightmares, but everytime she was mentioned, i had to let out a heavy sigh and rub my temples.

on a similar topic. i liked eris. like a lot. out of all the acotar characters sjm has written, eris is by far my favorite.

the inner circle needs to sit the fuck down. they are the most hypocritical bitches i've ever met. they like to think themselves high and mighty. reading them make fun of lucien's band of exiles while their name is literally 'court of dreamers' was the most infuriating thing ever. and then they have the gall to be insulted when called out. don't dish what you can't take.

out of all the inner circle, the only one i don't hate is azriel. this is simply because he is the only one who hasn't opened his big fat mouth and done something bad (except if you maybe count his whole thing with elain). cassian is on my hit list. it's on sight with cassian.

nessian is sjm's worst ship and i will stand by that. lucien/nesta could have been so much. 'nesta would have ripped lucien apart' and cassian was your first choice? not even azriel was considered? like be so for real right now. sjm didn't see the potential of lucien/nesta and i will forever mourn that.

sjm is a terrible writer. i'm not saying this to be mean but she seriously just sucks at it. that being said i admire her ability to still make millions of dollars off her shitty writing. as a woman, i am rooting for her. as a reader, every day i wake up a shoot a prayer to the heavens begging the gods to not let sjm write any more books from the inner circle's pov.

lucien/elain is better than azriel/elain. argue with the wall.

eris/azriel is better than azriel/elain. you can kiss my ass.

NESTA/ERIS IS BETTER THAN RHYSAND/FEYRE. i know this because i have been enlightened.

feyre is a victim to rhysand. that being said, she is also a major bitch. both can be true because these things are not mutually exclusive. i wish she could make friends outside of the ic like nesta did, but i know that's unlikely.

feyre's pregnancy storyline was completely useless and went against her whole character.

acomaf retconned everything about tamlin and feyre's relationship in order to make more money. idc.

tamlin gets a ridiculous amount of hate. rhysand is hypocritical. so tamlin locking feyre in a house because she wants to ride out with him into potential danger is terrible and abusive, but rhysand locking nesta in the house of wind for... *checks notes*... having sex and spending money on alcohol is helping her? what?

[sapphicmsmarvel]

feysand x reader: the afterglow

set after getting together but you don't necessarily have to read that to understand this one!

under the cut bc its over 1K!

tw: a bit of anxiety

-After you guys officially mated, you knew the world was gonna take it weirdly. 

-There’s never been a triad bond that would be so well known. 

-To be honest, you were mostly nervous about how the inner circle would react. 

-You knew they loved the three of you dearly. But you also weren’t stupid and knew this was unconventional. You also knew you were freaking over nothing but alas, you were still anxious about it. 

-In the middle of the frenzy, Rhysand sent a message saying that you had accepted the triad bond and you three would be gone for a bit. 

-When you guys came back, it was a party. Mor had hung up a banner that said “congratulations!” There was a buffet table full of foods that Elain had clearly worked so hard over. 

-Cassian was…collecting coins from everyone?

“I bet that you’d be the first to make the first move.” He explained. 

Technically, he wasn’t wrong. It was you yelling at them that made the first move. 

“Did everyone know before we did?” you asked as he collected a few coins from Azriel. 

“Well, Rhysie isn’t subtle. Feyre was oblivious to your struggle just like she was to Rhysie-“

“Hey!” Feyre pouted. “You aren’t wrong, but hey!” 

You kissed her cheek. “And you!” Cassian pointed to you. “Are affectionate with everybody! Do you know how hard it was to convince Feyre and Rhysand that you actually liked them like that!” 

“I’m so sorry my reluctance to fuck our friends made your life harder.” You said dryly. 

He scoffed, “better be!” 

“Quit yelling at my wives, Cassian.” Rhysand said darkly, the alpha-asshole coming out. 

“Here we go.” Feyre muttered. 

“Made it two minutes this time.” Mor added. 

“Instead of two seconds.” Amren finished. 

Cassian gave you a smile that you had you wincing, because you knew what was coming. “Hey Y/N, want a ri-“ He didn’t get to finish because of the punch to his stomach from Rhys. 

“Welcome to the family.” Mor nudged you. “Even though you were already in.” 

“I’m just relieved I don't have to see Y/N pining anymore.” Nesta said from the doorframe. “Over twenty years of that bullshit.” 

You should’ve hit her harder when you were kids. 

Azriel, Lucien and Elain, like the sweethearts they were, just smiled without a sarcastic comment. 

-Your next worry was Nyx. How would you fit into his life? Would you be a stepmom or another mom? 

-You easily loved him more than anything, that was even before being mated to his parents. Now? Somehow you loved him more. 

-You were holding him one day when Rhysand sat down next to you on the porch swing. You were just enjoying the breeze with your-well it felt wrong to call him your son but you were his parents' wife? 

“How are two of my favorite living beings?” Rhysand said kissing you. 

“Good but what kind of greeting is that?” You chuckled. 

“I know he’s a person, but it’s weird to call him that. He’ll always be my baby.” He cooed and brushed back Nyx’s tuft of hair. 

Rhysand sat next to you, putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. You leaned as much as you felt comfortable with Nyx in your arms. You didn’t like not being on your guard when you were holding him. He was precious. 

Rhysand kissed your temple, you felt peace. You were just missing one vital part. Feyre usually came home from the studio around this time. Rhysand and you had accidentally made it a tradition to sit out on the porch and wait for her. 

“Do you want kids?” Rhysand asked. “You don't have to answer now.” 

“I mean, I kinda have one now. Kind of late to say no.” You giggled and gestured to Nyx. “He may not be biologically mine. And I can be a stepmom or stay Auntie. Whatever’s the most comfortable with you and Fey. I don't want to overstep.” 

“Would….would you be one of his moms?” Rhys asked, you could tell he was incredibly nervous. 

“I would be honored.” You whispered, your gaze never leaving the baby's sleeping face. 

You missed the look of utter adoration that Rhys shot your way. 

Pretty soon, Feyre joined you guys on the porch coming home in paint splattered overalls and a paint stained face. She was glowing, you could tell how happy that studio made her. It made you incredibly happy. 

She leaned down to kiss Nyx, then you, then Rhys who pouted about being last. But he was okay with it, he loved your family so incredibly much. It kind of scared him what he’d do to protect it. 

Later that night, Feyre came up behind you in the mirror as you got ready for bed. She pressed her head against yours. Your cheeks lined up perfectly and were smushed together. Her arms were wrapped around your waist. 

“You are his mother, if that’s what you want to be”. She whispered. “I may have birthed him, but I would be honored to share the mom spot with you.”

“Fey, I just did my skincare, you can’t make me cry like this.” You said, your voice wobbly. She squeezed you tighter in response, her nose scrunching with her closed mouth smile, her eyes half closed and lips scrunched slightly. She kissed your temple and went back to Rhys. 

That was that. Rhysand was dad/daddy, Feyre was mom/mommy and you were mama. 

-The next thing on your list was how the court would see it. The Inner Circle doesn’t give a shit (which was to be expected) but the Court of Nightmares? That’s where you were worried. 

They didn’t take to Feyre that well, then Nyx. Now you. 

Rhys called you out on your bullshit one night while all of you were getting ready for bed. 

“What’s up with you? You’re more nervous going to the Court of Nightmares than you were before.”

“Well, we weren’t mated then.” You said back, you tried to avoid being snippy but your stress levels were high. 

Clearly, he knew you were being snarky because he gave you a raised brow and held his hands up in surrender. You sighed. “Ugh, baby I’m sorry.” You said. You set down your hair brush and crawled into his arms. 

His chest shook with restrained laughter. “Love, you’re allowed to be nervous-“ He was cut off by Feyre coming into the room. 

“Ooh, are we snuggling?” Feyre said. And with the excitement of a five year old she catapulted into bed.  

The three of you bounced and laughed. “I’m nervous about going to the Court of Nightmares.” You admitted, playing with a string on the blanket to avoid looking at Feyre. You could avoid Rhys’ gaze easily since you were sitting with your head laid against his chest and in between his legs. 

“Why?” Feyre brushed your hair behind your ears. 

“Because…” You made a helpless gesture. “It's really scary.”

“You’ve been there before?” Feyre asked. 

“Yeah well I wasn’t fucking the High Lord and Lady.” You sighed. 

“Okay, you aren’t just fucking us.” Rhysand squeezed your hip. “You’re our wife. What label do you want them to know you as? Consort?-“ 

“I’ll rip your dick off.” You growled. “Consorts aren’t treated with the respect they deserve.”

“Agreed.” He said. 

“Do you want political power?” Feyre asked with zero judgment. 

“You know that’s not why I married you two.” You grumbled. 

“But would you want it?” Rhysand pushed. His hands roaming over your skin, he knew how much the contact helped your anxiety. 

You shrugged. “It’d be a massive adjustment. However….I’d love to help people and actually have the power to do so. But there’s…”

“Hm?” Feyre continued to stroke your palm. 

“This is gonna sound bad but I don't mean it to be.”

Feyre smiled and based on the pulsing down the bond, Rhys was too. So you continued. “There’s no room for me to help rule.”

“Who says?” Feyre challenged. 

You sputtered and Rhys decided to take you out of your misery. 

“You know, there also wasn’t such a thing as High Lady when Feyre came into our lives.” He stroked down your back, his hands ending at your hips. 

“And?” You asked. 

“I rewrote that rule, and I’ll rewrite it again for you to be in it. You are our equal in every way and I refuse to let you be reduced to a ‘consort’ that is, if you want to be a High Lady.”

And that was it. The next day, the day you were supposed to head to the Court of Nightmares, you delayed it. Much to the confusion of your Inner Circle. 

You were sworn in as a second High Lady. 

How the Inner Circle found out was quite funny. Az had a feeling, Nesta and the Valkyries were happy for you. Mor and Amren just looked at Rhys with a secret High Lady? Again! Cassian used it as an excuse to celebrate that night so the group could ditch their Court of Nightmares persona. 

When Azriel introduced you, he said, “Rise for your High Lord Rhysand, Highy Lady Feyre and High Lady Y/N.”

The three of you walked in, you in the middle, Rhysand and Feyre on either side of you. 

You felt beautiful, respected. Even though you knew Keir would be a problem. 

You were alright with those problems, as long as you had your family with you.

[dippedinmelancholy]

I've been thinking about he weird Cassian/Mor/Azriel not-love-but-still-somehow-love triangle and like, the more I think about it, the shittier Morrigan looks. So, the initial Cassian fucking her? Not shitty, she's just trying to get out of her marriage, though Cassian is clearly down bad for Azriel and SJM doesn't have the balls to write it. But when you pin together Morrigan's conversations with Feyre. . . She's aware Azriel is in love with her, or at the very least, assumes so. Additionally, she wants nothing romantic with him, but absolutely refuses to tell him because she likes having him utterly wrapped around her finger and eager to protect her, to do anything for her. She specifically implies this when she tells Feyre "I like the way things are." This implies she knows Azriel is miserable. She knows he's pining. She knows she will never give him what he wants, nor will she tell him that she doesn't and won't ever return the feeling because she likes USING HIM. She likes using Cassian and an overly physical relationship to keep Azriel at bay, but doing just enough to keep him attached to her. She tells Feyre she is also aware of Azriel's self loathing. She knows she could strip naked for him and beg for his touch, but Azriel hates himself too much to dare. He thinks she is too pure and lovely for him, akin to an angel or goddess. So she doesn't need to use Cassian as a barrier, but it's an extra wall to guard her, and extra hurtful since she fucked Cassian. Then, you have the mess of the High Lord's meeting. Mor is uncomfortable, at least looks fearful, and Azriel attacks Eris. We know this is what Mor WANTS. She wants Azriel to defend her no matter the consequences. She wants to be safe from any reminder of her past, but especially her father and Eris. After getting the exact reaction she always wants from Azriel, knowing he never ever ever pushes her for more, but protects her because he loves her and never expects her to pay him back in any shape or form . . . Mor decides she needs to hurt him. She needs to reinforce how low he is, how he can protect her, can do everything she asks, and she will always choose someone else. So despite having no attraction to him, there being absolutely no need to do so, she sleeps with Helion. She fucks a High Lord with the only purpose to hurt Azriel, who is supposedly family, even as she hates every second of it. Who she is supposed to love. Yet she only does it to show him, in front of everyone, just how low he is. How filthy. How unworthy. Nothing he will ever do will be good enough, but she'll keep giving him just enough to give him hope, only to crush him every now and then. What a dream. SIDE NOTE How the fuck did Helion not pick up anything? You can literally smell arousal if you enter a room as a fae. If this man is half as a giving and talented lover as the text keeps telling us, how the fuck did he not know Morrigan wasn't into it? SJM please write your queer characters better or hire a ghost writer, I'm begging you.

[acourtofthought]

So we've got an anti who baited Eluciens with the Elucien tag regarding Jurian's comments about Elain (though he was only playing the bad guy) then after explaining the situation they chose to reblog then block. I happened to have their post up on my screen before they blocked which is why I'm sharing the screenshots this way. Not only did they do this to me, they also did it to @theshadowsingersraven after insulting their age.

One of the most juvenile statements in this fandom is "how can you claim to love a character when XYZ". Because it's fantasy? Because these characters are all literally morally gray? (except for maybe Elain and Lucien). Because the author wrote Jurian as becoming someone who Lucien (Lucien who has always been one of her favorite characters) could depend on and wrote Lucien as Elain's mate and wrote Jurian being upset with Mor and Rhys for believing he could actually be capable of doing what they thought he was doing? Truly, who the fuck cares what Jurian said two years ago on their timeline while pretending to be the bad guy when he later revealed he wasn't and helped them save many lives? Helped them win the war with his intel? There's a little thing called understanding and forgiveness and despite OP's insistence that we don't understand why Jurian said what he did, it's canon that we do. I'd suggest re-reading the chapter where Jurian reveals himself at Graysen's estate. Just as we now know and accept Rhys as the good guy despite any past actions, we accept Jurian as the good guy because the AUTHOR wrote it that way. Readers can demonize whoever they want in the series but it doesn't change the fact that Sarah is telling you not to view them that way. That Cassian went to Jurian and Vassa's estate because they've become important players to the overall peace of the human lands. That Nesta asked Lucien how Jurian and Vassa were doing. So strange how nobody in the series seems to hate Jurian for the comments he made. Very weird that nobody in this series gives a shit about what Jurian said years ago while some in the fandom are clinging to it like a security blanket just so they can accuse Elucien's of not caring about Elain.

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 9: Two witches go to a war camp… /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: After a much needed talk with Elain, Nesta takes Y/N to Windhaven.

Word Count: 2,2K

Warnings: None for this part.

Notes:

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

“I'm sorry if I made everything weird between you and her.” Y/N started, remembering the way Elain tried to stop him from going with her.

“She confuses me.” Lucien sighed, sipping on the liquor she had found hidden in a cabinet. “She’s with him, but whenever she sees me trying to move on, she finally remembers she’s my mate and acts with jealousy towards me.”

“Love sucks.” She let out a humourless laugh.

“After everything with Jessminda, I just wish to be happy.” Sadness overtook his features, he had shared about his past lover that day at the city, and Y/N felt her heart crack a bit.

“You will be.” She promised him.

Y/N woke up that day on her bed, her talk with Lucien still fresh in her mind, and as she jumped out of the bed, showered and got dressed, she knew what she would do that day.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Meraxes landed near the garden, on an empty part of the house Rhys and Feyre lived, she already had to talk to them, talking to Elain in the process was going to be perfect.

She strolled towards the hallways, the sound of her boots echoing around the house as she reached the office Rhysand had indicated to them last night as they got back from Hewn City.

She knocked, waiting for them to allow her in. Feyre opened the door with a gentle smile, welcoming her in. The office had dark wooden furniture and grey walls, a portrait of Feyre sat beautifully behind the desk, like she was the force that guided Rhysand even when she wasn’t there in person.

“Good morning.” He said, cradling his sleeping son against his chest.

“Good morning! Thank you for receiving me.” She cleared her throat. “I’m here to ask for permission to leave with Lucien and explore Koschei’s home.” The two shared a look like they were talking in each other’s mind. Like Maeve did.

“You are free in this court, but we appreciate your consideration.” Feyre spoke, hands cupping his shoulders. “We’re going to ask for Azriel to join you two, we also need to deal with Koschei and he can share what he already knows with you.”

Being stuck with Azriel and Lucien, when the two couldn’t stand being in the same room with each other for more than 5 minutes? Great, just fucking great.

“Do you think this will help?” Rhys inquired, his violet eyes piercing her into her seat.

“I’m willing to try anything at this point.” She shifted on her seat, her scar throbbing with anxiety.

“Mor found this.” He handed her a book, covered in a dark leathery material, looking like a diary. “She looked around her father’s office and this was the only thing that made sense.”

Y/N grabbed the book, flipping through the pages, drawings and an ancient alphabet she knew very well, Wyrd marks. She closed the book quickly, wanting to read it just as fast.

“This is going to be very useful.” She smiled at them. “May I take it with me during the trip?” Feyre nodded.

“Please do.” She waved her hand and Y/N shoved the diary in between her leathers. She groaned as she saw the state of her clothes that morning, the ripped fabric making her angry.

“We also will have some incursions of our own. Nesta and Cassian fly today to the war camps to see what they can discover . You may want to find her, she wants you to join them.” Rhys announced. “We’re in touch with the other High Lords, Koschei is a threat we all have in common, so it gives us the perfect excuse to roam around their libraries. Except Autumn of course.”

“Lucien asked his brother for help.” She blurted. “Eris says he will try his best.” Rhysand and Feyre shared a surprised look.

“Well, that is nice of him. Thank you.” Feyre spoke.

“Thank you for all your efforts.” She thanked them, getting up. “I need to get going so I can do everything that I need to do before travelling.” Feyre nodded.

“Of course, go ahead. But just be careful.” The female begged and Y/N nodded.

“I’ll try my best.” She said with a confident gleam in her eyes, exiting the office.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She leaned in the doorway, Elain was kneeled on the ground, hands digging in the soil as she planted another pink flower in that already full and beautiful garden.

Elain stiffed, the black wyvern approaching the garden, its huge snot bumping against her perfect flowers, Meraxes sniffled, sitting on its back paws as his head rolled to the sides, happily appreciating the smell.

“Oh, do you like flowers?” She asked, looking curiously at the creature, Meraxes took a deep breath and his big grin appeared in approval.

“He does.” Y/N replied from behind her, prompting Elain to quickly whip her head in her direction, hurt and sadness filled her brown eyes as she made eye contact with her.

“What do you want? Tell me how wonderful your night with Lucien was!?” Elain got up, removing the gloves from her hands and walking towards Y/N, standing in front of her.

“I did have a wonderful night with him.” Elain scoffed but her eyes filled with tears. “Because Lucien is an amazing, caring friend. I came here to tell you that nothing happened yesterday, at least not what you think.”

“You two didn’t sneak out to be alone?” Elain’s breath hitched.

“We did, but I just needed to get away from that crowd, it reminded me of bad times, he was just helping me to get back in control of my emotions.” Elain watched her silently. “Take care of him, please, love him how he deserves to be loved. Lucien has a gentle yet fragile heart, handle with care.”

“I thought about what you told me.” She started. “Azriel and I are no longer together, and now it’s my turn to ask you to love him how he deserves, Azriel has been searching for love for so long, and I wasn’t what he needed, but I have a suspicion that you might be, so please, be careful and patient with him, he deserves it.”

Her words left her astonished for a few minutes, just blinking towards the female like a confused kid. Did Azriel say anything about dreaming about her? Did he feel the same increase in his heartbeat that she did whenever he looked at her? Did he love her like she loved him?

“Thank you Elain. And after everything ends and if I’m still here, would you teach me gardening?” Elain smiled.

“I would love to.” She nodded her head, smiling back at Elain before she headed towards Meraxes, she had to find Nesta.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You can’t go like this.” Nesta stomped her foot down, looking at the damaged clothing Y/N was wearing. “You would be better in Illyrian leathers, they’re amazing.”

“And where do we get them?” She asked, to which Morrigan happily chimed in.

“In the best shop of all Illyria.” She had a big smile. “My mate’s shop.”

Y/N sat atop Meraxes, Morrigan pressed against her as the two made their way towards Emerie’s shop. Before Y/N met Cassian and Nesta at the camp.

Mor rambled about how she and Emerie met, the bond snapping for them and how they had busy life’s but always made time for each other, and in every opportunity she would fly to be with her lover.

The wyvern waited outside the town, and they walked towards the tiny shop in the middle of the town. Thousands of winged males and females walked there, minding their own business and going on with their lives.

The heavy door scratched against the floor as Mor pushed it open, revealing a well lit inside with clothes hanging around and a leathery smell. Behind the counter the female from that training day stood, her hair was braided and she was reading a book.

“Do you have any leathers available?” Mor said in a slow and sensual tone, Emerie lifted her eyes, her expression going from serious to pure delight as she saw her mate standing in her store.

“For you? I have everything.” She crossed the store in two quick steps, embracing Morrigan and pulling her in for a kiss. “I missed you.”

“Me too baby, me too.” The female turned to Y/N. “Emerie this is Y/N, Y/N this is Emerie.” Y/N shook her extended hand.

“It’s nice to see you again.” She spoke and the female nodded in agreement.

“She’s the female that disarmed Azriel, that I told you about.” She told her mate, who looked at them confused.

“Oh okay.” Morrigan laughed. “Makes sense.”

The blonde then started to talk about how Y/N could use some new clothes and Nesta had sent her there. It took exactly twenty minutes for her to get in full Illyrian attire, very tight on her body but not in a restricting way. And four more pairs ready to take home with her.

She had thanked them, leaving the two alone. Walking towards Meraxes, the clothes felt okay, not that different from what she was used to. She clicked her jaw and exposed her teeth, Godslayer behind her back. She mounted the wyvern and headed towards the camp where she was supposed to meet Nesta.

Devlon kept staring at her with annoyance, he hated having Nesta around, a witch as he claimed she was. The female’s gaze turned to the sky a few times, waiting for the winged shadow that would make them tremble in fear.

With a loud roar, she saw it. The wyvern descending from the skies, his powerful wings carrying the winds in them. Devlon turned to the commotion, cursing loudly as he spotted Meraxes landing and his rider dismounting, sliding down his leg and landing on the ground with ease.

“Who the hell is that?” He demanded to know, turning to the General that didn’t even try to suppress the smirk at the male’s terrified gaze.

“Our guest for today.” He announced. “Welcome to Illyria, Lady Blackbeak.” Y/N bowed her head to Cassian, not even looking at the static male beside him.

“Lord Cassian, thank you for having me. Lady Nesta.” She turned her body to the female.

“What are you?” The male spat, and she turned those deep blue eyes in his direction, her claws scratching her chin as she grinned, the sun shining on the iron, giving the metallic smile a creep touch.

“I’m a witch, what else would I be?” She spoke in a condescending tone, like it was obvious what her true nature was.

“First you bring her.” His crooked finger pointed at Nesta, the female scoffed. “And then another one? You curse our land. You two are going to be our doom.” He pointed to the females, Nesta had walked to Y/N’s side and the two smiled at him sweetly.

“I’m kinda busy to be anyone’s doom.” Nesta sarcastically remarked.

“Oh yeah, me too.” Y/N shrugged. “Maybe next year.” She winked at the male.

Devlon was seething with anger, their mere presence was an affront to them and their traditions, Cassian as an Illyrian should know. But it looked like he and the two females didn’t give a shit about it.

“What do you want?” He sighed deeply.

“Your oldest scriptures.” Cassian spoke and the male rolled his eyes before giving in.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“What is this?” Y/N pointed to the drawing of a monolith, the stone was sculpted with square edges with a slit on top. Like a keyhole.

“This is the monolith atop Ramiel, it’s where you have to reach in order to finish the Blood Rite.” Cassian spoke, giving her a brief introduction of what the Blood Rite was.

“And when you finish it just teleports you back?” She inquired.

“Basically.” He shrugged, not knowing where she wanted to go with it.

“Ramiel, here says it’s a sacred mountain, very powerful.” Both Cassian and Nesta nodded. “Powerful enough to open a gate?”

“What?” Cassian asked and in a second the two stood behind her.

“The Valgs used wyrd keys to travel, they inserted them in wyrd gates to open portals to other worlds. If the drawing is accurate..” She pointed to the marks adorning the monolith. “These are wyrd marks and this..” She pointed to the top part of the monolith, towards the slith. “Is a keyhole for a wyrd key.”

“How do we know that you’re truly correct?” Nesta inquired.

“I would have to see it with my own eyes.” She groaned, if they didn’t wanted her there, there’s no fucking way they would allow her at Ramiel.

“Rhys can show you.” Cassian spoke and she looked at him. “We have to go back to Velaris.”

The three rushed outside, thanking Devlon for the scriptures and Y/N promised to stay away for a while, making the male growl at her. They stood in front of Meraxes.

“You two go, I’ll meet you there.” Cassian urged and they nodded, Y/N climbed towards the saddle and Cassian dropped Nesta behind her, securing both in place, they flew, this could finally be a step towards the right direction.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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[wishcamper]

a rumination on mating bonds and relationship inexperience

we were talking about mating bonds in the gc and it got me thinking about how weird it always feels to me that none of the IC are in long-term relationships before Feyre comes along. Everyone says mating bonds are rare, but it seems like EVeryone is also waiting for their mate and not even bothering with committed relationships that aren't that.

And yes I know most of Prythian was just in a lil hostage sitch with miss ma'amarantha so dating was not at the forefront. but the only semi-serious non-mate relationships we hear of are Amren and Varian which seems like a deviation from her usual behavior, cassian and tanwyn which was FIVE HUNDRED years ago, Beron and LoA which is fucked and probably political, and lucien and jesminda who he thought was his mate and then he never pursued romance again. and I guess Azriel entertained it when he was in love with Mor despite her not being his mate (as far as we know), but that's a whole deal on its own.

So I think one of three things:

people are generally not interested in long-term relationship unless they find their mate, and are content being single until that happens, if it ever does. they get emotional gratification and intimacy from friends and family and sex from casual encounters

people in the IC's age bracket are not pressed about finding long-term partnership because they're still considered in young adulthood when some people settle down but most don't

the IC DO want long term relationships but something about their family structure deters them from pursuing partners or compels them to keep their romantic life separate/private from their family, both of which strike me as odd

None of these fully make sense, but it is interesting to think about especially given the ICs relative emotionally immaturity compared to their stated age. Like none of these fools seem to know how to be in a committed relationship. No one talks about a significant breakup of any kind or lessons they've learned from past relationships.

it's weird to me that there's no lines like 'oh damn rhys bringing a girl home, the last one he brought home xyz' because it seems like he's.. never done that before. And even if light of his people-close-to-me-get-hurt love embargo, no one else has introduced someone to the family, as far as we know.

There isn't discussion or even representation of how mate relationships are different to the same person besides Feyre, who didn't grow up dreaming of a bond. No one asks Cassian if he feels weird about loving again after Tanwyn died, or if it's different to have intimate sex after centuries of casually sleeping around. No one teases each other about how they get moony or awkward or jealous in relationships.

No normal convos family and friend groups have. it's just.. blank. it's strange. for people who are supposed to be as close as can be, there's a glaring hole where they DON'T talk about their romantic lives, at least on page, outside of the fated mates. which to me means they're deliberately avoiding it or they're romantically inexperienced and there really isn't anything to tell.

it makes more sense for the archerons to not have a dating history given their culture, but they all do and they've all been ENGAGED before. i just find it hard to believe that not one of the IC had a boo of any significance besides Cassian, and it puzzles me why that's not more of a Thing.

anyway, would love to know your thoughts!

[kopfkino-o]

okay modern acotar au but the setting is a shitty local bar and I might or might not have been tipsy when I wrote this.

Rhys inherited this crusty bar from his business tycoon father and, despite being utterly incapable of maintaining a well respectable establishment, he lowkey loves being able to boss the staff around and enjoys the all the “free” booze whenever he wants. No he does not file taxes. But he has given his wife, Feyre, creative reign over the place and she painted the walls herself, which was definitely a choice, but the patrons don’t really seem to mind the various eyeballs staring down at them so it sort of works for the place.

Cassian works security with Jurian but most nights he is the one who ends up starting something and it lowkey causes a lot of insurance liabilities but Rhys isn't really worried about all that. Cas also can’t stop sniffing after veteran bartender, Nesta, who will definitely throw your ass out if you so much as look at her wrong. The tension between them is causing a lot of “bad vibes” for the bar’s regulars, Lucien and Eris, who only come to this shithole establishment to get away from their dad (he’s sleeping on their couch because their mom left him for another man). Tamlin always wants to hangout, especially on open mic nights, but he doesn’t have a car and Eris refuses to drive a few extra minutes to pick him up because he doesn't want "unnecessary mileage" on his 2008 beat to shit BWM.

Elain works the front well because she’s the only one who can use the bar's new POS system and Mor waits tables because she’s a customer favorite (she's comps drinks for literally everyone). But there’s really no need for three bartenders on every shift (the bar gets like five customers, max) and Nesta definitely has that shit handled, so most nights Mor and Elain just sit out back near the dumpsters drinking wine coolers and gossiping. They occasionally upload TikTok videos with Gwyn and Emerie, two waitresses who work at the restaurant next door, but Rhys and Feyre let it slide because it’s good publicity.

Vassa, Tarquin, and Helion occasionally meet up at the bar after work (they work at the pr firm across the street) but only because the drinks are cheap and their asshole boss, Amarantha, thinks the establishment is "below her", so they don't feel obligated to invite her along. Helion has slept with like half the staff, and has some weird thing going on with one of the regular's mom, but he always tips well and at least he's consistent. Once, Tarquin let Cassian borrow his boat so he could take Nesta on a date, but he crashed it into a dock when he was trying to park and it ended up being this whole thing. Amren, the lawyer Feyre hired, has sorta advised the staff to refrain from talking about all that though.

Azriel, the bar manager, smokes cigarettes in the old walk-in cooler (Feyre painted it one night during a staff party) between shifts and wonders how the fuck he ended up being in charge of keeping this trainwreck running. He would have quit the job five years ago but he needs the money and Rhys at least offers half decent health insurance. The bar occasionally gets letters from Beron, the local health inspector who is totally on Rhysand’s case, but Az just throws them away in the raccoon infested dumpster outback (the girls swear they haven’t been feeding them) and yearns for the day this whole shitshow finally gets shut down.

Oh, the baby? Yeah he handles accounting and the shadow monster in the basement is in charge of the social media. don't ask.

[hugevanserrass]

reasons to hate cassian

Cassian saw that Azriel was romantically interested in Mor, felt jealous over it, and agreed to have sex with her knowing it would hurt Azriel.

The first time he meets Nesta, he immediately passes judgement on her for letting Feyre hunt as a child, despite the fact that she was a child herself.

Tells her he doesn't understand why her sisters love her

Bonds with feyre over their shared experiences living in poverty but treats nesta like she's a stuck up rich girl, despite her living in the same mf hovel as feyre (why does he do this ??)

He gropes her in her own home despite her not wanting him to touch her.

He sees her on the verge of tears due to anger and despair when the human queens won't send aid to the humans in Prythian, and then a scene later says "She barely seems to care about anyone other than Elain."

Will not take no for an answer when Nesta tells him to leave her alone.

When they are both clearly feeling something for each other, he still rips his hand out of Nesta's when Mor walks in. Wtf was this about anyways?

He buys Mor lingerie despite knowing Nesta is his mate. This is just weird in general. Also calls Mor his sister, despite having slept with her in the past.

Judges Nesta for not getting over her trauma in a way that is both quick and convenient to him and the inner circle.

Admits to ignoring her claim that she is enjoying the music while he drags her, against her will, out of a "seedy" tavern.

Supports Feyre and Rhys in their decision to forcibly remove Nesta from her home and relocate her to the House of Wind, on threat of deportation.

Drags her to Windhaven to "train" even when she makes it clear she has no intention of training. As a result, she is forced to sit on a rock in freezing cold temperatures.

When Mor basically tells Nesta she is just like her evil father and the rest of the Court of Nightmares because she is mean to Cassian, Cassian does not defend Nesta nor call Mor out on it.

He brings up Nesta's dead father at breakfast because she won't eat her oatmeal.

He tells her everyone hates her.

He watches her fall down a very steep flight of stairs, and then laughs at her. She was bruised and had a black eye from this fall. Cassian thinks this is funny.

Whines constantly about being a bastard nobody despite Nesta only using "bastard" as a direct insult to him one time, and in that same convo he called her a haughty witch.

He is rude to Lucien for no reason. (unforgivable)

Despite knowing Nesta is vulnerable, he fucks her at the first opportunity, even though he knows she uses sex as a coping mechanism.

Snarls and bitches at Nesta when she talks about Rhysand in a tone he doesn't like, even after telling her he can match whatever she throws at him. (He can't)

Sides with Rhysand over her constantly, even when he is in the wrong.

Every time they do engage in some sexual act, he immediately bolts, leaving her alone and confused. Refuses to communicate his feelings, acts like an asshole.

Keeps secrets from her, and agrees to participate in a vote on whether or not she deservers to know about the swords she created, which directly pertains to her powers. He whines a little, but ultimately does what he is told.

When she voices her fear that she is not good enough for him and will never deserve him, he does not correct her.

When he learns of Nesta’s love for dance and how her mother twisted it into a tool to find her a prince, Cassian turns himself into the victim. (this takes skill tbh)

He interrupts the only true canon Neris moment to shove in and dance with Nesta. Will not forgive him for this. Get off the dance floor.

When they finally admit their feelings on solstice and have a passionate and meaningful night together, he STILL leaves immediately the next morning to go hang with his homies and doesn't see her for a week. She is left alone AGAIN. (Begging him to stop doing this.)

When Nesta has finally had enough of being judged by the inner circle, she decides to tell Feyre the truth about her pregnancy. Cassian is furious with Nesta, takes no responsibility for lying to Feyre, and does not react in the slightest when Rhysand threatens to KILL Nesta. (His mate)

When Feyre tells him that she is angry with all of them and not Nesta, he does not tell Nesta, even though it would be comforting to her while she is at her absolute lowest.

When Feyre tells him Rhys is secretly happy Nesta is going to hate every second of the hike, he has a nice little laugh with Feyre at Nesta's expense.

He makes her endure a back-breaking death march in which she is forced to carry an extremely heavy backpack as punishment.

He sees that Nesta doesn't care if she dies, and does nothing to get her away from the steep cliffs. He snaps at her the entire time, even while she is clearly spiraling and about to have a mental breakdown.

She collapses at the end of each day and all he says is "at least remove the pack so I can cook myself dinner." She has not spoken in days.

He works her to the point of passing out. She literally faints, face first, onto the hard ground and he yells at her for not drinking water instead of trying to determine if she's alright.

When she finally breaks down and cries and tells him how much she hates herself, he tells her how much he loves Rhysand as an attempt to relate to her suffering. (fuck you dude seriously)

He does not correct her when she says she is unworthy of love.

He says "there is nothing broken to fix" despite forcing her to obey him and change her coping mechanisms and behave in the way he approves.

When she tells him the word mate doesn’t mean anything to her because she’s human at heart he dismisses her instantly and says "that's bullshit." No attempt to understand her feelings whatsoever as he tries to force her to admit they are mates before she is ready.

Tells her he didn't ask to be "shackled" to her after she says she didn’t get to choose to be fae, and it was forced on her. (it was)

When she calls in the bargain he immediately thinks of a way to get around it. He does not respect the boundaries she sets for herself. He thinks something like "Easy enough command to work around. I'll tell her to word her bargains more cleverly." She says she wants a week alone and the very next day he shows up to Windhaven in order to force her to speak to him.

When he learns she has been taken into the blood rite, after a lot of sulking and one feeble attempt to disobey Rhys, he thinks something like "even if I could rescue her I wouldn't, I wouldn't take away her opportunity to save herself." Meanwhile Nesta is hoping that he will be coming to rescue her.

When Nesta finally saves him, and tells him she loves him, he does not say it back. HE NEVER SAYS I LOVE YOU.

He calls Eris a coward immediately after learning he was tortured by his father, and likely has been his whole life. In the same thought, he acknowledges that Eris was willing to be tortured to protect their alliance and STILL calls him a coward.

When Rhysand is yelling at Nesta AGAIN for helping Bryce save the entire world, Cassian does not stick up for her. AGAIN! (I stg you bitch)

Amren says to Nesta, in front of Cassian, "Pray to the mother that your sister changes Rhysand's mind tonight" ABOUT WHAT? IS HE GONNA KILL HER? And Cassian does...nothing.

"Nesta's mate shifted an inch closer to her, his eyes darting between the two of them, torn. Like he didn't know who to side with in the brewing fight." I hate him so much for this !!!!

Nesta tells Ember that Cassian is "the most furious with me of anyone" WHY? Nesta even voices that she doesn't think they'll kill her. This implies Rhys has yet again threatened her life because he disagrees with her choices, and guess what: CASSIAN DOES NOTHING.

[sarawritestories]

do you like the way cassian was in acosf? i feel like sjm wrote him to be really....idk just different compared to how he was in acowar and acomaf.

Ahhhh my favorite topic! Cassian 😍

Also my not so favorite topic SJM Character assassinations 😒

I also hope you are prepared for the long rant I'm about to go on sorryyyyyyy.

Let's get into it: Did I like Cassian in ACOSF?

Yes for the following reasons:

-We learned more about his Love Language

-His Compassion for his friends

-Any moment that he was really soft with Nesta (Despite what a lot of the people in the fandom believe those moments are on the page).

HOWEVER MY ANSWER IS ALSO NO.

ACOMAF Cassian would absolutely Obliterate ACOSF Cassian.

Why? Good question I'd love to answer.

Cassian in ACOMAF and ACOWAR always was one to stand up to not only people who insulted Feyre her sisters. But he knew when Rhys needed to get knocked down a peg and be more humble. So him just being subservient to Rhys in ACOSF in front of Nesta (Because despite what people say he does defend her just not in Rhysand way.)

Also SJM played into the fandom fan service of dumbing him down to a brute (its subtle but its there.) LIKE THIS MAN IS A GENERAL HE HAS WON COUNTLESS BATTLES THANK TO HIS STRATEGIES. But instead of having this sweet story of Nesta showing him how to be a courtier; she has Rhys throw him to the wolves (Eris) to make him a babbling idiot WHICH HE"S NOT.

You would have had a better story if Nesta was showing him how to do these things OR A cute Courtier X Bodyguard story line had she let Nesta do what she had trained her whole life to do and Cassian being there to keep her safe.

ACOMAF Cassian is emotionally mature, he's playful and knows how to lighten a mood but he's compassionate when it comes to Feyre and her emotional stability. In the bonus chapter, he's enraged someone hurt Nesta enough to cause her to flinch at his touch wanting to protect her. ACOSF he has the emotional capacity of a 12 year old boy and it sucks.

Cassian's character was watered down in ACOSF with just enough flashes of his old self that it keeps you seated but I wanted better for him and Nesta too tbh. She never wanted to be a warrior and I love that she found friends and got healing but the story could have been told differently and her love story with Cassian should have gone differently and both deserve to have more soft moments with each other.

Also his interactions with Mor were weird and felt kind of forced. I didn't like that.

Cassian seemed to be there for a plot device and she didn't give a shit about his character development and in the process whittled him down to what drew me to him the minute I met him in ACOMAF.

All the while deciding she was going to destroy every fucking character in that series in the process.

You will never make me hate Cassian even though I do agree he is very off in ACOSF he does have some shining moments in there that still makes me metaphorically weak in the knees for him. But I know just by how he was handling Nesta alone like a sex crazed boy. ACOMAF Cassian would have decimated ACOSF Cassian.

Thanks for coming to my rant.

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Hello everyone, today I'll do something never before seen on the flames and darkness liveblog which is read TWO chapters!! Idk man, i havent been able to read more than one chapter at a time recently because this book suddenly turned into such a slog to get through, although granted that might also just be my mental illness making it more difficult. whatever, i'll be in treatment for that next week

Anyway, today I'll be reading chapter 44 which is the star fall chapter, and chapter 45 which is. a chapter. Knowing this book series nothing of note is gonna happen in that one but that wont stop me from reading it

Chapter 44

Okay, theyre mentioning Feyre not looking so emancipated amymore and it made me remember all the weird weight shit from the start of this book. Like, she was losing weight because she was throwing up all the time and then not eating a lot and everyone was constantly remarking on that and it was unbelievably uncomfortable, but then when Feyre officially joined the night court and everyone immediately stopped talking about it, it almost feels a little manipulative, if that makes sense. Like, this book is ostensibly about Feyres healing journey but the Night Court cannot, under any circumstances, have anything negative associated with it so her trauma basically just disappears so we dont have to see the unpleasant parts of her recovery, she has one (1) nightmare after she starts living there permanently, one (1) moment where she feels too depressed to leave the bed and a few moment where she acts out but then immediately feels bad for it every time

Ughhhhh Feyre is wearing a dress for this which is really frustrating but you guys already know how I feel about that so shant go into that much more detail on this

I swear Im not just saying this to be a hater, Feyres dress sounds so tacky too

yoooooooo is Cassian implying he'd like to wear a tacky ass dress too??

and yet hes just wearing a BLACK TUNIC bro Feyre is literally covered in diamonds from head to toe so she can look like a shooting star or whatever and Cassian doesnt even have the decency to wear a black tunic that glitters or something?? Or hell, maybe even a red tunic to match his siphons, idk, give me SOMETHING im gonna tear my fucking hair out

Feyre is wondering about the IC being her friends and its like, girlie theyre barely even each others friends and youve known each other for maybe half a year to their 500 years

Feyre is describing Azriel hungrily staring at Mor's ass and it reminded me of that one bonus chapter Ive seen discussions about where he's really horny about Elain in a way thats pretty uncomfortable, and a lot of ex-Elriels say that it made them stop liking the idea of the ship because thats when they realized that SJM was just gonna mutilate both of their characters for the sake of smut, but honestly I dont think she would even need to mutilate Az that much

I could not give less of a shit about the Mor/Cassian/Azriel drama but I have to admit its kinda funny reading about Feyre speculating so much about Mor's relationships knowing shes gonna turn out to be interested in women

Mor says that Rhysand was very upset after she had sex with Cassian and beat him up as hard as he could (#incest) but she says he wasnt upset because of her virginity but because of the danger she put herself in by losing it, which is like, first of all that seems like splitting hairs, he was still upset that she lost her virginity even though that was none of his business. And second of all, I think it would actually make sense for him to have the kind of archaic sexist beliefs that would make Mor losing her virginity upsetting to him, considering he was also 17 when that happened just like Mor and Im guessing there wasnt anyone around to teach him feminism. or maybe hes so feminist he came out of the womb believing in womens rights and didnt need to be taught anything

god, the inner circle dynamics are so comically fucked up I have no idea how they can stand being around each other

Again, Im not much of a Feylin girlie but "Your hair looks... clean." >>>>>>>>>>>>>> "You look like a women again." (???? whats thag even supposed to mean)

So Rhysand is not wearing a black tunic, but he is wearing wearing a black jacket which is equally disappointing. atleast he has his tits out i guess

Rhysand was gone for 50 years and yet his best friends are not spending any time with him at their first party together since theyve been seperated, thats what i call friendship goals

Yeah, I guess its kinda sad that Rhys missed out on important holiday that meant a lot to him while undr the mountain but you know who else had to do that? Literally everyone that wasnt from the spring court

So he doesnt wanna tell his friends, who are by all accounts doing alright because theyve spent the past few decades trapped in a beautiful idyllic city, about his trauma but hes perfectly fine traumadumping on a twenty year old woman who just started to recover from her own trauma

Maybe Im just in a bad mood but this bullshit where theyre getting covered in star spirits or whatever feels so joyless to me, like its not whimsical or fun to me

Okay so, Ive heard about Rhysand calling Feyre exquisite and it made me cringe just thinking about it, but it looks like theyve translated that to him calling her 'herrlich' which means the exact same thing but it sounds a lot less weird and bad. once again, thank you, Alexandra

Feyre really just said "You regret sexually assaulting me? But why?" huh

Chapter 45:

Okay, thats the end of the chapter but theres two more things that kinda annoyed me that I didnt feel the need to mention as I was reading. 1) Feyre kept going on and on aboht Rhysand being her friend, it felt so insincere, its like sjm say a post online right before she started writing this chapter that was like "in the best relationships, your partner isnt just your partner but also your best friend" and decided to put that sentiment in her book, and 2) I felt like there were so many moments towards the end of that chapter where Feyre is like "oh, ive never felt this way with anyone" and its very obviously alluding to how she didnt love Tamlin as much as she does Rhysand now, and it was just very strange to read, like Tamlin was haunting the narrative even though hes not even dead yet

Uhm. so i got really tired all of a sudden so I took a nap at this point and read some gay vampire fanfic to rejunivate myself and now Im ready for whatever happens in the next chapter

"I was a traitor. [...] Even though I oficially left Tamlin - it was only two months ago, after all. By Fae standards that was probably barely more than a day." Oh yeah, i havent been keeping track of the time thanks for reminding me that this story about immortals is moving at a breakneck pace for no goddamn reason. But also, as an author trying to write a grand long-lasting romance, why would you write this. I know Feysand are gonna get married at the end of book and now when I get to that point Im not gonna be thinking "wowwww such romance" Im gonna be thinking "damn these bozos did the fae equivalent of getting eloped in vegas after knowing each other for barely a week"

Oh, men of all ages are training at this camp? would you say some of them are. child-aged

Feyre is being all "its so cold here, im freezing in my illyrian leathers I cant imagine a child with no clothes surviving here for a single day, much less eight years" (referring to Cassian) and yet she doesnt spare a single thought to all the children who have to be at this camp as well because this is the camp that the batboys grew up in, its not like this is a different kind of camp where they dont train children

God I hate Feyre thinking about how fuckin powerful the batboys are especially because its like, Rhysand is literally their high lord, he already holds so much power over the guys running this camp we dont need a reminder that he could easily crush their minds or that his goons need more syphons to contain the totality of their power or whatever

I get that these guys are like, shitty misogynists or whatever, but I dont think Rhys throwing them out of the house they live in is some #boyboss move hes just being an asshole

Rhysand would never want to lock Feyre in a house for protection, but he does want to decapitate anyone who lays a hand on her which is soooooo much better

Rhysand keeps calling the.... "females" of this camp "girls" which implies one of two things: 1) hes talking about adult women, hes just calling them girls, which is not very feminist of our feminist king, or 2) hes talking about actual girls aka children which. thank god for our feminist king having equal-opportunity child soldiers

Its actually kind of surreal how theyre at the camp where the batboys spent their CHILDhoods and Feyre keeps talking about what it mustve been like for Cassian while the narrative is actively avoiding talking about children being at the camp at this present moment while also not outright stating "there are no kids here at this present moment"

"'[The clipping of the wings is] to ensure the safety of their women, they said.'" this reminds me of something @/kateprincessofbluewhales said in regards to Rhysand forcing illyrian women to train but not doing anything else to advance their rights, which is that the wing clipping mightve started as a way for men to help women dodge the 'draft' that seems to be mandatory for all healthy illyrians. I dont really have anything else to say about that, it just popped into my head and i thought it was interesting

Rhysand is talking about how at some of the camps, women are declared anti-marriage material if they train and how he cant do anything about that and its like, even if these women are not officially declared unmarriable or whatever, the misogynistic men that make up these camps are probably not gonna wanna marry a women who trains, so what difference does that really make

Also, he says the only thing he could do about 'laws' like that is to murder the warlords and take their children/trainees? under his wing and I guess he thinks he would have to do that for every camp that does that but honestly, I think just doing it once or twice would send a powerful enough message to discourage other warlords from being misogynistic. And he wouldnt have to raise all these children all by himself either, Im sure he could get the help of a few non-sexist men or even, gasp, some women. Like those priestesses living in that library Im sure some of the ones that have already recovered from their trauma somewhat wouldnt mind teaching some boys about the harm that misogyny does

Okay so the blood rite is called a Blutritual [blood ritual] in german which is a little confusing because a ritual is a pretty specific thing and I dont think the blood rite is that specific thing but whatever, it sounds cool enough

Ive said this before, I am not a Tamlin girlie, at best I prefer him to Rhysand, and I dont like or trust Rhysand at all, but imagine hearing that tragic story about how their families killed each other, leaving them as the only survivors and being like "I cant believe Tamlin killed Rhysands family!!" especially when its like, the only person Feyre actually knows Tamlin killed is Rhysands dad who sucked ass, its not exactly a great loss

I feel like i had a lot of thoughts about a lot of things in this chapter that I couldnt write down because theyre these abstract half-thoughts, so I think I'll let those marinate until theyre full thoughts and share them with you at some later date

[shadowqueenjude]

What are your thoughts on the weird sister-lover relationship between Cassian and Mor ?

I FUCKING HATE IT!!!

It’s a very stark contrast the way Cassian treats Mor compared to the way he treats his own mate. We’re supposed to believe Azriel is the one obsessed with her, but Cassian is always like “she’s so beautiful, super beautiful, etc.” And like we know she is, but why do you keep pointing it out? Why are you kinder to Mor than your own mate? He treats Feyre better too. He treats everyone better, but his relationship with Mor is especially suspicious. He is also weirdly protective of her. I hate how he calls her sister when their relationship screams literally anything else. And Mor really doesn’t help. She doesn’t owe either bat anything, but her mixed signals are suuuuper weird. It’s like she wants their attention, wants them to want her, but also wants them pining while she fucks other people. Just say you don’t want them or stop giving mixed signals. Is she an attention whore or what?

Eris said, “I didn’t know Illyrians were in the habit of fucking their sisters.” And you know what? He’s right. In my opinion, the Mor sexuality confession was very rushed and cringey. We all know her being bi is a retcon. If Sjm wanted to do representation, she could’ve made Gwyn and Emerie lesbian, or Azriel gay. I don’t really know why she chose Mor. I think Mor and Cassian should’ve wound up together and Nesta should’ve wound up with Eris. I said what I said.

[praetorqueenreyna]

For our little ACOTAR gift exchange! This is a gift fic for @taymartiart, who is one of the BEST artists I've ever met! When asked what she wanted me to write, she said "accidental dick pic." This was so much fun, I love silly modern AUs! Enjoy!

Read here on AO3, or continue reading below:

Rhysand was about ready to silence his phone for the evening. It had been pinging non-stop as war raged on in the group chat. It had started with Mor saying she was craving a sparkling water, and Cassian replying to ask why she liked drinking raw sewage. That had been two hours ago, long past the point that Rhysand thought it was funny. He had also found Amren’s threat to murder Cassian by replacing his blood with sparkling water a little alarming.

There were a few minutes of peace where his phone made no noise at all. The reprieve was interrupted by a lone ding. Rhysand sighed, fully expecting the barrage to begin once again. When it didn’t, he risked actually checking his phone. The text was not from the group chat (ironically named “The Inner Circle” after Mor got way too into mafia movies, and Rhysand didn’t know how to change it), but was from Tamlin. It was a welcome distraction. Tamlin was a little weird, but Rhysand liked him. They had both started off as their fathers’ proteges, expected to take on the family business. Rhysand had fulfilled his end of the bargain, and Tamlin had run off to play guitar in coffee shops around town. An absolutely ridiculous career move, but it was endearing, in its own way.

It didn’t hurt that Tamlin was super hot and also into guys. Rhysand wasn’t too proud to admit that. He had tested the waters, putting on his most seductive voice to tease Tamlin, always just on the edge of outright flirtation. Every time, Tamlin turned a splotchy red and adorably ducked his head, which only made Rhysand want to do it again.

There was no text preview for the message; it only had an attached image. Rhysand opened it and blinked. He had worked a long day, and surely he was hallucinating. Staring at his phone didn’t change anything, and he finally accepted that Tamlin had sent him a picture of his dick.

It was nice, both the dick itself and the picture. Good size, good lighting, good angle. The photo captured his well-defined abs and a small tattoo on his hip bone. Rhysand zoomed in on the picture to see that the tattoo was a name. Alex, maybe? Or Alec? He had no idea why Tamlin had sent him this. The last text exchanged between them was from a week ago, when Rhysand had asked if he was playing this weekend. Nothing to indicate that the next step would be dick pics.

More curious than upset, Rhysand quickly typed out a message.

”Nice tattoo. Ex boyfriend?”

Tamlin began replying right away, in a series of rapid fire messages.

”What?”

“Oh.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh no no no no no.”

“I am SO sorry!!!! I didn’t mean to send that to you!!! I’d never do something like that!!!”

The overuse of exclamation points aside, Rhysand felt bad for him.

”It’s all good, I swear. Not the first dick I’ve seen.”

The reply was instantaneous.

”Oh good!! Not that you’ve seen dicks, that you’re not mad. I’m really sorry.

He probably could have ended it there, but Rhysand was intrigued.

”Who was it for?”

Tamlin didn’t respond for a bit, and Rhysand worried he had overstepped. It was an unexpected relief when another message came in.

”Some guy from Grindr. A friend signed me up for it because I haven’t gone on a date in a while. His name also begins with an R.”

The thought of Tamlin and his awkward demeanor cruising on Grindr was honestly hilarious. This friend had to have been fucking with him. Then again, he never would have expected Tamlin to send a dick pic to a random guy on a dating app, and here they were.

”Already at the dick pic stage? Seems like it's getting serious.”

This time, the reply was faster.

”Ha ha. I actually haven’t even met him yet. We were just talking and he asked for a picture. I’ve never done that before and thought what the hell. And then immediately fucked it up.”

Tamlin was way too sweet and sincere for the guys on Grindr. Thinking fast, Rhysand searched for and downloaded a photo of the Washington Monument. Before he could let Tamlin stew in his self pity for too long, he sent:

”We’ve all fucked up. I’ll send you a pic too, so we’re even.”

He attached the downloaded photo, only thinking to question the joke after he had sent it. It was familiar, bordering on flirtatious. The kind of thing he’d usually only send to Azriel or Cassian. His phone pinged.

”No wonder your ego is huge.”

Another text came in, this time a photo of a male mallard with the title “duck pic.” Rhysand actually laughed. He shot back something about the head of the duck being bright green, and maybe he should get that looked at. Tamlin coyly asked if he knew any good doctors. Holy shit, was Tamlin hitting on him? He knew that Rhysand was a doctor; more accurately a surgeon, working in his father’s clinic.

Rhysand found himself draped over the couch, texting with Tamlin for over an hour. The mortifying start to their conversation seemed to loosen something in him. He was funnier and more charming than Rhysand had ever seen. It felt special, to have Tamlin be so open with him. The thought of Tamlin being like this with “random guy from Grindr who’s name begins with R” filled Rhysand with a seething hot emotion that he eventually identified as jealousy.

When the conversation seemed like it was drifting to an end, Rhysand made his move. He selected one of his own pictures from a hidden folder on his phone (yes he had his own dick pics saved for occasions like this) and sent it. He waited a few seconds, then wrote:

”If you want to keep going, give me a call.”

The urge to throw his phone across the room overwhelmed him. He resorted to putting it face down on the coffee table and staring pointedly at the ceiling. The next minute was the longest of his life. But then, like a miracle, his phone began to ring.

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

One month later

“You owe me a thank you drink.”

“What did you do now?” Tamlin asked, only giving half of his attention to the giant man sitting on the floor. His roommate was supposed to be helping him set up, which mostly just involved finding a stool for Tamlin to sit on. Mission accomplished, Andras sat back on his hands, watching as Tamlin fiddled with his guitar. The coffee shop was almost empty, but it would start to fill up as Tamlin’s set started. He was a regular here.

“Don’t try that innocent act on me, I know all your secrets.” Andras pointed an accusing finger. “You found a hookup on Grindr. You’re welcome.”

“What? No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. I know all the signs. Lucien and I barely see you anymore, you haven’t brooded in weeks, and I found this in your backpack.” For his final exhibit, Andras brandished a small foil packet that revealed itself to be a condom when he stopped shaking it around.

“Stop that!” Blushing, Tamlin snatched the condom out of Andras’s hand. “Why were you going through my backpack anyway?”

“Don’t change the subject. Who is it? That guy with the blue hair? What was his name, Ryan?”

“What are you guys talking about?” Tamlin’s second roommate, Lucien, asked, appearing as if summoned by an omniscient being that wanted to ruin Tamlin’s life.

“Tamlin’s new boy toy,” Andras answered before Tamlin could.

“Ooooooh. Is it that guy with the septum piercing? Rowan?”

Tamlin was about to tell them that he was moving out and they were never allowed to talk to him again when his gaze caught a familiar dark-haired figure swagger into the coffee shop. His heart stuttered, his breath caught in his throat. Rhys sat down at a table near his little stage, leaning back in the seat. He saw Tamlin staring and grinned, waggling his fingers obnoxiously in greeting.

Of course, Rhys had known where he was going. Tamlin had come here straight from Rhys’s apartment, having barely escaped from the lean arms that had grabbed at him, inviting him back into the comforting warmth of Rhys’s bed. Tamlin just hadn’t thought that Rhys would actually show up.

Too late, he remembered that he was in public, being scrutinized by the two people who knew him better than they knew themselves. He watched in horror as Andras and Lucien looked back and forth between Tamlin and Rhysand. Recognition dawned on their faces. At the same time, they said,

“No fucking way.”