#also sorry for not defending rhys's honor here

[chocolatepot]

bestie it was the most streamed show on the web for weeks

[stargirlfeyre]

Sorry but you’re just a liar. There’s no other explanation for it. If you spend all your time on the Elucien side of the Acotar fandom and you say not once have you ever seen someone make comments like these then you are blatantly lying. I’m not even on the Elucien side and I see these types of comments almost all the time.

The problem here is you put too much trust in Eluciens simply because they’re Eluciens and you think everything against Elucien is a personal attack against you.

In my first response I said if the thing I’m calling out Eluciens for doesn’t apply to you then let it fly. If I say “Eluciens who like Nesta are hypocrites because they treat her ignoring Cassian and Elain ignoring Lucien differently” and nothing in that sentence pertains to you then don’t lose your mind and spiral trying to argue with that person about it. Don’t suit up to defend the make believe honor of random people on the internet because it makes you looks stupid. If the shoe fits wear it, if it doesn’t then you ain’t Cinderella.

You didn’t say it but that doesn’t mean no one said it. That’s a concept that you’re just not old enough or mature enough to understand yet. But you’ll get there I’m sure.

And second “That doesn’t sound like Eluciens to me”…babe you don’t know these people. These are strangers on the internet who you feel like you know because what? They like the same fictional ship as you? These are not your personal friends who you intimately know and can make conclusions about. You are not friends with every Elucien in this fandom. You cannot sit here and make the generalization (like y’all say I made the generalization) simply because you feel like Eluciens wouldn’t do that. I’m telling you right now that they would. They have.

There are Eluciens who say anti shit about Elain and don’t like half of their ship. You can deny that fact all you want but that doesn’t change that it’s a fact. Cope with it idk.

And also your point about rejection is kind of void because look at Rhys and Cassian? They constantly wanted to be around their mates even when they were turned away. Cassian was out here following Nesta into the snow and Rhys went on a whole rant about how even though he believed he wasn’t good enough for Feyre given what she was currently dealing with, he still found it hard to stay away. Meanwhile Lucien over here contemplating if Elain, the woman who y’all say he’s going to end up with, is even worth fighting for…contemplating if his mate is worth fighting for. Get out of my face😭.

Go throw this tantrum at the Elriels who got you pissy and were sending y’all threats. Right now you just look like a coward who’s picking fights with random people because you’re too afraid to confront the people who actually got you upset. I’ll put my posts wherever I want. You spiraling over it will never be enough to change how I tag.

Lucien tell your little mongrel to get back to their cave

It’s very funny how Eluciens who are also Nesta fans (which is a lot of them) defend Nesta’s right to reject and ignore Cassian - even though she’s his mate - all while claiming that Elain should apologize for distancing herself or ignoring Lucien…because she’s his mate.

[freepandahugs]

Elain Week Day 1: Power

so, i tried something! i had this idea a long long time ago and i decided to post it for elain's week because i can and because i love her.

fair warning, this is angsty. very angsty. think of it as angst with comfort at the end.

Warnings: Beron being sexist (what's new), major character death (i'm sorry about this one but i needed it to happen, hope this doesn't dissuade you from reading)

Word count: 1.7k (short one)

hope you like it, let me know what you think!

"ROSES"

This was not supposed to happen. It was never supposed to happen.

Elain held her breath as Beron stood in front of Azriel, sword pointed. "I call the Blood Duel, Shadowsinger, to defend my son's honor and mate, since he apparently can't do it by himself" 

She saw how Lucien shrinked in on himself, unable to step in. She didn't like the idea of hating anyone, but at that moment she hated him. So much. He had the power to stop this bloodbath, he need just say a word to stop the madness his father was trying to cause, but he just stood there. He just stood there, and stared, and did nothing. Like he always did when it came to her. He wasn't willing to release her from the bond, choosing to keep her tangled in it, but never coming near enough so as to not see that she didn't want him. He just kept her there, trapped, under the guise that it was what was best for the both of them. 

And now they were here, at the Autumn Court, and Beron was challenging her love to the Blood Duel. Blood would be spilled that day and she hated it. She hated it so much. The whole tradition was so savage, so animalistic, as if she couldn't choose for herself. As if she couldn't ever get out of her bond without consequences. And Azriel would have to kill and maim for her, once again, he would have to tear apart his soul again just to keep them protected. 

Gods, how had they gotten into this situation? 

"I accept, under one condition Beron." She heard Azriel's answer, and she made a noise in the back of her throat. Tears fell harder and faster. Her vision blurred. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"I don't think you have any right to ask for conditions, Shadowsinger, but I'll entertain you this once. After all, this may be your final request." There was some sort of sick satisfaction in the High Lord's voice, as if he were truly happy he was about to spill blood. The blood of her Azriel. 

"Tell your guards to not come after me when I kill you." With that, Azriel unsheathed Truth Teller from his thigh and took a fighting stance.

"Beron, stop this, it doesn't have to go this way" She heard Rhys say from behind her. When had he gotten here? Why was he here? 

"Oh, I think it does," Came the Autumn's Lord's answer "It was supposed to go this way the second your spy", he said the word with so much venom, so much disgust. She felt like shredding him to pieces, "decided it was a good idea to lay with my son's property, princeling."

Elain wasn't paying attention, she couldn't. It all sounded far away. All she could focus on was Azriel, ready to fight, ready to kill. She didn't think anyone else could notice, he was too good at hiding his emotions, but she could. She could read him like a book. And he was nervous. His hands flexed and held harder onto Truth Teller, his mouth was in an unusual scowl, his legs weren't as steady as they should be. He was nervous. And if he was nervous then she was as well. 

"My sister is no one's property but her own Beron. If you do this, any and all connections you had to the Night Court will vanish, we will not help you when Koschei or anyone else inevitably invades your territory," Feyre's voice also spoke up. "And if word is correct, no other court will come to aid you, you somehow managed to successfully destroy every tie you had to the other Courts, so I would think this through."

"Are you threatening me? Do you think yourself so special, woman? With a hand me down title and a pretty crown, do you think yourself at my level?" Beron had the gall to laugh, a thunderous laugh that shook Elain to her core, "Someone ought to teach you a lesson, I think. Maybe after I am done with your Shadowsinger I can't teach you some manners."

"Don't speak to my High Lady like that, you repugnant piece of shit. How about you quit stalling and fight me, huh? Are you that afraid of me?" Azriel made a quick jab at the High Lord, keeping his eyes locked onto the man. "If you think yourself a man, come and fight me."

"Azriel-"

"Stay out of this, Rhys. The fucker won't stop until he's dead, why not get rid of him now?" 

Everyone was so tense, so on edge, and Elain couldn't stand it. Why was this happening? What had they done to deserve this? Did the Cauldron really hate her decision so much, that it resolved to end her happiness this way?

The first clash of weapons took Elain out of her mental fog, and she saw black and red hair around, weapons resounding in the open space. A crowd had gathered, all of Beron's sons cheering the hateful man on, like a bunch of kids. Eris was to the side, assessing the situation, seeing what he could possibly get out of this. Wondering if maybe this was the he became High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Another clash of steel on steel, and Elain's vision started to cloud over, a vision trying to take space in her head. 

No no no no no, not right now, please no. 

But she was defenseless and the vision took over. And she found herself at the exact same place, only moments later. 

Both Azriel and Beron were sweating profusely,  both looking tired but not relenting. For some reason, Beron had a wicked smile on his face, even though he was clearly losing. 

And then she saw it, one of Beron's horrible sons sneaking near Azriel's back. His shadows here too preoccupied, everyone was looking at the two men fighting and no one noticed as Beron's son lifted a knife, covered in faebane, and stabbed it right in Azriel's back. Until it was too late, no one saw. 

…

She thought she heard herself screaming. Trashing, but she couldn't move. As she came into herself she found herself restricted by her sister, holding her back from moving near Azriel. Holding her back from saving him. 

Feyre and Rhys were too busy holding her back. She screamed and cried and tried to get out, she tried to get closer to Azriel, to prevent what was about to happen. But she saw Beron's wicked grin, and she saw the second the knife found its place in Azriel's back.

...

She fell to her knees.

Her head went silent, she couldn't think. 

She couldn't breathe. 

Not as she saw Azriel falling to his knees, as she saw his shocked face. As she saw the light leave his eyes. 

Her scream was deafening.

Rhysand and Feyre let her go, too shocked to react. So she ran to his side, knelt next to his body. She touched him everywhere, as if trying to stop the blood from pouring out. As if trying to keep him alive.

"Azriel, love. Azriel. Wake up. Please wake up. This can't be happening, oh gods, this shouldn't be happening. You're all right, you will be. Someone help him. Rhys? Feyre?" She was babbling, saying nonsense. Her tears covered her entire face, they fell onto his pale cheeks as she cradled his head to her chest. pulling him closer. Searching for any signs that he was still there. Thay her lover was still there.

She found none.

She lifted her face, her ears ringing, and looked at Feyre and Rhys, looking for their help. She found them with tears in their eyes, eyes wide in shock. She thought she saw Cassian behind them too, and was that Nesta? Mor? When had they all gotten here? They were all crying, no one dared to make a sound. 

And then she looked at Beron.

"You coward... YOU USELESS BASTARD, YOU ARE A COWARD! YOU UNFAIR PIECE OF SHIT! YOU GALLESS COWARD'' She heard herself screaming at the High Lord, all her rage and fear and heartbreak coming out in waves. She was raging, ready to take a knife and stab it in his neck herself. 

She wished he died.

With a final sob, she lowered her forehead onto Azriel's unmoving chest. His wings were down, they were limp and lying on the floor. He never let them do that. And oh, they were covered in blood. His blood. They were surrounded by a pool of blood. Oh, gods.

She let out her loudest scream yet.

...

Light emerged from within her as she screamed her heart out. Light went out in every direction in waves, surrounding everyone who stood near her. Her eyes were bright white, shining brighter than the northern star. She was light. She was light and dark, and life and death. Beginning and end. The power coming out of her pushed everyone onto their knees, forcing them to look up at the glowing woman. 

And all of a sudden, the world exploded into red. 

Roses covered every single inch of earth, roses the color of blood. They went far and wide, as far as the eye could go. Vines grew around, sharp thorns sprouting out of their stems. Trapping Autumn Court guards, trapping them all in a vicious grip. And then came two desperate cries. 

Beron and his backstabbing son, held in vines covered in thorns. The vines squeezed tighter and tighter, suffocating them, choking them, but not yet killing them. The process was slow, the screams agonizing. Blood trickled out of their sides, their faces, every place where the thorns touched their skins. Slowly but surely, the creeping plant held onto their necks, until no air could possibly go through.

But no one paid them mind. 

Because in the middle of the newly grown garden, where Elain was holding Azriel's body as if her life depended on it, light burst out again. A warm ligh, almost like sunshine, erupted from within Azriel's chest, covering his entire body with a light sheen of light. A light of love, a light of life.

And then a gasp.

A deep breath, taking in the air.

Filling his lungs.

Elain stopped shining.  Everyone stayed quiet. 

"Elain? Love, why are you crying?"

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[dreaminginvelaris]

hiii gigi! i just started following u cause i recently entered the acotar fandom (& finished all the books) and i have a ~thought i wanted to share with you since you are the resident feyre defender lol! (i am also a massive feyre stan, but i think i might have an unpopular opinion here about the IC/Rhys in acosf)

i know its super divisive in the fandom whether it was ok for the IC/Rhys to keep feyre's pregnancy danger a secret from her— but when i was reading acosf i didnt have the sense that it was "wrong." i didn't read it like they didnt think she could "handle" the news or that they were babying her. i read it more like they were fucking terrified that the stress of telling feyre that her, her baby and her mate have a 90% likelihood of dying would... essentially speed up the process.

we're told by madja that its a "high risk" pregnancy - no magic, eg. and i think people forget a lot that pregnancy is fucking HARD on the body— women can absolutely miscarry from stress. so i think the IC/Rhys were panicked that telling her such a horrifying thing could cause a miscarriage and essentially kill her (and rhys).

idk... am i completely wrong? im so torn on this because obviously she didnt freak out and miscarry when she was told about it, so all that worrying was for nothing. but i really just didn't read it as out-of-character/problematic. it read more as their immense love for her and determination to make the pregnancy as smooth and seamless as possible was what motivated them all. what do u think?

hi ! :)

first off, just wanna say sorry for answering late! i appreciate you taking the time to come and ask me a question, it may take me some time to form a response but i’ll always answer you <3

————-

i think your interpretation and what you make of the situation is totally valid. you’re right, its not that they were babying feyre, they were just worried any level of stress would be a major strain on her body. which is valid considering she couldn’t even use her magic without risking her health and her babe.

their intentions were honorable if not misguided, i personally am mad at all of them for keeping this secret from her, but i also cant fault them that much for being scared and anxious of what would happen to feyre. its not surprising that their rationality and logic flew out the door the second they realized feyre would die. their emotions were heightened and they made a decision based on emotion not logic.

this whole situation was a mess, i think peoples own interpretations are valid in their own way bc its more so on what one thinks is right or wrong. for some, what the IC+nesta/elain did was not the worst but for others it was inexcusable.

but i agree with what you said, their immense love of feyre and wanting her to stay happy during her pregnancy (which is supposed to be filled with happiness) is a major factor of what influenced them to do what they did.

in the end, they were stupid idiots to have kept the information from feyre bc ofc feyre would ignore her fear and stress in order to protect her child, i wasnt even surprised, she is baddie after all <3

i hope you love being in the fandom! i hope my blog continues to be a safe space for you to ask anything! this fandom can be very toxic and hateful, on every side, but it can also be so great! i hope your experience in this fandom goes great :))

[theladyofdeath]

Castaway {ACOTAR/Chapter 3}

Word Count: 2,223

Summary:  A modern-day University AU, from the A Court of Thorns and Roses universe. All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas. The idea for this fanfic hailed from prompts sent in by Anonymous, and @queen-archeron. You can read previous chapters here.

Author’s Note: If you want to be tagged, you may ask in my ask box! If I’ve missed tagging you, it wasn’t intentional, I just didn’t see it, so feel free to ask again. Also, let me know what you think. :) P.S. Feyre is a big fan of Van Gogh. She loves the classics.

September 4 – the day I questioned everything

I was pissed, and confused, and worried….but he had a hold on me.

I had never been good at telling people no. I was a people pleaser, I wanted to be able to do it all. Especially when I cared about them.

Like my dad, for example.

My dad hadn’t worked in years. He relied on the rest of us to help make ends meet. For a while, after mom died, it was Nesta. She was the oldest. It was her duty.

But then, Nesta got so pissed off at dad for being a lazy ass (her words – although we all had our own lovely nickname for the bastard), and gave up. The day she turned eighteen, she was out of that little shithole town.

I was only thirteen.

Elain did her best, but she was always caught up in her designs. She worked hard for her money, and saved most of it for herself, to open her own business.

I encouraged her to do so. I could see how much she wanted it. Elain is a small, rare piece of beauty in the world. She deserved better than the shithole, too. The day she turned eighteen, she was headed to Velaris.

I was only fourteen.

It was up to me, after that. I felt it my responsibility, ignoring the fact that I was just a kid. I went to school, I went to work wherever I could find anyone that would pay me.

I couldn’t say no to him.

I hated him, most days, but I couldn’t say no to my father, because I loved him, despite everything.

There were only four people who ever had that hold on me: my dad, Elain, Nesta…..

And Tamlin.

 Love,

The girl who can’t say no

 The moment Feyre’s eyes opened from the early morning sun streaming through the curtains, memories from the night before flooded her mind.

Rhysand, the beautiful male, saving her from those two guys, members of Tamlin’s fraternity, who wanted to use her as a prop in whatever twisted game they had planned.

Tamlin, when he found Feyre and Rhysand alone by the steps of the front porch, utter rage consuming his intoxicated body. His fist hitting Rhysand’s eye – Feyre, trying to pull him back, trying to calm him down, trying not to be afraid.

Rhysand was innocent, though. She tried to tell Tamlin as much, but he wouldn’t listen, he was too far gone – from alcohol or rage, she wasn’t sure.

Rhysand didn’t seem surprised, though, and if he was, he hid it well. He simply rose to his feet, gave Tamlin an extremely vulgar gesture, and walked away.

After the incident, Tamlin had grabbed Feyre by the arm and brought her upstairs, locking them inside of his bedroom.

She watched him pace for a solid twenty minutes before he apologized. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I’m sorry. I thought he was hurting you. I’m sorry, Feyre, I’m so sorry.

I told you that he wasn’t hurting me, Feyre had replied, her voice hard, cold, distant. I told you that we were just talking. He saved me, actually.

Tamlin had halted, at that. Saved you?

Yes, Feyre rose to her feet and crossed her arms. Two of your loyal frat guys attempted to assault me.

Feyre didn’t know what she expected him to do, but laughing wasn’t at the top of her guessing list.

Must be some of the new recruits. Tamlin shook his head. They can get a little handsy.

Infuriated, Feyre began to grab her things.

Feyre. Tamlin spoke her name like a demand, but his hands were soft as they wrapped around her waist. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. The point is, they didn’t touch you, did they?

They grabbed my arm, but that’s it. Feyre shook her head. But that’s because Rhy-

Besides, Tamlin kissed her nose, softly, when you leave your dorm wearing something like this – he ran the tips of his fingers down the low neckline of her dress – you can’t blame a man for being unable to keep his distance.

Feyre wanted to say a thousand things. She wanted to curse, and demand that he hunts them down, and defends her honor. But all those thoughts disappeared the moment his lips pressed into hers, and her dress fell to the ground as she fell into his touch.

The thoughts didn’t resurface until morning came, when she looked at Tamlin lying bare beside her in his bed, the scent of beer still lingering on his breath.

Maybe it was the alcohol, Feyre thought. Maybe if he didn’t drink…..

She didn’t dare continue the thought as she climbed over her boyfriend, and began to redress herself. Once her dress was pulled back on, Tamlin stirred.

So much for trying to leave before he woke.

“Hey,” he smiled, then followed it with a groan.

“Good morning,” Feyre mumbled. “Headache?”

He sat up, slowly, and rubbed his eyes, then took Feyre in. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you even remember what for?”

He hesitated.

Feyre let out a humorless laugh before grabbing her shoes.

“Feyre.” He was out of bed, and standing before her in less than a second. Feyre tried to ignore the sight of him before her, bare and hard, but she couldn’t. “I do remember that I hurt you, that I made you mad, and I’m sorry. And, if the ache in my knuckles is any indication….”

“You punched a guy.”

“I do remember that,” he sighed, running a hand through his eye-length, golden hair. “Forgive me, and give me another chance. Please. I was drunk, and stupid.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Come back after class?”

She didn’t say yes right away, didn’t say anything. But, she couldn’t say no to him, to the man that she cared so deeply for. Especially when he was standing nude in front of her, with those big, pleading eyes.

“Yes.”

He smiled, and kissed her, gently. Feyre tried not to gag from the smell of his breath.

“I’ll see you later.” Feyre closed his door behind her before sneaking through the silent fraternity house.

She should have asked him for a ride, because the walk back to her dorm was humiliating.

She knew she looked horrendous, with her wrinkled dress, bare feet, messy hair, and smudged make up. Thank the mother it was only seven in the morning, and all she passed were joggers and professors on their way to work.

Unfortunately, the amount of college students who went for morning jogs was far too many.

It didn’t get any more comfortable once she reached her dorm.

She unlocked her door and threw it open. Mor, the early riser she was, was already showered and applying her makeup in the floor length mirror that was attached to the closet door.

“Good morning,” she smiled, observing Feyre from her reflection in the mirror.

“Good morning,” Feyre replied, as politely as she could.

“The walk of shame looks good on you.” Amren grinned, devilishly, from her bottom bunk.

Feyre scowled.

“We heard you had quite the night last night,” Mor said, the grin she had let out instantly vanishing.

Feyre opened her drawer and pulled out her make up remover wipes. “Does news travel that quickly?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” Amren continued, dully. “You’re not front page news. We heard from a friend, who your boyfriend happened to punch in the face.”

Feyre froze. “He’s your friend?”

“My brother,” Mor said. “He called from the car last night asking if Tamlin’s girlfriend, who he knew was our roommate, was named Feyre. And if she’d returned to the dorm yet. He wanted to be sure you were okay, for some reason. Then he told us a lovely little tale that ended with his face getting punched.”

Why would he even care?

Feyre’s heart sank into her stomach. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Amren spat. “That’s all you have to say?”

“It’s not my fault he got punched. Okay? None of this is my fault.” Although, there was a small voice in the back of her head telling her that it was.

 Elain knocked on the door that sat across the hall from her own. 21A.

When he didn’t answer, she knocked again.

As she was about to walk away, ready to give up, she heard the lock sliding out of the door, and let out a shaky breath.

Azriel appeared before her, shirtless, hair a mess, and wrapped in a thin, fuzzy blanket.

“Elain?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “Hey. What are you doing here so early?”

Elain caught sight of the time in bulky, red letters on the microwave behind him, in the kitchen. 7:45 a.m.

“Sorry,” Elain blushed, then held up a small box, wrapped in a bow. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“What’s this?” then, as if he realized what she had said, his eyes grew wide. “Wait – what?”

“No!” Elain shook her head, hectically. “Not because of Lucien! I, uh, I meant because I felt guilty.”

Those hazel eyes softened as he took the box she was holding out, and opened it. “Is this an apology muffin?”

“It is an apology muffin,” she confirmed. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to apologize,” he smiled, gently. “I was acting like……I was out of line.”

“Is that Elain?”

Elain’s eyebrows rose from the deep voice that came from within the apartment.

“Cassian’s staying with me until he heals a bit,” Azriel explained. “And yes, he is a pain in the ass when he’s injured.”

Elain chuckled. “Well, I may as well come in and help you make breakfast, then.”

Azriel moved out of the doorway. “I was hoping you would.”

Cassian was lying on the pulled-out couch, his foot resting on a pillow. Elain gasped when she saw him, only because he was far more beat up than Azriel led on.

His face was bruised and battered, along with his arms.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Cassian grinned. “Nothing a little tender love and care can’t heal.” He winked at Az.

Azriel rolled his eyes, draping the blanket over the back of a kitchen chair.

Elain had seen Azriel without his shirt on before, but there was something intimate about the fact that he’d just rolled out of bed. Cassian had to clear his throat before she realized she was staring.

Azriel didn’t seem to notice. “So, how’d the date go?”

“Oh,” Elain sighed, opening the fridge and pulling out the carton of eggs. Azriel took them from her and motioned for her to sit down. “No, I’m helping you cook.”

“No, you are taking a seat and letting me make you breakfast.”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Elain sat.

“Are you avoiding the question?”

Yes. “No,” Elain began, reluctantly. “He’s perfect on paper. He’s handsome, he comes from a great family, he has a good job, he’s extremely nice….”

“But?”

“But,” Elain shook her head. “I don’t know. There wasn’t a spark.”

Elain had high standards, and she always had, but she was beginning to think she would never find someone who took away the shadows that hovered around her soul.

“Oh?” Azriel said from the stove, as he poured the scrambled eggs into the frying pan.

“We’re going out again on Saturday, though,” Elain continued. “Maybe it just takes time, you know?”

“Yeah,” Azriel replied, too quickly, and too happily. “Maybe.”

“Um, guys…..” Cassian began from the couch.

“I mean, this could be the guy I’m supposed to marry.”

“Maybe,” Azriel repeated, flipping the eggs one too many times.

“Uh, guys?”

“Do you think I set my standards too high?”

“What?” Azriel spun around. “No! Your standards should be high. In fact, I say raise them.”

“G-guys….”

“I just don’t want to walk away from something that could turn out to be amazing.”

Azriel nodded. “Whatever you decide, I…..fully support you.”

Elain smiled just as a wretch snapped them out of their personal discussion.

Cassian was sitting up, holding a flower pot over his lap that was sitting on the coffee table, hurling into it, profusely.

Elain instantly ran to him and began to hold back his shoulder length hair. “Az, get a cold rag?”

After turning off the burner, Azriel had a cabinet open, grabbing a washcloth.

He twirled when Elain gasped. On Cassian’s abdomen was a massive rash of little, raised bumps. “Uh, get him some clothes while you’re at it. We’re taking him to the hospital.”

 “Allergic reaction. Room 9.” Viviane handed Nesta a clipboard.

Nesta sighed. She wasn’t used to being on her feet so much, or working such long hours. She was exhausted.

But she woke right up when she made it to room 9.

“Elain?”

Her sister sat in one of the chairs, the other occupied by Azriel. And, lying on the cot….

“Ah, there’s my future wife.”

Nesta groaned.

“Nes?” Elain asked, looking back and forth between her and Cassian. “You two know each other?”

“No,” Nesta said, just as Cassian said, “Yes.”

“Will you be on our date tomorrow?” Cassian asked.

Nesta hadn’t forgotten that he’d told her that he would be waiting at the park for her on Thursday, no matter how hard she tried.

Ignoring his question, she handed him his visit summary. “You had an allergic reaction. We’re going to try a new medication, and we’ve also sent in a cream for your rash.”

He grinned. “Will you apply it for me, Nurse Nesta?”

Nesta just blinked, and looked to Elain. “The company you’ve surrounded yourself with concerns me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Will you still be at dinner on Friday?”

“Yes, I don’t work,” she said, handing Cassian her clipboard and a pen. “Sign stating that I gave you your summary.”

He did. “Wait, how do you two know each other?”

Nesta glanced at Elain, as her younger sister replied, “Nesta is my sister.”

“You’re Elain’s sister?” Cassian’s eyebrows practically shot into his hairline.

“What?” Nesta demanded. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, no,” Cassian said, under his breath. “Elain is just so sweet, and you’re so….”

Nesta’s eyes turned to daggers.

“- different,” Cassian finished.

Nesta stared at the injured man for longer than necessary. “If there are no more questions, you are free to go.”

“Thank you,” Azriel said, hauling Cassian to his feet.

Nesta was thankful he was fully clothed this time, in his baggy t-shirt and basketball shorts.

Elain gave her sister a hug, before grabbing Cassian’s papers from him so that he could operate his crutches.

“I’ll see you on our date tomorrow,” Cassian winked, before walking out of the room.

Elain gave her a curious glance.

Nesta simply shook her head. “I’ll call you tonight.”

Elain eyed her sister. “You better.”

Feyre was shocked that she made it to her nine-a.m. art class on time.

She was even more shocked when she walked into the classroom, and saw him.

He looked the same as he did the night before, only with a swollen eye surrounded in black, blue, and purple splotches.

She froze. I have to spend an entire semester with him? Seriously?

Feyre sat next to a girl on the other side of the room, who instantly cleared her throat. “Um, we have assigned seats.”

Sure enough, the name Clarrisa was taped to the easel in front of her. After a curse, Feyre rose to her feet and began her search.

As if fate or destiny or Satan himself had planned it out, she found her name directly next to his.

It wasn’t until Feyre threw her bag on the floor, and sat on her stool, that Rhysand faced her. His happy demeanor changed, his light-hearted smile becoming one of utter distaste. “Oh. Hello, Feyre, darling.”

She rolled her eyes.

He scoffed. “I’m not sure why I’m earning that reaction from you. Don’t you have something to say to me? Like….thank you? Or, I’m sorry my asshat of a boyfriend punched you in the face for no reason...?”

“There’s no need to act like a prick,” she snapped.

Rhysand held his hands up in surrender. “You were much more pleasant last night.”

“Find your seats, please,” the instructor came to the center of the front of the classroom. “I am Helion. You may call me by that name, I am not a fan of official titles. I know what you’re thinking – why am I in college with an assigned seat? Solid question.” A soft, comfortable round of chuckles surrounded Feyre. “I’ve arranged you with a partner. This is your first official assignment: paint one another doing ten different activities. College is the time to meet people, and discover new things. Get to know your partner, and it will show in your art. Get together outside of class over the next few weeks. This project is due on the first of November.”

Feyre didn’t have to look at Rhysand to know that he was grinning like a fool.

Feyre, on the other hand, felt like she was going to be sick.

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