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nikethestatue · 5 months ago

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A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XVII

Everlasting Light

Elain Archeron threaded a pearl earring into her ear and then stepped back, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

For the wedding, she decided to go dramatic and memorable. Her dress was pale pink and cream, form-fitting, with an ostentatious flower at the shoulder. The gown (it really was more of a gown, rather than just a dress) was satin and chiffon, with delicate silk inserts and appliqué flowers.

She kept her hair simple, in a neat chignon, and wrapped a narrow satin ribbon around her head in lieu of a hat.

It was a dress worthy of a wedding. A dress worthy of a bride.

Only it wasn’t her wedding. And she wasn’t the bride.

And the dress was much too expensive and glamorous for a wedding guest. There was nothing subtle about it. But for once, Elain Archeron chose not to be demure, modest and shyly elegant. No. Today, she was going to arrive in style and overshadow the bride. Today, she was going to be outlandish.

She supposed that that’s the danger one ran into when they invited their ex to their wedding. But that was not her problem, frankly.

Piglet arrived in her bedroom and offered his male support by barking his approval. He was looking rather spiffy himself, dressed in a proper morning suit, with a waistcoat and a pale pearl tie, to match her dress.

He was still getting used to his new leg prosthetic, and while he didn’t like it when he was first fitted with it, now, three weeks later, he refused to go outside without it.

Elain's Dress

“It’s all paid for,” the veterinarian told her when Elain took Piglet for his first fitting,

“Pardon?” She was perplexed. How would anyone know about her bringing Piglet here? She hadn’t even told her sisters about it. In case the procedure didn’t work, she preferred to keep it secret before she was sure that Piglet would accept it. He was acting awfully bitey at the fitting and gave her deathly side eyes, while refusing to look at her once it was done.

The receptionist, who was handling the financials, looked at the monitor and read out loud,

‘Looks like…let’s see here. A Mr. Azriel Night? Paid in full. It says here…oh, well, he is your partner, Miss Archeron,’ she laughed, ‘I suppose I don’t have to tell you that.’

‘I’d prefer to pay for it myself,’ Elain argued tersely. At the mention of his name, she immediately felt the squeeze in her throat and a suffocating pressure in her chest, as she fought her tears. She was not going to burst in tears in front of this poor, well-meaning woman. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in public.

The receptionist blushed and scrambled, muttering, ‘Miss Archeron, it would be difficult. We’d have to refund the purchase, and since Mr. Night hasn’t requested it…I’m sure I can contact him,’

Pursing her lips, Elain managed to remain visibly calm. She didn’t want to argue. Besides, Piglet was already growling at her and was about to start some shit right in the office, so she decided to handle this later, on the phone.

She absolutely wasn’t going to take any charity or handouts from that man. Not at all. He didn’t deserve to know that he contributed to Piglet’s well-being in any manner. He didn’t. She wouldn’t allow him to.

The problem was that it went even further than Azriel paying for the robotic prosthesis. That same week she also received a letter from Piglet’s regular vet, notifying her that Piglet’s longevity shots have been paid for in full. In perpetuity. As in, forever. That horrid, treacherous man dared to…Elain couldn’t believe it. Enraged, she rang Cassian.

Before the man could say ‘hello’, she screamed into the phone,

‘Tell your brother to leave us alone! He is not to make attempts at helping my dog with anything. Piglet isn’t his responsibility. We don’t need him!’

‘What?’ Cassian asked dumbly.

‘You heard me!’ She snapped at him. ‘I don’t need anything from him. Just my fee. I’m quite sure that he still owes me for setting him up.’

‘Yeah, he does,’ Cassian agreed, his tone sombre and defeated. ‘That he does.’

‘Exactly. Beyond my fee, I’m not interested in hearing anything from or about him. I hope you understand.’

‘I understand.’

‘Thanks. Bye!’

But before she could hang up, Cassian called after her and quickly asked, “and you? How are you?’’

She paused and he heard her swallow. She didn’t answer for a long time. He wasn’t even sure if she was still on the line when at last, he heard her say, ‘I’m brilliant.’

“You don’t need to say that to me,” he snapped at her.

She scoffed, ‘I don’t owe you anything, Cass. So there is that. Tell him that I don’t need anything from him. That’s all I’m asking of you.’

He sighed heavily and told her,

��Okay”.

It was a surprisingly nice day for early March. It was sunny and warm and wisteria began blooming all around Bloomsbury and Russell Square.

Her father sent a car for her, so she wouldn’t have to take a taxi. At first, Elain didn’t want to bother, but after she decided on her dress, she changed her mind. Now, there was a Bentley waiting for her on the street.

She hated that she almost greeted her father’s driver as ‘Dev’, but she stopped herself at the last moment. Piglet stopped to inspect the car, not recognising it and he also paused when he saw the new driver. He was going to give him paw, like he did with Dev, but this wasn’t Dev and Piglet waited for Elain to do something.

“Lady Elain,” the driver greeted her as he opened the door and then looked at the pug and said, “and this is Piglet, I assume.”

“It is. Thank you,” she turned to the dog and helped him inside the vehicle. “We have a stop to make and pick up another individual.”

“Of course,” the driver said simply and then assisted her inside the car, and even picked up and loaded the train of her dress inside, arranging it on the floor, so it wouldn’t wrinkle. She told him the address and they took off.

Elain felt detached from herself, as if she was looking at her body from the outside. She was seemingly standing behind a glass and observing her life, but it wasn’t hers. Not really. Her life should’ve been completely different right now. She should’ve been with Azriel. Loved by him. Loving him. She should’ve been going to her own wedding. She should’ve been happy.

But she wasn’t.

Elain wasn’t happy.

As they detoured through Marylebone towards Paddington, Elain was of mind to call the whole thing off. She didn’t need to go to the wedding. She could make an excuse. It was just her, and her family would be represented just fine by Nesta and Feyre. There was no need for her to torture herself or her dog with all of this.

But, by the time she was ready to say something to the driver, they were pulling around Radnor Mews–unbearably charming and picturesque–and she spotted a tall, statuesque man standing on the corner, looking at his phone.

The Bentley pulled to the curb and the driver got out to open the door.

“Hey gorgeous!” the man slid inside the cabin, taking up about as much space as Azriel normally would.

Goddamn it. Enough already. Enough with Azriel!

Elain squeezed her eyes tightly, before sighing and looking at her companion.

“Fen,” she breathed.

His dark, luminous eyes skimmed over her elaborate dress, the large flower on her shoulder, and then he reached and gently drew his finger from her cheek down to her collarbone.

“My god you are beautiful,” he gawked, shaking his head. “Are you okay to do this?”

She bit her lip and then nodded. If he noticed her reluctance, he didn’t show it, but only took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together.

Fenris Beem-Moon was Elain’s first…well, everything. Her first in many ways. Her first boyfriend. Her first major crush. He took her on her first date when they were 16 years old. The first time she got drunk was with Fen and he held her hair back while she puked miserably in a pub loo. He attempted to teach her to drive, to the detriment of his own life–and failed. He was her first man–the one who took her virginity, when they went to Brighton for a long weekend. Fen was the first (and only) man, so far, to consistently provide Elain with toe-curling orgasms.

They parted ways when both went to the university. Elain–to Bristol, while Fen went to Dartmouth in the US. Nowadays, she was a matchmaker to the wealthy and the titled, and he was managing a hedge fund.

“Hey Pugnatious the Great,” Fen rubbed Piglet’s back and the pug leaned against him in a friendly way. Elain chuckled at the moniker. Fenris was one of a select few whom Piglet actually liked, and not just tolerated. He and her pug didn’t have the soul-crushing adoration like Piglet had with Azriel, but,

Here she was. AGAIN. Thinking about Azriel.

She shook her head and scoffed at her own thoughts. She was pathetic. No other word for it. Pathetic. She hated herself for constantly thinking about that asshole. For being so weak and stupid that all her thoughts revolved around an unworthy man.

Fen looked at her, sensing her distress and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. His lips pressed to her temple and he rubbed his thumb over her bare shoulder.

“How do you want to play this?” he asked at last, once Elain stilled beneath his arm and lay her head on his shoulder. “Are we making him jealous? Should I make him eat a bag of dicks?”

She snorted at that.

“Should I fuck him up for making you sad?” he continued.

“He is big,”

Bubbling his lips, Fen chuckled, “Not as big as me, elske.”

Then he laughed quietly, “you got a type, that’s for sure! You like a big man,”

She sighed, but did not argue. She liked them big and strong.

Then, with a scowl, he added, “though not sure where your Eris fits in. At least the Douchebag is handsome. Not as handsome as me,”

“No,” she drawled, “of course not,”

“But he is handsome enough. Eris…fuck, babe, he is a ginger!”

Laughing at his antics, Elain pushed at his chest, saying, “you are an anti-gingerite!”

“One word, babe–ginger pubes!” he announced dramatically and Elain shuddered.

“Eww, Fen, don’t be gross,”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one nosing into ginger pubes,” he reminded her.

“It’s two words, by the way.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he cocked his brow. “Ginger pubes are ginger pubes. Is he hung at least?

She rolled her eyes and offered a shrug.

“So, he could be bigger,” Fenris confirmed.

Elain knew what he was doing–he was cheering her up, saying all kinds of nonsense, so she wouldn’t have to think of what she was about to face. And for that, she was grateful.

But as they drove towards the Royal Boroughs of Kensington and Chelsea, she knew that no amount of pep talks or cheering up could change the reality of what she was about to experience.

Many had wondered as to why Elain and Fenris did not end up together? They seemed to have had everything in common–they were childhood friends, they were both wildly attractive, both came from wealthy, illustrious families, Fenris being the son of the head of the Beem banking dynasty and a Danish Countess. What’s more, they had a fine, loving, amicable relationship. However, Fenris had a secret, to which few were privy, but Elain knew. His sexual tastes ran exotic–he was a Dom and a co-owner of a BDSM club in Soho. He was their superstar performer, along with his submissive and real-life lover Kat. Fen and Kat were soulmates, and Elain was always envious of their relationship–the love, the trust, the adoration. She was less fanatical about the caning and the fisting on stage (which she’d watched when she visited the club), but she did not judge her best mate. What’s more, contrary to popular belief, Elain was a lot less uptight and uncomfortable with sex than most people assumed. Fenris had guaranteed that. Her only problem was that she kept ending up with sexually boring men. After Fen, only Azriel came close to being as spectacular, but,

Gah!

She was thinking about him again.

But it was curious, now that she thought about it, that Azriel basically fisted her that one time–their only real intimate time. What did it say about her? What did it say about her because she loved it?

“We can’t make him jealous,” she told Fenris quietly, hiding her face in his chest. He stroked the back of her neck, holding her close. “He is literally marrying someone else.”

“Maybe he is delirious,” Fen offered. “Like a brain inflammation,”

“Oh, is that what it is?” she huffed a sceptical sigh.

“I mean it’s a fairly reasonable explanation as to why he’d be marrying someone else when he had you and, as you told me, he said that he loved you.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek and murmured,

“Or, maybe, he never loved me at all.”

Azriel Night adjusted his cufflinks and then glanced at his watch.

10:53 am.

The guests were milling about in the airy Cadogan Suite of the Old Chelsea Town Hall, enjoying cocktails and admiring the Victorian architecture of the pale grey and blue walls and the impressive marble and granite fireplace. It wasn’t exactly a huge gathering, only about twenty guests, and most of them were family anyway. And that suited him just fine.

Old Chelsea Town Hall, London

He already felt like shit, hot and tense, his dark navy suit seemingly too tight and stifling around the shoulders. He readjusted the sleeves about thirty times and still he couldn’t get comfortable. Truthfully, Azriel didn’t need any more people witnessing the shitshow that was about to take place.

Plopping heavily on a chair he buried his head in his hands. He was alone in the antechamber of the reception room, his eyes darting towards the door every five seconds.

“You alright?” he heard Cassian’s voice, but didn’t answer.

Was he alright? Sure didn’t feel like it.

“She’ll come,” Cassian assured him. “She will. She texted Nes earlier,”

“Even if she does show up,” Azriel interrupted him, “it won’t change anything.”

Cassian sighed and didn’t argue. Probably not. Azriel had fucked up and Cassian didn’t think that Elain was going to suddenly forgive him just like that. Or should. Or would.

Besides, he was tasked with telling Azriel one other nugget of shit,

“Sooo…I just wanted you to know,” he began saying slowly, “that she would be coming with,”

“Who the fuck is that?!” Azriel snarled angrily and jumped to his feet. “Who is that? Who is with her?”

“Mmm, yeah, that’s what I was saying,” Cassian muttered, but before he could continue, he was stopped by the look on Azirel’s face.

The look of adoration and utter amazement. Anger too, but mostly Az looked both flabbergasted and smitten. Cassian followed his brother’s gaze and immediately whistled under his breath.

Elain Archeron glided into the room, dressed in a spectacular satin gown, which accentuated her round curves and stunned with its haute couture details. Cassian wasn’t exactly a fashionista, but he could tell when a woman looked good. And Elain looked spectacular! This dress–pale blush pink–was decorated with bold, but delicate flowers at the bottom and on her shoulder, and he guessed that every embellishment was handmade. If ever there was a princess, Elain was most certainly one today.

And like a true princess, she arrived exactly on time.

And just like that, all eyes were on her.

But she did not react. Nothing outwardly but a blase, relaxed appearance.

What’s more, Elain was draped over one beast of a man–absolutely huge, at least 6”6–so handsome, he could only be called ‘breathtaking’. Cassian was staunchly straight and liked pussy more than he liked just about anything else, but fuck it–he’d give this bloke a go if the opportunity presented itself. The man had a perfect, unblemished, ridiculously symmetrical face, with a jaw that could cut glass, dark, almost black eyes and a leonine head of gorgeous golden hair. His form fit his face–muscular, toned, firm, but compact in a way professional athletes were.

And speaking of professional athletes–the one next to him, his own brother, was just about vibrating with dark, pent up energy.

“We are not brawling,” Cassian cautioned him sternly.

“Who the fuck is he?” Azriel hissed.

“Whoever he is,” Cassian said, “he can take you,”

“Pfff,” Azriel snorted, but it wasn’t a confident snort. He realised that the blond god would make a worthy opponent if push came to shove.

“You need to calm down,” Cassian warned.

“If that cocksucker is fucking my wom-,”

“She is not your woman,” Cassian reminded him.

“Fuck you, Cass.”

“Whatever.”

Meanwhile, Piglet weaved between the man’s legs and sat down at his side, while the man bent and rubbed the pug’s neck, and then fished something out of his pocket and gave it to Piglet to chew.

“The fuck he is giving him treats!” Azriel seethed, while Cassian shook his head and said,

“Why are you acting like some overprotective boyfriend? You left her,”

“And why is he touching her like that?” Azriel completely ignored Cassian’s words, as he watched the disgustingly good looking bloke, on whose arm Elain was literally hanging, turn and cup Elain’s face in his massive hand, his fingers on her cheek and then kiss the top of her head, right on the satin band that held her hair in place.

KISS HER HEAD!!!

“Little Piggy, you are so handsome!!” Azriel heard Feyre’s excited screeching and then, to his surprise, she greeted the blond guy, “Fen, long time no see! How are you?!”

She reached up and he kissed her cheek, but before he answered, she prattled forth, “I didn’t know you were coming today. Are you two back together?”

Back together???

“It would be so good if you got back together,” she continued, smiling breathlessly.

Elain pursed her lips and snapped, “Fey!”

“What, what?!” Feyre began to backtrack. “I am just saying.”

The man, Fen, had an amused smirk playing on his lips, his fingers still stroking Elain’s bare shoulders.

“It’s good to see you, Feyre,” he said simply.

“But you are,” Feyre started again, but then Elain’s attention, along with her head, turned to Azriel.

Unable to wait any longer, Azriel got up and walked across the room, noticing how Elain had tensed the moment he stepped out of the antechamber and made his way towards her.

She looked indescribably beautiful today. A little sad. A little nervous, though she covered it up pretty well. But overwhelmingly, she was simply stunning. That dress…Azriel wasn’t sure what to make of it, because she looked both bridal and regal, a queen, but also a timid virgin. Where did you even get a dress like that? And how do you come to a decision which says ‘yeah, I am going to throw this on today. To a wedding. Which isn’t my own.’ He figured that it was a very Elain thing to do–to march to the beat of her own drum, wearing what she liked–but still. This was ballsy.

The blond bloke still had his hand on her though. It was a proprietary hold–his long fingers holding her by the back of the neck. Like a lover. Like she belonged to him.

Azriel barely managed to hold back an animalistic snarl. Barely managed to hold back and not lunge at the guy and break his fingers, thus removing them from Elain’s bare flesh.

“You came,” he said instead, balling his hands behind his back. He was almost on top of them, standing so close that he could feel the warmth of Elains body and smell her sweet, delicious jasmine perfume. He didn’t bother with any kind of preamble. He didn’t have it in him to engage in small talk or act decently. He wanted to rip the man’s arms right off and then press her to her knees on the floor and fuck her brutally on the guy’s bleeding corpse.

Elain turned to face him–her expression placid, and almost disinterested. As if he was interrupting something and she needed to give him her time and attention.

She plastered a fake smile on her face and turned fully to him. The blond man’s hand did not leave her neck. Azriel gritted his teeth.

“Of course,” she nodded easily, a bland smirk on her lips. “I always attend these weddings–if the clients that I set up invite me, I gladly accept. Tell me, Azriel, where is Gwyn?”

He ignored her question and asked instead, “And who is your date?”

The man’s hand remained on her neck.

“Fenris Beem-Moon,” the bloke said and extended his other hand to Azriel.

Elain’s expression was inscrutable. She watched Azriel shake Fenris’s hand with a pained expression though he managed to contain himself. But Elain knew him well–could read all his micro expressions like an open book. She was well aware of the fact that Azriel was fuming inside, but pretended to pretend like he didn’t care. It didn’t help matters that Fenris intended on making Azriel jealous, by stroking her throat with his knuckles, before wrapping his fingers over the back of her neck.

“And you are her date?” Azriel asked, his voice hollow.

Fen didn’t confirm or deny, but only said ‘El needed a plus one and here I am’.

“And here you are,” Azriel echoed.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but that was cut short by a loud screeching roar that came out of Piglet once he beheld Azriel in his sight. The big brown bug eyes blinked and Piglet sized Azriel up, and determined that the proximity to Elain was too much for him to allow. With an enraged bark, he bounced on the floor, flying out of Feyre’s arms.

It was all happening in slow motion. Everyone turned and attempted to catch him, but he deployed his full parkour moves and galloped towards Azriel with angry, hateful barks.

Azriel didn’t know how to react, but Piglet solved the dilemma for him, when he lunged at him and sunk his sharp little teeth into Azriel’s hand.

“Awww, fuck!” Azriel cried, not knowing how to avoid the attack. Because Piglet was definitely attacking. Once he drew blood from Azriel’s palm, he latched onto his leg, biting him painfully, making him bleed yet again and Azriel noticed blood stains on his trouser leg.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he roared, “stop it! Awww! Fuck! Stop biting me!”

Piglet didn’t let up for a second. He jumped and bit and scratched, pushing Azriel back and away from Elain. He raged and slashed, with claws and teeth, and yes, he could’ve been picked up and thrown aside, but Azriel couldn’t do that.

And then Piglet went for the jugular. Or rather, for Azriel’s groin, latching on to his thigh and attempting to reach the most sensitive area. The only thing that helped Azriel in that moment was the fact that he was tall, and Piglet miscalculated the jump, and instead of biting his dick, he bit his thigh. It was like wrestling that cannibalistic rabbit from ‘Monty Python’--Azriel tried to pull the pug off his leg, but it was surprisingly more difficult than he anticipated. Obviously he could've been rough with the pug and hurt him, but Azriel wasn’t going to go there. Piglet wiggled, snarled and growled angrily, while he searched for more flesh to bite, looking for reactions that caused the most pain and discomfort to Azriel, and when seeing it, biting harder.

It was Elain, at last, who jumped on the dog and tried to wrestle him away. He wouldn’t budge though, no matter how she tried to pry him off or ordered him to stop.

“Piglet, Piglet,” she pleaded, afraid to stick her finger in his mouth to loosen his hold. “Stop. Stop.”

Cassian stepped in, trying to hold the dog off, only to receive a scratch from the angry little paw. Feyre tried as well, waving cheese and bread in her hands–who even knows how she got those–but Piglet didn’t care. Fenris pulled on the pug, grabbing him around the body, but they just heard the cloth rip and Azriel winced in pain.

Finally, Elain snapped, “Piglet! Stop right now. You are hurting daddy. Stop. You love daddy,” she reminded him, but he roared at her in response. “I don’t care. You don’t bite. Even if your feelings are hurt and he left you,” she added ruthlessly. “You are better than that.”

She gently tugged him and he finally released Azriel’s leg and trouser. Piglet was panting, glaring at Azriel with hate and resentment.

“Pink,” Azriel began saying, but Piglet snarled at him, baring his teeth and at that point, Fenris grabbed him from Elain’s arms and held him tightly to his chest. At that, something broke inside of Azriel, who watched his best mate in the arms of another man. Now, Fenris had both the dog and Azriel’s woman as his own.

Elain, bless her weak and stupid heart, muttered, “My god, Azriel. You are bleeding! Your suit…”

Azriel was bleeding. From his hand and his thigh and his ankle. His trousers were pretty much ruined.

Rhysand, who was observing the drama and the raging pug attack, sauntered towards their little group, hands in his pockets, and gave Azriel a once over, shaking his head like a disappointed father.

“I will make a call to get you new trousers,” he offered. “Who made your suit?”

“Dege and Skinner,” Azriel answered.

That announcement received a smirk of approval from his billionaire lord cousin and if there was anyone who could get a new pair of trousers delivered in a matter of hours, it would be Rhysand.

“You need to have this cleaned,” Elain piped, looking at the pooling blood that dripped from his hand.

“Can you help me?” Azriel asked firmly, taking her by the hand before she could say anything. He tugged her behind him, while Fenris frowned and mouthed ‘I’ll be right here’. Piglet was going nuts again, unhappy that Elain was with Azriel–barking and screaming and snapping and huffing. Fenris cradled him in his arms, rocking him, murmuring to him, as he shielded him from seeing how Azriel pulled Elain with him. Feyre was attempting to calm Piglet down with cheese and bread. Cassian, meanwhile, went to fetch an attendant to clean up the mess on the floor. Nesta was sitting at the table, drinking vodka on the rocks with extra olives, and shaking her head.

The bridal party was still not here. Probably for the best.

Azriel half dragged Elain into the antechamber reserved for the bridal guests, but seeing as it was empty right now, he closed the door and walked to the adjoining powder room. Elain stood in the middle of the room, looking a little lost and more than apprehensive.

“I can ask Cassian to,” she began saying, but Azriel shook his head stubbornly and ordered, “come here, Elain. Now.”

She picked up her skirt and wet her lower lip nervously, before walking to the powder room.

He had his suit jacket off, and the sleeves of his expensive white shirt rolled up to the elbows–his veined tattooed arms and the network of scars were all on full display and Elain swallowed loudly, still consumed by the need to be touched by those hands and be held within those arms. The white material of the shirt stretched nicely around his massive shoulders and the bulging biceps, and she needed to force herself to look somewhere else, because this was torturous–the close proximity, the scent of him, the sudden realisation that he was next to once again. She had tried to forget how it felt to be near him, tried for almost two months now, but just like that, it all flew out the window. All of her good intentions, because once again, she was next to him and he made her head swim.

Trying to find something to do with her hands, she grabbed a towel and ran it under some cool water. Piglet’s gotten carried away–there was a deep cut from the claws on Azriel’s left arm, and a whole slew of bites on his right.

“I should sue you,” he told her, without humour. “That little fucker needs to be muzzled.”

Elain bristled at his words, but didn’t say anything and only wiped the blood off his left arm. He winced and muttered, “you can’t bring a wild animal to social outings.”

“He is not a wild animal!” she snapped at him.

He showed her both of his arms and said, “he absolutely is.”

“He was upset with you!” she defended the dog. “Also, he is a pug. I think you’ll survive.”

He looked her up and down, scrubbing his hands and blotting them with paper towels.

“Yeah, I’ll survive,” he scowled. “If he wasn’t a pug, I’d beat his arse.”

Azriel dipped his arms under the faucet once more and then wrapped them with the remaining towels.

“Do I need a rabies shot?” he asked, pressing the towels to his forearms to stem the flow of blood. “This place looks like a murder scene now,” he shook his head.

“No, you don’t need a rabies shot,” she rolled her eyes, and he snorted at her, muttering ‘always with the attitude,”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I am going to go,” she turned on her heels, annoyed at his attitude, but before she could get away, he clamped his hand on her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make her stop. Then he spun her around, so she was facing him.

His expression was closed off and very stony, as he assessed her gown and her general appearance.

Elain couldn’t help but blush under his scrutiny and squirmed on her toes.

“What do you want?” she asked nervously. “Your arms will heal.”

Azriel didn’t bother answering, and instead, his hands landed on her shoulders and he drew his thumbs over her protruding collar bones. He looked unamused and said,

“You are too thin. Are you not eating?”

Elain glanced up at him in confusion.

His tone was…concerned. As if he cared about her. Which made little sense.

His thumbs kept brushing over her chest, her neck, and then he leaned in and smelled her hair, pressing his cheek to her satin ribbon for a moment.

“I am fine,” she said abruptly. “I am eating.”

“You are lying,”

“I am not. Besides, it’s none of your business,” she reminded him. “You are a client. I don’t report my eating habits to my clients. Soon to be an ex-client too.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I guess I’ve gone through some hard times lately.”

“Did you now?” his hand tightened on her shoulder, and he pulled her even closer.

“I have.”

“Didn’t stop you from finding yourself another man in a month or so,” he commented coldly.

She tried to throw his hand off, but it was no use. He gripped her tightly and then pressed on her shoulder, digging his strong fingers into her flesh.

“Did you fuck him?” he snapped, his expression tight, his amber eyes glowing with a violent, unhinged need.

Elain started and dropped her hand from his arm.

“What?” she whispered.

“Did you fuck him?” he repeated dryly. “Are you fucking him?”

She bristled at his tone and stepped back, but he caught her wrist in his fingers and pulled her closer. His scarred hand cupped her cheek and he brushed his thumb over her throat, staring at her unblinking.

“Why are you asking me this?” she demanded, feeling her skin warm up under his scrutiny. “It’s none of your business!”

He raised his brow and glowered at her, tension coming off him in waves. His thumb pressed deeper into her neck, pushing on the vein. She wondered if she’d have a bruise after this.

“None of my business?” he challenged menacingly, that dark, deep voice of his sounding threatening.

Elain attempted to step back away from him yet again. She was reminded of the wild, untamed beast that lived under his skin. The beast hid well enough, but she knew it was always there, raging to get out and smash through everything in its path. This was a boy who grew up on the rougher streets of Tower Hamlets and then in Lewisham and while he managed to exercise extreme self-control most of the time, right now wasn’t one of those times.

He jerked her back towards him and hissed,

“Don’t act like you are scared of me!”

She swallowed and whispered, “Maybe I am scared of you right now.”

His expression darkened even further, but also seemed pensive–he was waging an internal battle in his own head.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” he pressed, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck, his eyes wild and hungry. “You know I’ll do anything for you,”

She swallowed hard, feeling unbearably hot in her dress, shaky and angry.

“You are getting married!” she snarled at him. “I am here. For your wedding!”

That seemed to deflate him a bit and he sighed, muttering, “So I am”.

“So what do you want from me?!” she exclaimed, trying and failing to extricate herself from his hold. He didn’t let go.

Instead, he told her firmly, “answer the question!”

“I don’t see how that’s you busi-,”

He didn’t let her finish and snarled, “Another man’s dick in my woman’s cunt is my business. Do you understand that? So answer the fucking question, Elain. Did he fuck you? Did you give him what is mine?”

She stared at him in shock, appalled by his questions and the level of vitriol that he was spewing at her. How dare he?!!? He was the one who left her! He was the one who took off with another woman and now he had the audacity to act like a jealous boyfriend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

“Yes,” she snapped. “No.”

“What the fuck kind of answer is ‘yes and no’?”

He squeezed her cheek and made her look at him. “Tell me.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she hated herself for it, but right now, she didn’t even care. She didn’t care that she was weeping, because she was…she was so tired. Just so tired of the endless heartache. Of not being loved. Of being left again and again and again.

She hung her head low and whispered, “yes, I slept with him”.

Azriel sucked in a breath, his normally tanned face draining of colour and becoming noticeably paler.

“Why?” he asked dumbly, staring at her.

“Why did you leave me?” she asked instead, wiping her face, looking up at him.

He dropped her hand, but when she thought that he’d push her away, he didn’t. Instead, he squeezed her face between his hands and stared at her.

“Why are you crying?” he asked after a long pause.

She was sniffling and whimpering, locked into his gaze, and unable to shake off his grip on her head.

“Because I am tired.”

“Of what?” he asked gently.

“Of everything. Of you. I am tired of you. And I am tired of not being loved. I am tired of always being everyone’s second choice.”

“You aren’t though,” he argued. “Not mine.”

“You are marrying another woman!” she cried out loudly, seething and angry. “You told me all this…shit! This nonsense! About how much you liked me,” at that, he cocked his head to the side, listening to her. She continued sniping at him angrily, “And you lied to me. The entire time, I was falling in love with you and you…you,” she was panting, breathless and enraged. “You told me you wanted me. You said that I was your one and only. And then you…you…just walked away and left me!”

Azriel’s expression was empty and his gaze stony when he stepped back away from her and crossed his arms on his chest.

“You are stubborn, ungrateful, obstinate, and arrogant,” he told her plainly, his eyes scorching her, as he stared her down. Her mouth opened to a shocked O. She couldn’t even respond to him, to his horrible words, the insults.

“You are,” he continued. “For months I’ve begged for scraps of your attention. I’ve done everything in my power to be gentle with you, be kind, and love you. I cleaned your house, cooked for you, washed your dishes, cared for your dog–all the while you held me at arm’s length. I courted you like a fucking knight or some shit. I respected your wishes and I treated you with kid gloves. I planned your birthday, I showered you with gifts and attention, I decorated your house when you asked me.

“Whenever you needed me, I was there. Any time, any day. So I ask you–what was not enough, Elain??” he pressed. “I need to know. Why was I not enough for you?”

She was sobbing, her thin shoulders shaking, while he waited for her to respond and listened to the pug going crazy behind closed doors, and shouting coming from the guests. Resolutely, he walked to the double doors and locked them. They were not going to be disturbed.

“I..I…never,” she tried to speak, but couldn’t.

He was watching her with an alarmingly detached coldness.

“You never?” he repeated. “That’s right, Elain. You never. You never came to me and told me that you loved me. Not until it was too late. You rejected my affection,”

“That’s not true!” she screamed. “I never did that.”

“I asked you to marry me the first time we met,” he reminded her.

She threw her hands up in the air and exclaimed, “I didn’t take that seriously! You were joking,”

“Was I?” he asked grimly.

“We’d just met!” she exclaimed defensively. “You came to me to find a wife!”

“And yet, I wanted you.”

“I didn’t know!” she babbled. “How was I supposed to have known? I didn’t,”

“You did. I asked you every time I saw you,” he insisted. “You just didn’t want to hear it. You took my words in jest, but don’t pretend that it wasn’t there.”

“That's not fair!” she even stomped her foot petulantly. “You aren’t being fair!”

“Life isn’t fucking fair, Elain. I shoved my hand in your cunt and you came all over my first on your birthday,”

She blushed furiously at that, at his vulgarity.

“Yet, the next fucking day, on Christmas Eve, you threw a fit when you saw a silly little thing on my phone. Oh, I had you in my contacts under ‘Mrs. Night’. The horror. The insult!” he mocked, clutching at his chest. “You started a whole fight with me over that one thing. Which, by the way, came about as a result of your snooping,”

She wiped her tears, but didn’t say anything back. It was true. She had overreacted back then.

“I’d offered you everything,” he recalled. “My name. My devotion. My love. All you needed to do was to accept that you were mine. That you belonged to me. That you were made for me,”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she argued, raising her chin at him defiantly. She was angry with him, and just as angry with herself.

In one frightening, devastating move–so quick that her eyes didn’t even register what she was seeing–he was on her. He grabbed her by the throat and she gasped in terror, waiting for him to squeeze, but he didn’t. He just stared at her, his jowls working overtime. She trembled next to him, swallowing hard against his huge palm.

He said nothing, just held her by the neck, his eyes so dark, they seemed black. Gone was the warm golden brown of them. Gone was his normally jovial, unbothered attitude. He was always intense, but right now, he was menacing.

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it, Elain?” he sneered at last. His face was close to hers, and she couldn’t help but smell the familiar scent of his skin, of his Tom Ford cologne, and notice the smattering of dark freckles on his tanned cheeks. He really should use sunblock when he played. Even in Britain. Even under its weak, blurry sun.

“What is?” she finally managed to whisper. Her throat felt restricted against his palm and she swallowed again. Involuntarily, her hands squeezed his wrist and his eyes tracked the movement.

“Stop”. He barked at her.

“Sto-op what?”

“Stop acting like you are afraid of me!” he hissed.

“I am. I am afraid of you,” she confessed. “You are not like this…”

“And how am I?” he wondered, while making no move to release her.

“You…you,” she mumbled, blinking at him. “You are nice. You…you are good to me.”

“I was,” he confirmed. “Why should I be good to you now?”

“Why are you putting this on me?” she shouted. “What did I do??”

He sighed and reflected, his tone thoughtful, almost bored.

“What you did…It’s what you didn't do,”

“Which is?!”

“If only you understood that you belong to me, beautiful, everything would’ve been different. I wouldn’t have needed to take all these…drastic measures,”

“Drastic measures?” she gasped. Marrying someone else was a little more than a ‘drastic measure’.

“If you only acknowledged one simple fact–that you were mine, that you belong to me and with me. If you would have simply submitted to me and accepted the inevitable then things would’ve been different.”

Elain bristled and lifted her chin again, ignoring his hold on her.

“You are sounding psychotic,” she told him simply.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But I am telling you how it is.”

She pursed her lips and then managed to push at his chest, trying to dislodge him. He didn’t budge, though now his hold on her throat loosened even more.

“And yet, all of this love and devotion didn’t stop you from going after another woman,” she rebuked him bitterly. All this ‘you belong to me’ bullshit didn’t stop you from bouncing as soon as you saw an opportunity.”

He let go of her then and walked away, circling the room, his brown knitted, his look tense.

Elain rubbed her throat and winced. He tracked the movement and then stopped his pacing and asked sharply, “are you hurt?”

“I don’t know, Azriel,” she snapped. “You’ve been grabbing at my throat like a caveman since I showed up. I will be bruised, I reckon. Guess I'll consider it your parting gift, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively, “don’t be dramatic.”

“You are such an arsehole,” she groaned and then turned around and headed for the doors. “Where the hell is your bride? When is this shitshow going to start? Why did you invite us for 11 am, when it’s almost noon and we are nowhere near getting this done.”

“How many times did you fuck him?” he asked instead.

“Ohmygod, are you back to that?!” she cried, exasperated. “Why do you care?”

“I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine,” “It’s not yours!”

“I beg to differ. So? You are not leaving this fucking room until you tell me,” he warned her.

She sighed and collapsed on a chair–thank god that it was here, because otherwise, she’d just lay on the floor. He was scaring her and exhausting her all at once, and this was promising to be the worst day of her life.

“It’s not what you think it is,” she began and he sighed an annoyed sigh.

“Great start, Elain,”

She was wringing her fingers, looking down at the floor.

“It’s not new…Fen, that is. We’ve known each other for many years. He isn’t my boyfriend,”

Azriel stared at her, looking for any sign of a lie.

“I am sure there is more to this,” he prompted patiently.

“I lost my virginity to him,” she told him softly “We dated when we were younger. He is a good man.”

Azriel licked his lips and thought.

“So you brought him here to make me jealous?” he pondered.

“No,” she argued defensively. “I did not want to come alone. And why would you care anyway?”

“Don’t be daft,” he said sternly. “We’ll discuss all of this later.”

Elain sighed. What was there to discuss exactly?

“Can we go back to the guests?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head and said ‘no’.

“When is Gwyn arriving?” Elain pressed. “I don’t want to be here with you when she arrives.”

He bubbled his lips and muttered, “soon. Soon enough.”

She wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but she didn’t ask. He was already acting strange. She didn’t want to push him further. She understood that there was some internal conflict related to her that he was fighting, but also, it was his wedding day and he was bound to be jittery.

What she didn’t expect were his next words.

“I need to kiss you,” he said, flexing his fingers at his sides.

“What? No!”

“I said I want to kiss you,” he repeated, coming closer.

Elain’s breathing turned fast and jerky, and he could see her pulse through her pale skin.

“I can’t,” she shook her head. “You are marrying someone else. What are you doing?!” her hands pressed to her chest in a futile attempt to keep him at bay.

He stood over her and then stooped and pressed his hands over the back of the chair, caging her in.

“You will still deny me?” he questioned, raising his brow at her.

“I am not,” she muttered desperately. “But…but,” she licked her lips, “you aren’t available,”

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and leaned closer, his breath fanning over her face, his hands still squeezing the back of the chair. “I want you to submit to me and kiss me.”

She blinked at him, her expression confused and panicked.

“Kiss me like you love me,” he urged.

“I…what…” she kept mumbling, looking around for a way to escape, and knowing there wasn't any. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to,” he said calmly, though his ‘calm’ was somehow terrifying. “And I asked nicely.”

“And if I say ‘no’?” she reached up and timidly touched the back of his neck, feeling how warm his skin was.

“Then I will be forced to take it,” he shrugged. “And you might not like it.”

Elain did not doubt him. Azriel was the type to take what he wanted from her. He always tittered on the edge of consent and force, and it seemed to her that ‘consent’ was more of a modern trapping to him rather than an obligation. This was the same man who made himself comfortable in her house, then in her bed, who’d basically moved into her home without her inviting him, who’d put her on his lap or slapped her ass whenever he felt like it. He didn’t hesitate to tell her what to do and where they’d be going, and took the reins whether she asked him or not.

“Elain,” he said sternly. “I am waiting.”

She pressed her thighs together under her long skirt, overwhelmed by his closeness and his demand. He watched her carefully, studying her reactions, the muscles under his shirt flexing and rolling beneath the material.

“Come on, beautiful,” he coaxed slowly and warmly, leaning even closer to her. “Give it to me.”

Somehow Elain knew that she wasn’t going to get out of this and frankly, this was on him. He was the one getting married. She wasn’t his moral police–if he wanted to be unfaithful to Gwyn it was up to him. He was a player, after all, and she supposed that this is what it looked like in real time. She was just too stupid to realise before that he wouldn’t have been faithful to her either.

She pulled her head to her and pressed her lips to his.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss.

It was angry.

Azriel pulled back away from her quickly and she thought that it was over. She exhaled a ragged breath.

He looked at her, head cocked, and then suddenly kissed her nose lightly. It was gentle. Playful.

Then his hand shot up and he pressed his thumb to her mouth, running it slowly over her lower lip, feeling it up, reminding her with his touch of how she used to kiss his fingers and his scarred hands. How she called them beautiful.

Without warning, he pushed his thumb between her lips, deeper than she even expected and she sucked on it nervously, her tongue wrapping around the digit. He smiled, watching her.

“Good girl,” he praised, rubbing his thumb against her tongue. “This isn’t very difficult, is it?”

She couldn't answer, her mouth being fully occupied, as she sucked and licked him, but it felt normal. It felt normal to offer him pleasure. Familiar even. She liked pleasing him. Always have.

She nodded. No, it wasn’t difficult.

With his thumb still inside her mouth, he leaned in and kissed her.

She paused, but he pushed his finger over her tongue, urging her to continue, while his warm, full lips languidly sucked on her own. He smelled good and tasted the way she remembered, and the way she loved. The kiss was hungry and possessive, and he kissed the way she loved being kissed. She forgot everything for a few blissful moments, when her fingers slipped from his neck and squeezed his obscenely firm biceps, luxuriating in the solid mass of his body.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured into her mouth. She tilted her head back, allowing him better access, and he fell into the kiss with rabid determination, eliciting a breathless whine from her full lips. His tongue met hers, overtaking it at once, and unbothered by the presence of his finger. He licked on her slowly, but thoroughly, bruising her lips with how hard he sucked and tugged on them and not feeling the littlest bit of shame.

“Gorgeous,” he repeated, “but fucking stupid.”

Elain gasped and pulled back, her eyes opening up. She pushed his thumb out forcefully with her tongue and panted, looking at him.

He straightened and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Why am I stupid?” she challenged.

“I don’t know,” she crossed his arms and propped himself against the wall. “You are posh. Probably makes you naive. To a stupid degree.”

“I am not naive,” she argued.

“No, you really are. Like you don’t see anything that’s in front of your eyes.”

“And what’s in front of my eyes?”

Azriel rubbed his chin and instead of answering, he suddenly said,

“Do you know how difficult it is to find someone who looks like you in porn?”

Elain was pretty sure that it was a rhetorical question, even if she didn’t understand it.

What, she mouthed, utterly confused by this new, odd revelation. Her lips were still tingling from his kiss. She was hot. She hoped someone had some deodorant.

“Took me weeks of scrolling on PornHub,” he continued, and she wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or to himself. “I tried and I tried to find something suitable. But how do you search for a posh bird on PornHub, who looks like you and would get all her holes filled?”

“Azriel…” she murmured, blushing violently. “Don’t say things like that…”

“I mean, I watched a lot of porn to finally land on a girl who resembled you. My dick was chafed,”

“Azriel!”

“After all that, all I could come up with was one scene. One. I jacked off to that scene for weeks. She did look like you–not in your fancy fucking way–but she had the same pink tits and the shape of the body was similar. Your big long hair.

“She was a lot more submissive than you,” he added. “But that could be worked on, right?”

“I think you are rambling,” she rose from her chair and smoothed down her gown. “And I think I am done with you.”

“Oh no, Elain,” he smiled a cruel smile. “You aren’t done with me. Because I am not done with you.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged and headed for the door.

Then she overheard his sneer,

“Still stupid. Even now.”

She turned around swiftly and shouted, “What the hell?! Stop calling me stupid! I am not!”

“You are,” he said flatly. “You are. Because you never realised that all of it was a lie.”

#elriel #azriel and elain #elain archeron #elain x azriel #pro elriel #elriel fanfic #my writing #A Match Baked In Heaven #ACOTAR Fanfiction #new chapter #Elriel fanfiction #elain #my fanfiction

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tunaababee · 7 months ago

Text

we will be everything we say - Chapter 4

masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 4.9k // updates Mondays (aest)

Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.

As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.

But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter 4: seventeen and eighteen

After Rhys had moved, Feyre had never found it easy to go to his house - sure, he was always kind enough to give her a ride and do his best to make her feel at home - but it never felt like somewhere she could relax. The lawns were too manicured, the furniture too fancy, the backyard too big and the fittings too new. This house absolutely screamed of Rhysand’s father, and no matter how at ease Rhys made her feel overall, she was never quite able to shake it even on the best of days when she visited the house.

That feeling was manifesting tenfold in her stomach right now as the party raged around her, raucous and encompassing, and that was without the idea of the next few years ahead of her plaguing her mind. If Feyre didn’t take tonight one step at a time, she felt like she could throw up.

Because tonight was Prythian High’s completely unsanctioned, borderline-official senior year graduation party.

Feyre was dressed uncomfortably - nice, but uncomfortably. Shehad donned a pair of black heels she had borrowed from Elain forever ago, some form-fitting pale blue jeans and a nice, but loose black tank top to try and pull the whole thing together. Realistically, she’d much rather be in some trackpants and an oversized shirt but she didn’t want to fuck this up for anybody, least of all herself. She would have much rather snuck through the side window or something - as clinical as the house could feel, she still knew it well - but it wasn’t an option with her boyfriend at her side as they stepped out of his car. Tamlin grabbed a cooler he had in the backseat before resuming his earlier station, hand at the small of her back as the two headed for Rhys’ front door. Tamlin reached to ring the doorbell but Feyre stopped him, one hand lightly landing on his wrist as it came up while her other fished around in her bag for the key she knew she had. Despite Rhys’ move two years ago, they’d still kept keys to each other’s house no matter what in case they needed something.

“I’ve got this babe,” she said quietly, flashing him a small smile. Feyre could swear she saw his jaw tense, his smile down at her a little forced as she turned the key in the lock. She knew he wasn’t Rhys’ biggest fan, but she trusted he could keep it under control for one night. They’d had to come together for this party in the first place, after all.

Feyre took a quiet, deep breath before pushing the door open to what could only be described as barely controlled chaos inside. Music blared all throughout the house, teenagers scattered everywhere with cups in hand and the scent of alcohol permeating the air. Normally this wouldn’t have been Feyre’s preferred way to spend a Friday night, but she knew that the night meant a lot to Rhys, their friends, and Tamlin, all of whom were off to college in the upcoming fall. Even if she wasn’t the biggest social butterfly, she’d do anything for the people she loved and cared about. So her and Tamlin trudged forward, the throngs of their drunken fellow students parting slowly as they moved into the living room. People were scattered everywhere throughout the house, playing drinking games of various complexity before spilling out in the backyard where people were swimming in the well-appointed pool. Feyre couldn’t help but think for a moment that it almost definitely was some sort of recipe for a liability issue before being pulled from her thoughts at an insistent shout across the room.

“Feyre, you came!”

She was almost bowled off of her feet with how firmly Mor leapt at her for a hug, unable to help laughing as she hugged her right back despite a slight stumble. Mor didn’t hesitate to plant a bright red kiss on her cheek with her signature smile that lit up a room.

“Of course I would, wouldn’t miss watching you guys get messy for the world.”

“Good to see you too, Tamlin. Congrats on salutatorian, by the way.” Mor simply smiled at him, Tamlin narrowing his eyes slightly as he flashed his most practised grin. Feyre lightly slapped Mor's shoulder - she knew that her friends couldn’t help but deliberately try and worm their way under Tamlin’s skin. She was very used to their ribbing, but Tamlin came from a very different family and environment. They had to give him time to adjust.

“Thanks, Mor. Where’s the host? I’ve got beer and wine to unload from my car.”

She smoothly gestured over to the kitchen, where Rhys was making a cursed concoction with whatever liquor he currently had his hands on. Rhys knew he couldn’t get away with raiding his dad’s cabinet, so he and Tamlin struck a deal - in exchange for Rhys hosting, Tamlin was to provide the majority of the drink as his family owned both breweries and vineyards. Not that the promise of free alcohol stopped people from bringing their own contributions to the revelry. Feyre blew a kiss at Mor as she and Tamlin walked over together, watching Rhys with a smile on her face. Once he finished his creation, resulting in an oversized bowl full of a murky brown mixture of liquor that was bound to leave people with heads pounding in the morning, he met Feyre’s gaze. He rushed right over, not hesitating to pull her into a tight hug.

“Hello, Feyre darling!”

“Hello, Rhys my dear!” Feyre hugged back just as firmly, already feeling a little more at ease. She could feel Tamlin staring at him, glad that neither one of them had managed to say anything incendiary for the time being. Once Rhys let go of Feyre, he moved to give Tamlin a terse clap on the shoulder. The smirk Rhys flashed was one of pure confidence and nonchalance, Tamlin doing his best to mimic it. God, she hated teenage male egos.

“Glad to see you made it, Tamlin. I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting here?”

“Not at all. I have the booze I promised loaded in the back of my car, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand.” Their conversation was laced with tension that Feyre knew she wasn’t totally privy to - she knew that their parents for many years had it out for each other, but she had no clue how that would extend to the two of them by proxy. Whenever she asked either of them, they refused to elaborate. Usually she was relegated to playing peacemaker between the two, but she was glad they seemed to be willing to at least try to put it aside for one night.

“Of course, lead the way.” He gestured to the front door, beginning to trail after Tamlin, but not before giving her a soft smile. Feyre mouthed the words ‘come back soon’ at him, to which he gave a small nod before returning his attention to the task at hand. For the time being, Feyre grabbed a beer from his fridge and tried to find a less-crowded corner to occupy.

Wherever she wandered inside the house was so full of bodies that, despite the normally over-abundant space, it felt almost claustrophobic no matter where she turned. She knew that upstairs was generally off limits to partygoers - everyone knew that nobody wanted to have any reason to make Mr. Sterling pissed off - but she didn’t want to seem completely anti-social, let alone have people misconstrue anything. Feyre had already had to fend off rumours that she and Rhys were together since they were in middle school and there was no way she wanted to give anybody a reason to add fuel to that proverbial fire. Soon she found herself outside, managing to catch a glimpse of Azriel standing a small way off while Cassian was busy trying to pull off a keg stand and failing miserably. He had a rare smile on his face as they watched Amren continue to hold up Cassian despite how much beer he was losing over his face and into his hair. Feyre couldn’t help but laugh, sidling up next to Azriel comfortably amongst the crowd.

“Please tell me this is his first attempt of the night.”

Azriel snorted slightly. “More like third.”

She shook her head a little bit, tapping her beer to Azriel’s plastic cup before taking a generous swig. They stood in comfortable silence for a while, watching Cassian dismount with no small amount of spluttering and laughter on his part before someone else attempted to take up the mantle. Aside from Tamlin, Rhys and their inner circle of friends were the only people Feyre actually knew at this party. She was only a junior - if she wasn’t so close with them, there was no way she could glance at this whole event, let alone be invited. So by Azriel’s side she stuck, the two of them content to watch the people as the time ticked by until, inevitably, Tamlin found her and insisted on having her stick by his side all night. She didn’t entirely mind - it was nice to have a conversational buffer since Tamlin was very good at keeping people engaged - but it was a little isolating in its own way.

At least I don’t have to talk to drunk people I don’t even know, she thought to herself. It was a small solace.

Feyre had been dating Tamlin for the past six months or so at this point. The first time they had met was when she had accidentally run into him in the halls, unable to see past art supplies and textbooks she had bundled in her arms. It was almost like the moment was plucked out of a movie - he had apologised, helping her gather everything back up before locking his forest green eyes with hers and smiling softly. They’d exchanged names and she had indulged in quiet little daydreams periodically, waving at each other in the halls every now and again. Then all of a sudden they were seeing each other regularly - Feyre often walked dogs as a side gig to try and save more money for her college fund as well as any art supplies she may need, only to find that one of her regular dogs belonged to Tamlin Greenbriar’s family. Little Andras was always more bark than bite, but he brought the two of them closer. It wasn’t long until he had asked her out on a date, leading to something more all quite quickly. It was a bit of a whirlwind, but didn’t every girl deserve to get swept up like that at least once? He cared for her and made sweet promises and made her feel like she didn’t have to worry so much about the future. He could be a bit pushy at times, especially when it came to keeping up appearances, but relationships were all about compromise. If this was one she had to make, then so be it.

Rhys never took kindly to him, though. Her other friends were also a little terse around him, but they all did their best to respect her decision. It meant a lot to Feyre that they were willing to try - Nesta had blatantly told her that he was “white boy privilege personified” and Elain had stayed disturbingly neutral and placid about him, which was never a good sign about how she felt.

But despite it all,, she was determined to make it work - he was a nice guy and she deserved to be cared for. So she kept a smile on her face, saying her hellos and sticking by his side. Eventually, he brought them back inside, the two of them taking a few shots of somebody’s Fireball they’d managed to sneak out before making their way closer to the speakers to dance. Flashing LED lights had been set up, creating a moody atmosphere as they moved in time to the music. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers tangling with his long golden hair as his hands moved down to her waist. Their brows were almost pressed together, a smile on her face and a slightly dark look in Tamlin’s eyes.

“You look gorgeous, Feyre.” he said to her, keeping his voice as low as he could while still trying to speak over the music.

“Speak for yourself.”

She could almost get lost in the rhythm, were it not for the fact that her feet were starting to kill her. Feyre tried to push it to the back of her mind in favour of Tamlin’s hands slowly but surely creeping their way down over her ass, but after a few songs she couldn’t ignore the sensation any longer. Feyre moved her arms away from his neck, trying to gently pry his hands away.

“Tamlin, I gotta go sit down for a minute, these heels are starting to hurt.” His grip only got tighter - he was quite a few drinks deep and was sometimes stubborn when it came to getting what he wanted in a state like this.

“C’mon Feyre, not even another song? You’re so hot when you’re all dressed up like this.” He pressed closer, his half-hard length pushed against her thigh. Her lip curled slightly - she never liked having sex with Tamlin when he was drunk, and tonight was no exception. That wasn’t even accounting for the fact that it wasn’t their house to have sex in to begin with.

She pushed his hands off more firmly, stepping out of the crowd with a pleading expression on her face. “I’m just gonna sit down for a little bit and then I’ll be back, promise.”

He grunted at her in mild annoyance, sauntering off deeper into the crowd to keep dancing. God, why had she even worn heels to a fucking house party in the first place? They made her legs and ass look nice, sure, but she wasn’t exactly out to impress anybody tonight. Except for maybe Tamlin, but at least that made sense, they were a couple. With small steps she made her way toward the stairwell that led to the second floor, sitting herself down on them with a small sigh. Almost as soon as she had sat down her heels were off, bringing a foot up onto her knee before she began to rub small circles into it with her thumbs. She felt so out of place here. The people at this party weren’t her people, and when everyone else left for college in a few months she’d be almost entirely alone.

“Hey, you okay?” Rhys’ head poked around the corner, padding his way over with nothing but concern all over his face. It was a welcome distraction from the slant of her thoughts and anxiety.

“I’m alright, just, y’know. Choices,” Feyre gestured at her discarded heels next to her. “Consequences.” A light chuckle left her as she nodded back down at her feet, Rhys giving her a small smile back as he came to sit next to her on the stairs.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I did notice that you’d definitely made one hell of a choice with the shoes tonight, yeah. I saw you hobble your way over here from where everyone was dancing.”

“Oh god, was it that bad?” Feyre groaned a little, Rhysand nodding with a chuckle. Her head was in her hands with a whine, her palms pressed lightly against her eyes.

All of a sudden Rhys dragged her feet into his lap, replacing where her own hands had been rubbing small circles into the tender aches of the balls of her feet. Feyre looked back up at him, eyebrows raised with a small look of surprise on her face.

“A bit much, isn’t it, Rhys?”

“What? You're my best friend, you're in pain, I'm trying to help out. We can get you a pair of my slides or something after, just five minutes.” He responded, looking sheepishly at her like it wasn’t at least a little bit odd to have your best friend give you an impromptu foot massage at his massive rager. Feyre snorted slightly to herself.

“Rhysand Sterling, owning a pair of slides - never thought I’d see the day where you chose comfort over style.”

“Hey, I don’t go around croc-shaming you. Not another word.” Rhys lightly pinched the top of her foot, switching to the other foot while the two of them chuckled together as she leaned back against the wall and let him do his thing. Some people might view the two of them as codependent and a little weird, but with how much the two of them had gone through together, she wouldn’t change whatever they had for the world. She let her eyes shut for a moment, letting her mind wander in the haze of a few drinks, the music, and the relief Rhys’ ministrations were providing her. After what felt like only a mere few moments, he gave her leg a light tap, gently moving her feet off of his lap before slowly rising to his feet.

“Well, Miss Archeron, a very fashionable pair of slides awaits.” Rhys joked, gesturing up the stairs with a grin. She flashed a matching smirk, though it turned to a slight grimace as she got up on aching feet again.

“Oh no, please sir, it’s your house. How could I deny you such an opportunity to play host?”

Rhys gasped dramatically, one hand at his chest while the other went to his cheek. “My goodness, and here I thought chivalry was dead!” He hiked up his imaginary skirts as he began to head up the stairs, Feyre following after him. His raven black curls bounced as he eagerly climbed the stairs, Feyre trailing sluggishly behind in comparison, but he made sure to wait at the top of the staircase anyway with a hand extended to help her out. He was always nicer than he had any need to be to her, and it never went unappreciated by Feyre.

The music was much more muffled up on the second floor, thrumming consistently as they made their way down the hallway to Rhys’ room - it always felt much more cosy compared to the rest of his house. While it was still simple and meticulously organised, it contained signs of passion and interest and living. A cushy double bed pushed up in the corner opposite the door, a bedside table with his glasses, a well-worn candle and a lamp right next to it and a low dresser not too far from that.The wall next to the door had a low cabinet with all of his consoles and games in it, a TV perched on top and some small art pieces Feyre had done over the years framed neatly on the walls. Rhys’ room also had a window overlooking the backyard, his desk underneath it with a small bookcase slotted on one side with a wardrobe on the other. A few bean-bag chairs were in the middle of the room, a staple for whenever he and Feyre decided to beat the shit out of each other in whatever game took their fancy that week. This was the place that felt like home to her, and Feyre didn’t think twice about sitting herself down on the end of the bed while Rhys rummaged around in his wardrobe.

Feyre watched him keenly - he always presented himself as relatively at ease to the world, but it was these quiet moments away from everybody else that he actually felt at ease. She often shared the sentiment, usually preferring solitude if Rhys wasn’t around - or, these days, Tamlin either. Feyre had always had to work and push and keep on fighting uphill battle after uphill battle - providing the family with a second income when her father had gotten fired from his job and had to take up something that brought in pennies in comparison. Making sure the house stayed clean and that someone went to the grocery store that week. Keeping on top of her studies and trying to save whatever she could for college. It felt like that burden was only going to get heavier with all of her friends going off to college themselves in a mere few months - sure, she was kind of friends with Clare Beddor and Briar Bell. More like acquaintances, if anything.

But these little moments? All of it fell away.

“Hey, do you still climb up onto your roof sometimes?” The words spilled from Feyre’s mouth before she could think them over too heavily.

“Not really, especially since you know how my dad can get. Why, what are you thinking?” Rhys had moved from rummaging in the bottom of his wardrobe to under his bed, one slide already thrown haphazardly near his dresser as he searched for the other.

“I’m thinking that you should come on up!” She chirped, heels abandoned on the floor as she strode over to his desk. Feyre reached over to open the window and start climbing out, swearing she heard Rhys mumbling to himself something about her being insane, but she didn’t care - she simply turned back, flashing him a wild smile before beginning to climb through. Soon enough, she had walked precariously over the rough shingles to situate herself squarely in the middle of the roof, facing the backyard full of teenagers with her knees brought up in front of her. Feyre could hear Rhys beginning to clamber up onto the roof after her like clockwork, much more confident in his steps as he came to sit beside her. A beat of silence hung between them for a moment, enjoying watching everyone in his backyard make merry from a distance. Rhys broke the silence first.

“Thanks for giving me an excuse to stop playing host for a little while.” He bumped his shoulder lightly with hers, glancing at Feyre with a soft expression.

“Don’t worry about it. I figured if I was having a hard time down there with everybody, you’d be in the same boat. Besides, you know I like being able to spend some quality time with you. While we can, anyway.” That last sentence had come out a little more melancholy than she intended, wincing slightly at her own idiocy before looking up at the sky. It was easier than looking at Rhys right now - he already felt bad that he was going to a university that was out of town, she didn’t want to make him feel guilty for doing what was best for his future.

“You know I’m still gonna visit, right? And we still have each other’s numbers, we can still talk everyday.”

“Yeah, but you and I both know that it’s not the same. Besides, we’re both gonna be so busy busting our asses. I know this year hasn’t exactly been as breezy as you make it out to be to everybody else, and your dad expects so much of you. If I don’t double down on what I’m doing now I won’t get a scholarship, which would mean no college for me at all.”

“I could alwa-”

“Rhysand, I know what you’re about to say, and I can’t let you or your dad hand me this on a platter. If it was from you, I’d want to pay you back, and if you pestered your dad enough about it then we’d both be on the hook. I can do this. It’s just… hard.”

Feyre huffed slightly, readjusting so she was laying back on the roof to stare up at the night sky, trying to recall some of the constellations Rhys had told her about over the years. No matter how hard she tried, it didn’t take her mind off of the words on the tip of her tongue.

“I just wish I could deal with you guys leaving better. I mean, of course I want you all to succeed and do great things. I know none of you can do that if you stay in one place the whole time. But I’m barely friends with anybody else in school. I don’t even know how often I’ll get to see you, let alone anybody else, having to split my time between school and work and seeing Tamlin…”

Feyre could have sworn she saw a twinge of annoyance flicker across Rhys face as she glanced over at him, shifting onto his back as well. “Rhys, I know you’re not his biggest fan.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I just think that making you trek all the way over there to meet him every few weekends is selfish when he knows all that you’ve got going on. Like, we’re going to the same college, I know how long it takes to get there from here. And we both know he’s not going to be happy if you try to see me while you’re there. It’s not exactly fair.” His words were clipped - conversations with Rhys about Tamlin were always respectful, but loaded with tension and annoyance simmering just beneath the surface of his carefully schooled expression.

“I get that, but I’ve got a much lighter workload compared to what he’ll have and it won’t be every weekend, so you and I can figure something out. Tamlin and I are gonna make it work.”

“Just… Remember he’s gotta meet you at least halfway sometimes, alright? You give a lot of yourself to him. Make sure to keep at least a little just for you.” Rhys sighed, meeting Feyre’s gaze with a sympathetic smile and a quiet sigh. He reached out a hand between them and Feyre simply smiled back before taking it, returning her gaze to the stars above. She could feel the tears she’d been holding back about the whole situation begin to prick at the edges of her eyes, grateful that she didn’t have to worry about anybody at the party seeing her cry as they rolled down her cheeks.

“I’m just gonna miss my friends. All this change is just really scary and I don’t know how I’m gonna deal, y’know? Even if it’s not the end of the world, you’re all so important to me. Especially you.” She punctuated her words with a slight squeeze, Rhys giving one back in kind.

“Feyre, you’re probably the strongest, smartest and most brave person I’ve ever met. If anyone’s going to be able to get through this, it’s you. You could do anything if you wanted to.”

“Thanks, Rhys. I love you a lot, even if you’re a prick.” Feyre laughed, something in her heart easing and unfurling a little as she said the words. He was her best friend and he always knew exactly what she needed to hear, when she needed it. Rhys always knew when something was wrong and was as loyal as they came. Of course she loved him. So why did it feel a little bit like there was a weight in her chest as she waited for him to respond?

“Don’t let Tamlin hear you say that,” Rhys responded with his signature shit-eating grin on his face, though there was something not quite right behind his eyes. “Lest he think that I’m out to steal you away or something.”

Feyre knew not to push - Rhys would tell her what was going on when he was ready, so instead she simply smacked his shoulder, sitting back up to glance out over the backyard once more. As she looked out over the crowd, she found her attention was caught by none other than Tamlin, dazedly stumbling through people and looking around in confusion. That was her cue.

“Shit, he’s looking for me. I gotta get back down there, I should drive him home. I had a feeling I’d be designated driver tonight.”

“Well then, we shouldn’t keep him waiting.” Rhys carefully got to his feet before extending his hand down to Feyre, helping her up before they both made their way back through Rhys’ bedroom window. Once they were back in, he handed her his slides with a smile.

“Go on, you’d be better off to head down there without me. He’s already not friendly with me when he’s sober, I wouldn’t want to make him grumpy for the trip back.”

“...Thanks, Rhys. I’ll text you when I’m home, okay?”

“You better. And the others, too.”

Feyre dropped the slides to the ground, slipping into them without a second thought before giving Rhys a quick hug. Then, before her boyfriend could cause any drunken chaos, she scurried down the stairs to find him.

The drive back to Tamlin’s house was quiet with him half-conscious in the passenger seat, Feyre playing the conversation she had with Rhys in her head over and over. Even as she parked the car and guided Tamlin inside only to find her way back out again to drive her own car home, it was all that occupied her mind. Something between Feyre and Rhys was shifting, wasn’t quite solid like it once was, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Whatever it was, she kept reminding herself that it would be okay. It was Feyre and Rhys against the world, always. But things always changed over time, so maybe that was just what it was - the two of them changing as people, but still growing together?

Whatever it was, she knew it was going to be alright. It was going to be alright because it had to be.

It had to.

#feysand #rhysand x feyre archeron #fanfiction #rhysand #feyre archeron #acotar #acotar fanfiction #friends to lovers

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nightcourtreader · 1 year ago

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Day by day I’m solidified in my belief that Azriel’s & Gwyn’s book is next rather than it being Elain and Lucien’s. I just think in my opinion it makes more sense that elucien will be last. Though I could still be wrong. 🤷🏽‍♀️ I would like to to be known this is long and everything stated are MY opinions.

SJM said it’s obvious who the next book is about after the readers read acosf. Azriel was a prominent figure in acosf. Way more than Elain was and that was shocking to me. Based off how nesta & Elain’s relationship was in the earlier books.

Yes Elain did get character development a little bit in acosf but she still wasn’t a prominent figure, she was once again pushed to the background. And I get that because it was nesta’s story but we still got so much more of feysand, Azriel, emrie, Gwyn, and even eris over Elain.

In a recent interview, I think it was the one last year. A girl asked SJM about having Elain and Azriel’s book being next, I forgot the form of the question. But I just remember SJM saying that “we will get Elain in some form.” That doesn’t sound like the next MC to me. And she didn’t even mention nothing about Azriel at all. SJM is known not to say too much about her books and spoil them. The way she was answering questions in this recent interview in September, she doesn’t like to spoil anything. So for her to say you will get Elain in some form and not say you will get Elain AND Azriel in some form and she just didn’t mention Azriel at all makes me just believe that it’s Azriel that’s going to be next and they’re def not getting a book together.

Ive seen so many people say “why would SJM give Azriel a book over Elain. She wouldn’t do that.” But how would we know that? Chaol got a book in the middle of the TOG series over everyone other characters, why can’t Azriel? It’s already a proven fact that the series is not just about the Archeon sisters since SJM has 2 more books planned about a couple coming together and there’s only 1 Archeon sister left. No matter how hard people try to argue with that fact. She mentioned how Azriel’s story is something she’s excited about writing and not just about his bed habits. So why is it far fetched he will get a book next? I also like the idea of having the series start with an Archeon sister and ending with one.

Then the bonus chapters. Azriel got one. He’s also a part of a second one for hofas. I saw an argument that well Cassian got a bonus chapter for acomaf and he didn’t get a book until acosf (or part of one). I think SJM did it like that because she wasn’t done with feysand’s story. It wouldn’t make sense to give Cassian/nesta a book when she wasn’t done writing feysand’s story in my opinion. Plus the first 3 books with Feyre pov was already planned before having a sisters book spin off.

I also think acofas was a perfect book to connect the series to Cassian’s pov & nesta’s pov to get the readers away from feysand’s pov. And her bonus chapter for Azriel is also a good example of that too. She wouldn’t put so much emphasis on Azriel’s bonus chapter for no reason in her interviews. Now that feysand’s & nessians story has been told, it makes more sense to have the next mc have a bonus chapter so we can get inside of the next MC’s head like we did with Cassian & nesta.

And I do get the fact that there are so many plot points that are unresolved in acowar, especially with koschei, but to me koschei is a last book level threat like how Maeve and erawan were in TOG. The two caused problems throughout the series but they weren’t defeated until the very last book of the series. That’s a pattern of SJM. In acowar (feysand’s last full novel) hybern was defeated. I already mentioned TOG. In Crescent city 3, I think she’ll have Bryce and Hunt defeat the asteri and hofas is the last book for Bryce & hunt’s story. To me that makes sense plot wise. Elain and Lucien are the only ones connected to koschei from the main characters that’s left.

Plus koschei was using braillyn to do his dirty work for him because he can’t leave his lake. I’m pretty sure he has tricks up his sleeve because I secretly think he and Merrill are working together since he whispers on the wind and she can listen to whispers on the wind (and that connects her to Gwyn. Especially since Merrill is suppose to be clotho’s right hand & Clotho appeared at the end of Azriel bonus chapter) But koschei’s back to square 1. I don’t think he poses a great risk at the moment. He needs to regroup and do another plan.

I know everybody wants the spring court to be back up and running and it needs to be back up and running before the next major war happens. SJM has brought it up too much for it not to happen and for it not to be important. But to me spring isn’t really the pressing matter, the autumn court is because of Beron trying to align with koschei like an idiot.

After the night court, the autumn court was the second most talked about court in acosf, then spring was the third. I understand that we have plots from acowar but we also can’t forget to acknowledge the plots that happen in acosf. We also got to see more of eris. I know Lucien has ties to the autumn court but he literally doesn’t fuck with anyone in the autumn court besides his mom and I don’t think he even sees her at all. Lucien calls eris a snake so Lucien isn’t on good terms with them so I really don’t connect him to autumn as much.

And until Beron is out the door, which I’m hoping that happens next book and we get eris as high lord, the autumn court is not going to be in good hands. And I really think Gwyn has autumn court ties to explore 👀. I’m a firm believer she has no spring court ties what so ever and she’s just connected to autumn.

And SJM tends to have her characters hit rock bottom in the acotar series or like them having an emotional conflict. When nesta had her book, since she was the prominent figure in acosf, it’s obvious that she hit rock bottom before acosf came out. She isolated herself. She drunk all the time and slept with men to keep her powers at bay. I don’t think we’ve really seen Elain hit rock bottom yet or have a prominent emotional conflict. Like it’s obvious Elain is suffering in silence just like her sister were, Im 100% certain Elain isn’t 100% happy, but to me shes a lot more chipper than her sisters were at the start of her journey from what we’ve seen.

At the end of acowar she was like happy and was like the world is going to need more gardens and she was looking bright for the future, and I didn’t expect that since what all happen in acowar. She’s snapping back at her sisters in acosf. Trying to advocate for herself as well. With Feyre we see in the beginning of acomaf she was depressed, not eating well, not really regulating her emotions well. We see how nesta was, I know Elain already went through that phase in acowar. But I’m just not 100% convinced that Elain is ready for her own journey just yet.

Now we see with Azriel, he’s just all over the place. To me he’s definitely having emotional conflict when it comes to the mating bond. Trying to ignore the whole thing about Mor knowing that needs to be addressed. Questioning if the cauldron got it wrong. The whole thing with Elain. Him wanting a mating bond. To me Azriel has hit rock bottom emotionally as well. A little different from both nesta and Feyre but to me all the same. Especially seeing now how his bothers has a known mating bond besides him. Romantically, since acotar is more romantically driven than plot driven it makes sense for him to be next. Especially with the plot with the Illyrians, which I think has been a long time coming as well.

Then just imagine Elain seeing that? Everybody else with their mating bonds & happy. How would that make her feel, I think it would make her hit rock botton and have that emotional conflict especially with the whole choice thing and her being stubborn, but we still don’t know because we haven’t gotten her pov but guess whose pov we do have and know who’s struggling? Azriel.

And no I don’t get the argument that Elain hasn’t gotten a bonus chapter because her visions will spoil it. Doesn’t make sense to me because SJM can write it without Elain having visions in the middle of it but still get her insight. Elain also said she needed time to ge reacquainted with her powers in acosf, so it’s not 100% certain she’s still getting visions anyway. No one can confirm or deny because we haven’t seen Elain really and no one has been around her enough to notice since everyone’s focus was on feysand & nessian.

I personally don’t think there’s a valid excuse as to why SJM didn’t give Elain a bonus chapter over Azriel. If people would question why would SJM give Azriel a book over Elain we need to question why she gave him a bonus chapter over Elain.

#gwynriel #acosf #elucien #elain archeron #gwyneth berdara #azriel bonus chapter #azriel shadowsinger #pro gwynriel

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shedoessoshedoes · 4 months ago

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Casual

my hand slipped. inspired by this post i made :)

read on ao3

wc:2k

It was past midnight by the time Cassian slipped away to stumble up the stairs to the karaoke stage. No one had sung yet tonight–everyone who usually did was very drunk and it usually took until about then for some brave soul to pour their heart out via an ABBA track to the entire bar. He didn’t mind. He would break the ice. Soon, everyone would want to sing along, too.

He swipes through the tracks, heading immediately past his typical go-tos. Tonight was not a night for “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” Tonight was a night for–a-ha. He hiccuped as he queued the song and got into position, and wiped angrily at a tear he could feel beginning to form. She would come back, he told himself. She was just scared. And besides, a situationship did not deserve this kind of emotion. Even if it had been with the most beautiful, intelligent, perfect woman he had ever met. Even if he thought that Nesta Archeron loved–he cut himself off.

“No!” he said out loud into the microphone, but before anyone could react, his song was starting, and there was nothing left to do but sing.

At a table in the back corner, Feyre, Elain, Rhys, and Azriel were just realizing that they were missing someone. Rhys kept insisting Cassian probably just went to get more drinks. Feyre didn’t agree.

“You know how he is when he’s drunk, Rhys! What does he do? He doesn’t drink more, I’ll tell you that much. What does he do?”

“He talks about Nesta,” Rhys replied, mumbling into his drink.

“Exactly!” she shot back, hands flying up in the air. “And why are Elain and I here instead of with Nesta and Gwyn and Emerie right now?”

“Because Nesta knew that he would be sad and that you would keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t cry himself to death.”

“And what will she do if she finds out we lost him because we were making out?” Feyre asked.

Rhys sighed. “She’ll chop my dick off and then kill me. But why weren’t you two watching him?” he turns to Elain and Azriel.

Elain squeaked as Azriel’s hand disappeared underneath the table. “We were in the bathroom,” he replied smoothly. “Cassian told us he’d wait right here.”

“Well obviously that was a lie!” Feyre squawked. “Nesta just started trusting me again, and if we lose him–everyone split up! We can all check the bar and if he’s not here then–”

“Feyre,” Elain cut in. “I think I found him.” She nodded up to the stage and Rhys’s mouth dropped open. Cassian appeared to be fighting back tears, and a melancholy introduction began to echo through the bar.

“Oh my God, he’s singing a breakup song,” he yelped and jumped up, pulling Azriel with him. “Come on, Azzy! Someone needs to record this blackmail.”

Azriel turned pleading eyes on the girls, but was dragged away before they could do anything to help.

Elain leaned over so Feyre could hear her over the noise of the surrounding tables. “Do you think it’s odd that Nesta is so worried about Cassian’s feelings that she sent us to take care of him instead of having us stay with her? Or that she needs a girl’s night after a situationship break-up with someone that she claims she has never had any sort of feelings for?”

Feyre shrugged. “I think she still doesn’t trust that I won’t repeat everything she says back to Rhys,” she said, an edge cutting into her voice.

Elain hummed in response, and leaned back in her seat before jerking up abruptly. “Is he–is this Casual?”

“No way.”

“I really think it is.”

“Call Nesta. Now we know for sure he’s in love with her.”

“Is she in love with him?”

“Feyre. Call. Her.”

Sure enough, on stage, Cassian was launching into his first verse. “And you said, sweetheart, no attachment,” he sings, more than a little off-key and with the wrong words. He hiccups. “But we’re knee-deep in the passenger seat, and you’re eating me out, so is it casual now? Huh? Is it? Two weeks and your mom invites me–”

Azriel climbed up on stage and whispered into his ear. “Fuck, Az, no, I’m not going home! I’m singing! If it’s casual, it’s casual now.”

Fully crying, Cassian continued. Rhys’s flash was on now, and he was sure this was the best video he’d ever taken of his brother.

“...maybe we’d have an apartment and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier. I know, baby, no attachment,” Cassian sobbed, and the bar sang along. “But we’re knee deep in the passenger seat…”

At the table, Feyre and Elain had managed to get ahold of Nesta via Emerie and Gwyn. “Listen!” Feyre exclaimed to the three of them. “He is crying on the karaoke stage! Would any man do that for someone he didn’t love?” They can hear murmuring in the background, Nesta talking to her friends, and then a door click shut.

Gwyn comes back towards the speaker of the phone. “I think she’s scared,” she said quietly. “I know she said she didn’t feel anything towards him, but she’s been crying all night. I think he was getting so important to her that she wanted to protect herself.” Emerie voiced her agreement.

“She’s never had anyone to take care of her,” Elain replied. “Everyone who was supposed to didn’t. Just…tell her we love her and that we don’t think Cassian will ever hurt her like our parents did–like Feyre and I have.”

Emerie spoke next. “For what it’s worth, I think she loves him too. We’ll talk to her.”

They said their goodbyes, and turned back towards the stage of the bar, where Azriel was now trying to physically remove Cassian from the stage and Rhys had turned on his phone light to wave back and forth. A few other tables had followed suit.

“It’s hard being casual when my favorite bra is in your dresser, and it’s hard being casual when I’m on the phone talking down your sister,” at this, Cassian knelt down on the stage and put the microphone down, burying his face in his hands. The rest of the bar continued singing for him. Feyre glanced over at Elain, most likely thinking of the time three months ago when Cassian had, in fact, talked Nesta’s sister down as Feyre had spiraled.

The song began its outro and Cassian took a deep breath, gathered himself, and stood back up. “Fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner, your parents at the table, you wonder why I’m bitter.” He stopped to visibly gulp back more tears. “I hate that I let this drag on so long, and I hate myself.” Each word was punctuated with a sob. He finished the song and collapsed into Azriel’s arms, burying his face into Az’s neck. Rhys hopped up onstage and the two brothers half-carried Cassian back to the table and the girls. Cassian slumped back in his seat.

“Do you want to go home, Cass?” Feyre asked gently. “Any one of us would be happy to take you.”

He shook his head petulantly. “I’m not going home without Nes.”

Rhys sighed. “Cassian, I don’t think she’s coming tonight.”

“Well, she’s not the love of your life, now is she, Rhysie? I’m telling you, she’s coming to get me as we speak. My song will convince her that I love her and that I’m so sad.” Cassian’s words were slurring together, and with that, he dropped his head to rest on his arms on the table.

The other three looked at each other. “Did you convince her to come?” Azriel whispered. The girls shook their heads.

“We’ll just wait until he’s really asleep and then we’ll get him in an Uber before he can realize he’s going home,” Feyre decided.

Another thirty minutes passed. Rhys got them more drinks. The time inched closer to two. They were about to call it good and drag Cassian home when someone spoke from behind them.

“Please tell me he isn’t dead.” Nesta said, deadpan, as she walked to Cassian’s side, laying cool fingers on the side of his face, as the rest of the table gaped at her.

“Nesta!” Elain greeted her. “I’m so glad you came.”

Cassian was beginning to wake up, and shifted so one eye was open. When he saw Nesta, he got up so fast he fell back down. “Nes!” he said, far too loudly. “You’re here! See, everyone?” He turned to his friends. “She’s here!” He looked back at Nesta, and very seriously took her face in his hands. “Nes, I told them you were coming, even though you tried to break up with me and I was so sad, and no one believed me, but look! You’re here! That is some soulmate shit right there, sweetheart, how else would I have known you were coming? But I was so sad, so I had maybe a little too much to drink.” At this, he tried to show her how much he’d drunk, pinching his fingers together clumsily. “Which I shouldn’t have done because I should have trusted the power of our love. I’m so sorry Nesta, will you please, please forgive me?”

A smile ghosted over Nesta’s face. “We can talk about it later. Do you want to come home?”

“Yes!” he shouted, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “But really, I’m already home, because you’re my home, silly.”

Nesta mouthed a goodbye over her shoulder and began to lead Cassian to the door. “Which is why I was so sad when you said we couldn’t date anymore–”

“To be clear, Cassian, we weren’t dating,” Nesta said, but Cassian waved her off.

“That’s what you thought, sweetheart. But I knew what was really going on!”

“And what was that?”

“You were falling in love with me. But then you got scared. That’s why I was so sad. I don’t want you to be scared about loving me.”

“Do you know you sang a song about how sad you were?”

He nodded solemnly. “I thought it would let you know how serious my love is.”

Nesta laughed. “Well, it certainly did that.”

Cassian gasped then, as though realizing something. “You said we’re going home, Nes. Does that mean you’re asking me to live with you?”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he responded dreamily. “I’m so happy I don’t have to be mad at you anymore. It was so hard.”

Nesta laughed again, and Cassian smiled so widely his face could have split in half.

She drove them back to her apartment, and Cassian promptly walked over to the bed, flopped down, and fell asleep. Nesta went through her nightly routine quickly before wrestling a half-asleep Cassian into bed and climbing in next to him. He pulled her into his body and mumbled something that Nesta thought was supposed to be an ‘I love you.’ She pushed that familiar wave of fear down.

She’d talked with Gwyn and Emerie for a long time that night, and she’d decided that she was going to take her therapist’s advice and trust that Cassian would be waiting for her when she’d admitted that she’d fallen. Their no-strings-attached arrangement had been all her idea, and she had been terrified earlier that afternoon when she’d tried to break up with him. He’d become so important, and that scared her, but Cassian, she thought, was better than letting the fear get the best of her. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, curled into him, and fell asleep.

Cassian woke up to a pounding headache and flashes of the night before running through his mind. Nesta trying to break up with him, the trip to the bar, singing, Nesta coming to get him, him confessing his love–wait. He pushed up onto an elbow, and sure enough, there was Nesta, asleep beside him. A broken sound pushed itself out of his throat and she opened her eyes as it did.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice breaking. “You’re here.” He presses kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, down her neck, across her ears, everywhere he can reach. “I love you.”

“I know,” she whispered, face buried into his neck. “You sang a song to the whole bar about how sad you were.”

He groaned, rolling off of her. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

She shook her head. “But it did convince me that you really were serious about this. That you weren’t telling me that you wanted to date me just to break up with me”

“I’m more serious than a heart attack, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, then you’ll be glad to hear that I love you, too.”

Cassian smiled, crushing Nesta in a hug and pressing her into the mattress. He kissed her, and they whispered love yous into each other’s mouths, and it was everything either of them could have ever dreamed of.

#nessian #acotar #nesta archeron #cassian #I just needed to make this so here u go I'll format her tomorrow

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anavixxx · 6 months ago

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Elriel month, new beginnings:

'first I love you.'

Elain looked up at Azriel, who was lying on a king size bed right next to her, with her sleepy brown eyes.

He smiled at her for what happened to be one second after he saw tears in her doe eyes. His smile fell from his face as he cradled his scarred palms into her light-brown hair, shadows shivering around their naked forms. Azriel stroked her head with his thumbs as he asked, “Is something wrong?”

Elain said nothing. Azriel thought how she was always quiet like this three years ago, when she had been turned into High-Fae.

Very quiet, very calm, very small, so fragile, so very sad looking… just like now. Except, now she was in his arms and she shouldn’t be, he remembered.

His eyes was suddenly sad too. Elain moved her one delicate hand from his chest to his silky hair. Shadows vanished from his face at the movement. Azriel had longer hair than normally and it wasn’t because he wanted, but he didn’t have time for himself. He worked hard, because if he wasn’t he’d think of Elain and how her mate keep courting her.. or worse. He’d get her and run away. On the continent, where she wants to go. He’d go with her, he promised. And when he wasn’t working he was sneaking with her, behind his brothers and her sister’s backs, behind everyone’s backs. It wasn’t fair. He wanted to give her everything. And he would, he promised again.

She moved strand of his black hair behind his right ear. Azriel started stroking Elain’s cheek in his large palm. There’re tears rolling down. She was crying quietly and he wondered if it was because she used to cried herself out loud to sleep before, that she now didn’t have enough strength to do so - crying loud.

Elain’s palm remained on his ear. Her pale fingertips tracing shape of his rounded ear. So opposite of her pointed ones and on the other hand exactly the same as people have.

Och, my Elain..

Azriel thought. He knew now.

She was touching his ear so gently he couldn’t tell if it was her or gentle breeze which were sneaking in through open windows, through which he crept in.

He opened his mouth to apologise. He didn’t even know why he wanted to, but he felt shattered. He wanted her to be happy here. Happy like her sisters.

But he stopped himself as Elain spoke, “I miss it.. sometimes,” she smiled sadly. He didn’t said anything. He knew she meant her life as a mortal woman.

“We lived poorly in our shack. Our father wasn’t exactly the best father, but he was our father. I think I was happy, I had everything I wanted.. selfishly. Garden, Nesta’s love, Feyre’s money, new clothes.. Nesta wasn’t suffering that much, I thought, because our mother was dead,” Elain snorted, still caressing Azriel’s ear.

Azriel’s shadows now loomed from behind his massive batwings. He felt them rustling. Listening carefully.

“Then we got estate from Tamlin. I organised balls, I had some new clothes, bigger garden even, fiancé.. We forgot about my little sister except Nesta.”

sorrowful.. melodic voice is sorrowful..

Shadows whispered through Elain’s fingers to his right ear. They’re dancing with her fingertips now. As if they wanted to comfort her, soothe her.

She continued, “I didn’t feel ashamed for the first time in my life, because I didn’t remember Feyre, what she went through thanks to us. About what I was thinking plenty back in our poor shack," Azriel was listening carefully with hazel eyes, more yellow than green tonight, big as a bumblebees which were visiting Elain’s garden.

“What I want to say is, I think it was the happiest time in my life, in that estate,” she whispered, tears didn’t stop rolling.

Azriel felt jealousy, anger, confusion, sadness. Because, he wanted to be the centre of happiest point in her life, because…she was his.

“I don’t want you to feel stressed about us. I know we’re both suffering. I’ll wait Azriel. Oh, mother, I want to wait for our happily ever after. I believe in it. I think.. I’d life the happiest life then," she moved closer to him and Azriel started sobbing.

Shadows shrouded them both. Caressing their faces, dancing across Elain’s pale cheeks and chest. soothed Azriel with gentle whispers.

Elain smiled at Azriel, her big dreamy eyes flickering with something.. She cupped his rounded ear. As she was leaving her past. Closing her old self. "I love you, Azriel." She whispered to him. Azriel closed his wet eyes and took a deep breath, before he opened them again.

"You’re the happiest point of my entire existence Elain, I’m so in love with you," she batted her long eyelashes at him and then she kissed him fiercely.

The End.

#elriel #elriel month #acotar #azriel elain #pro elain #elriel smut #azriel #elain archeron #Spotify

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offtorivendell · 1 year ago

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Some Friendly Teasing...

🌸 Elain Archeron Week 2023, Day 2 - Sister and Friend

This headcanon/theory is based on a few things:

This brilliant crack theory by @wingedblooms, and the subsequent thoughts reblogged by @ladynightcourt3, which posit that Elain may have shifting powers, and have taken the form of Balthazar in ACOSF's Blood Rite (the OP), as well as the priestess Ananke during Valkyrie training (the reblogs).

This corresponding crack theory by @psychologynerd, which hypothesises that Nuala and Cerridwen may be Roslin and Dierdre, two of the other training priestesses who are frequently seen with Ananke.

I highly recommend reading both theories by these supremely lovely and talented people, they make a lot of sense! But let's go...

Azriel’s presence helped. He now trained the newest recruits, quiet and gentle yet unfaltering, and if she didn’t know better, she’d swear at least two of the priestesses—Roslin and Ilana—sighed every time he walked past. - ACOSF, chapter 40

I can't think of anything more appropriate for a trio of besties than for two of them to tease the third - lightheartedly, of course - when they discover a crush. Now I know the names Roslin and Ilana don't match up exactly with Roslin and Dierdre, but this could be explained by one of a few things:

The wraiths don't always wear the same bodies, and at this point they were Roslin and Ilana.

Only one of the twins, as Roslin, was teasing Elain at this time, and Ilana just has good taste.

Ilana, which means "torch, beautiful, light, bright, shining," is Elain (or she was on this day, instead of Ananke).

In the beginning, Elain thinks she's slick, asking for information about Azriel, like his favourite foods, or whether he has any aversions. Nuala and Cerridwen see through her falsely casual interrogation in an instant. But hey, we all have to start somewhere.

I can just imagine the glee lighting up Nuala and Cerridwen's eyes when they realised for whom Elain was developing feelings. Their boss, of all people! Who they probably know well and have a fairly good relationship with after a few centuries of being his personally trained spies, so I anticipate Azriel will cop his fair share from them in an Elriel book, too.

Nuala may have suggested that Elain train as a way to improve her balance for stealthy walking (if she is Ananke then she was as bad as Nesta initially) and self defence, but she conveniently forgot to warn her that Azriel would be taking the other priestesses through their exercises, not Cassian.

Cue the silent snickers and not-so-subtle looks when his back is turned, and Elain's ever blushing face.

That's something she'll obviously have to work on, pipes in Cerridwen.

Elain doing her best to balance, planting her feet in the dirt, yet still toppling over, only for Cerridwen to accuse her of doing it intentionally when Az is looking the other way, saying that she just wanted Azriel's undivided attention.

And when Elain does finally begin to improve, Nuala will give her a teeny, tiny nudge, just to see if they can get her to falter.

And maybe blush some more. For spy training.

At which point Cerridwen will say, deadpan, that Elain may be great at keeping others' secrets, but she sure as shit wears her own on her face.

I am really and truly hopeful that we'll finally get to see the two spies who masquerade as Rhys' own handmaidens at home and abroad for who they really are, through the eyes of their good friend, Elain, rather than someone who doesn't know them well. I think they'll have a lot of fun together, and we'll also see them all open up about their pasts, and their hopes and dreams for the future.

@elainarcheronweek

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cauldronblssd · 9 months ago

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Found in the Sunlight

Chapter 3 is up!

Read on AO3

The plot has made its first appearance:

Lucien stumbled his way down the stairs of the river house, half-awake and half-dressed in trousers and a loosely buttoned shirt. He doubted strongly that his housemates would be much more composed, given the night’s festivities. He heard Nyx’s gurgle and a groan. Upon entering the dining room, he found Feyre desperately aiming a spoon at the babe’s mouth, who seemed determined not to accept it and utterly unaware of his mother’s mood.

“You too, huh?” he nodded in her direction before slumping in the seat next to her. Feyre nodded with a wince. “Are we the first ones up?”

“Nesta, Gwyn, Cass and Az are already back at the house of wind training with the Valkyries. They were up at sunrise”

“Cauldron boil me, do they ever take the day off?”

“With Cassian in charge? Never. He may be all fun and games here at the house, but he trains like the general.”

While Lucien and Feyre continued to melt into their seats, Elain marched into the room, as if making her own strategic battle decisions. She scanned across the room, assessing the situation, as her socked feet made as little noise as possible on the wood floors.

Elain quietly set a cup of tea in front of Feyre before waltzing into the parlor towards Mor. It was bold move, he thought. He certainly wouldn’t dare to wake the imposing female. He could just view her sprawled across the couch from his position in the adjacent room. She lay with one foot planted on the floor, her hair blonde hair sprawled out behind her, still in last night’s dress.

Elain bent slightly over her, placing one hand warmly on Mor’s arm, holding out the cup. “You'll feel better with some coffee and headache tonic.” Mor sighed in exasperation, opening one eye to glare at her. “I made fresh bread too, if you can make it to the dining table.”

Mor seemed slightly appeased at that and nodded before accepting her cup. Notably, she did not make an immediate move to get up. Elain squeezed her shoulder before returning to the dining room. The familiarity of the interaction surprised him, though he supposed it shouldn’t. Elain had lived in Velaris for years now, and had surely formed her own connections with members of the Night Court.

Elain paused as she entered the room, eyeing him with such calculating intensity he couldn't help but feel unsettled. It was too early to unravel the meaning in her gestures. She was the picture of domesticity in her dress and buttoned sweater, her cheeks flushed and her curls slightly disheveled. But something had sharpened in her eyes since he saw her last night. Apparently done scouring his face for clues, to what he didn’t know, Elain quickly moved back into the kitchen.

She carried back out two more cups as she said to Feyre, “There’s bread and jam in the kitchen, help yourself.” Lucien was certain if he were not there, she would have served the bread. The magic didn’t work like that, but he said nothing. Elain sat down next to her sister, across from Lucien. Without looking at him, she slid a cup of coffee across the table, keeping the other for herself. It was served the way he liked, with just a dash of cream. Whether that was intentional or just a good guess, he couldn’t say. Lucien couldn’t help but grip the handle of mug in the same place she touched it, feeling for any phantom warmth from her hands.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron

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captmickey · 2 years ago

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Cravin some plunderbunnies and a baby so.

“Rrgh. I dunno. Could we just sand down all of the sharp corners? Would that be possible?”

Elaine clicked her tongue, brushing her thumb along the sharp edge of the table.

Nothing seemed to be broken or damaged, from what she could gather… which was good, in her opinion. Of course, it’s not that she cared really, furniture can always be bought, repaired or simply thrown away. The only reason it mattered was because in the arms of her husband who was pacing back and forth, gently shushing and saying comforting words was the sobbing child who ran head first into the sharp table.

“So what’s the verdict?” Guybrush asked. “Guilty or innocent?”

“Well, innocent in that it did nothing but be here.” She stood up, brushing the dirt off her hands as she looked at the weeping child, gently pushing his blond bangs out to see the already forming bruise. “Even if it gave sweet little Lucas a bump.”

“Not his fault.”

She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Guybrush, he ran into the table.”

“Not his fault.” Guybrush said once more with further certainty.

“How so?”

“Because it had the audacity of being sharp.”

“We told him not to run.”

“He’s a kid, Elaine. And kids run all the time. You tell me you didn’t run around the house or mansion or what have you and didn’t run into something after being told not to.”

Elaine looked over at Lucas, seeing his cries quiet down slowly, small fingers playing slightly with Guybrush’s shirt. If there was something Guybrush had an absolute knack for, it was calming Lucas. Usually it was in the form of silly voices or stories, but this time it was acting as his lawyer if the way the two blonds looked at her was any indication.

She smirked and crossed her arms. Alright, she thought, if I must play the role of prosecutor, then so be it.

“Alright, I’ll concede to that, perhaps I did do that as a child.” Elaine chuckled. “However, suppose the table is guilty–”

“It is.” Lucas muttered under his breath, undoubtedly not knowing what guilty means just yet, but he gathered the clues with how Guybrush kept saying it.

“Right, suppose it is. What would you propose is the proper punishment?”

Guybrush pondered for a moment. “We could throw it out.”

“And where will we eat our meals, darling?”

“Okay, throwing out is not an option. Maybe we can chop it up into firewood?”

“Fire? On a ship? Are you mad?”

And now her husband frowned, brushing a hand through his hair and ruffling it into a mess. She knew he was trying to cheer up Lucas and she appreciated it, yet she couldn’t help but feel just slightly smug at winning her ‘case’.

“Rrgh. I dunno. Could we just sand down all of the sharp corners? Would that be possible?”

“Hmm… that might not be a bad idea, actually.” Elaine tapped a finger on her chin. “Would make things less pointy during the more ah, rougher moments at sea if we were to be here.”

“Wait, really? I was half-asssssssssuming that answer.”

“Nice save.”

“Thanks.”

Elaine chuckled and leaned forward, giving Guybrush a kiss on the cheek. “You have great ideas, Guybrush.”

“Not as great as yours, Laineykins.”

“Ugh.” Lucas groaned, burying his face into Guybrush’s neck. “Gross.”

The two giggled as Elaine once more brushed the hair off Lucas’s face, giving a small kiss on the bruise. “I take it you’re feeling better.”

“....yeah…”

“And what have we learned, kiddo?” Guybrush asked.

“No running when mommy and daddy say so.” Lucas admitted defeat, resting his head on Guybrush.

“Attaboy.” Guybrush shifted Lucas in his arms to be more comfortable. “Now let’s get that battle injury fixed up.”

“Will I get a cool scar?” Lucas asked, his eyes wide.

“‘Fraid not, kiddo.”

“Aw, darn.”

Elaine chuckled and looked at the table. It shouldn’t be too hard to sand out the corners, she figured.

#monkey island #mickey writes #the ship that literally sails itself #rtmi spoilers #Lucas is Boybrush by the way.... not canon but until I hear his canon name.... if he has one.... it's that

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wingedblooms · 9 months ago

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I love that you brought this up. When I was originally looking into the compass rose, I also learned that it is also called the rose of winds. This name made me think of two things that are described in terms of roses: Elain and Wyrd. We know that Wyrd travels like a force, constantly shifting form as she does. I wondered if Elain might also possess this power either through her sight or some other gift (and we know it’s not a coincidence the sisters are a match in power for Rhys, who is Starborn). When characters are traveling through space, they are able to bend the fabric of the world to their will.

“How does that … vanishing work?” I said softly. I’d seen only a few High Fae do it—and no one had ever explained.

Rhys didn’t look at me, but he said, “Winnowing? Think of it as … two different points on a piece of cloth. One point is your current place in the world. The other one across the cloth is where you want to go. Winnowing … it’s like folding that cloth so the two spots align. The magic does the folding—and all we do is take a step to get from one place to another. Sometimes it’s a long step, and you can feel the dark fabric of the world as you pass through it. A shorter step, let’s say from one end of the room to the other, would barely register. It’s a rare gift, and a helpful one. Though only the stronger Fae can do it. The more powerful you are, the farther you can jump between places in one go.” (acomaf)

The word winnow derives from the Old English word for wind. Though it goes by different names (winnow versus teleport), the process of winnowing allows individuals to move like a force—like the wind itself. Like the Wyrd herself.

In the first interaction between Elain and Azriel, we learn the Illyrians are connected to the wind:

Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?”

He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.”

“That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“It is sometimes,” Azriel said. Cassian tore his relentless attention from Nesta long enough to nod his agreement. “If you are caught in a storm, if the current drops away. But we are trained so thoroughly that the fear is gone before we’re out of swaddling.” (acomaf)

It is interesting to me that we see them fly together, and they do lose the current and drop, but Elain doesn’t seem to show any fear. Is that because her sight allows her to travel through the tapestry of the world—time, space, and the Void—like she too hears the song of the wind, can become wind, a force, herself? It’s one of the many reasons I think she is perfectly matched with Azriel, Nuala, and Cerridwen; their vision and gifts are needed in the main plot foreshadowed in both acosf and hofas. Elain is even described as a force—a golden mass (like living starfire), a flash of purple and gold (like the dawn)—and has had veils of steam (mist) rising around her, like Azriel’s shadows and thin places. Places where life can travel through the Void.

“There are gates—black areas in the Wyrd that allow for life to pass between the worlds. There are Wyrdgates that lead to Erilea. All sorts of beings have come through them over the eons. Benign things, but also the dead and foul things that creep in when the gods are looking elsewhere.” (com)

“The silver thread,” Elain asked. “What is that called?” The weaver paused the loom again, the colorful strings vibrating. She held my sister’s gaze. No attempt at a smile this time. “I call it Hope.” My throat became unbearably tight, my eyes stinging enough that I had to turn away, to walk back toward that extraordinary tapestry. The weaver explained to my sister, “I made it after I mastered Void.” (acofas)

She didn’t dare see if Hunt still stood after his flawless shot. Not as the air of the Gate’s arch turned black. Murky. […] Bryce gave herself to the wind and darkness, and teleported for the Gate. (hosab)

“We grew too populous. Wars broke out between the various beings on our world. Some of us saw the changes in the land beginning—rivers run dry, clouds so thick the sun could not pierce them—and left. Our brightest minds found ways to bend the fabric of worlds. To travel between them. Wayfarers, we called them. World-walkers.” (hofas)

Aidas nodded. “These lines are capable of moving magic, but also carrying communications across great distances.” Like those between the Gates of Crescent City, the way she’d spoken to Danika the day she’d made the Drop. “There are ley lines across the whole of the universe. And the planets—like Midgard, like Hel, like the home world of the Fae—atop those lines are joined by time and space and the Void itself. It thins the veils separating us. The Asteri have long chosen worlds that are on the ley lines for that exact purpose. It made it easier to move between them, to colonize those planets. There are certain places on each of these worlds where the most ley lines overlap, and thus the barrier between worlds is at its weakest.” (hofas)

I’ve written about these connections between Azriel and Elain (prior to hofas) in space between and song of the wind. But to your main question, do they need Made objects to help them navigate the space between, to worldwalk? They are both different for a reason, so perhaps not. And it all comes back to Wyrd (and the evidence seems to point to that as well), which is why your and @offtorivendell’s observation about the Cauldron in the acosf map is another Big Hint to me. The compass, or rose of winds, is the Cauldron.

And which direction does it point? North. Where is Ramiel? North. Once upon a time, it was a bearer of Wyrd: the heart of the world, of existence, of self. So, this exploration will be spiritual as well as physical. Our characters will discover where they came from, who they are and…maybe, who they are becoming. Together.

And together, they’ll learn what others have: through love, all is possible, even when it involves restoring life itself.

Heart of the Night Court

This meta is a continuation of theories in forbidden secrets, blooming dreams, and bright as the dawn, as it narrows in on Illyria, Ramiel, and their connection to Wyrd. Please avoid if you do not want to read hofas spoilers.

Facing Ramiel

The northern region of the Night Court is where Ramiel, one of the three sacred sister peaks, is located. It is considered the heart of Illyria and the Night Court.

Ramiel. The sacred mountain. The heart of not only Illyria, but the entirety of the Night Court. None were permitted on its barren, rocky slopes—save for the Illyrians, and only once a year at that. During the Blood Rite. Cassian soared toward it, unable to resist Ramiel’s ancient summons. Different—the mountain was so different from the barren, terrible presence of the lone peak in the center of Prythian. Ramiel had always felt alive, somehow. Awake and watchful. (acofas) [...] Ramiel rose higher still, a shard of stone piercing the gray sky. Beautiful and lonely. Eternal and ageless. (acofas)

Cassian describes Ramiel as alive, awake, and watchful, and so very beautiful as she rises from the earth. Likewise, Feyre emphasizes that Elain is alive and somehow infinitely more beautiful as she rises from the ground after she is Made in the Cauldron. Her legs are even bare, which remind me of the barren terrain, and her sheer nightgown might even be a hint for thin places, as @offtorivendell observed. Elain’s strength has also always been different than her sisters, just like Ramiel among her sacred sister peaks.

And as if it had been tipped by invisible hands, the Cauldron turned on its side. More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water. And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown. Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare. The queens pushed forward. Alive, she had to be alive, had to have wanted to live– Elain sucked in a breath, her fine-boned back rising, her wet nightgown nearly sheer. And as she rose from the ground onto her elbows, the gag in place, as she twisted to look at me— Nesta began roaring again. Pale skin started to glow. Her face had somehow become more beautiful—infinitely beautiful, and her ears … Elain’s ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair. (acomaf)

As each spring dawns on the world, Ramiel is crowned with three stars, and the Illyrians—who we learned may have been the Asteri’s soldiers and therefore may carry on rituals that would have benefited them—honor bloodshed on her land rather than new life.

No wonder that first ruler of the Night Court had made this his insignia. Along with the three stars that only appeared for a brief window each year, framing the uppermost peak of Ramiel like a crown. It was during that window when the Rite occurred. Which had come first: the insignia or the Rite, Cassian didn’t know. Had never really cared to find out. The conifer forests and ravines that dotted the landscape flowing to Ramiel’s foot gleamed under the fresh snow. Empty and clean. No sign of the bloodshed that would occur come the start of spring. (acofas)

Some even seem to take great pleasure in the killing that is permitted during this rite, and Ramiel, which we know is alive and watching, is forced to witness it every year. Azriel calls it a week of pointless bloodshed, but we know now that is likely untrue. @silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell and I believe the Asteri may have created or warped an existing rite to suit their needs. @silverlinedeyes pointed out that this spring rite reminds her of the Great Rite, and that made something click for me: perhaps the Blood Rite is the Night Court's Great Rite. Is the secondlight from slain warriors absorbed by the land? And do those few who reach the stone, which I suspect might be the Maiden in this rite, provide firstlight to the cache hidden in Ramiel’s heart? Is it any wonder the winds around her howl, and her land is often frozen and inhospitable?

The mountain neared, mighty and endless, so wide that he might as well have been a mayfly in the wind. Cassian soared toward Ramiel’s southern face, rising high enough to catch a glimpse of the shining black stone jutting from its top. Who had put that stone atop the peak, he didn’t know, either. Legend said it had existed before the Night Court formed, before the Illyrians migrated from the Myrmidons, before humans even walked the earth. Even with the fresh snow crusting Ramiel, none had touched the pillar of stone. (acofas)

The shining black stone on Ramiel’s face is able to heal and transport those who touch it. In acosf, it knew where Nesta’s friends were needed most and sent them to the River House. It is also on the southern face of the mountain, which in the northern hemisphere, is the part of the mountain that receives the most sunlight. Cassian tells us that he doesn’t know who put it there, but legend says it was before humans even walked the earth. While it is very likely that the Asteri warped it (into a tool to sustain them, like the gates in Lunathion as @merymoonbeam so cleverly pointed out), I believe it may have also originally been linked to the Cauldron.

In hofas, we discover that Ramiel used to bear the Cauldron on her land:

“The Cauldron,” Nesta said hours later, pointing to yet another carving on the wall. It indeed showed a giant cauldron, perched atop what seemed to be a barren mountain peak with three stars above it. Azriel halted, angling his head. “That’s Ramiel.” At Bryce’s questioning look, he explained, “A mountain sacred to the Illyrians.” Bryce nodded to the carving. “What’s the big deal about a cauldron?” [...] “All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.” (hofas) […] The snows around Ramiel parted, revealing a massive bowl of iron at the foot of the monolith. Even through the vision, its presence leaked into the world, a heavy, ominous thing. “The Cauldron,” Nesta said, dread lacing her voice. […] “The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage.” (hofas)

I wonder if long ago, before the Asteri desecrated them, the stone and Cauldron together resembled this depiction of Wyrd:

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin…they were like tattoos. […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

This depiction is interesting because it mirrors, almost exactly, the figurine Nesta assumes is the Mother in the House of Wind:

It was a fire. Not her father’s neck. Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. Another log cracked, and Nesta flinched. But she remained sitting there. Staring at that carved rose. (acosf)

For some reason, she needed to set Elain’s rose, half-hidden in shadow, next to this depiction of what appears to be Wyrd. In hosab, the Under-King also described Wyrd as a mother to all, which is why I theorized that she is actually a triple goddess: Mother, Cauldron, Fate. They are three parts, or faces, of the same force. The three sacred sister peaks and three blessed Archeron sisters are intentionally linked to her. Perhaps the moon in the female’s hands isn’t just a moon, but a world too. Immediately after this scene, the House of Wind shows Nesta her heart in the lovely darkness of the mountain, which she calls the heart of the world, of existence. Of self.

Heart racing, Nesta lifted the lantern in one hand and gazed at the darkness, untouched by the light from the library high, high above. The heart of the world, of existence. Of self. The heart of the House. “This…” Her fingers tightened on the lantern. “This darkness is your heart.” [...] Let the darkness sweep in. Embraced it. “I’m not afraid,” she whispered into it. “You are my friend, and my home. Thank you for sharing this with me.” (acosf)

Nesta embraces the heart of the House of Wind, which naturally makes me recall the heart of the Prison asking Bryce to open her heart to it…it might sing again. Awaken. There was a beating, vibrant heart locked away, far beneath them. We’re not sure exactly how Avallen might have affected the Prison island, and I suspect there is more to come with that plot thread. While I had always hoped the Valkyries might re-establish themselves as an intercourt army in the Middle, which does not have ties to any court in particular, I can also appreciate the possibility that they might ultimately settle on the Prison island instead. It would be incredible to see Pegasi return and for the Valkyries to learn how to fly on them.

This plot is related to the core thread driving us forward, and it is something that can occur in a book that is centered on Elain and Azriel. Together, they have the vision and gifts needed to map the secrets of the land, starting with the sacred sister peaks, which I believe will ultimately help them restore Wyrd. This would fit all of the seeds Sarah has planted for the third sister’s arc with Azriel, Nuala, and Cerridwen. It would also be powerful for a character who has been underestimated and ridiculed for gardening to heal the land and the very source that created it.

As I said prior to hofas, this exploration will inevitably bring them to the very heart of Ramiel. As a bearer of Wyrd, the source of life, Ramiel may even be the heart of the world, not just the Night Court. Will they discover that she was once very different? Did she change, as her sisters did, when the Asteri burrowed into her heart? Or was it because the Cauldron, Wyrd’s physical form, was warped into a tool of destruction by the Asteri and later removed from her land? Were the Illyrians created to guard the Cauldron since it was the Asteri’s most precious weapon? And is that why, as @cassianfanclub wondered, the Asteri were so desperate to reach the stone at the top, where the Cauldron was once depicted? Enalius may have prevented it from falling into their hands as he defended the Pass, which would’ve been a critical turning point in a rebellion. Unlike the rite they currently use to honor him, Enalius’s defense was in the service of life, which is what made Nesta’s sacrifice so inspiring. Her sacrifice is now depicted in the heart of the Court of Dreams, which is dedicated to building a better world.

Descending into Ramiel

We learn that Ramiel may be hiding secrets from Eris, of all characters:

Eris shrugged, and Nesta knew Cassian monitored his every breath. “There are three of them, you know. Sister peaks. This one, the mountain called the Prison, and the one the Illyrian brutes call Ramiel. All bald, barren mountains at odds with those around them.” “We don’t know why they exist, but do you not find it strange that two out of the three have underground palaces carved into them?” […] Eris gave him a mocking smile, but continued, “Unsurprisingly, the Illyrians were never curious enough to see what secrets lie beneath Ramiel. If it, too, was carved up like the others by ancient hands.” “I thought Amarantha made the court Under the Mountain herself,” Nesta said. “Oh, she decorated it and made us act like a sorry imitation of your Court of Nightmares, but the tunnels and halls were carved long before. By who, we don’t know.” (acosf)

He tells us that the three sacred peaks are sisters. Sacred is another word for blessed. And two out of three of them have been at least somewhat explored, but the third? Still mysterious. No one was curious enough to see what lied beneath her beautiful face, at her heart. This is such a lovely parallel for the three blessed sisters, and seems like a clear hint for the third one in particular.

In hofas, we receive confirmation that these secrets might be connected to the Asteri, who are known as Daglan in Prythian lore:

“They fought the Daglan and won, she went on. Using the Daglan’s own weapons, they destroyed them. Yet my parents did not think to learn the Daglan’s other secrets—they were too weary, too eager to leave the past behind.” (hofas)

Vesperus backed up a half step, hissing at the gleaming weapon. “We hid pockets of our power throughout the lands, in case the vermin should cause … problems. It seems our wisdom did not fail us.” “There are no such places,” Azriel countered coldly. “Are there not?” Vesperus grinned broadly, showing all of her too-white teeth. “Have you looked beneath every sacred mountain? At their very roots? The magic draws all sorts of creatures. I can sense them even now, slithering about, gnawing on the magic. My magic. They’re as much vermin as the rest of you.” (hofas)

Bryce concludes, after Vesperus is able to draw the power from her secret cache below, that there is a firstlight core in the root, or heart, of the mountain. We see what happens in Avallen when the land is forced to contain magic where its ley lines overlap, rather than allowing it to flow as it should: it binds the magic of the land and causes it to wither like a plant with root rot. And that seems to explain why the sacred peaks are so odd: barren yet thrumming with power.

I have theorized that the caches of power may need to be released leading up to the restoration of Wyrd, and I suspect there may be clues—especially within Ramiel—about how the Asteri warped and bound her to the land. If Elain is as tied to the land as we suspect, this could also strengthen whatever magic she possesses.

In the cavern illustrations Bryce views in hofas, we see what might lie beneath Ramiel, maybe even the entire Night Court:

Scenes of a blessed land, a thriving civilization. One relief had been so similar to the frieze of the Fae male forging the sword at the Crescent City Ballet that Bryce had nearly gasped. The last carving before the river had been one of transition: a Fae King and Queen seated on thrones, a mountain—different from the one with the palace atop it—behind them with three stars rising above it. A different kingdom, then. Some ancient High Lord and Lady, Nesta had suggested before approaching the river. She hadn’t commented on the lower half of the carving, which depicted a Helscape beneath their thrones, some kind of underworld. Humanoid figures writhed in pain amid what looked like icicles and snapping, scaly beasts—either past enemies conquered or an indication of what failure to bow to the rulers would bring upon the defiant. The suffering stretched throughout, lingering even underneath that archipelago and its mountaintop palace. Even here, in paradise, death and evil remained. A common motif in Midgardian art, too, usually with the caption: Et in Avallen ego. Even in Avallen, there am I. A whispered promise from Death. Another version of memento mori. A reminder that death was always, always waiting. Even in the blessed Fae isle of Avallen. (hofas)

This might merely be a hint for the Asteri secrets that remain buried in the earth. But I agree with others (including @offtorivendell, @ladynightcourt3, @cassianfanclub, and @silverlinedeyes) who have wondered if this Helscape is in fact a hint that Prythian, and the Night Court in particular, is tied to Hel. We learned that the worlds in the Maasverse are tied together through ley lines, and the veil between worlds is thin where these ley lines overlap—like the lines in a star.

That may be the true meaning of star symbols throughout the Maasverse, and the one specifically found in the Prison that is connected to the Starborn: as I theorized pre-hosab, it is a compass rose, and it seems to be linked to other places in the grander tapestry of the universe. There is power in the space where the lines meet; these lines represent ley lines. Certain people (Asteri, Starborn, etc.) are able to use that power to travel, communicate, or even light up entire worlds. Depending on how those lines are woven in certain areas, they might even be able to draw you to one place more than another. That may explain why the Prison seems more connected to Midgard. So, could Ramiel be more connected to Hel, and the Middle to…Erilea?

I wonder if Elain, Azriel, Nuala, and Cerridwen’s exploration in the heart of Ramiel might lead them to Wyrd’s Temple in Hel, except @silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, and I think she goes by yet another name there: Chaos. It’s possible they could use black salt or another substance to achieve this, as @offtorivendell and @cassianfanclub have discussed, especially with Elain’s sight. I am personally hoping for a physical trip to Hel and Ramiel might possess a doorway, or rift, as @offtorivendell has theorized.

The black boat that Aidas led Bryce and Hunt into was a cross between the one that had brought them into Avallen and the ones that carried bodies to the Bone Quarter. But in lieu of a stag’s head, it was a stag’s skull at the prow, greenish flame dancing in its eyes as it sailed through the cave. The eerie green light illuminated black rock carved into pillars and buildings, walkways and temples. Ancient. And empty. Bryce had never seen a place so void of life. So … still. Even the Bone Quarter had a sense of being lived in, albeit by the dead. But here, nothing stirred. […] “It’s like a city of the dead,” Hunt murmured, draping a wing around Bryce. Aidas turned from where he stood at the prow, holding in his hands a long pole that he’d used to guide them. “That’s because it is.” He gestured with a pale hand to the buildings and temples and avenues. “This is where our beloved dead come to rest, with all the comforts of life around them.” […] Before Aidas could answer, the boat approached a small quay leading to what appeared to be a temple. A figure emerged from between the pillars of the temple and descended its front steps. Golden-haired, golden-skinned. […] “The Temple of Chaos is a sacred place,” Apollion said sharply. “We shall never defile it with violence.” The words rumbled like thunder again.

This sounds familiar, doesn’t it? It sounds an awful lot like other beliefs in the Maasverse:

Bryce asked, because some small part of her had to know after what she’d seen of the Mask, “When you die, where do your souls go?” Did they even believe in the concept of a soul? Maybe she should have led with that. But Azriel said softly, “They return to the Mother, where they rest in joy within her heart until she finds another purpose for us. Another life or world to live in.” (hofas)

“We’ll collect the dead tomorrow,” Manon said, her voice low. “And burn them at moonrise.” As both Crochans and Ironteeth did. A full moon tomorrow—the Mother’s Womb. A good moon to be burned. To be returned to the Three-Faced Goddess, and reborn within that womb. (koa)

Wyrd (Chaos) is the heart of the world, of existence. Of self. And that is where people rest in joy until they are reborn. Could this be where the spirits are migrating on Starfall?

We know the Princes of Hel are intergalactic helpers, so a trip to Hel or an encounter with a Prince (Bryaxis? Thanatos? Even Balthazar, if he isn’t Elain? 😉 still my favorite crack theory) might give us insight into their role in Prythian. It could also involve Azriel’s peculiar magic that makes him, like Ramiel, so different from even his Illyrian brothers. Let's be honest, he’s always had a Prince of Hel vibe—down to his reverence for Wyrd (Mother, Cauldron, Fate/Chaos)—that I would love to see come to fruition.

Beyond Azriel himself, I also think we will learn the origins of the Illyrians in the heart of Ramiel. Were they connected to Hel before the Asteri made them their soldiers, like @silverlinedeyes and @offtorivendell theorized? Or were they an experiment like the blessed sisters? Did the Asteri put humans (hence the ears) into the Cauldron after it was imbued with their void magic and create beings of night and pain who could combat enemies, including demons? This might be another reason why the three most powerful Illyrians are a match in power for the three blessed sisters.

Together, they balance opposing forces as @silverlinedeyes previously theorized. They seem to represent the forces of Void and Chaos, and their power can be combined in the space between to achieve impossible feats (eg, physically healing the Cauldron and the rip in the world). All three sisters seem to be chosen bearers, or conduits, for Wyrd (Chaos), so I wouldn’t be surprised if we see another example of this in a different way for Azriel and Elain, and/or a scene where they are all linked magically.

My lips tugged toward a smile. But Rhys stared at all of us, somehow assembled here in the sun-drenched open grasses without being given the order. Our family—our court. The Court of Dreams. […] He surveyed them all again—and held out his hand to Cassian. Cassian took it, and held out his other hand for Mor. Then Mor extended her other to Azriel. Azriel to Amren. Amren to Nesta. Nesta to Elain. And Elain to me. Until we were all linked, all bound together. (acowar)

Since Ramiel is connected to Wyrd (Chaos), and there may be a doorway to her temple in Hel, this journey will likely also uncover secrets about her. Will her story come from illustrations in stone, members of Hel, or…my personal favorite, Wyrd herself? I believe that is one of the many reasons she gifted Elain with such powers, including sight: so she could tell her story to someone who could see differently. Someone who could see the creator within the darkness, just as Elain saw the dark cottage as a shelter rather than a prison. This gift may provide them the information they need to uncover the Asteri’s secrets and unravel their magic from the sacred peaks and Wyrd, which could lead them to at least two other places: (1) Midgard, where the Book of Breathings is now kept by Bryce, and (2) Cretea, where the Cauldron is currently hidden. Could Azriel even pay back Bryce for stealing his precious dagger? It would only be fitting.

Ramiel Springs Eternal

I was so cold I might never be warm again. Even during winter in the mortal realm, I’d managed to find some kernel of heat, but after nearly emptying my cache of magic that afternoon, even roaring heart fire couldn’t thaw the chill around my bones. Did spring ever come to this blasted place? (acomaf)

Illyria is known for being bitterly cold, to the point where Feyre wonders if spring would ever arrive there. Sarah has consistently described Elain as blooming life amid death and winter, and this imagery starts to become really apparent in Illyria:

Mor let out a snort that made the Illyrians stiffen. But she shifted, revealing Elain behind her. Elain was just blinking, wide-eyed, at the camp. The army. Devlon let out a grunt at the sight of her. But Elain wrapped her own blue cloak around herself, averting her eyes from all those towering, muscled warriors, the army camp bustling toward the horizon…She was a rose bloom in a mud field. Filled with galloping horses. (acowar)

Compared to Nesta, a newly forged sword, Elain is a blooming flower even in an Illyrian army camp, which is essentially saying she is a bloom of life and color in the middle of winter. This imagery is so fitting because she commits her time to creating and restoring gardens wherever she goes. She brings life and joy and beauty into the world. Even her scent is a promise of spring:

Her sister’s delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring, a sparkling river that she followed to the open doors of the chamber. […] Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health. Elain’s smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. (acosf)

We also know she is also capable of hearing sound, specifically hearts, through stone. In their conversation about heartbeats, Lucien even wonders if she is speaking to him:

She looked away—toward the windows. “I can hear your heart,” she said quietly. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth. “When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.” A bramble of words. (acowar)

Was Elain actually speaking to one of the sister peaks, or even Wyrd, during some of this conversation? Her response to Lucien even seems to echo the song of the land: no one had ever truly looked, not really. No one knew what secrets they carried in their heart. This is such a lonely existence. As Elain and Azriel heal the land, I believe they will also heal their own wounds. Feel seen and heard. Understood.

Elain was also wearing a blue cloak in the Illyrian camp. Could that be a hint of her future work with others who wear something similar, like the priestesses who worship Wyrd? She answered her sister’s prayer during the war rather than Wyrd and has led her own sister in prayer before. Is she more priestess—more healer—than warrior, and is that the different sort of strength needed to garden on a larger scale? @willowmeres and I were discussing this the other night: perhaps like Gwydion and TT (which I theorized singing to each other across space), Elain’s rose necklace was called to the library when the priestesses were singing about Wyrd. And because like calls to like, the necklace answered and drew Azriel to the library instead of the Palace of Thread and Jewels. Like her sisters before her, Elain might receive help from priestesses as she hones her vision and gifts. I would scream if this turns out to be true because that necklace is pure Chaos (pun definitely intended).

It’s also possible the priestesses could be helpful in unbinding Void from the Book of Breathings, a book of spells. I doubt this will be a simple matter, however. It might rival the unraveling of Erawan, which required massive raw healing magic. Will the Asteri’s void magic manifest on another plane as Elain battles it with raw healing magic, shining bright as the dawn? Could a dawn ritual help ground her during this battle? And will Azriel, the sisters, the brothers, even priestesses with their healing stones, need to create a living chain to defeat Void and fully restore Wyrd (Chaos) in the end? Will we finally get a glimpse of her, unbound?

Maybe with the help of Azriel and others, Elain will even restore Wyrd—blossoming life—to Ramiel’s sunniest face, the heart of the world, of existence. Of self. And true spring will finally come to her sacred land.

#hofas spoilers #wow this was probably more than you expected #elain archeron #azriel #elriel #Starborn symbol = compass rose #compass rose = rose of winds #power of the ley lines #map of creation #wyrd #winnowing and teleportation #traveling the space between

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nikethestatue · 9 months ago

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Why do you think the fandom has become so divided? I mean I’m it it for elriel but if elucian happened I wouldn’t be devastated or anything and I’d still read the book. I don’t get how all this name calling, lack of reading comprehension my ship is better because of x y z even came about? Was it around before the 3rd ship entered the race or do you think it has more to do with the amount of time people have had to get so fully invested in a ship theyve lost all sense of civility. The thing with reading comprehension when it comes to yet to be written narratives is that it’s somewhat retrospective. Meaning if it turns out you were right u comprehended the txt correctly but if your wrong you didn’t. But this isn’t black and white because an author can drop storyline’s, change original storyline’s, retcon already canon events, have continuity errors etc and you interpreted it right but the author decided to take the storyline away from the original plan. But at present as far as I can tell the only things we know for certain because it was stated in actual canon is A) that elain and Lucian have a mate bond (wether this turns out to be a true mate bond or the work of a corrupt cauldron or something is yet to be determined) B) that elain is uncomfortable around lucian and isn’t open to the bond at present (altho obviously this could change if sjm wants to write that story) C) elains and azriels characters have a lot of interactions and there on page storyline’s are entwined with each other (he’s protective of her, her seeks her out, he didn’t hesitate to rescue her, truth teller all the stuff that came up in the bonus chapter etc etc etc) and this means something and D) Elain and Azriel are indeed attracted to each, but it was not stated in canon that he only thinks of her sexually, contrary to what some people say, there wasn’t enough on page information to make concrete claims like that (wether any of this will go on to mean something more is also yet to be determined) That’s why theories and txt analysis is suppose to be fun but it also needs to lean into canon, which is completely different than a headcanon which brings me to Gwynriel. There is absolutely and I can’t state this enough no canon evidence of gwynriel (wether they go on to be a canon couple once again is yet to be determined) but at the moment all “evidence” of this ship is based of of individual interpretation that has no actual canon backing. Thinking 2 people would be better together doesn’t make something canon, so this ship to me is a crack ship. I will say I think part of the reason the gwynriel ship is so present in social media is because the elucians decided to support that ship because it suited their narrative not because they actually think or care if they become a couple or not so it’s like 2 ships against one. If you took all the eluciens out of the equation I think the gwynriel ship fandom would be a lot smaller.

I think ACOSF happened.

It was a divisive book, needlessly so. It pitted the IC against Nesta and then Nesta with her 'found family' formed almost this separate narrative and a separate unit of girlbosses. And instead of unity, you have division in the fandom. Half of the fandom are older, Feysand-centric readers and then the rest are newer, Nesta-centric readers, who can pin all their hopes and dreams on Gwyn, who is single, straight, pretty and spunky. She is not some vision-seeing weirdo who likes flowers and cream buns. No! Gwyn is your generic, uncomplicated, easily digestible Miss Awesome. Nesta is mated and odd and too tormented, while Emerie would've been okayish, but now she seems to be no longer straight and she's got those ungainly clipped wings. (Let's not kid ourselves, there is plenty of misogyny and racism in this fandom). SO that leaves Gwyn and the last available batboy, who also had a monster cock apparently, the ubiquitous shadows and who is handsome and mysterious.

The relationship between the sisters isnt really resolved at the end of the book. It's fashionable to hate Elain even harder, because she was 'mean to Nesta' and because she is 'mean to Lucien'. So obviously such a revolting character cannot be paired with the handsome Azriel. But who can? Gwyn! Uncomplicated Gwyn, whom you are not allowed to critique in any fashion because .... SA!

And from there on, I think it just grew and grew.

Yes, there is no basis for the Gwynriel ship. But you dont need a basis, you just need access to others via social media, do a lot of posturing as an 'expert', highlight some random passages from the books, creating vague connections. and BOOM! you got a ship. And yes, the viciousness came with Gwynriels, who began acting like they were experts themselves and who descended on anyone who argued like a swarm of bees. They hounded numerous artists off platforms, others refused to even entertain the idea of painting Elriel art, they attacked people on every platform, they doxxed, they berated and insulted. 2021 was a crazy year.

Now they are all gone because they don't give a shit anymore. Other things came about that are more interesting.

The newer Gwynriels arent as psychotic or nasty. They'll argue, which is their right, but like they won't set your grandma on fire over Gwynriel. First Gen Gwynriels were something else. But so many people left the fandom in 21-22 because of the negativity, older fans, who were not into all of this.

There were a ton of Elriels, I remember, in 21-22 on here. Now, there is like me. And a few others, newer ones. From the OG group, there might be 10 left? Sad really, but it is what it is.

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lunarbuck · 3 years ago

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For the bestfriend'sbrother!Bucky AU

Give us more! Give us their whole love story! Pretty PLEEEAAASE

How would these cuties try to hide from Becca to steal some alone time without getting caught?

I can imagine some hilarious moments while one is hidding under the bed when Becca comes into the room or something

Or Becca constantly asking reader about her secret lover because she just looks so happy and glowing all the time

It's Not Living (If It's Not With You)

Part Two of BFB!Bucky AU

part one - Not Givin' It Up Again (18+ Only)

part three - It's You and I, Tonight

Pairing: bestfriend'sbrother!Bucky x f!reader (any race)

WC: 5k

Summary: Your best friend’s brother is finally yours, now what?

Warnings: age gap, swearing, oral (f and m receiving), smut (p in v, shower), praise, pet names [good girl, baby], low-key angst

A/N: I'm so surprised at the response I got from the first part of this! Thank you to everyone who commented, liked, and reblogged it <3 I hope part two lives up to your standards!!! Feel free to send me a request if you'd like something more tailored to your wants/needs :) special thanks to @purpleshallot for beta reading!

series masterlist |main masterlist | one shot masterlist | playlist

part 1 | part 3

title is the 1975's song "It's Not Living (If It's Not With You)"

IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS

Life with Bucky is wild, to put it simply. Nearly every night, you’re either sneaking into his room or sneaking him into yours. It’s a rush every time, adrenaline coursing through you as you hush Bucky, worried you’ll wake Becca.

Even though you can’t hang out together in public, any time you and your friends are out at a party or club, you and Bucky find time to sneak away. You haven’t quite taken it so far as to fuck in the bathroom, but you’ve come pretty close a few times. Bucky always stops it before it can get too far, claiming, ‘Your beautiful sounds are for my ears only, baby. All mine.’ You never tried to fight him on that.

A few nights ago, Becca nearly walked in while Bucky was going down on you. You’d shoved him into your closet and had to tell Becca you were having some ‘self-care time’. She pretended to vomit and told you to be quieter next time. Bucky thought that was pretty funny, but you couldn’t look her in the eye for the next day.

Finals are coming up, so you haven’t been able to spend much time with Bucky recently, opting for long nights in the library with his sister. He texts you the entire time, telling you how much he misses you, how much he wishes you were with him—all the things he’d do to you. Becca gives your phone a weird look as you ignore the repeated buzzing; you can’t hold back your smile.

“You’re being so weird lately,” she says, copying a passage from her textbook into her notebook. You roll your eyes; it isn’t the first time she’s commented on your seemingly odd behavior. The morning after her birthday, she’d been too busy being hungover to notice you making your way back into the apartment after spending the night with Bucky, but once she’d recovered, she wouldn’t stop begging you for details on the mystery man you’d spent the night with. You didn’t give her any; you hadn’t been sure what to say.

“You keep saying that but never explain,” you counter, scrolling through your study guide. You dodge all her questions every time she brings it up. ‘Is he our age? Where’d you meet him? A frat boy? Elaine’s dad? You know I won’t judge you; we all have our fantasies…’ You’d nearly thrown up at that last one.

Becca groans exaggeratedly and drops her head back on her chair. “You suck.” She tosses a pen at you, and it smacks you on the forehead before you can duck out of the way. “I just don’t get why you’re hiding him. I’ve never judged you before, and I never will. I just want to be happy for you.” You sigh and rub at the small bump that’s forming on your head. Becca says that she won’t judge you, that she won’t care who it is, but you know the second she finds out it’s her brother, that’ll all change. Bucky always has and always will be off-limits. The entire time you’ve known the Barnes siblings, you’ve known that Becca hates living in his shadow.

Growing up, Bucky was popular. He was always surrounded by friends, going to parties, classic high school stuff. People that wanted ‘in’ on Bucky’s group often went to Becca, asking for her to introduce them to her hot older brother. It didn’t help that Bucky was smart as a whip, straight A’s, honors society. All of Becca’s teachers expected her to be the same, but school wasn’t as easy for her as it was for him.

Becca never made you promise you wouldn’t go out with Bucky, but it was an unspoken agreement. You are there for Becca. She always has and always will be your first choice. But you couldn’t help but develop feelings for Bucky. His kind eyes, that fucking smile, it all makes you melt. Becca would never understand; she’s been burned too many times.

“I just don’t want to make too big of a deal out of it just yet,” you say, a twinge of guilt pulling in your chest. Bucky is a big deal. After years and years of just sitting on the sidelines, letting your feelings grow, you can’t just not fall for him. And you want, more than anything, to be able to have a normal relationship with him. But you can’t, not with Becca being his sister.

“Seems like a big deal already,” she says grumpily. “You’re always smiling at your phone or going to his place. You think I don’t hear you coming back in?” You shake your head guiltily. Fuck.

“Come on, Becs, I’ll tell you when I’m ready.” Becca shifts in her seat, and you let her examine your face. She’s looking for the lie, but you know she won’t find one. You’re telling the truth. You will tell her eventually, just not quite yet.

She sticks out her pinky finger and furrows her brow. “Promise?”

You nod and hook your finger with hers. “Promise.” Your phone buzzes a few more times, so you finally check it. Bucky, in classic fashion, has told you that there’s an emergency at his place that desperately needs your attention. You don’t allow yourself to smile. Instead, you shoot him a text that you’ll be there soon and tuck your phone in your pocket.

“That him?” She asks, feigning disinterest in the whole thing. You pack up your stuff and nod. You’ve been in the library for hours; you’re fine calling it a night.

“Yeah, I’m gonna stay there tonight,” you say, zipping your bag. “I’ll see you in the morning, ’kay? Call me if you need anything.” You ruffle her hair in the way she hates, and she swats at your hand.

“Use a condom,” she calls after you as you close the door to the study room. You roll your eyes and flip her off through a laugh.

You catch a bus to Bucky’s place, and before long, you’re buzzed into the building. When you reach his door, you don’t even have to knock. He swings it open and pulls you against his chest. He’s shirtless, so the warmth of his skin immediately reaches you, and you nuzzle your face into it.

“So, Steve’s not home?” You ask, pushing away a bit to kiss his cheek. Bucky hauls you up against him, your legs hook behind his back, and you hold on to his neck.

“We’ve got the place to ourselves,” he replies before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You let your fingers grip the ends of his hair, it’s started to grow out a bit, and you absolutely love it. His hands grip you tightly, and you groan at the feeling of his metal fingers digging into your skin. At first, he’d been wary of touching you with it, but you quickly showed him that you adored every inch of him, including his metal arm.

“Well, that works out, doesn’t it?” You murmur against his lips. “You were talking up a big game when you were texting me; you gonna be able to follow through, Buck?” He moans as you bite his lip, and you know you’re in for it.

Without breaking away from the kiss, Bucky walks the two of you to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He supports you with one arm as he locks the door, then he tosses you onto his bed. You bounce a few times and laugh as he stalks back toward you.

You drink him in; you’ll never get enough. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, showing off the band of his boxers. Though the room is only illuminated by a small lamp, the shadows Bucky’s muscles cast over his skin make your mouth water. He’s built like a fucking god. It’s all for you, baby. Gotta make sure I can please my girl. His words alone had nearly made you orgasm.

“You look like you’re about to jump me,” Bucky says, pulling your ankles until you’re seated on the edge of the bed. He stands in front of you between your legs and lets his hands roam your face. The chill of metal sends goosebumps through your body while his flesh fingers warm the skin. He kisses your forehead, your nose, and then your lips. Your hands reach around him, feeling him all over. You memorize every inch of him with your fingertips; you want to know him blind.

Your fingers reach his waistband, and you untie his sweats before gently tugging them down his legs. He mutters a curse against you but doesn’t stop you as you do the same to his boxers, freeing what looks like a painful erection. You wrap your fingers around his base and slowly work his cock.

“Shit, baby,” he whispers. You know his body well, just like he knows yours. You know what he likes, what makes him tick. His fingers lace in your hair as you guide your lips away from his and down to his tip, slowly working your tongue along him. He grips your hair tighter but doesn’t push you; he lets you take your time. When you take him in your mouth, he groans loudly, and you feel yourself get even more turned on.

You love how vocal he is, and he loves telling you how good you’re doing. “You’re doing so fucking good,” he grunts as you pick up the pace. You can’t fit him entirely in your mouth, so whatever you can’t reach, your hands take care of. You take him as far as you can and feel yourself gag around his length. Bucky’s hips twitch at the feeling, pushing him a little deeper. He’s holding back, but you don’t want that. You want him to lose control. You graze your teeth ever so slightly along his shaft, and it’s enough for Bucky to snap his hips again. He only lets you continue for a moment before he gently pushes you off him.

“Couldn’t handle it, Buck?” You tease, smiling up at him. Without speaking, Bucky tugs your clothes off of you and tosses them on the other side of the bed. His pupils are blown with lust, and you feel yourself melt under his gaze.

“You’re gonna regret saying that,” he mumbles. He drops to his knees and attaches his mouth to your clit. You don’t hold back your noises; it feels good to be loud after not being able to for so long. Bucky expertly works you, licking and sucking all the right places. You feel an orgasm building, and you tug Bucky’s hair, urging him to keep going, but the second you show signs of getting close, he pulls away.

“Bucky,” you whine, rolling your hips in search of friction. He clamps his hands down on your waist to keep you from moving.

“That’s not how this works, Baby,” he says, nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. One of his thumbs reaches over and slowly works your clit, not letting the feeling of your ruined orgasm fade. “You’re the one that wants to play games,” he whispers against your skin. “Now, it’s my turn.” He dives back in, and you moan when he slides two metal fingers inside you. The second he touches you, you’re writhing against the bed. You’re so close again; you can practically taste the orgasm building.

“Pl-please, Buck,” you beg shamelessly. You feel him smile against you, and he works your clit faster and faster, bringing you right up to the edge.

“What was that, Baby? I didn’t quite hear you.” His metal fingers continue to curl inside of you while his flesh thumb rubs circles along your clit.

“Please, Bucky, please,” you whine, gripping the sheets. You’re so close, so fucking close.

“Please what? I’m not a mind reader. You gotta tell me what you need.” He sucks a mark into your inner thigh, and you feel tears prick in the corners of your eyes. “Big girl words, baby,” he whispers.

“I need to cum, Bucky, please, please!” Bucky groans and doubles his efforts. Your vision whites out as your orgasm washes over you. You shake under his touch, and Bucky holds you the entire time. He doesn’t pull away until you’re too sensitive and pushing him off of you. Bucky stands and crawls over you, pressing his weight onto you.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he whispers as he presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on him, and you moan into his mouth. Your fingers rake over the skin on his back, you’re sure you’re leaving marks, but Bucky doesn’t mind one bit. As you scratch his back, you feel Bucky’s cock lay heavily on your abdomen. You need him inside you; you need to feel him stretching you. Bucky keeps kissing you; he bites your lips and swipes his tongue to soothe you. You slide one of your hands between your bodies and find his cock. He throbs in your grip.

“I need you to fuck me, Bucky,” you say between kisses. Bucky leans his forehead against yours and stares down into your eyes.

“You sure you can take it, Baby?” You nod eagerly. You know you can. “Well, what kind of man would I be to deny my girl what she wants?” He sucks a mark on your collarbone, littering kisses along your neck and chest.

He sits up and pulls a condom from his nightstand drawer, expertly rolling it over his length. Bucky leans back over you and spreads your legs. The heat of his gaze makes you squirm, so he presses your hips down into the mattress. He lines his cock up with your entrance, bumping your clit a few times first. “You’re so fucking wet for me, Baby,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

“Bucky,” you groan, gripping his arms with your fingers. “Bucky, I need you so bad.” You sound pathetic, and it just spurs Bucky on. He pushes into you, inch by agonizing inch. The stretch is incredible, and you can’t hold back the moan that forces its way out of your throat.

“I never fucking get over how tight you are,” he says against your neck, kissing the spot just below your jaw. “Fucking made for me.” You love it when he says that, when he calls you ‘his’. You want to be his in every sense of the term.

“You gotta move, Buck, please,” you say, digging your nails into his shoulders. He sets a brutal pace, pounding you into the mattress. Despite the force he’s fucking you with, all you feel is how much he cares about you. He just wants you to feel good. You show him just how good you feel, exposing yourself to him and moaning loudly.

Bucky tells you how filthy you are, how good you are for him, how much he loves fucking you.

You’re so lost in the feeling that you nearly miss the sound of the front door slamming shut. Bucky must hear it too because he slows down just slightly.

“Steve’s not supposed to come back until tomorrow,” he whispers against your neck. You nod and try to sit up, but Bucky keeps you pressed to the mattress. Roommates being home has never stopped the two of you before. Why now?

“I know you’re home, Buck. Your keys are by the door!” Becca’s voice rings through the apartment, and you feel your heart stop. Fuck. Bucky freezes, and you can see the panic in his eyes.

“She can’t know,” you whisper, barely audible. Bucky looks hurt, but he knows what it would do to his sister if she found out like this. He pulls away from you, and you don’t have time to mourn the loss of the feeling of him on top of you.

“One sec, Becs,” he calls, hastily tugging his sweats back on. His erection hasn’t gone down at all, and he grimaces as it presses against his waistband. You pull on your panties and a t-shirt as quickly as possible, gather your clothes, then try to look for a hiding spot. Becca’s footsteps get closer and closer to the bedroom, and you realize the only option is under the bed or in his closet.

You give Bucky a panicked look, and he points under his bed. Becca rattles the doorknob and groans, “Come on, Buck.” You slip under the bed and curl up as tight as possible before he opens the door.

“What’s going on, Becca?” Bucky asks. He’s standing against the wall, blocking her from coming in, but Becca pushes past him and sits down on the bed. The mattress sags a bit with the weight.

“You need to wash the sheets. It smells weird in here.” You can tell from the tone of her voice that she’s upset. You wonder what’s happened since you saw her an hour ago. Bucky sucks in a breath before turning to face his sister. From under the bed, you can only see his feet, but you can tell he’s nervous.

“Sorry.” Becca shifts on the bed, and silence falls in the room. You calm your breaths as much as possible, but no matter how slowly you breathe, you’re convinced it’s too loud.

“Have you talked to Y/N recently?” She says after a few moments—the air in the room changes. You wonder if Becca senses it.

“No, why?” Bucky shifts to lean against the wall across from Becca. He’s trying to seem relaxed, but his voice is tense. Becca groans, and you can hear her fidget with the zipper of her jacket.

“She’s seeing some guy. I think they started hooking up around my birthday. I don’t care that she’s fucking someone, but she won’t tell me who he is.” She sounds just as tense as Bucky.

“What does this have to do with me?” You can tell he’s silently asking a different question, ‘Do you know it’s me?’

“I don’t know; you’ve always been so protective of her. I figured maybe you’d’ve heard something or whatever. You’d never let her be with a shitty person. I know you guys are close even though you pretend not to be for my sake, which I don’t feel like getting into right now. Maybe she trusts you more with boy stuff than me.” She sounds so upset, and you hate being the one to make her feel that way. Becca has been your best friend for so long, and sure, you guys fight, but you always make up in the end. You don’t know how you’re going to make up for this.

“She hasn’t told me anything,” Bucky says quietly. He sounds just as guilty as you feel. You feel Becca lay back on the sheets. Her head is just above yours now.

“I’m worried about her. She’s always smiling at her phone, fuck. She glows, Buck. She fucking glows. I’ve never seen her like this, and the fact that she’s hiding him from me means she knows I won’t like him. But how could she know that if she won’t give me a chance to get to know him?” Bucky moves to sit beside his sister. They’ve never been the most affectionate of siblings, but they’re close. As much as Becca hates to admit it, Bucky is her built-in best friend; she can tell him pretty much anything. And now, as she seeks comfort on an issue you’ve created, you can practically hear the tension melt away from the air as Bucky’s presence comforts her.

“Maybe she’s just not sure what’s going on yet,” Bucky suggests. “She might not wanna bring a new guy around if it’s just gonna end in a week.” His words make you feel uneasy, you know he’s not really talking about you, but you wonder if that’s how he feels. Does he think you’re just going to drop him in a week?

“She’s gonna get hurt,” Becca says in a serious tone. “I can feel it. Whoever this guy is, he can’t be good for her. That’s why she won’t tell me.” Bucky tries to interrupt, but Becca doesn’t let him. “She tells me everything, Buck. Everything. She told me about her first period, the day she lost her virginity to Max Ellington; she even told me about the time she accidentally walked in on you in the shower.” You cringe at her examples. Did she have to be so detailed? Bucky looses a small laugh but quickly cuts himself off.

“I get it. You two are freaky close. Why do you think this guy is going to hurt her, though?” You wish you could crawl out from under the bed and hold both their hands.

“She’s never been like this with a guy before, even when she’s dated people long term. I’ve never seen her light up the way she does when he texts her. She tries to sneak back in in the morning, but I can just tell she’s so fucking happy. She doesn’t know how to not get attached. What kind of guy would hide Y/N away like that? She deserves to be flaunted, shown off. She’s perfect, and she shouldn’t be hidden away like someone’s mistress.” Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“You know I’d never let anyone hurt her, Becca,” Bucky says sternly. You hear the slight whir of his metal arm adjusting; it’s a nervous tick. “I’ll talk to her, but I promise I won’t let her get hurt.” Becca sighs loudly.

“You can’t promise that, Buck, but thanks.” Becca sits up, and you watch her feet as she walks toward the door. “Sorry for just barging in, though. Thanks for talking with me.” Bucky stands, and though you can’t see, you know he pulls her into a hug.

“Of course, Becs. I’ve got you.” They stand in silence for a moment before Becca steps outside.

“You’re home alone, and you don’t have a girl over?” Becca teases as she walks down the hall. “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

“Fuck off, Becca!” He shouts back. Becca shuts the door behind her, and once you’re sure she’s gone, you crawl out from under the bed. Bucky turns back around as you lean your back against his mattress. There’s a lot you want to say, but you can’t quite find the words. Bucky crouches down in front of you and runs his fingers through his hair.

“We have to tell her,” you whisper. You feel like if you say it too loudly, Becca will hear somehow. Bucky sits down and pulls you into his lap. You curl into him and rest your head on his chest; his heart thumps loudly next to your ear.

“I know,” he whispers back. “I don’t wanna hurt her, but I don’t want to stop being with you.” You run your fingers along his metal arm, watching the plates react to your touch.

“You think she’d make us stop seeing each other?” You ask after a beat. You don’t want to think about the possibility of Becca forcing you to stop being with Bucky. You don’t know how you’d go back to not having him in your life.

“I’m not gonna let that happen, Baby,” he says, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You’re mine now, and I’m not letting you go.” His words fill you with warmth. Though you haven’t put a label on the relationship yet, you want to be more than just a hookup to Bucky. The fact that he’s called you ‘his’ so many times confirms that he wants that too.

Silence falls over the two of you. Bucky runs his fingers along your back while you hold him close. The weight of the guilt you both feel settles in, but neither of you are ready to broach the subject of how to tell Becca.

After a few moments, Bucky lifts you off the floor and sets you down on the bed while he walks to his closet to grab a towel. He silently walks to the bathroom, but you follow close behind him. Still, without speaking, Bucky turns on the water, and steam fills the bathroom. You two drop your clothes and step under the stream.

You grab Bucky’s shampoo, lather it in your hands, and rub it into his hair. He lets you hold the weight of his head as you massage his scalp. Once he’s rinsed, he returns the favor. His fingers press away any tension as he cleans your hair. Then, you lather body wash and rub it all over him. You can’t help but laugh a little when you watch him squirm under your touch; you’re being very thorough. Bucky can’t hide the way you’re affecting him.

Bucky does the same, rubbing his hands all over you, slick with soap. He grips your breasts, your hips, your ass. He worships your body, and you feel your knees go weak. Bucky holds you up under the stream, rinsing you off. You lean into his touch as he presses you back against the cool tile of the shower.

“I need you,” you say quietly, moving a lock of hair from Bucky’s face. You mean it. You need him. You can’t go on just having pieces of him; you need all of him.

“You have me,” he replies, leaning down to kiss you. “You have all of me, Baby,” he adds as if he can read your thoughts. “Becca would kill me if she thought you were just a hookup to me. That’s never what you’ve been; it’s always been more.” You gaze up into Bucky’s bright blue eyes, and you know it’s true.

“I’m yours.” He doesn’t need you to elaborate; he knows what you mean. Bucky kisses you passionately, and this time it feels different. You grip his shoulders, afraid that if you let go, you’ll float away.

“All mine.” Bucky runs his hands down your body, and his fingers find the wet entrance of your pussy. Yes, you’re in the shower, but he can tell you’re turned on despite that. He eases two fingers inside of you, and you let your head fall onto his shoulder. Once he feels you’re ready, he lifts your legs to hook around his hips and settles you over his cock.

This time, he moves slowly, hitting deep inside you. He whispers sweet words into your ears. You’re so beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you’re mine. You’re made for me; you’re so perfect.

You feel warmth bloom in your chest and your abdomen, but you’re too blissed out to speak. Bucky doesn’t need you to; he knows what you want. He slides a hand down to rub circles into your clit, and it sends you over the edge. He continues to thrust deep inside you, holding you tightly to himself. You’ve never felt more connected to someone in your life.

When he comes, it’s with your name on his lips and a promise to never let you go.

You bite the bullet two weeks later. Becca has come far too close to catching you and Bucky together. While it’s fun to sneak around, you don’t want Becca to find out about your relationship by walking in on you with her brother. You want to do things the right way.

Becca comes back from her shift at work around 5 pm, so you plant yourself on the couch 30 minutes before she’s due home. Your stomach turns with nerves as you wait, but you know you have to do it now. Bucky wanted to be there with you, but you know that’ll just make it worse. You need to do this alone. He can give her his side of it later.

The door swings open, and Becca makes her way into the apartment, dropping her coat and keys on a chair before plopping down on the couch beside you.

“You look freaked out. What’s wrong?” She asks, examining your face. You take a deep breath and try not to vomit the words at her.

“The guy I’m seeing,” you say, struggling to speak. Becca’s body language changes instantly; she goes rigid. “It’s Bucky. I’m sorry, Becca, I know he’s off-limits, but I couldn’t help but develop feelings for him and at your birthday –”

“I know,” she says, interrupting your words before they can keep spilling out. You stare at her, mouth hanging open.

“You know?” Becca nods, she doesn’t look angry, but she certainly doesn’t seem happy. She sighs loudly and places a hand on your knee.

“I figured it out last week. I saw one of his gingerbread socks on the floor of your room. I got him those for Christmas last year.” You can’t think of anything to say; you just feel so guilty that she’d known but not said anything.

“Becca, I –”

“I can’t really be mad at you,” she says, seemingly having already come to terms with your relationship with her older brother. “You can’t control who you fall for. I just wish you’d’ve told me earlier. I get why you didn’t, but you didn’t need to keep it a secret for so long. I can see how happy he makes you and how happy you make him. He’s like a whole new person.” You smile, Bucky has always been kind, but he certainly shows it more.

“He wanted to be here to tell you, but I thought it’d just upset you,” you say, putting a hand over Becca’s. She flips her hand, so she’s holding yours, and squeezes it.

“Smart, I’m gonna beat his ass when I see him.” You lean into her side and hug her. It feels good not to hide anything from her anymore. “I’ll kill him if he hurts you, you know,” she says, resting her head on yours.

“That’s what friends are for.”

General Tags: @peaches1958 @scxrletrecsmarvel @prettylittlepluviophile @writerwrites

Series Tags: @/peaches1958 @/scxrletrecsmarvel @/prettylittlepluviophile @/writerwrites @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @enchantedbarnes @incorgnito7

people who seemed to like the first one lol: @strwbrrybucky @buckycuddlebuddy @/jamesbarnesjr

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any of my future works <3

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shadowisles-writes · 2 years ago

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Tethered (Part 1) [Elucien]

A/N: This is my first contribution to the acotar writing circle. It’s an elucien college AU and I can’t wait to see what becomes of it after this part! I’d like to say a huge thank you to everyone taking part in this event, I’m so happy to see it all coming together!

ACOTAR Writing Circle Masterlist

Word count: 2591

Elain’s first week at the University of Velaris was not a success. She had joined the conservation biology course two weeks after the semester started and missed all of the events that she was supposed to attend to make friends. With groups already formed she didn’t know anyone except her roommate and her boyfriend, and she was already sick of third wheeling. Lectures weren’t terrible to attend by herself, but lab hours were a struggle as she was stuck at the bench at the very back of the room and could barely hear the professor giving instructions.

Worst of all, Elain was now stuck outside of her building by herself in the middle of the night. The fire alarm blared so loud her head was starting to hurt, and she was freezing in her stupidly thin pajamas while the rest of the building was huddled in little groups with blankets. Clearly they had already gotten used to the fire alarm going off at random times. Wishing Vassa hadn’t left her alone tonight, Elain wrapped her arms around herself and walked back and forth along the side of the building in an effort to stay warm.

No one else seemed to notice her. It wasn’t like she was making an effort to talk to them either, but couldn’t they realize that approaching a group of over five people was intimidating when you were alone? Elain stopped glancing towards them soon enough, opting to stare at her bare, frozen feet in pink slippers as they moved in small steps.

“Are you alright?” A man’s voice interrupted her pacing. “You must be freezing.”

“I’m fine,” Elain lied as a habit and looked up at him before she glanced towards the door hopefully. “Shouldn’t be too long until we get to go back in, right?”

“I think it might still be a while,” he slid a forest green blanket off his shoulders and offered it to her. “Here.”

“Oh,” Elain grasped the soft fabric and immediately felt the warmth on her fingers. She was too cold to politely refuse so that he wouldn’t get cold himself and promptly wrapped it around her body. “Thank you.”

His answering smile nearly made her swoon. How was it possible for a man to be so beautiful? Elain didn’t typically have a thing for men with long hair, but the red strands that framed his face complimented his dark skin and russet eyes so well that she didn’t even want to imagine what he might look like with short hair. It was only when she was done examining his sharp features that she realized she was using his blanket but didn’t even know his name.

“I’m Elain, I’m new,” she held out her hand and internally cringed at the second half of her introduction. Why did she have to be so awkward when meeting people?

“Lucien,” he shook it with a gentle but firm grip. “And I can tell. We’ve all been through this too many times to leave our rooms without something warm, soon enough people will start dragging their whole beds outside.”

Elain couldn’t help a chuckle from escaping her lips. Some people had already brought snacks, so perhaps beds weren’t far from being next. “Thanks for the blanket, Lucien. I hope you’re not getting too cold because of me.” She frowned, taking in his attire.

“It’s nothing, I run hot anyway,”

“Clearly,” Elain blurted out and immediately cursed herself.

He would have to, to stand so comfortably in dark sweatpants and a matching crewneck. Elain prayed that he would make the connection between his clothes and the weather rather than realize she found him ridiculously hot. She was such an embarrassment.

Elain blushed at her own thoughts and looked down. Her slippers looked dumb compared to his comfortable sneakers, as did the rest of her pajamas. Her daily outfits were always cute and classy to give her the confidence she was seriously lacking in this kind of situation. No one but Vassa was supposed to see her like this, and guys like Lucien were only supposed to run into her when she was nicely dressed with her hair done.

“So, can I ask why you’re joining a few weeks after everyone else?” He crossed his arm over his broad chest and Elain looked up again.

There was still an easy smile on his face, not awkward or judgemental, just friendly like he could tell she was uncomfortable—with the way she was standing, an idiot could have figured it out—and wanted to put her at ease.

“My sister had an accident—she’s okay now,” Elain quickly added when she saw his eyes slightly widen. “Long story short, it wasn’t that big of a deal in the end, but my other sister was away so I didn’t want to leave her alone until I was sure she’d be fine.”

“So you have two sisters?”

Elain nodded. “I’m the middle child. You?”

“Three brothers, I… I’m the youngest,” Lucien answered.

“Wow. Don’t get me wrong, I love my sisters, but I couldn’t deal with one more,” she joked, thinking of all the fights she got in with Feyre and Nesta.

Lucien breathed out a chuckle, but it didn’t hide the way his smile fell for a second. Elain was filled with the sense that she had said something wrong and had no idea how to fix it. She was thankfully saved by the arrival of a black car with their university’s logo on it and everyone else stirring as they itched to get back inside. They got caught in the large group of people by the door, waiting for the man that had come to give them the all clear.

Lucien’s name was called by someone, and a second later he was pulled further back by his friends. Elain was too short to see exactly where he had gone, and she completely lost track of where he could be when the students began filing back into their rooms. Caught in the flow, she walked up the stairs and uselessly glanced around for a glimpse of his red hair to give him his blanket back. Elain unlocked her door once she reached the third floor and stood halfway in, waiting to see if he’d walk past, but she was soon staring at an empty and silent corridor.

If she didn’t want to knock on every single door in the building, Elain would have to wait until she ran into him again to be able to give that blanket back.

Elain shamelessly slept wrapped in the forest green blanket for two weeks. The warm, musky scent of it had driven her right to sleep the night of the fire alarm and every night after that. It was slowly wearing off, but it was still strong enough when she brought the fabric to her face and took a deep, comforting inhale. Vassa thankfully hadn’t asked about where it came from.

They had become incredibly close in the short amount of time they had shared this room, admitting things they had never told anyone else. There was just something about four am conversations that drove the honesty right out of someone. Sometimes, like when Elain told Vassa of the things her ex had done, they’d sit in the same bed and hug until they fell asleep. Others, they’d laugh so loud they probably woke their neighbors up and went to sleep in between fits of giggles and stupid jokes.

Elain kept the blanket with her when she was in her room during the day too, sitting on her bed and draping it over her shoulders while she read or studied with a cup of tea. She was in that exact position when Vassa came into their room on a Thursday evening accompanied by two men. Elain recognized Jurian’s voice immediately, and she didn’t care that she was in a lazy outfit whenever he visited. She was, however, incredibly embarrassed when Lucien filed into the small room after him.

“Elain,” he smiled when he noticed her. “I didn’t know you were Vassa’s roommate.”

“I didn’t know you knew Vassa,” she replied dumbly, watching his eyes take in the messy bun she had pulled her hair in and his blanket on her shoulders. Elain quickly undid the bun and tried to smooth out her curls into something that looked more acceptable, but she doubted it did much to help her appearance.

“I texted you,” Vassa said as she noticed her discomfort.

Elain wished she had seen the text and took her phone off silent for the rest of the night. “It’s fine,” she dismissed with a shrug that made the blanket fall off her shoulders.

Great. Now she could either wrap it around her again even though she should have already given it back to Lucien, or she could let him see the ugly old concert hoodie she had stolen from Feyre before she moved here. She wished she could look effortlessly pretty in it like her younger sister did, but that privilege seemed to belong to her only.

Elain chose to ignore the blanket, and she was quickly distracted by her phone ringing. What now? Graysen’s name appeared on her screen and made her freeze for a second.

“Oh hell no,” Vassa saw the caller ID and glared at Elain when she tried to reach for it. “Don’t you dare,” she nearly growled as she snatched the phone away and hit deny. “I told you to block his number!”

“Who was that?” Lucien asked.

“No one,” Elain said at the same time as Vassa slammed the phone down on her nightstand and covered her voice with hers.

“An abusive piece of shit.”

Elain felt her face heat up with anger and embarrassment. “Vassa!”

“I don’t care if you have to be pissed at me for the rest of your life,” her roommate ignored Lucien and Jurian’s presence. “You are not getting this phone back until you’ve blocked him and deleted all of his contact info.”

“Are you crazy?” Elain exploded, trying to reach for it only for Vassa to expertly dodge her. “What is wrong with you?”

“You’ll thank me later,” she quickly undid the latch on the window and chucked the phone out of it without a hint of hesitation.

The two women stared at each other for a few moments after the distinct crack of a phone breaking was heard. Vassa stood her ground, her head high as she watched Elain’s eyes fill with angry tears. Lucien and Jurian remained silent, knowing that interfering with Vassa's fiery personality would do nothing to help either of them calm down.

Elain’s lower lip trembled as she clenched her fists by her side and quickly turned to storm out of the room. How could she have done this to her? Vassa had to be fucking insane to just smash her phone like that. And in front of Jurian and Lucien too. Big teardrops leaked out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she stomped down the stairs and kicked the door of their building open to get some fresh air.

Elain swallowed a big gulp of cold night air as soon as she was able to, but it did nothing to cool the fury inside of her.

“Elain!” Lucien’s voice reached her as she got away from the building, but she didn’t have it in her to slow down. “Elain! Where are you going?” He called, following after her.

“Anywhere.”

“You didn’t take your key,”

“I’m not going back to that room anyway.”

“Elain,” Lucien jogged up to her and touched her shoulder to stop her. “You can’t just walk off alone at night,”

“I am so sick of everyone telling me what I can and can’t do!” She exploded as she turned towards him, eyes rimmed red from crying.

“Listen.” He insisted with a calm voice. “You can go breathe and walk for a while if that’s what you need, but staying out stranded all night is stupid no matter how angry you are. Just take this, okay?” He pressed a key into her hand without giving her a chance to ask questions. “I’ll be out until tomorrow,” was all he said before turning around and leaving her alone.

Elain bit back more tears and stomped off, clutching the key in her hand so hard it hurt.

She was forced to admit he was right a few hours later. Her eyes were swollen and painful from all the crying, and her cheeks were frozen from all the tears that had spilled on them in the cold. Elain had to hide her hands in the sleeves of the hoodie to keep them from turning blue, and she had no choice but to walk back to the dorms. A small number was carved in Lucien’s key, indicating which room he lived in and giving Elain a chance to stay warm for the night.

It took little effort to find it on the first floor, and Elain was surprised to find out he didn’t even have a roommate. Lucky bastard had a single room. She dropped the key on his desk and quickly kicked her slippers off to fall into his bed and wrap herself in his duvet. The comforting scent she had gotten used to from his blanket was all around her then, soothing her enough to stop more tears from stinging at the back of her eyes.

Elain grabbed a few tissues from his bedside table and wiped her face before forcing herself to slow her breathing into a steady rhythm. Gradually, she was able to take in the room in more detail. It was tidy save for a few shirts draped over his chair, and there was almost no decoration except for a single family picture on the desk. Judging that if it was exposed so openly there was no harm in looking at it, Elain reached for the frame.

A woman with hair as red as Lucien’s stood at the back next to a brown haired man that seemed all too serious when everyone else in the picture was smiling. She tried to identify Lucien and looked for the youngest boy, but she was surprised to find the smallest ones were red haired twins. Surely Lucien would have mentioned being a twin. It was only then that she realized he was supposed to have three brothers, and she could count six little boys in the picture.

They were standing according to size, so Elain assumed it was a sign of their age. The first three had hair darker than Lucien’s, much closer to brown than red, but their features were all similar. Lucien was the fourth, she could easily recognize the shape of his nose and his smile now, and the last two looked like smaller copies of him.

“Three brothers, I… I’m the youngest,”

“Wow. Don’t get me wrong, I love my sisters, but I couldn’t deal with one more,”

No wonder Lucien’s face fell when she had said that if he had lost two little brothers.

Elain’s heart squeezed as she realized how horribly she had treated him earlier in her burst of anger. He had done nothing but be kind since she met him, and she had yelled at him when he was only trying to help. She’d have apologies to give him when he came back in the morning.

Until then, Elain replaced the frame where it belonged and buried her face in his pillow to fall asleep.

Tags: @shisingh @ruthieluvsbooks @a_little_disguised @earthofemily @halaberdara @sydney-fae25 @meher_sumedha @nspwriteups @separatist-apologist @velidewrites @the-lonelybarricade @hlizr50 @ofduskanddreams @headcanonheadcase @crazy-cool-girl-blog @thehaemanthus @thestarseternal @shadowsingerofnight @violet-shadows

#acotarwritingcircle #elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien au #elucien fic #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction

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muichiroslover · 3 years ago

Note

Heyo could I request a ban x reader

Where ban and y/n first started dating before elaine so when elaine got into the picture she was a little jealous of their relationship and would try and break them up. And so one day ban and y/n got into an argument, the next day y/n and all of her stuff was gone. Elaine thinking it was a perfect time to take ban tries to comfort him but all he can think about is y/n. So eventually he finds y/n and apologizes in which y/n forgives him.

HAPPY ENDINGG

(Srry If its 2 long u don't have to do it if u dont want 2) (also I do not hate elaine xD)

Hi hi!! Yes I love this idea I love me some angst with happy ending 👀 I hope this is to your liking butterscotch!! <33 enjoy (●’◡’●)ﾉ♥︎♥︎

(Sorry it’s a little late ☹︎)

Pairings: Ban x reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood and wounds (not bad)

Genre: Angst with happy ending

_______________________________________________

You and ban had been a couple for as long as you could remember, at first it was kind of hard to approach him when you guys first met but when you guys had warmed up to each other you guys were absolutely inseparable

You guys did everything together and you were so well known your couple name around towns were “The bandit couple”

As you guys explored the world one night Ban brought up news about this drink that could give you immortality, using the sly line

“Then we can be together forever”

To which you laughed and hit him playfully, but he was entirely serious, you sighed and ended up agreeing to your adventurous boyfriends plan, if it wasn’t real at least you guys would have a fun time

So you guys began your journey to the fairy kings forest, when you guys had finally got to the tree you looked up and groaned

“That’s a huge tree, do we have to climb it?” You ask and he snorts as he already begins getting his hands and legs ready to climb

“You don’t have to, you can wait down here” he says smugly and you glare at the back of his head

“No I’m coming, I might as well see it through” you mutter annoyed to which he laughed

“That’s my girl” he says and you look away in embarrassment, feeling flustered at the comment which almost sent the blue haired man flying off the tree in amusement

As you guys climbed and finally made it to the top a girl, a little one at that looked at you both with a straight face as she puts her hand up and a huge wind blows you guys off

You scream in fear as you get blown far back and far above the ground, Ban grits and teeth and clicks his tongue as he grabs you as you guys start falling and takes the impact

You quickly got off of him and looked at him, tears almost in your eyes

“Oh my god! Ban! Ban I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for you to take the impact! Ban!! Ban-“ you frantically said to the man on the ground who’s eyes were closed

“If you keep calling my name out like that it’d be plain bullying if I didn’t wake up” he groans as he slowly sits up and you quickly hug him to which he chuckles and embraces you back

“Alright let’s try again” he says and your eyes widen slightly

“But ban-“ you begin and he just looks at you with his normal goofy smile you can never turn down, you sigh, deeply may I add and look at him

“Okay..I trust you” you say and he grins even wider as he grabs your hand and stands up as you guys started running towards the tree

The same thing happened a few times, it hurt, a lot but Ban never let you get too injured, always taking the impact of the fall even if you tried to fight with his grip in the air

The last time you guys got up there Ban grabbed his weapon and your eyes widen slightly thinking he was gonna attack the little girl

But he manipulated his staff and instead grabbed the cub with his weapon, You gasped as you two got quickly bounded by trees and the girl took the cup from Bans hand

The girl stands in front of you guys seemingly doing something then she lets us both go, Ban started explaining why you guys wanted immortality and those of such, You didn’t expect him to tell her his whole life’s story but

“Well shes too strong Y/n, let’s just go back” he says smiling at you as he holds out his hand, you smile lightly and nod as you grab it and you both head back down the tree

You guys were camping near the tree those days you were climbing it, you decided you’d stay another week since the fairy kings forest is actually quite pretty and you wanted to explore a bit before leaving since this opportunity may never come again

One night as you laid asleep in your sleeping bag you felt moving, you opened your eyes groggily to see your boyfriend quietly leaving the tent, you thought nothing of it, maybe he was going to pee or he was extra hungry or there was something dangerous nearby

Ignoring it you let yourself fall back into a deep slumber

But as the days and nights continued he kept sneaking out, you started getting suspicious so on the 4th night he snuck out you waited a little bit pretending you were sleeping and after a few minutes you slowly crept out of the tent

You looked around whispering your boyfriends name, this could be a huge misunderstanding after all

You went all around the forest and no sight of Ban

You went back to the tent and looked in, maybe you missed him?? But nope he wasn’t in there

You finally stopped in front of the tree and looked up, remembering the girl that resided there, logically speaking she was older then both of us since fairy’s live longer

“He didn’t” you whisper, you didn’t want to think, no you absolutely were wrong, must be seeing the wrong picture

Your boyfriend of years and hardships is not sneaking out at night to meet up with another girl, no it sounds absurd even thinking about it

‘I’ll just climb and check and I’ll be wrong, I’ll take the wind blow’ you think nodding your head reassuring yourself

You start climbing up the tree as quietly as possible, when you finally made it up and peaked up your mouth fell agape as you saw Ban and the girl chatting and laughing, all close

It surprised you so much that you lost grip on the tree and fell back, you rolled down the tree as if it was a hill, your limbs flying to and fro as you finally hit the bottom

You groaned quietly in pain

“What was that?” Ban says as he stops his conversation with Elaine hearing a soft thump

Elaine looks to the side

“ I didn’t hear anything?” She says and Ban shrugs as they continue to talk

You on the other hand shakily get up as you look at yourself, your arm was bleeding but you don’t know from where, your left ankle was sprained for sure, and your back was killing you it probably had a horrible bruise forming

A tear slipped out as you limped to the tent, you sat down as you grabbed bandages and started cleaning your wounds, the blood was coming from a gash just below your shoulder, probably from a sharp branch

You put a stick in your mouth as you took a deep breath, you grabbed some of Bans alcohol and poured it over the cut, you bit down harshly on the stick but no scream made it through, tears can’t say the same though

You spit out the stick as you breathed hard, every breath of air seeming like you haven’t had oxygen for a while, you take a bandage and wrap it around your arm securely

Usually you would make herbs for wounds and etc, but your hands were shaky, mind a daze and eyes blurry from tears

You wrapped up your sprained ankle and just let your back be in pain because there wasn’t much you could do about the pain back there

You sat silently in the tent waiting for your boyfriend to arrive, he did not arrive till the morning, about an hour and a half before you would usually wake up

When he opened the tent and saw you staring blankly at his empty sleeping bag he went to you and was about to touch your shoulder to ask you what was wrong but you jerked back

He was surprised as you looked at him, your eyes puffy, a huge sign you were crying

“Y/n what-“

“Where were you last night Ban?” You ask and he goes silent

“No in fact where were you the past 4 nights??” You ask and he sighs

“Y/n I just went out to explore and hunt, the foods not gonna come to us-“

You scoff, tears forming up, if he’s lying then is it true that he..

“You’re lying Ban, you’re lying to me” you grit out and he looks at you a little confused but mostly surprised

“What?”

“You were up there in that tree with that girl..” you say dangerously quiet and he sighs his head falling as he realizes he’s been caught and it looks totally wrong too

“Y/n..” he begins and you shake your head

“No no dont Y/n me, why did you lie and why were you sneaking out?!” You shout

“Y/n we were just talking I swear, I lied because I didn’t know how you would react-“

“HOW I WOULD REACT? HOW WOULD YOU REACT IF I WAS SNEAKING OFF LATE AT NIGHT AND MEETING UP WITH SOME GUY BAN?? HUH??!” You ask pushing him back but you wince as the wound near your shoulder moves

Ban notices this then notices the bandage on your arm and ankle

“Y/n what happened?” He asks quickly as he pulls your ankle into his palm to examine it, but you pull it back quickly

“You’re not even answering me, I-I can’t believe this, I can’t.” You say as you lay down in your sleeping bag, you were extremely tired from staying up the whole night already

You laid on the opposite side you usually lay on because of the wound on your other shoulder and thankfully it was the side not facing Ban

You guys didn’t speak for the whole day and when night came you woke up only to see Ban gone

“Y-You’re kidding” you whisper, you quickly get out, you run to the tree as you go up the route you began to remember with your mind at this point

You climbed up skillfully fast ignoring the roaring pain in both your ankle and shoulder, you peaked up and not to your surprise you see Ban and Elaine speaking under the oh so romantic fairy lights

With no sound you climbed back down, you walked to your tent and went in, grabbing your bag you grabbed your herbs, bandages, clothes and canned foods, leaving some for Ban even in your mood

You rolled up your sleeping bag and dig the dirt under as you grabbed your bag of coins, you and Ban always hid your money in case of any intruders, you guys were bandits after all

You take your money and put it in your bag as you get out the tent and leave

Ban returned back in the morning, he had asked Elaine what he should do to fix things and what a girl usually would like in this type of situation, you guys had never fought so bad to the point you didn’t speak the whole entire day

He was scared you were actually done with him, he had a few picked flowers in his hand and he took a deep breath as he opened the tent

But his eyes widen when he sees your stuff gone and your sleeping bag rolled up, he drops the flowers as he looks around frantically

“Y/N?? Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?!” He yelled, he ran everywhere around the forest looking for you, but you were no where in sight

By the time night fell he still couldn’t find you and it felt like his whole world was collapsing in front of him, he couldn’t think and he couldn’t even yell anymore bc he was sure he lost his voice by how loud and long he was screaming your name

He quickly wiped a tear that rolled down his cheek as he quickly climbed the tree, Elaine looked over at him worriedly

“You didn’t come at our usual time I was worried” she said and looks away blushing slightly

“She left Elaine! She left and I can’t find her anywhere” he says as he falls onto his knees and the tears finally come out

“She left me Elaine I-“ he says hoarsely

Elaine frowns sadly as she goes over and hugs him

“Well Ban...maybe she wasn’t the right one..there’s other people who can make you happy” she says

“Her injuries, she had bandages on her right arm and an injury on her ankle as well! She can get really hurt out there I have to find her” he cried

“Ban she left you, maybe it’s time to move on” Elaine says hintfully and lets go of Ban as she flies to the cup, she gives it to Ban and smiles at him

“Really?” He asks and she nods blushing a bit, he drank it slowly and when Elaine wasn’t looking he poured some inside of a glass bottle

“Ban I like-“ Elaine begins but Ban gets up

“I’m sorry Elaine I think this is the last time you’ll be seeing me, I checked every inch of the forest last night so that means Y/n has left the forest, I’m gonna be leaving as soon as I make it to the tent and get my stuff” he says to the girl who’s face falls in despair

“W-What wait but Ban she-“ she began

“She left? She had a good reason, if I was in her position I’d be upset too I can’t blame her” he says running a hand through his hair

“B-BUT SHE-SHE” Elaine tries to plead but stops when she sees Ban smile at her

“No matter what she did or does, she’s the only one my heart races for, in life or in death Y/n is my one true love so...wherever she goes I’ll chase her” he says and with that he jumps off the tree

Elaine falls to her knees as she watches the spot Ban once stood in, her head falling down as tears fell on to the tree

Ban had gotten to the tent and began packing all his stuff he got his money bag from under his sleeping , though he wonders where you hid yours and leaves

He travels for towns and towns looking for you, he had finally found you but much to his dismay you got captured since you were injured and were in a pretty tight situation as you were on death row

He watched as you and other prison mates were in a yard just doing your own things, you were laying on a bench staring at the sky

“Pssst”

You look up quickly and look around not seeing anyone, you were about to lay back down

“Pssst Y/n!”

You look around again noticing the familiar voice

“I must be going crazy” you mutter as you hold your forehead

“You’re not! Look over here!”

You slowly look to the side of the fence you were near and your eyes slowly landed on a bush, soon blue hair popped up from behind the bush and Ban gave you that grin of his

“Ban!” You say, a smile on your face, but you quickly replace it by a scowl and look away from him

He smiles slightly at that

“Y/n come on look at me” he whispers and you begrudgingly look over at him and he smiles, causing you to get flustered and your scowl to shake trying not to smile

“What are you doing here, you better hurry up and escape before they catch you too” you whisper not looking at him, instead watching the guards

He laughs

“As if I would leave you in a jail cell, come on let’s go” he says and you look at him stupidly

“Let’s go? No thanks death row isn’t that bad” you say coldly and he sighs

“Fine, guess we have to do this the hard way” he says shrugging

“HEY GUARDS” He shouts and your eyes widen as you sit up and block him with your body as the guards and inmates look at you

“UHH YEAH GUARDS, UHM YOUR ZIPPERS DOWN” you say and cringe deeply when the guards both look down and one coughs as he zips up his zipper, the inmates laughing

When everything died down you looked at Ban deadly

“Are you crazy?” You whisper

“Crazy for you”

Your mouth closes as you try to not blush but it’s inevitable as your brows unfurrow and a small smile takes over

“There’s that smile I love” he says and you roll your eyes as you huff slightly

“You better explain, I’m not giving you another chance so don’t you lie to me” you say and he nods quickly like a dog, you can basically see the tail behind him wagging

“Now step back babe, you’re boyfriends here to save you” he says smugly and you roll your eyes as you back up

He takes out his staff and in a swift motion breaks the fence, the guards all look over

“HEY” one shouts and you gasp as Ban quickly scoops you up and starts running

“It’s okay! I’ll take this bandit off your hands!” He shouts amused as he runs, he runs into a forest and does many turns eventually losing the guards who had to return back before any other inmates escaped

He puts you down lightly and you cross your arms to which he snorts

“I can run you know” you say and he shakes his head as he leans down and takes out a jar of green stuff

“They’re not as good as yours but they should do” he says and he gently takes your leg as he pulls up the inmate suit and sees your swollen ankle

“Tch stupid guards didn’t even treat it” he mutters as he takes some of the green cream and slowly and gently rubs it over your ankle

You can’t lie this felt really good but

“The first night I went up to try to plead for the youth drink” he says and you look at him

“The second night I went up to try and bribe for the youth drink”

“The third night I spoke to her, I tried to get to know her so she can see we have no bad intentions but one night wasn’t enough”

“The 4th night she had decent trust in me, so we continued talking”

He sighed as he started wrapping the bandage around your ankle softly, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Ban this gentle

“And the 5th night?” You ask and he looks to the side, you noticed a slight blush

“The 5th night I asked advice on what I should do to make you forgive me..” he mutters and your mouth falls agape slightly, it slowly forms into a small smile

“I’m sorry for not letting you explain..” you say and he shakes his head

“No, I can see how this looked from your perspective” he says as he rolls up your sleeves and switches the old bloodied bandages on your arm

You chuckle softly

“So I guess we can’t be together forever” you say sighing and as he rubs the herb cream on your bruised back he raises his eyebrow and pulls out a glass bottle with pink liquid

“Sorry but you’re not escaping me so easily” he says and you gasp as you grab the bottle and look at it

“This is really it??” You say looking back at him and he nods proudly

You slowly open it and drink it, but you didn’t feel that different

“Did it work?” You ask and he shrugs to which you deadpan

That day you both held hand as you jumped off a cliff, when you landed you guys sat up as you laughed and high fived, it worked

After a few months both you and Ban were caught purposely cause life began to get boring, you both sat in the same cell, after 33 executions you both are still alive in confinement

“I win” you say as you cross an all three X’s on the tic tac toe you made on the dirt in the ground

“You’re cheating” Ban replies and you laugh

Soon the door blows open and you two looked over to see a short man with blonde hair, you both smiled as Meliodas smiled back at you two

“Glad to see you two are still lovebirds”

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ncssian · 3 years ago

Text

A Favor: Part Twenty-Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: not an ending, but a middle.

this chapter was ridiculously difficult to write and edit. it tops out at 7.5k words so… beware

***

Cassian and Nesta make full use of the summer house without his friends there, making love on every other surface just because they’re all alone and they can. Nesta shows a soft spot in particular for having sex in Cassian’s old bed, proving to him that she can be just as sentimental as he is.

Which is how they end up sprawled naked on the living room floor early the next morning, fast asleep in each other’s arms with nothing but a throw blanket to cover them.

Cassian is woken up by the sound of the front door being flung open, followed promptly by a feminine yelp as the intruder catches sight of the tangled couple in the living room. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cassian whips his head up to find who interrupted his sleep, and his nostrils flare in shock when he sees Mor at the entryway. He carefully but swiftly moves his arm out from under Nesta’s head and replaces it with a nearby pillow before starting to stand up. “What the hell are you doing—”

“Fuck no, I can see your ass—No, now I can see your dick!” Mor squeals in disgust, promptly spinning around and clapping her hands over her eyes like she can burn the image out of her mind.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Cassian whisper-hisses at her, throwing a worried glance at Nesta’s still sleeping form. She doesn’t shift an inch.

Scooping up his flannel sleep pants from the floor, Cassian pulls them on while Mor makes gagging noises with her back to him.

Spying a pair of underwear flung over the arm of a chair, she bends to pick them up with two pinched fingers and turns to face Cassian, who’s now appropriately covered. Heavy judgment wrinkles her nose as she casts a glance to the owner of the panties, then to Cassian. “Granny panties, Cass? Is this what your sex life has been reduced to?”

“Don’t touch Nesta’s underwear.” He stalks over to Mor and snatches them out of her hand, before grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her off into the kitchen.

She shakes him off once they’re out of earshot from Nesta and takes a seat across from him at the wooden breakfast table. She brushes her golden hair over a shoulder and smirks. “Someone’s been having fun on their own while waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.”

“What are you doing here?” Cassian repeats.

Mor waves a languid hand dismissively. “I ended up taking a commercial flight. I wasn’t a fan of being stuck on the same private plane as Az and Elain.”

Cassian blows out a tight breath, wishing he’d at least gotten some warning before his plans for the day were ruined. Plans that included taking Nesta in the lake before breakfast.

“But seriously,” Mor glances over her shoulder in the direction of the living room, “what’s up with the prude panties? I thought you would’ve thawed that ice pussy by n…” She trails off at the look on Cassian’s face, and a glimpse of fear crosses her own face. She forces a nervous laugh and twists her fingers together. “I suddenly remember making a promise a while ago,” she murmurs while staring down at the table.

“It’s a good thing you remember,” Cassian says stoically, “because I was just about to bring it up.”

“I know, I know, no criticizing your girlfriend.” Mor rolls her eyes.

“It’s about a lot more than that,” he grits. “It’s about how you’re only wary of her because you don’t trust me to choose who I give my love to. It’s about how you don’t respect my decision enough to maintain boundaries when you talk about Nesta.”

For once, Mor looks put off her game. “I never meant it like that,” she tries to say.

“That’s what it looks like,” Cassian retorts. “It looks like you’re judging someone you have no right to judge, like you’re trying to protect me from an imaginary threat.”

Mor coughs aloud. “Do I really need a scolding for a girl I see maybe twice a year? I haven’t even thought about Nesta since the New Year’s party.”

“It’s not a scolding,” Cassian says firmly. “It’s an order to be on your best behavior for the duration of this vacation, because the sisters and I went through a lot to get Nesta to come here. There will be no catfights, or backtalk, or rude looks and snide tones until we’ve returned home. The same applies for everyone else once they get here.”

“Or, how about this? I’ll stop making ice pussy jokes if you stop being this…” Mor waves a hand up and down at Cassian’s shirtless figure with a grimace, “unrecognizable creature with the tension of a forty year old single dad.”

Is Cassian tense? Of course he’s fucking tense. The last time he convinced Nesta to go to a family event with him was Christmas Eve, and he’s never letting that mistake be repeated ever again. His glare confirms it.

“Morrigan,” he says lowly with a hint of warning.

“Okay, okay,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in surrender. “But for the record, I’ve never said anything rude to your girlfriend’s face, and I never plan to.”

Cassian crosses his brown arms across his chest. “No, you’ve only done it to my face.”

Guilt crosses Mor’s features for the quickest second. “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip. “In that case, I’ll pull back from now on.”

He releases a terse breath. “Good.” Now to hammer the message into anyone else who might threaten the quiet solitude he and Nesta have found here.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she adds somewhat apologetically. “You know I just want the best for you.”

“And you know I already know what’s best for me.”

Mor dips her head in reluctant acknowledgment. “Can we go back to normal, then? I don’t like feeling like your adversary.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief, and his crossed arms fall away. “Of course, Mor.”

Like flipping a switch, Mor claps her hands together. “Good. I left my luggage in the rental car and it’s super heavy; I brought enough clothes for three outfit changes a day. Why don’t you put those big strong muscles to work while I get settled into my room?”

Before Cassian can object, she’s out of her seat and flouncing out of the kitchen. From the entry hall, Cassian can hear Mor say perkily, “Good morning, Nesta! Love the undies.”

Cassian drops his head onto the table with a thud, lifts it, then drops it again. Mor is going to be a work in progress.

“You okay?” A voice makes Cassian look up from the wooden table. Nesta stands in the kitchen entryway wearing nothing but Cassian’s shirt, and her hair is a rumpled mess from sleep. Her hands twisting into the hem of his tee tells him she couldn’t be less excited about Mor’s early arrival, though the rest of her doesn’t show it.

Exhausted apprehensiveness drops in Cassian’s gut. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks warily.

“Not much. I just woke up a minute ago and heard your voices.” She comes over to him and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Why, were you guys arguing?”

Cassian slings his arm around Nesta’s waist, basking in her warmth. “Not exactly.”

She frowns. “Was it about me?”

“It was about Mor.”

She nudges him. “Will you tell me about it?”

“No,” he quips, yanking her down onto his lap. He pecks a kiss onto her lips. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Nesta hums to herself. “So our morning plans are out the window?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Yup.”

“Does Mor actually like my undies?”

“Nope.”

***

The rest of Cassian’s friends and Nesta’s family arrive by late afternoon, piling out of a dark SUV in a frenzy of noise and colors. Nesta forgot how… many of them there were.

She lets Cassian and Mor handle the greetings, choosing to observe everyone from her spot near the stairs.

Azriel is the first to catch her eyes. He looks the same as ever, dressed head to toe in black even in the middle of a heat wave. Elain is an overdressed peacock in comparison to him, not that anyone would be comparing them, because they carefully stand at opposite ends of the entry hall.

He sends a simple nod Nesta’s way, which makes her narrow her eyes. Does he think he can act too cool for her just because they haven’t talked in a while? Idiot.

Feyre notices Nesta next and waves her arms wildly. “Get over here!”

Nesta reluctantly pulls away from the banister and nears their group, offering only a half smile to everyone there before hiding behind her sisters. Cassian cuts a glance her way in solidarity, and it feels like a pillar of reinforcement against her wavering self. She scrambles around for a solid ten seconds for something to say, either to her sisters or to the whole group, and finally comes up with, “What are we having for dinner?”

“That’s still hours away,” Rhysand assures. “Everyone scram and put your shit up first.”

“The girl has a point,” Amren grumbles. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah, Rhys, can we have an early dinner?” Mor whines.

And just like that, Nesta has melted into the background again. Which might be for the best, considering how loud it is right now.

Feeling overwhelmed, Nesta checks on Feyre and Elain to make sure they’re not paying attention to her, and then meets Cassian’s gaze through all the luggage and bodies. Tilting her head toward the back door to let him know that she’s leaving, she silently slips down the hall and out of the house.

Outside in the gardens, the light breeze soothes her heightened senses. It’s hot as shit at this hour, but she’ll take it for the peace and quiet.

Only a few minutes into her getaway, however, Nesta hears the porch door open behind her. Her shoulders stiffen when she hears footsteps that don’t belong to Cassian. There goes her peace and quiet.

Nesta is surprised to find Amren slinking up to her side, her small head appearing at Nesta’s shoulder.

Discomfort crawls through Nesta’s bones at the woman’s unexpected presence. It’s a subtle sense of wrongness, like being in the proximity of a predator but not having enough information to guess how they’ll attack.

“Hiding out from Rhysie’s big bad inner circle?” Amren taunts.

Nesta stiffens. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be thrown in her face.

“I suppose I can’t blame you,” she goes on. “We can be a scary group.”

“I’m not scared of anybody,” Nesta says, keeping her focus glued to the trees’ cherry blossoms. “I just wanted fresh air.”

“And I’ve wanted to find out what Cassian sees in you ever since he gave me that verbal lashing about being nice to his new girlfriend.” Amren turns to face Nesta fully, closing in. “What kind of pussy grip can a woman have to make Cassian of all men heel?” She hisses in a thoughtful breath through her teeth.

Nesta only shrugs, but her interest is piqued at the idea of Cassian warning Amren away from her. She definitely doesn’t need the protection, and once would have found it offensive, but… she likes the idea of someone standing up for her, being unapologetically on her side even if they have no good reason to do it. The only other times she can remember feeling defended were brief, subtle childhood instances with Feyre and Elain, and that was only because blood instinctively defends blood. It’s different to feel chosen. It makes her chest crack.

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Amren throws out, “Are you on the spectrum or what?”

Nesta again doesn’t reply.

“No one mentioned it, but I assumed as soon as I saw you.”

“It’s rude to make assumptions,” Nesta says, her voice cool as a running river.

Amren barks a laugh that sounds like a whip lashing. “I like you, girl.”

Nesta finally meets Amren’s silver gaze and states, “I don’t like you.” Her tone is blunt, to the point—but if she has to participate in this twisted version of small talk, then she should at least get to be honest.

Amren laughs aloud again, as if that genuinely amuses her. Nesta doesn’t know how amused Amren will be when she realizes that Nesta is serious.

She shrugs to herself, turning back to face the garden. It isn’t her problem, she decides.

***

“Even for you, this is overprotective.” Rhys’s voice comes from behind Cassian, who stands at the sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen that peers out onto the gardens. He’s been watching Amren converse with Nesta for the last seven minutes—or rather, he’s been watching Nesta, inspecting her body language to gauge her discomfort.

It was a struggle not to hold his arm across the back door and block Amren from following after Nesta earlier. Amren had the look of a cat going out to play with a new toy, and Cassian had nearly snarled at her for it until she gave him that expression: the raised brow and sneer that said Really, Cassian? Pathetic.

It made him think of how Nesta would feel if she knew he was trying to physically keep people away from her, and he managed to have enough shame to move aside and let Amren pass with only a warning look.

So far though, it looks like Nesta is handling herself just fine. He should’ve known better than to underestimate her.

When Rhys doesn’t get a response, he comes up to stand at Cassian’s side and get a look through the glass door. “I never thought you’d be applying your passion for security to your damn girlfriend.” Rhys lets out a low whistle.

Without taking his eyes off Nesta and Amren, Cassian tells Rhys, “Protecting her is protecting myself. When she gets hurt, I feel it twofold.” And he really doesn’t want to be hurt on this vacation. Nesta already thinks he’s a crybaby as it is.

Rhys is silent for a long minute, as if he can’t deny that he would feel the same way for his own girlfriend. Eventually he says, “I might finally understand what’s going on in your brain whenever you’re around her.”

Cassian only nods.

Rhysand claps his hand down suddenly on Cassian’s shoulder, breaking the somberness of his confession. “Call them in to help make dinner,” Rhys orders. “I want all hands on deck tonight.”

Cassian looks at his brother with narrowed eyes. “And what will you be doing to help?”

“I’ll be watching the game on the nice TV that I paid for, in the beautiful new living room I also paid for.”

“Bastard.”

***

Nesta and Azriel help prepare dinner in silence. Their quiet acknowledgment of each other is better than any words could be, but it’s all shattered when Mor dumps a serving platter on the counter right next to Azriel.

“Ooh, ricotta-stuffed mushrooms!” She grabs a handful and starts arranging them onto her platter. “Az, how was your mystery weekend away? I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

Azriel shares an unreadable glance with Nesta before sliding his chicken parmesan dish toward her and saying loudly, “Wow, is that football?” He promptly turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

Nesta glares after him in disbelief, but Azriel can’t hear her wordless cries for help because he’s already in the living room.

Left alone at the kitchen counter with Morrigan, Nesta keeps wiping at the wine glasses that have been gathering dust in the cupboards. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Mor’s mouth is tightened into a displeased line.

Not that Nesta isn’t grateful for it, but Mor usually isn’t one to keep her mouth shut. She wonders if something is wrong that she doesn’t know about. “You look constipated,” Nesta tells Mor under her breath. “Anything you want to get out?”

Mor only scoffs in indignation. Then she shakes her head and mutters to herself, “I promised not to say anything.”

Now Nesta is really intrigued. “Promised who?” she prods. “Cassian?”

“Like you don’t know about it.” Mor rolls her dark eyes.

Nesta doesn’t know, though after Amren’s comment earlier she might have a hint. “I would prefer you be honest with me rather than follow Cassian’s orders.”

“That’s funny, so do I.” Mor plucks up a stuffed mushroom and shoves it into her mouth.

Nesta thinks back to how she woke up to Cassian and Mor’s voices lowered in seriousness. After what Nesta overheard on New Year’s Eve, it’s no secret that Morrigan doesn’t care for her, but she suddenly has the urge to have it said to her face. “Well, if you want to stop holding back with me, I won’t tell.”

Morrigan sets down her mushroom platter with a thump, turning to face Nesta like she’s done her a personal wrong. “You know what I know about you, Nesta?” Mor says. “I know that Cassian has changed since he’s gotten with you. I know that he’s more serious whenever he’s around you. I know that you don’t love him as much as he loves you. How can Cassian expect me to trust someone that doesn’t want to be around his own family? How can he expect me to trust you with his heart? Not that I’m allowed to be saying any of this, because I’m supposed to be hiding my feelings about you to stop my best friend from hating me.”

It’s crazy how a year ago those words would have been enough to make Nesta retreat to her room and never come out again. Each statement pricks like a shard of glass against her skin, though none of them are accurate or true.

And yet Nesta finds herself hurting more for Cassian than for herself. She feels her familiar old mask go up around her face and harden there.

“It sounds like your problem is more with Cassian than it is with me,” Nesta says stoically. “Because I won’t be going through any trials to prove myself. I have nothing to prove. I don’t care if you like me or not, if you’re nice to my face or cruel behind my back—but it’s rude to shit over your friend’s life choices like that. He’ll stop trusting you if you keep it up, and it won’t be my fault when it happens,” Nesta finishes. She wordlessly gathers the wine glasses in her hands and abandons a silent Morrigan to go set the table.

Nesta knows the dynamic at dinner is off with her presence there.

For once, Cassian’s priorities lie somewhere other than laughing with his friends. He keeps a protective hand on Nesta’s thigh from the moment they take their seats, and he only removes it when he’s filling her plate with food.

With memories of Christmas dinner hanging over all of them, Cassian looks like a bodyguard prepared for attack— except he’s contributing to a good half of the tension at the table.

“How was the drive here?” Feyre pokes at the two of them in an attempt to break the ice. Nesta glances to Cassian for his response, but his attention is taken by the platter of bread rolls.

Sighing internally, Nesta answers, “Better than yours, that’s for sure.”

Everyone laughs hesitantly. A steaming bread roll then appears on Nesta’s plate, golden and fluffy with a buttery aroma; one glance at the rest of the bread tells her it was the biggest roll in the pile.

Nesta drops her walls enough to give Cassian a small smile and an arm rub of appreciation, and then she reaches straight for the bottle of wine.

She loves Cassian and hates this dinner too much to allow this to go on.

After filling Cassian’s empty glass high with Merlot, Nesta presses it into his free hand with a subtle kiss on his cheek. “Relax a little,” she murmurs into his ear.

It takes ten minutes and two full glasses for her plan to take effect, but relax Cassian does. Like oil slipping through rusted gears, the tension in the room slowly unwinds and natural conversation starts to flow.

“You guys will not believe what I had to walk in on this morning,” Mor announces at one point during the meal.

“Yeah, yeah, Cassian’s ass and dick, we’ve already heard,” Amren says.

Cassian’s glare at Mor is more lighthearted than life-threatening. “This is why I can’t talk to you anymore,” he states, pointing a finger at her. Nesta is so glad for the lack of tension in his shoulders that she doesn’t even care if everyone basically knows about her having sex in the living room.

With Cassian acting more like his normal self, the pressure to make useless small talk is no longer on her. Nesta is content to watch everybody share stories and laughter, but for once she doesn’t feel like an audience member on the outside looking in. Maybe it’s because no matter how much Cassian drinks, his hand stays steady on her leg the whole night, keeping her rooted there with everybody else. He doesn’t let her fade into the background for a second.

“What’s that on your wrist, Az?” Mor’s voice rings from one head of the table. Azriel snatches his hand back in a flash before Mor can reach for it. From his other side, Nesta grabs it smoothly out of the air to take a look at the cause of Mor’s question.

She raises her brow at the sight of three colorful bracelets lining Azriel’s right wrist.

Az tries to pull his hand away, but Nesta’s hold is tight. Even if the signature of the maker wasn’t stamped onto one of the childish bracelets, she would know who had made them with one glance.

“What does it say?” Mor asks her.

“Nothing. Just some beads.” Nesta pulls Azriel’s dark sleeve over the beads that spell out GWYN’S BITCH and gives his arm a little pat. She sincerely hopes Elain is thoroughly over Azriel by now.

“Was that Rainbow Loom I saw? Since when did you wear kiddy bracelets?” Mor snorts at Az.

Nesta’s attention is pulled away from their conversation by a heavy head falling onto her shoulder. “Nestaaa,” Cassian slurs, slumping against her side.

Blushing at the attention he’s drawing to her, Nesta tries to shove a drunk Cassian back upright. “I think we need to get you to bed.”

“Oh really? Promise you’ll tuck me in?” He tries to wink at her, but it comes off as a strained blink.

He looks ridiculous. It isn’t helping the blush on her cheeks, though.

“I promise.” Nesta shoves her finished plate aside and grabs Cassian by the bicep, standing up and attempting to drag him with her. “Come on, I’ll take you right now.”

Mor is quick to get to her feet. “We can take him,” she offers eagerly.

“Who’s we?” Azriel mutters. Nesta hears a hard stomp, and then Az is coughing, jumping out of his seat after Mor. “Yeah, we’ll take him,” he says.

Nesta reluctantly lets Cassian slip out of her grasp as Morrigan and Azriel take one of his arms from either side.

“Wait, but I want Nesta to tuck me in!” Cassian twists around as he’s dragged away, drunkenly finding Nesta’s gaze. He’s pouting.

Affection battles with secondhand embarrassment and wins. “I’ll be right there,” she promises with a wave. As soon as Mor and Azriel accomplish whatever it is they’re trying to accomplish. Her voice flattens into a cold warning when she adds after them, “Be careful with him.”

Daring a quick glance back at the table, Nesta wants to cringe when she meets everyone else’s eyes. Rhysand looks highly amused. Feyre looks disturbed, and Elain looks glum with envy, the love-obsessed bitch. Amren is Amren.

After dinner is over, dishes duty is handed over to Rhysand and Amren goes off to bed complaining about beauty sleep, which leaves Nesta alone with her sisters in the foyer.

She doesn’t quite know how, but she ends up forgetting her promise to Cassian and following the girls out to the front porch for some fresh air instead. The sun has long since set, taking some of the summer heat with it, but the air is still stuffy as the three of them settle down onto hand-painted wooden chairs. Lanterns on the porch are lit up to keep the darkness away, and the lake before them gleams with the reflection of the rising moon.

Feyre is the first to speak, her voice hesitant. “It’s hot out tonight, isn’t it?”

“I’m not doing this,” Elain announces. She stands abruptly from her chair and goes back inside.

Nesta and Feyre stare wide-eyed after the swinging front door, but a minute later Elain returns holding a decanter and three crystal glasses. She sets the glasses down on a side table and starts pouring. “It’s not really Tennessee without a strong whiskey,” she says to no one. “And I’m way too sober right now to handle this vacation.” The third glass gets an extra finger of liquor, and it ends up in Elain’s hand. She passes the other two to Nesta and Feyre before settling back into her seat.

Nesta grimaces at the drink in her hand without even tasting it. She hates most alcohol, but strong alcohol especially. For the sake of her sisters, however, she throws back half the glass without thinking.

Liquid fire scalds her tongue and throat, and she groans aloud. Instant regret.

Elain has no such issues downing her liquor. “Did you know,” she says after swallowing a gulp of whiskey like it’s apple juice, “that our old place is just a mile and a half that way?” She waves with her glass toward the back gardens.

“Is it really that close?” A frown wrinkles Feyre’s brow, like the memory of their old home might taint the perfect life she has now.

“Yes,” Nesta confirms. She doesn’t offer anything else.

Feyre shudders despite the temperature. “I hate even thinking about it. It’s so depressing. Reminds me of Papa.”

Which is also depressing, Nesta thinks to herself.

“It wasn’t depressing for me,” Elain says, chin tilted up in defiance.

That doesn’t surprise Nesta. Even in the depths of their father’s patheticness, he was Elain’s favorite man on earth.

Nesta used to wonder how her papa would have reacted if Elain was the one with crippling endometriosis pain every month instead of her. Would he have ignored her cries like he ignored Nesta’s, or would he have come running to her aid?

It’s not a question that’s worth Nesta’s time and energy, though. Not when the man himself has long been six feet under. Instead she pokes at Elain, “Then why did you hide your background from every guy you met like you were ashamed of it?”

“I was ashamed,” Elain says primly, “but that doesn’t mean I hated all of it. We didn’t all grow up with a ten foot stick up our ass; at least I could appreciate what we had without taking my attitude out on everybody else.”

The whiskey must be working quickly, because Nesta can’t hold back an unseemly snort. “There you go again,” she drawls in a cutting tone, pointing an accusing finger with the hand that holds her glass at Elain. “Dishing out shit when you can’t take it back. At least not without crying.”

Feyre, who was trying to hide her cringe with the rim of her drink, now perks up with eagerness. “She does do that, doesn’t she?” she exclaims. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

Elain’s lips twist into an indignant sneer. “What’s this dynamic now, why’s everyone ganging up on me?”

Nesta mutters, “Because you need to hear it every now and then.” Turning to Feyre, she adds, “God, she can be fucking annoying.”

“Oh, like you’re everyone’s favorite person to be around?” Elain scoffs.

“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. That’s called a con artist, Elain. You’re a con artist.”

There’s stunned silence for a tense moment—and it’s broken by full laughter. Elain is chuckling sweetly as she says, “Well, I suppose it’s okay if only you two are the ones who notice it. It can be our little secret.” She presses a finger to her pink lips.

Feyre giggles along at that too, but Nesta remains quiet. Too sober for the current mood, perhaps. “Do you think someone will notice at one point?” she asks Elain. “That the smiles and Southern charm and—the kindness...” She doesn’t know how to feel about that word in relation to Elain. “Do you think someone will notice that that’s not all there is to you?”

Elain’s grinning face freezes quicker than an actress’s. “No one will know,” she answers smoothly, “because I’m not going to be with anyone else for a while.”

At the confused silence filled only by the chirp of cicadas, Elain supplements, “I’m trying out the single life.”

Nesta meets Feyre’s eyes, and it only catalyzes the sound quelling up in her throat. At the same moment, the two sisters burst into cackling laughter. Well, Feyre cackles. Nesta makes a noise that imitates a dying whale.

“I’m serious,” Elain insists, glaring at them. “If Nesta could spend all those years living like a widowed hag, why can’t I? I don’t need men to live.”

Nesta’s laughter sours at the insult, and she turns to Elain with seriousness in her tone. “No one needs anyone else, Elain—but you treat loneliness like a leper from the Middle Ages. Are you even happy for me and Cassian beneath all that jealousy?”

Elain shifts uncomfortably in her chair and mutters, “Of course I’m happy for you two.” And then she adds in a much quieter voice, “Deep, deep down.”

“Is that what was wrong with you on New Year’s?” Feyre asks gently. “You were jealous?”

Nesta raises a brow; she didn’t know this.

“I wasn’t exactly having fun watching you two suck face right after getting dumped by Azriel,” Elain tells Nesta. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. I just…I’m not used to being the lonely one.” She huffs out a sigh and reaches for the decanter again. “If anyone should be in a happy and healthy relationship right now, it should be me.”

Feyre turns to Nesta and whispers too loudly, “You’re right, she is fucking annoying.”

“Don’t get too friendly; so are you.”

Feyre leans away from Nesta in affront. “I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“You don’t need to do anything for Nesta to think she’s better than us,” Elain chimes in.

The three of them break out into bickering, which soon devolves into hysterical laughter, which then morphs into a comfortable silence—which doesn’t last long until they’re bickering again. They spend the rest of the night going in small circles like that over their whiskey, occasionally taking breaks to talk of more serious things: Elain’s flower shop is finally starting to pick up business, but expenses are still too high. Nesta is worried about Cassian being all alone in Italy by himself, but she’ll never show it to him. Feyre’s work at the children’s art studio is making her seriously consider having kids (“Don’t you dare, you’re way too young,” Nesta threatens).

Each of them reveals that they miss at least one of their shitty parents these days.

Maybe it’s because they’re under the same night sky that they spent their childhoods under, but if Nesta closes her eyes, it’s like she’s seventeen again, letting her sisters stay up and talk her ear off even though it’s a weeknight.

***

The lack of Nesta in Cassian’s bed must stop him from succumbing to deep sleep, because his nap is hazy and doesn’t last more than a half hour. When he blinks awake, the fog of wine from earlier has mostly cleared away and the lamps in his room are lit. Mor sits on the bay window seat and Azriel lounges on a chair nearby, both of them murmuring quietly to each other.

Noticing Cassian’s movement, Az turns away from Mor and drawls, “That was quick.”

Groaning, Cassian rubs at his eyes and sits up straight. His shirt and jeans are flung on the floor, and he can only assume he took them off himself before collapsing into bed.

Holding the thin blanket to his chest, he demands, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, now he has modesty,” Mor grumbles.

Cassian grabs his wrinkled shirt from the floor and shrugs it on before repeating his question. “What are you doing here, and where’s Nesta?”

“Don’t know,” Az shrugs from his chair. “But Mor wanted us to talk alone, so Nesta probably doesn’t need to be here.”

Growing wary, Cassian straightens up against the headboard. “Talk about what?”

Mor’s words take him by surprise. “I wanted to apologize.” She straightens up in her seat and throws a cautious glance at Azriel. “And I wanted Az with me for moral support.”

Az rolls his eyes to himself, likely considering the task beneath him.

“I didn’t take your words that seriously this morning,” Mor goes on, “but I’m taking them seriously now. Someone made me realize that I’ve been blaming your—girlfriend... for our relationship changing when I’m the one who’s been pushing you away the whole time. While you were falling in love, I wasn’t there for you. I didn’t trust you to find love without my input, and I didn’t respect you when you did.” Tears line her dark eyes, taking Cassian aback. “I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “Please don’t hate me.”

A headache takes root in Cassian’s temples, and he has to shut his eyes against the dull thudding. “I could never hate you, Mor,” he says past the lump in his throat. That was never the problem, though her words have eased some of the pent up frustration in his chest.

Cassian lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not just you. It’s every single one of us. We’ve known each other so long, we’re so fucking entangled in each other, that even when I’m living by myself up in my cabin I feel like I can’t get away from it.” He stares out the window like he might find some relief there. “That’s why I’m going overseas. To get some space from all of this.” He waves between the three of them and laughs bitterly. “We created this incestuous little circle and now we don’t know how to care about anyone outside of it.”

He catches Az frowning, fingers toying with one of the bracelets on his wrist that Cassian spied earlier.

Mor sniffs away a lingering tear. “What about Nesta, then? Where does she factor in?”

Cassian’s mouth turns down in a distasteful frown. He still doesn’t like that he has to leave without her, but the fact that he doesn’t like it is only more proof that he needs to do it. “I can’t let Nesta be a part of me,” he answers. “I need to be all of me.”

Only once he learns how to do that can he be the friend and lover that the people in his life deserve.

***

Nesta wakes up the next dawn not on a hard chair, but in a soft bed. The smell of Cassian lingers on the sheets wrapped around her, and she blinks blearily as she tries to remember the events of last night.

Feyre fell asleep first. Elain and Nesta were just going to close their eyes for a moment and take a brief rest as well, but the next thing Nesta knew Cassian was helping her take out her contacts and laying her head against a pillow. Now the sun is dawning and she has a pounding headache. She needs at least another ten hours of sleep before she’ll be fit to face the world again.

She looks around for her phone to check the time and spots it plugged into the charger on the bedside table. Despite feeling like she’s been rammed with the flu, the tiniest smile lifts Nesta’s lips at the thought of Cassian carrying her to bed and making sure to charge her phone.

She finds her lockscreen blown up with notifications, all from her shared groupchat with Gwyn and Emerie.

Clicking into her texts, Nesta scrolls back through the hundreds of messages to see what she missed.

Emerie: i can’t believe nesta isn’t here for this.

Emerie: what the hell is she doing

Gwyn: probably hanging out with her best friends the inner circle

Gwyn: or getting railed

Emerie: >:(

A tired laugh escapes Nesta as she reads the texts, and she’s grateful for the reminder that these are her chosen friends. This is her found family, and she’ll be back with them soon.

Scrolling a little further back, Nesta finds the cause of all the commotion.

Emerie: A RACCOON JUST FELL THROUGH MY CEILING IM GONMA DUE &%!@

Emerie: DIE

Followed by multiple pictures of a scarily large raccoon chewing up Emerie’s bed.

Nesta shudders at the images. Reminding herself to message the girls back as soon as she has her head on straight, she puts away the phone and drags herself out of bed.

Her knees wobble a little as she stands upright and slips her glasses on, but her body keeps moving automatically toward the door. It’s not until she’s halfway downstairs that she realizes she’s looking for Cassian.

In the main hall that cuts through the house, Nesta glances between the back door and the front door. Instinct tugs her toward the front door, and as she passes the living room she spies Elain knocked out on the couch.

One of her legs dangle off the edge of the cushion and she still has her shoes on, like she dragged herself up onto the loveseat in the middle of the night and fell straight asleep.

Cassian brought Nesta up to their room sometime during the night, and Rhysand would have done the same for Feyre, but Elain… Elain has no one to carry her to her room, Nesta realizes.

Hating the unusual feeling of pity that blooms inside of her, Nesta goes over and grabs a throw blanket from nearby. She flings it haphazardly over Elain’s body. There, that should do it.

She might take a few seconds to tuck the blanket in a little better, but then she’s out the front door and jogging down the porch steps. Early morning dew beads the grass, and the sun isn’t high enough in the sky yet for the heat to be unbearable.

Like perfect timing, Cassian’s form appears from the lightly wooded running trail that circles the lake. He has his hair tied up and is wearing nothing but workout shorts, and even from this distance Nesta can see the sweat gleaming off his hardened chest.

She forgets about her headache and the bitter aftertaste of alcohol coating her tongue. Her feet speed up on the grass, and then Cassian takes sight of her too. He grins wide and breaks into a run toward her.

When they’re mere feet away from each other, Nesta is the one to halt first and hold out a hand, blocking Cassian’s incoming bear hug. “Don’t you dare.” She eyes his body with a warning look. Nesta will do a lot of things for her boyfriend, but sticking her face into his sweaty pits is not one of them.

Cassian looks her up and down with scrutiny, trying to decide if going in for the hug anyway is worth it. “Fine,” he gives in. He spins on his heel and walks down to the head of the pier, where a standing shower is set up for washing off after swims in the lake.

Twisting the faucet, Cassian stands under the cold burst of water and gives Nesta a look that says, Happy now?

Nesta cautiously goes over to where Cassian stands, but she gets too close—

In a blink, she’s being tugged under the shower stream, held tight to Cassian’s chest.

“Cassian!” Nesta splutters, trying to pull away. Droplets hit her glasses and blur her vision, and she has to shove the glasses up into her hair so she can properly glare at Cassian’s face.

He only laughs deeply and tugs her closer. “Like you don’t smell either. You’ve been in that dress since yesterday.”

Nesta catches her breath under the pouring water, glancing down at her soaked sundress. Right; she probably needs this more than he does.

The water isn’t freezing like she expected, she realizes as she relaxes in Cassian’s arms. It’s actually the perfect temperature, almost soothing after the initial shock to her senses.

Broad hands stroke long lines across her arms, like Cassian is making sure that she isn’t uncomfortable. The action triggers an old memory inside Nesta—or rather, an old familiar feeling. The feeling of Cassian in Nesta’s early days of knowing him, always pushing her out of her comfort zone but never tossing her in the deep end to drown.

“I handled my sisters and your friends pretty well the other night, don’t you think?” she murmurs into his chest.

Cassian looks down at her with pure reverence in his eyes. “I can’t be surprised. You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Brave as hell. From the minute you stepped outside of the little circle you’d drawn around your life, you became the bravest person I know.”

“Not true,” Nesta states matter-of-factly. “I can name at least three braver people.”

Cassian pokes her in the ribs, but his smile is good natured. “It’s just an expression, Nes. Take the compliment.”

The shower keeps spraying around them, refracting the sunlight to scatter rainbows across Nesta’s vision. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she tells Cassian earnestly. “I did the bulk of the hard work, but you…you gave me that first push. You taught me I could find safety in others, because you were my first real friend.”

Her words clearly take Cassian by surprise. Maybe it’s because Nesta is so rarely open about her true feelings, so her words have more value when she is. Maybe Cassian just wasn’t expecting to get so much credit, which is why he blinks rapidly now. “And what now?” he tries to tease, emotion tangled in his throat. “You have better friends?”

“Much better,” Nesta plays along, but her gaze carries all her sincerity. She suddenly laughs to herself, remembering: “I was terrible at socializing.”

It’s something she brushes off easily now, but few people will ever know that part of her inability to get close to others stemmed from a debilitating fear of rejection.

“Not to me.” Cassian reaches out to twist the faucet off, leaving the two of them standing soaked in the morning air. “I loved talking to you. I couldn’t stop wanting to talk to you, even if you didn’t feel like talking back.” That was how insistent he’d been on becoming her friend, that he would open up to her even when she was closed off to him.

Nesta watches Cassian tug his hair tie off, a little dazed by how much she feels for him in this moment. She isn’t ready for when he scrubs a hand vigorously through his loose hair, shaking the dripping strands out like a dog.

“Cassian!” Nesta scolds for the second time this morning. She flinches back at the water droplets hitting her eyes, making Cassian laugh when he looks back up at her. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. To make up for the assault, he delicately plucks her glasses off the top of her head and uses the hem of her wet dress to wipe off the lenses as best he can.

He slides the glasses back onto her face and nods, inspecting her. “That’s better.” Then he swoops down to kiss the mole beside her mouth.

Nesta wrinkles her nose in surprise. “What’s that for?”

“It’s a thank you,” he says. “Thank you for your car breaking down in the middle of the woods, and for agreeing to spend the night at my place last September.”

Nesta’s brows raise high in amusement. “Shouldn’t you be thanking Feyre? For calling in that favor with you?”

“One day, I’ll do that too,” he promises.

Nesta bites down on a smile and shakes her head, muttering, “Ridiculous.” Yet she can’t help but wonder: who would she thank?

The universe, probably. Whatever forces made it possible for her to wake up every day in the same bed as Cassian, eating the food he cooks and accepting the unconditional love he offers.

She suddenly shivers under the rising sun, becoming aware of how just uncomfortably her sundress clings to her body. Without Cassian’s words distracting her, everything is damp and cold.

Cassian notices and slips his hand into Nesta’s, already starting to pull her away from the pier and toward the house. “Let’s get you dry,” he says. “I’ll make us pancakes before everyone else wakes up.”

“With chocolate chips?”

“With chocolate chips.”

So hand in hand, the two of them walk back up to Cherrywood House.

***

a/n: IM FREE OF THIS BEAST. that ending was absolutely horrible to write, but i hope it satisfied you anyway. and if didnt, well, that’s what the epilogue is for

tagging: @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 @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @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

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

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