#feyre and nesta

[thefreakpanda]

"Nesta favors Elain"

Everyone favors Elain! And most of all Feyre.

If you want to point the finger at Nesta, don't use that argument. Don't complain about how differently Nesta treats her sisters because in reality, Feyre might be worse.

“Elain sometimes just… didn’t grasp things. It wasn’t meanness that kept her from offering to help; it simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty.” (ACOTAR, ch.2) Elain gets excuses and most importantly, is never even asked to help for anything. If Feyre is going to teach someone archery, it's going to be Nesta. She needs wood to be chopped, it's going to be Nesta.

When Lucien accompanied her back to the Night Court, he asked her about Elain and says he wants to see if she's worth fighting for. (To each their own opinion on the matter). Feyre doesn't respond but thinks so. Later on, when Cassian flies her to the House of Wind and they talk about Nesta and how he comes to see her every other day, Feyre asks : “Why do you bother, Cassian?” Elain is worth it but Nesta isn't?

When the sisters are moved to the townhouse, rooms have to be picked. “And a third for Lucien — on our side of the hall. Well away from Elain’s.” (ACOWAR, ch.24) Because Elain staying away from her mate whom she hasn't yet said she wants nothing to with is fine and perfectly understandable. But when Nesta says over and over and over again how she wants nothing to do with Cassian, she's just going to have to suck it up and be locked in a house with him.

Rhys, being true to himself, tells Feyre the bond between Elain and Lucien can be used to ensure his loyalty. “I don’t like that Elain is a pawn in this.” (Feyre in ACOWAR, ch.18) But using Nesta as a pawn to ensure another Vanserra's loyalty, though... As a matter of fact, when dancing with Eris is proposed she even says : “Elain doesn’t go near him.” (ch.55)

In ACOSF, after we learn that Elain will try to find the Trove if Nesta doesn't, Feyre says : “It wasn’t an easy choice for me to ask Elain to endanger herself like this.” (ch.21) But asking Nesta is easy, right? It's been like this forever after all. Feyre was never going to ask Elain to tell her story to the High Lords. Poor thing was depressed. But asking Nesta to put herself in the worst danger possible, even though she was destroying herself just two weeks ago, even though she si still depressed and hurting... Feyre doesn't hesitate then.

Yes, Nesta has her faults. Yes, Nesta has said mean things to her sister. But if we look at the text, at the amount of times Feyre has been unkind to her sister, you'll realize that she is much worse.

[elettraml]

𝑺𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔' 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

Inspired by the cosplay of @tessacarter_cosplay

and @sisiann_cosplay

[silverflameataraxia]

Nesta didn't fail Feyre after their mother died and they fell into poverty. Feyre did the hunting and Nesta did the cooking that kept their family alive. It's canon that Nesta didn't know how to hunt and Feyre didn't know how to cook, so rather than wasting time teaching the other, each sister did what they were good at to support their family. Just because Feyre's task was more "masculine" and Nesta's was more "feminine" doesn't mean Nesta's cooking was any less essential to keeping their family alive.

After a decade, it's time SJM gave Nesta the canonical credit she deserves.

[romanticatheartt]

So here it is. All my favorite Nesta and Feyre centric fanfics<3

I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted, ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now by freehunter: Nesta and Feyre years after acosf events, in the middle of a battlefield. (This one is my absolute favorite❤️‍🩹)

Books and Wings by Popjunkie42 : Feyre visits Nesta in the House of Wind library for a book recommendation. Post-ACOSF. Pure fluff.

Sirens in the Beat of Your Heart by Popjunkie42: Nesta works to continue to tear down her walls, and work on a new relationship with her younger sister, when Feyre comes to the House of Wind seeking help. Post-ACOSF sister bonding.❤️‍🩹

"Nessa?" by Dawninlatin : Nesta telling a story about how Feyre terrorize her at night, when they were little❤️‍🩹

In Unity and Victory by bisexualsharks: A retelling of that one scene in ACOWAR when That Thing happens to Rhys, except this time sprinkle in a little more sisters content. (Fix-it sorta fic)

Sisters by climbingmountains: A Sister Sleepover fic (ft. Elain)❤️‍🩹

Contours & Constellations by Insanity_is_Catching: The Archeron sisters discuss their human bodies and what they miss about them. (ft. Elain)

Not a Lot, Just Forever (intertwined sewn together) by paradisangel: In which Nesta and Feyre actually talk and Nesta actually lets herself feel emotions. Post-ACOSF.

How Paper Is Made by Asnowfern: Nesta found out Feyre was illiterate and decided to teach her. Kinda fix-it and pre-canon.

Literacy by orphan_account: What if Nesta taught Feyre how to read instead of Rhysand? Kinda fix-it and pre-canon.

Strained but Entertwined by orphan_account: Feyre and Nesta bump into each other in the middle of the night after having nightmares. Bonding and fluff ensues.❤️‍🩹

A Little Complication Between Sisters by VivereLibri: A take on if Nesta was a little more concerned about Feyre during ACOMAF.

Big Sister Nes by Firestarhk: Three-year-old Nesta Archeron is not impressed with her family’s newest addition. (This is so cute🥹)

Cycles of Life by BookWorm77071: Little Feyre gets her period and is scared, big sister Nesta's here to the rescue<3

what it is like by xelly: Instead of making nesta go to their solstice party, feyre visits her in her apartment.❤️‍🩹

Enjoy reading<33

[nerdyfangirlmel]

ACOTAR the series is so funny to me because you have the first like 3-4 books where Feyre is just this complete badass. But then you have book 5 from her Big sister’s perspective, and suddenly Feyre is a little annoying. And as the youngest sister… that relationship perspective is so accurate.

[shallyne]

Sisterhood

A little drabble between Nesta and Feyre. Canon divergent, around the start acosf.

"Do you see how easy it is to get into your apartment now?"

Nesta jumped up from a stained chair, whirling to Feyre with a glare. If looks could kill, Feyre would be dead. But so epuld Nesta because Feyre was besides herself with worry because Nesta was too stubborn to let the complex, her apartment, get fixed. Feyre wasn't worried because someone could do her harm, Velaris was a peaceful city and this part of the city was the nearest to a slum, it was still okay, just outdated. What worried Feyre was that Nesta didn't know, didn't even listen, but still didn't care if she was safe.

"You are Fae!" Nesta nearly barked, stomping to the door and gesturing for Feyre to leave. "You can winnow wherever you want. Now go."

Feyre waved a hand and turned her back to Nesta, taking a look at the dirty apartment. "Not if you ward it." she replied to her sister as she took a look in a cupboard. It was empty, of course it was. She had to take one look at her sister to know nothing was here. Nesta had lost weight, too quickly, even for Fae. She only went out to bars, keeping herself up with booze and, occasionally, very expensive fruit. Feyre wouldn't mind if Nesta spent her money, if it was for necessities like clothing and food and hygiene products. She wouldn't mind if Nesta allows herself luxuries. No, she did mind when her sister was slowly killing herself. With a snap of Feyre's fingers, the apartment was clean and food filled the cupboards. "I'm not here to make fun of you, Nesta."

"Oh really?" she slammed the front door and walked over to a window. "So you aren't talking to your precious inner circle about me? You won't tell them how pathetic I am, rotting in a disgusting apartment?"

"We talk because we want to help you!" Feyre said agitated. Nesta couldn't really believe they made fun of her for struggling. Everyone one of them had struggled once, if someone could understand a struggle it was her precious inner circle. Especially Feyre and Elain. "And no, they don't even know I'm here. I wanted to see how you are doing?"

"How do you think I'm doing?" Nesta asked. There was less bite in the question than Nesta wanted to, if Feyre could read the way she clenched her jaw correctly.

"I think you must be lonely." Feyre said, a little softer. "I think xou could use some company."

"I don't want company."

"Why are you like this?" Feyre asked, exasperated. "Why don't you let me help you? Or Elain, I know you two are closer–"

"Were." Nesta interrupted, crossing her arms and looking away.

"Why?"

"I guess spite is stronger than love." her sister said, a tad sadly. But she cleared her throat and stood straight, as if showing emotion was any weakness. Nesta probably thought that, was sure about it, as our mother had tought her.

"And that's why you are alone." Feyre said, quietly but Nesta heard it. "Food is in the cupboards, anything you wish for. It won't go bad. If you need anything, send word. I'm at the house or the gallery."

Feyre walked to the door, pressing the door handle down. When the door was already halfway open, Nesta said, almost whispered, " I'm not alone."

Feyre asked, "What do you mean?"

"You're here, are you not?" her sister said and when Feyre turned around, Nesta's blue-gray eyss were already trained on here.

"You push me away all the time." Feyre replied, swallowing down the wave of emotions that were crawling uo her throat, the tears that almost spilled.

"Yet you stand in my apartment. Quite rudely, but you do."

Feyre sighed and closed the door, fully facing her sister. "You don't want the Inner Circle as company, you don't wsnt me or Elain, you don't want friends." Nesta opened her mouth but Fexre kept talking, "What about priestesses?"

"What? No. I'm nit becoming a priestess."

"That's not what I mean. The library, in the house of wind, priestesses are working there. Maybe I can get you a job there, I'll have to ask, it's their decision." Feyre showed a hint of a smile, "You'll mostly be alone. The priestesses are doing their tasks, you'll do yours. You love books, do you not? I remember you spending every free minute in a library when we were kids and mother was away to another party." It was one of the very few domestic memories Feyre had.

"I–" Nesta said. "I don't know."

"You'll get out of the apartment, you'll do something in an environment you like." Feyre probably sounded desperate, she didn't care. "Please let me ask, if you don't like it we can talk about alternatives."

"Fine, but you'll have to let me quit if I don't like it." Nesta said, muttering something else under her breath that Feyre couldn't understand.

"I will," Feyre said, sure that Nesta wouldn't. She'd like the library, provided that the priestesses agree to let her work there. "I will talk to Rhys and write a letter to Clotho."

Nesta huffed and Feyre knew it was the mention of her mate that triggered that reaction. "Why don't you like him?"

"He's an arrogant asshole." Nesta snapped. "He thinks the worst of me, he won't let me near the library."

"Well, firstly, that's part of his charm. Secondly, I'll get what I want," Feyre grinned at her sister. "Don't you worry about that."

She saw the tick on Nesta's mouth, the side that almost went up. "Fine."

"Great, I'll get her when I get news back about your job." Feyre opened the door again, for the final time, "Again, if you need anything send word."

"Bye." Nesta said clipped and when the door fell closed behind Feyre, she breathed a sigh of relief.

[oristian]

+ PRYTHIAN’S PRETTIEST COUPLES ,

ART CREDIT — frostbite.studios

[oblivionsdream]

Oh hey I get to share another commission- this one is for an ACOTAR inspired puzzle for Reverie Puzzles!

[mahalachives]

The Truth Serum Incident

pairing: azriel x fem!reader

summary: Mor, ever the troublemaker, accidentally spills a powerful truth serum into Azriel’s drink at a casual dinner with the Inner Circle. At first, it’s hilarious—Azriel openly admitting he once caught Cassian flexing in the mirror and cried laughing. But then, things get interesting when he starts blurting out the cheesiest, most romantic things about you.

genre: fluff, cute

Dinner at the River House had been normal—until Mor happened.

"You accidentally spilled it?" Feyre repeated, rubbing her temples as she glared at Mor, who looked suspiciously unbothered.

"It was one tiny drop," Mor said, swirling her wine.

"A drop of truth serum," Rhys deadpanned.

Cassian, meanwhile, was losing his entire will to live as he clutched the table, gasping for air. Because Azriel—broody, secretive, terrifying Shadowsinger Azriel—had just said, with the most serious expression:

"I once caught Cassian flexing in the mirror for four whole minutes, and I had to leave the room because I was laughing so hard I almost passed out."

Cassian choked. "YOU—YOU WHAT?!"

Azriel blinked, his face completely blank. "You made finger guns at yourself. Twice."

Cassian screamed. Nesta looked like she was about to frame this moment and hang it above their bed.

Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mor, exactly how strong was this serum?"

Mor grinned. "Oh, you know… regular strength."

"You are lying," Feyre accused.

And then—disaster.

Because Azriel, under the influence of the truth serum, turned his head.

To you.

His mate. His beloved. His greatest weakness.

And then—**in the deepest, most emotion-filled voice ever—**he said.

"I am so in love with you."

Silence.

Cassian choked on his drink. Mor slammed her hands on the table.

You?

You blacked out for a second.

"Az—" you started.

"You smell like summer and sugar and everything good in this world." His voice was deadly serious.

Cassian fell out of his chair. Nesta cackled like a damn witch.

"I—" You opened your mouth, panicking.

"Your hands," Azriel continued, completely lost to the serum, "are so perfect I could write odes about them."

Nesta wheezed.

Cassian, from the floor, screamed into the void. "Odes?! MOTHER ABOVE, THIS IS GOLD!"

"Mor," Rhys hissed, dragging his hands down his face. "Fix this. Now."

"Why would I fix this?" Mor said, grinning like a lunatic. "This is the best thing to ever happen to me."

Meanwhile, you were still struggling to breathe because Azriel—the most secretive male in existence—was looking at you like you were the stars themselves.

And then—your vision blurred.

Your head spun.

You gripped the table.

And in that moment, realization hit you like a drunk Illyrian at a tavern fight.

"Wait," you whispered. "I think I drank some too."

Rhys and Feyre's heads snapped toward you.

Cassian gasped. "Oh, this just got better."

And then—you felt it happen.

That horrifying pull of the serum forcing your deepest secrets out.

You tried to fight it.

You failed spectacularly.

"I sniff your leathers when you’re gone."

Silence.

PURE. DEAD. SILENCE.

Then—

Cassian detonated. He literally collapsed.

Mor was screaming. Rhys looked like he was debating whether to exile you from Velaris. Nesta was taking mental notes.

Azriel?

Azriel froze.

His hazel eyes blinked. His lips parted.

"You—" His voice was so soft. So utterly bewildered. "You do what?"

You slapped a hand over your mouth, mortified.

Nesta leaned forward, gleeful. "Oh, this is good."

But it was too late.

You couldn’t stop.

"I stole one of your shirts and hid it in my closet because it smelled like you."

Cassian WHEEZED.

Azriel, staring at you like you’d just told him he was High Lord, whispered, "Which one?"

And yet—you weren’t done.

The serum wouldn’t LET you be done.

"I—" You tried to fight it. You really did.

"I also—uh—kissed your pillow once."

Cassian SCREAMED SO LOUD that an actual plate fell off the table.

Nesta was wiping tears from her eyes. Mor was face down, dying.

Azriel, watching you combust in real time, slowly smirked.

SMIRKED.

It was over for you.

"You like my scent that much?" he murmured, voice pure sin.

"I—"

The serum refused to let you live.

"YES," you blurted. "IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU SMELL LIKE NIGHT AND SAFETY AND—"

You slapped both hands over your mouth.

Cassian, on the floor, WHEEZED.

Azriel, grinning like he’d won a war, tilted his head. "Huh."

You prayed for the Cauldron to take you.

Rhys, waving his hands wildly, stood up. "Alright, that’s it! Dinner’s over!"

Cassian rolled on the floor. "No, wait—this is the best night of my life—"

Azriel, smug as hell, leaned in.

"So…" he whispered, right in your ear.

"Which shirt did you steal?"

You made an undignified noise and YEETED YOURSELF OUT OF THE ROOM.

Cassian?

Absolutely lost it.

Mor?

Tears. Actual tears.

Nesta?

Taking notes for future blackmail.

Azriel?

Azriel just sat back, looking insufferably pleased, and took another sip of his wine.

And somewhere in the distance, you could already hear Cassian yelling, "I NEED A POEM ABOUT THE HANDS! GIVE ME THE HAND ODES!"

MORAL OF THE STORY: NEVER. TRUST. MOR.

[brielyasmin]

And suddenly, it's my favorite Acotar Appreciation Week of the year again!

I just wanted to paint a very soft and peaceful moment between Elain and Lucien as a couple ♡ Hope you guys like it as much as I do!

For #ElucienWeek2024 - Day I "Fated"

Characters belong to Sarah J. Maas

find my art.

[thefreakpanda]

I will never understand how people keep using the good old "Nesta let Feyre hunt" line when it is the most nonsensical thing and the easiest point to debunk.

Of course, we have to mention that Elain also sat safely at home and, no, "Elain is Elain" is certainly not a good counterpoint against that... Doe eyes and pretty smiles do not make up for everything.

But let's get into my points :

Eldest sister's are not second mothers.

Nesta is Feyre's eldest sister of three years and has no authority whatsoever on her little sister.

Speaking from personal experience, my younger brother and I have the same age difference and, in his youth, he made a bunch of decisions that I thought were wrong. I didn't hesitate to voice my opinions to him and did he listen? Abosultely not. Because I'm his sister, not our mother and I was a kid myself. What did I know anyway? (Not to toot my own horn but I ended up being right anyway which wasn't hard because teenage boys are STOOPID!)

It wasn't Nesta's job to keep Feyre from hunting. Feyre CHOSE to hunt. She made her own decision and it had nothing to do with Nesta.

2. Nesta didn't want Feyre to hunt.

Something that is still important to note because the way people talk about it feels like she threw her sister into the woods. She didn't. She even hated her sister for hunting and saving her family which, I agree, was wrong on Nesta's part.

3. When was the last time someone told Feyre not to do something and she actually listened?

Seriously, the entirety of the first book consists of people saying 'Feyre, don't do this' 'Don't go there' 'You might get hurt' 'You might get killed'... and Feyre doing exactly what she was told not to anyway. It's almost as though the threat gave her even more motivation.

So even if Nesta had tried to tell her sister not to hunt, do you really believe Feyre would've listened?

If something needs to be done and there's a safe way and a risky way to do it, Feyre will pick the risky way 9 times out of 10.

She also could have found a job. For example, she could have asked Isaac if she could work on his well-off father's farm. But she chose the hunting instead.

For that reason alone, saying Nesta let Feyre hunt is not only unfair to Nesta, but a complete mischaracterization of Feyre. A character some people claim to love so much.

4. Feyre made a promise to her mother.

That woman should have demanded that of her husband and no one else. Not Nesta or Feyre.

But if there is a positive thing to take from that promise, it's that it became Feyre's lifeline. It gave her purpose and kept her from falling into a pit of despair. She held on to that.

5. The most important point : there was a fucking parent in that house!

They had enough money to live on for 3 years without Feyre hunting. He could have found a job. He could have created another business that, maybe wouldn't have made him rich as a king once more, but would have fed his family.

And no, his leg is not an excuse. The limp didn't keep him from making a cane for himself or carving little wooden figurines. Didn't keep him from dragging his cot near the fire every night.

And did everyone forget that when Feyre came back home in ACOTAR, she noticed his limp had gotten better after getting his money back?

His leg didn't magically heal. It was still shattered as he counted the trunks of gold his daughter came back with. Or when he crossed the ocean when the queens called. He still had a limp when he was on that battlefield, finally fighting for his daughters.

The problem was never the limp. The shame he felt was more potent than the love he had for his children, that's all.

That man started acting like a father when he got his money back MAGICALLY. But he gets a painting, of course. Not the sister who endangered herself and went out of her way to save the world. (Forever pissed at that!)

[dumb-ster-fire]

Azriel x fem!reader - Just a dress

Summary: While shopping with Mor, Y/N is asked to model a beautiful wedding dress for a bridal shop in need of a last-minute replacement. She agrees, enjoying the fun of it—until Azriel, her mate, sees her. His shadows tighten, his gaze dark and intense. It’s just a dress… so why does it feel like something deeper?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N glanced at Mor, who was already grinning like she had won the lottery. “Oh, you have to do it,” Mor urged, practically bouncing on her heels.

The shop attendant clasped her hands together. “It’s a simple favor—just try on the dress, walk around a little, and in return, we’ll compensate you.” Her gaze swept over Y/N’s tall, elegant frame. “You’re perfect for it.”

Y/N tilted her head, considering. It did sound fun. And it wasn’t every day she got to play dress-up in a gown fit for royalty.

“Alright,” she said with a smirk. “Let’s do it.”

The attendant beamed and led them inside, where Y/N was soon whisked into a dressing room. The gown was decadent—intricate embroidery shimmering in the light, a full, sweeping skirt, and delicate lace detailing. When they placed the diadem on her head and finished her makeup, she barely recognized herself in the mirror. She looked… ethereal. Regal.

Mor’s gasp as she stepped out confirmed it. “Holy shit, Y/N.” Her eyes widened with something between awe and mischief. “Azriel is going to pass out when he sees you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the little flutter in her stomach at the thought.

She had agreed to walk around the boutique and outside for a bit, letting potential customers see the dress in motion. And of course, Mor was already plotting.

Y/N smirked. “Just don’t let Az see it.”

Mor’s wicked grin only widened. “Oh, no promises.”

Y/N gracefully walked alongside the shop representative as they guided her to the designated path where she’d be showcasing the dress. The streets of Velaris, always lively, now had curious onlookers pausing in their steps as she passed. Some whispered, some openly admired, and more than a few stopped in their tracks entirely.

Mor strolled beside her, looking far too pleased with herself, hands clasped behind her back like she was completely innocent.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, she had already reached out to Rhys through their mind link.

You need to get your asses down here. Now.

Rhys’s response was immediate. What did you do?

Mor barely contained her excitement as she side-eyed Y/N, who was completely unaware of the unfolding scheme. Not what I did. What Y/N did. She’s walking through Velaris in a wedding dress.

There was a moment of stunned silence before multiple voices chimed in at once.

Cassian: YOU’RE JOKING. WE’RE ON OUR WAY.

Rhysand: This I have to see.

Amren: Hah. Poor Azriel.

Azriel: …What?

Mor grinned but kept her expression neutral as she turned to Y/N, who was still elegantly making her way through the street, oblivious to the storm about to descend.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Y/N, completely unaware of the chaos she’d just unleashed, continued walking with effortless grace, the luxurious wedding gown flowing around her like stardust. The diadem atop her head caught the light, making her look every bit the ethereal, untouchable bride. People on the street kept stopping to watch, whispering amongst themselves. Some even clapped in admiration.

Mor, biting her lip to keep from outright laughing, linked arms with her as they neared the end of the walk. “You know, you look obscenely good in that dress.”

Y/N smirked. “Of course I do.” Then, with mock seriousness, “It’s a shame no one I know is here to see it.”

Mor nearly snorted. If only Y/N knew.

Because right at that moment, Cassian, Rhys, Amren, and—most importantly—Azriel appeared at the edge of the street, blending into the crowd.

Rhys, hands in his pockets, took one look at Y/N and let out a low whistle. Damn.

Cassian, on the other hand, was losing his mind. “OH. MY. GODS.” He practically bounced on his feet. “I knew this was gonna be good, but this—this is better than I ever could have imagined.”

Amren crossed her arms, eyes flicking between Azriel and Y/N with amusement. “He’s going to combust.”

And Azriel—Azriel was frozen.

The moment his eyes landed on Y/N, everything else blurred into insignificance. The gown, the diadem, the way she moved with such natural confidence—it was lethal. She was breathtaking on any given day, but like this? Like this?

It took everything in him to school his expression, to keep himself from storming over, yanking her against him, and demanding when exactly she was planning to tell him she looked like that in a wedding dress.

Mor, watching all of this unfold, casually said through the mind link, Enjoying the view, Az?

His shadows curled tighter around him. You knew about this.

Obviously.

Cassian, watching Azriel’s battle for control, leaned over and whispered, “So, when’s the wedding?”

Azriel shot him a look so sharp it could have gutted a man. Cassian only grinned wider.

And then—Y/N finally noticed them.

Y/N, still blissfully unaware, turned her head slightly, about to make some offhand comment to Mor—when she spotted them.

Her steps faltered for a split second as her pale green eyes locked onto the group of familiar faces. And then—she saw him.

Azriel stood slightly apart from the others, his wings half-flared, shadows coiling around him in a way that told her everything. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his hazel eyes burned hotter than the sun.

“Oh, fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Mor cackled.

Cassian was barely holding in his laughter, whispering something to Rhys, who was just standing there, smug as all hell. Amren, as usual, looked more entertained than anything.

And Azriel?

He stalked toward her.

Y/N straightened automatically, an instinctive reaction to the sheer force of his gaze. As he closed the distance, she could practically feel the possessiveness rolling off him in waves, feel the weight of it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his shadows swirled around his boots like they, too, were ready to drag her close and never let go.

She tilted her head, offering a smirk despite the sudden racing of her heart. “Well, hello there, shadowsinger.”

Azriel stopped right in front of her, his gaze sweeping over everything—the gown, the diadem, the way the silk hugged her curves just right.

“You didn’t think to mention this?” His voice was low, edged with something dark, something claiming.

Y/N’s smirk widened. “I didn’t think I needed to.”

Azriel let out a slow breath, his wings twitching slightly before he reached out, fingers brushing along the delicate embroidery on her sleeve. His touch was light, reverent—dangerous.

“This,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to hers, “is unfair.”

Y/N hummed, enjoying the heat in his gaze far too much. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Azriel’s lips parted like he was about to answer, but Cassian—because of course he did—ruined the moment.

“So,” the general called, grinning like a madman, “should we just start planning the wedding now or—”

Y/N turned sharply. “Cassian.”

Cassian held up his hands. “I’m just saying! You’re already in the dress—”

“I will fight you.”

“I’d like to see you try in that gown.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you absolute menace—”

But before she could launch herself at him—before she could even move—Azriel’s hand curled around her wrist, tugging her back toward him, his chest brushing against hers.

“You do look stunning,” he murmured, quiet enough that only she could hear.

Y/N blinked up at him, momentarily thrown off by the softness in his voice, by the intensity in his eyes.

Her breath hitched.

For once, she didn’t have a clever response.

Azriel’s fingers skimmed up her arm, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver through her. His eyes were still locked onto hers, intense, unreadable, drinking her in like she was something rare, something his.

Y/N swallowed. “You—” She cleared her throat, grasping for something smug to say, something to lighten the heat pooling in her stomach. “You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you’re planning something.”

Azriel’s lips barely twitched, his only response a slow, deliberate glance down the length of her. “I’m definitely planning something.”

Mother above.

Mor, meanwhile, was enjoying this way too much. “I have never seen you look so—” she wiggled her fingers dramatically in Azriel’s direction “—feral.”

Azriel didn’t even acknowledge her.

Rhys was still grinning, arms crossed, looking like he was storing this entire moment away for blackmail later. “I have to say, I didn’t expect this today.”

Y/N scoffed. “Neither did I, to be fair.” She gestured to the decadent gown. “It was supposed to be fun, not—” She flicked her eyes back to Azriel, whose expression hadn’t softened in the slightest. “—whatever this is.”

“This,” Azriel echoed, voice quieter now, though no less intense.

Y/N arched a brow. “You don’t like it?”

Azriel huffed a breath, stepping even closer, until she could feel his warmth, until his wings partially wrapped behind her like he was shielding her from everyone. His fingers skimmed the side of her waist, grazing the delicate fabric.

“I love it,” he admitted, so quiet only she could hear. “And I hate that everyone else can see you in it.”

Oh.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Azriel’s lips tilted up slightly. “You knew this would drive me insane.”

She grinned, regaining some of her composure. “Did I?”

His fingers flexed on her waist. “You did.”

Cassian clapped his hands. “Alright, lovebirds, before you two start making out in the middle of the street—”

Y/N threw him a glare, but he only smirked.

Amren, ever the voice of reason, just sighed. “Can we go now?”

Y/N huffed, shooting one last glance at Azriel before stepping back. He let her go—reluctantly—but his shadows still curled around her ankle as if refusing to let her slip too far away.

She smirked. “If you behave, shadowsinger, maybe I’ll wear this just for you later.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened.

Cassian whistled.

Mor lost it.

And as Y/N strode past them, chin held high, she could feel Azriel’s eyes still burning into her, still tracking her every movement, still plotting ways to make her pay for this little tease.

Maybe I should keep the dress.

Y/N felt the weight of Azriel’s gaze long after she had passed him, heat crawling up her spine as she tried—tried—to keep her composure. The gown, the diadem, the makeup… it was all just supposed to be fun, something ridiculous and lighthearted. But now?

Now she was very aware of the fact that she had just paraded down the street looking like a bride, while her mate—her dangerously possessive mate—stood there looking like he was barely restraining himself from throwing her over his shoulder and flying them straight home.

Mor, still at her side, was cackling. “You’re evil for that.”

Y/N grinned. “I know.”

Cassian strolled up beside them, shaking his head. “You do realize you just gave him about a hundred new fantasies, right?”

Y/N snorted. “As if he didn’t already have them.”

Mor hummed. “True, but now? Now it’s personal.”

A shiver trailed down her spine, but before she could hink too much about it, the bridal shop representative rushed over, delighted by all the attention Y/N had drawn. “Oh, this was perfect!” The woman beamed. “You looked exquisite—so poised, so regal. And your mate—Mother above, his reaction was exactly the kind of passion we want associated with our dresses.”

Y/N barely held in a laugh. If only they knew.

The woman clapped her hands. “Would you consider modeling for us again in the future?”

Mor lost it, clutching her stomach as she doubled over in laughter.

Y/N smirked. “I’ll… think about it.”

She could feel Azriel’s shadows still lingering near her, like they refused to let her out of their sight. Good. Let him suffer a bit.

Still, as she walked back to the shop to change, she sent a whisper through the bond.

Did you enjoy the show, shadowsinger?

A pause. Then, a voice like a dark promise.

You’ll pay for that, starlight.

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

Maybe she would keep the dress.

Y/N grinned wickedly as she stepped back into the bridal shop, Mor still laughing beside her. The moment the door shut behind them, she pressed a hand to her chest, her heart hammering as Azriel’s words lingered in her mind. You’ll pay for that, starlight.

Oh, she knew that tone.

And she absolutely planned to drag it out for as long as possible.

“Did you see his face?” Mor wheezed, wiping at her eyes. “Y/N, I swear to the Mother, I have never seen him like that before. He looked like he was this close to starting a public riot.”

Y/N smirked. “I was hoping for a reaction.” She turned, admiring herself in the massive mirror. “Didn’t expect to look this good, though.”

The gown was decadent—pure white with intricate silver embroidery that shimmered under the light. It clung to her curves, cascading in elegant folds, and the diadem in her long hair only added to the illusion of royalty. She looked like she belonged in an ancient, otherworldly court, a queen stepping out of legend.

And Azriel had seen it.

Y/N felt the heat of his gaze even now, the intensity that had burned through the crowd. Her smirk deepened.

Mor nudged her. “You have to keep this dress. I mean, come on. You look like some celestial queen.”

Y/N hummed. “You just want to see Azriel suffer more.”

“Absolutely.” Mor grinned. “And so do you.”

She didn’t even bother denying it.

After a few more minutes, Y/N reluctantly stepped back into the dressing room to change. The moment she pulled the heavy gown off, she exhaled, shaking her head at herself. She had just been playing along with the whole thing, but now, a deeper thought crept in.

Marriage.

She and Azriel hadn’t talked about it, not really. But standing out there, with the entire Inner Circle watching, with him watching, the thought had settled in a way it hadn’t before.

Would she marry him?

The answer struck her as effortlessly as breathing. Of course. She was his, just as he was hers. There was no question about it.

But still, the idea of it—the reality of a ceremony, of wearing a dress like this with intention—sent an unfamiliar feeling curling in her chest.

Excitement.

A little bit of fear.

And a lot of amusement, because she knew Azriel was still reeling.

By the time she stepped out in her normal clothes again, Mor had already sent another message through the bond link. Y/N raised a brow.

Mor just winked. “You’ll see.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but when they finally stepped out of the shop, she did see.

Or rather—she felt it.

Azriel.

Leaning against the wall just outside, shadows curling around his frame, golden skin taut with restrained tension. His hazel eyes—burning—traced over her, head to toe, like he was still seeing her in that gown.

Y/N’s breath caught, but she smirked. “Came to pick me up, shadowsinger?”

His voice was dark silk. “Had to make sure you weren’t planning to run off and get married without me.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, stepping close, just enough to taunt him with her presence. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered with something dangerous. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured,

“You will pay for that, starlight.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. Again.

Mor stifled a laugh behind them.

Y/N just tilted her chin up, meeting his smoldering gaze with a challenge. “Looking forward to it.”

[silverflameataraxia]

Rhysand told Tamlin that he almost ruined Feyre. Eris told Nesta that if she stayed in the Night Court, she would risk her ruin.

Tamlin frequently obliterated his study with Feyre inside. Rhysand frequently obliterates the windows of the HoW with Nesta inside.

Tamlin was more loyal to Ianthe than Feyre. Cassian is more loyal to Rhysand than Nesta.

Tamlin always sided with Ianthe against Feyre. Cassian always sides with Rhysand against Nesta.

Tamlin locked Feyre up. Rhysand locked Nesta up.

Tamlin caused Feyre to have a mental breakdown. Cassian caused Nesta to have a mental breakdown.

Tamlin wanted to control Feyre. Rhysand wants to control Nesta.

Tamlin ignored Feyre's physical and emotional well-being. Cassian ignores Nesta's physical and emotional well-being.

No wonder Rhys and Cassian hate Tamlin so much. They are what they hate.

[rainingriversofyou]

The Archeron Sisters - A Court Of Thorns And Roses

Artist: gracerstudios

[duskcowboy]

The Bat Boys & The Archeron Sisters 🫶🏼

🎨 by @eospaint on tumblr and on insta

[lib-arts]

The Archeron sisters

art by me

Day

Night

Dusk