#like why yes feyre he IS indeed hot thank you for noticing

[harperbrynne]

Through the holes in the grate, I thought I saw Lucien’s eldest brother chuckle. Hot—so unbearable hot. (ACOTAR, pg363)

Me: yes

[highfaelucien]

for elucien: maybe some soft content of lucien and elain cooking together

send me ship fic prompts!

Elain looked up as she heard a small tap at the door of the kitchen. She glanced towards Nuala and Cerridwen, both of whom remained relaxed, though she couldn't think who would be knocking.

Anyone who typically stayed here, Feyre and Rhys and their Inner Circle, none of them would have knocked. They would just have barged in, on a varying spectrum of politeness.

Azriel was at one end, and Cassian was on the other, which felt an appropriate way of measuring the two brothers' personalities.

"Come in!" she called, looking up from her flour dusted work table.

A golden glimmer caught her eye as one mechanical eye and one of glimmering red peered owlishly around the doorway.

"Lady Elain," he said with that courtly grace, giving her as refined a bow as any she'd ever seen, "Your sister told me that I could find you here. May I approach?"

"Oh," Elain said, a little flustered, feeling her cheeks go warm for reasons entirely unrelated to the heating oven behind her, "Oh, yes, of course, my lord-" she catches herself, remembering that he's not a lord, she corrects, "Lucien."

He inclined his head slightly and approached, carrying a small wicker basket in front of him, which he set gently on the worktop in front of her.

"Your sister told me that you liked to bake down her most days," he said, watching her almost warily, as though he expected her to snap at him for merely being here, "So I brought you a gift."

"A gift?" she repeated, blinking down at the basket.

"It won't bite," he said, with a small smile, "You can open it."

Tentatively, she slid the lid open and peered inside. At once, a tart, wonderful smell of fresh, crisp apples, unlike any she'd ever experienced, emerged from the basket.

She gave a little squeal of delight and took one from the basket, holding it in her hand. It was larger than any she'd ever seen, gleaming as brightly red as a forge. And the smell, even unpeeled, she had never smelled anything so mouthwatering or delicious.

Lucien smiled a little at her reaction to them and answered the question that had been dancing on the tip of her tongue, "They're from the Autumn Court."

There was a flicker in his eyes he couldn't quite read, a sadness, deep and haunted. And she felt it. She felt it, a deep pang in her own chest, twin and echo to what she saw in him. She wasn't sure if he was aware of that, as he kept talking, hands clasped behind his back, bouncing slightly on his toes.

"My mother sent it to me," he told her, and there was a tightness to his voice. She knew little of the other courts, but she had heard Lucien's mother lived a sad existence trapped with his father. "She told me, she told me to offer it to you, so that you would know that Autumn has more to it than the violence and brutality seen from outside."

He laid a gentle hand on the basket's lid, one slim finger tracing another of the apples. They had a meaning to him. A connection to his old court, his old home, the mother he had not seen in so long.

"I thought, perhaps, you could use them in your baking," he said, straightening up and taking a breath, composing himself, "They are best enjoyed when they are cooked."

"They smell even better than this?" Elain blurted, eyes widening.

Lucien huffed a soft laugh, and it felt, oddly, like a victory, "They do indeed. They are made for roasting, for bonfires, and mead. I think they will be an excellent treat for those upstairs. And for you."

She smiled at him, "Thank you," she said, giving him a polite little curtsy, "This is very thoughtful," she gestured towards Nuala and Cerridwen, the two wraiths watching silently but, she knew, listening to every word, "We were actually about to make a pie. I think now it shall be an apple pie."

He smiled at that, then gave her another bow and made to leave. Something about the way he turned, the way his touch had lingered upon the apples, the smell of him, of Autumn, that lingered, the sadness in his eyes, the sadness in her chest, has her calling out to him.

"Perhaps you could stay?"

Nuala and Cerridwen glanced up, but kept their thoughts to themselves, as always.

Lucien turned slowly, seeming a little startled, and looked at her with raised eyebrows, "That's not necessary," he said carefully, "Please, don't feel obliged."

"I don't," she told him firmly, trying to be more assertive, "I think it would be nice to have a practiced hand to show me precisely how to, to slice and spice these apples. So that they taste their best."

He hesitated just a moment, then he gave her a smile and tied his long red hair up into a loose bun on top of his head, securing it with a leather band around his wrist.

"I can certainly do that," he told her, with a soft smile, "I've roasted more of these in my lifetime than I'd care to count."

She gave him a little smile, then turned to Nuala and Cerridwen and said, trying, and failing, to control her blush, "The kitchen may be a little crowded with four of us. I think I can manage, with Lucien's help. Perhaps you could attend to your other duties? I know you're both very busy."

It was painfully transparent, but neither of her friends made any mention of that. They just gave her and Lucien little bows, then vanished through the wall.

Lucien gave an exaggerated shiver at the sight, "Does that ever get unnerving?" he asked Elain, squinting down at her.

She giggled, "I suppose it was at first," she admitted, "I've gotten used to them. Mostly. But I still get a fright if I turn around and they're standing inside the table. I thought perhaps it was just a holdover from my being human."

"No," Lucien said wryly, "That's definitely not a human thing. Standing in tables is downright unsettling."

Elain smiled again, then added, "They've been good friends to me, despite their blatant abuse of furniture. And they're very good bakers."

"That I can attest to as well," Lucien said, washing his hands at the sink, "Their pastries are deliciously light."

She couldn't help noting, out of the corner of her eye, as he rolled up his sleeves, that his arms were corded with muscle, and well toned.

He didn't have the bulk of Cassian, or even Azriel, who was less of a 'beefcake', to use Mor's word, than his brother, but still broad-chested and muscular. He was more delicately crafted, and she bit her lip as her brain very firmly did not object to that one bit.

Lucien didn't seem to notice her ogling. Or if he did, he was polite enough to pretend that he didn't, for which she was grateful.

"Why don't we prepare the apples together?" she suggested, "The pie crust is nearly ready, after all, and there are quite a few of them. I can peel if you don't mind chopping?"

"I am at your service, my lady," Lucien replied, giving her another sweeping bow, "Your kitchen, your authority."

"I don't think anyone has ever given me authority before," she mumbled, before she could stop herself, picking up one of the apples and starting to peel it with a sharp knife.

Lucien took out a cutting board and set it down beside her, fishing a knife from the nearby block.

He smiled as he waited for her to finish with her apple. As she handed it to him, he said, "If you were given authority, over a whole court, let's say, what would it be? A court of pastries and cream? Or perhaps roses and violets?"

She considered, humming, then said bluntly, "Well, it would certainly have a lot more sunlight than there is here."

Lucien laughed, even as she blushed.

"Oh dear," she said, feeling even the newly pointed tips of her ears growing hot, "That sounded rather rude and ungrateful, didn't it?"

"Actually," Lucien said, leaning in conspiratorially, so she once again caught his scent, and trembled with it, "It was quite refreshing. I know that Rhys has an aesthetic to maintain, the dark and broody git, and there's a definite beauty to all of this," he waved his knife around airily, "But it does get a bit depressing day after day."

Elain gave a little squeaky at the mention of Rhys being a 'dark and broody git' but otherwise smiled at Lucien's assessment.

"No-one else seems to have a problem with it," she said, watching as Lucien efficiently cored and sliced the apples she passed him.

He was clearly practiced in the kitchen, which surprised her. She'd been told he was a High Lord's son, a prince - she wasn't sure why they were called princes when their father's were lords, but hadn't questioned it - she hadn't expected culinary training to be in his skillset.

"In fact they all seem to like it, even," she said, with a little sigh, "I miss summers in the mortal lands. Everyone keeps telling me I should stop thinking about it. That my life is here now, but..."

"But it was your home for most of your life," Lucien said quietly, "And that is difficult to forget, or fully escape from, no matter how long you're gone from it."

She nodded, and watched him examine the apple in his hand, that sad longing back on his face.

"Do you miss your home, too?" she asked quietly.

He glanced at her, weighing her, apparently judging how to answer, sincere, or sarcastic. To her surprise, he chose sincerity.

"I do," he said quietly, "Both of them." He sighed very deeply, "I have bad memories connected to both Spring and Autumn. Terrible memories, if truth be told, but..."

"But there are good memories, too," Elain said quietly, finishing the thought, "And other people seem to forget those. Maybe that's why it's been so easy for them to move on with their new lives."

Lucien peered down at her, holding her gaze for a long time, then he nodded.

"When I was given quarters in Tamlin's manor," he said, turning that burning gaze away from her to confront the apples again, "I chose to decorate the space as my rooms had looked at Autumn. Dark wood pannelling, oranges, and reds, and yellows, the colours of the bonfires and falling leaves. Tamlin and the others couldn't understand it. They had thought I would want to erase every memory of that court, after what had happened to me there."

Elain didn't press him to go into details about what precisely that had been. She had overheard snippets and gossip, but she had never gotten the full story. Now did not feel like the time for it.

"They didn't understand," he said, shaking his head, "I left Autumn, left it gladly. But a part of my heart still belonged there. A part of my heart will always belong there. Just as another part will always belong to Spring. My mother was of Autumn. There was a fire in my blood that called to that court. the festivals, and bonfires. The plants, and the people. The scents, and the food, and the beauty of it.

"I still remembered those things fondly. I didn't want to let myself forget. I didn't want to become the kind of person who consisted only of scars, and sadness, defined only by the terrible things that have happened to them."

He huffed a soft laugh and had to stop himself dragging his long fingers through his hair while he was around food.

"I apologise, lady," I came here to deliver you some apples, not wax lyrical on my philosophy of life," he said, inclining his head towards her.

But she laid a gentle hand on his arm and said, "No, I like to hear it. It...It's good to hear, honestly. I don't like to forget the good times, either. Nesta and Feyre, they fit in so well here, and have taken so well to being fae, on the whole. I know that whenever anyone mentions our past in the human world, they think of that cottage. They think of freezing winters, and near starvation. Of abandonment, and rejection, and sadness. So I don't blame them for finding that easy to leave behind."

"What about you, Elain?" Lucien asked, very quietly, "What do you think of?"

Elain closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, feeling a soft smile touch her lips, "I think of the cottage too," she admitted, "But I remember the way we all clustered around the fire under a big blanket, all of us.

"I remember my little windowbox, and the wild flowers I grew. I tried vegetables, but the seeds were too expensive, and the soil quality was too poor and shallow in my little box. But the flowers made me smile. They brought some colour to our dull, cold world when we needed it most.

"I remember Feyre's painting. And father's carvings. And the stories Nesta wrote and hid from us, but I still found them.

"I remember riding horses with mother when I was little. And pretty dresses that made me feel like a princess.

"I remember singing, and laughing, and living with my family. And sometimes, sometimes I feel mad for focusing on those little things, when everything else was so awful. I feel silly, and childish, and like I should think of things how they were."

"You are," Lucien said quietly, and she opened her eyes, finding him watching her with something close to awe on his face, "All of those things were real. They happened. They are true memories. I, I don't think it is childish to focus on the small things that brought you joy when the world was bleak and full of misery and pain. I think that makes you strong, and wonderful. In a world of harsh, jagged stones, and concrete walls, you find the beauty of the wildflowers growing up between the cracks. That, that is a very special, and noble way to live, I think."

"You see them too, don't you?" she said softly, "The flowers in the windowbox, and fighting to grow between the cracked stones. It's how you've survived after everything that's happened."

Lucien swallowed tightly, but nodded, "I try to," he replied, a little hoasely, "It's not always easy but...I try."

Elain nodded, "Me too," she murmured.

There was a long, intense silence, like a string being pulled taut between them. She felt herself leaning into it, both excited and afraid. Then Lucien cleared his throat and looked away.

She felt the relief, as the tension broke, but also a little disappointment, unable to discover where it might have pulled her to.

Taking a deep breath, Lucien said, too loudly, "Look at all these apples."

"Oh!" Elain exclaimed, only just taking note of the small mountain of slices between them, "Oh, yes."

"Come on," Lucien said, giving her a grin, clearly trying to put her at ease after that charged moment they had shared, "This is the best part."

It took him a moment, opening several cupboards, cursing under his breath when he caused a small avalanche of poorly stacked pots to come tumbling out of one, but he finally straightened up with a large mixing bowl held triumphantly in his hands.

He scooped all of the apple slices into it, then began raiding the spice rack. She lost track of all of the different things he tossed into the bowl. He gave it a final sniff, then nodded, satisfied.

"Alright, get stuck in," he said, nodding to her with a glint in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow and he stuck his hands into the bowl with almost indecent enthusiasm, mixing the spices with the fruit slices.

Smiling, she stepped up shyly and put her hands into the bowl with him.

They stayed quiet as they mixed, but occasionally their eyes met, and, even more intensely, their hands.

Finally, Lucien deemed it ready, and they began lining the apple slices at the bottom of the pie tin. He showed her how to weave a traditional Autumn lattice on the top, and even how to make some leaf patterns from the leftover pastry.

While it baked, Elain soaked in the scents of it cooking. Lucien was right, it was so much better than it was originally. As it went on, she noted Lucien was starting to shift a little uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"What is it?" Elain asked, biting her lip, "Is my pastry not good enough to contain your magnificent Autumn apples?"

He glanced to her, mechanical eye whirring softly, and did not bite at her attempt at humour. He swallowed and said, "I don't think I should partake in this particular pie, Elain."

She frowned slightly, "Why not?" she asked, confused.

"It's, it's mainly a symbolic gesture, but I wouldn't want to take any chances. When, when a woman," she noted his use of the word 'woman' instead of 'female' with a jolt of pleased surprise, "Offers her mate food, and they accept, it generally seals their bond."

"Oh," Elain said, flushing as darkly as his hair.

"I'm not saying that if I eat this it will bind us togeher forever, with no choice, and no backing out but- To be honest with you, I have no idea what it will do, and I wouldn't want to take that risk."

"No," Elain said, perhaps a little too quickly, given the flash of quickly smothered pain in Lucien's face. "I mean, I'd like to take a little more time with things, if we could."

"We're immortal," Lucien said, with a small smile, "We can take all the time there is," he glanced at the large clock on the wall and added, "And speaking of time, I realise I'm almost late for my meeting with Azriel. He gets very grumpy when his guests aren't as punctual as he is."

"Azriel is always very punctual," Elain said, a little lamely, not quite sure what else to say.

"So I shall take my leave, lady," Lucien said, with another bow.

The formality felt...A little strange between them now, and she wasn't sure what she thought about that. She still didn't really know this man at all, and yet, what they had shared...

"Please tell me if you like the apples," he said, with a small smile.

"I will," she said, giving him a little curtsy in turn, "And please, give your mother my thanks."

"I will," he said, but there was a sadness in his eyes that told her he wasn't sure when he'd next get the chance to do that. If he ever did.

He turned to go, and she again found herself starting forwards, halting him once more, "Lucien," she said, and he glanced back towards her, "If, if you ever find yourself with any more fruits for baking. Or, or just the next time you're here, if you wanted to help me bake again I, I think I'd like that."

The smile Lucien gave her in answer was nothing short of a beam, something she had never seen from him before. It made him look younger, his eyes brighter, and softer.

He inclined his head to her in gratitude, then winnowed into nothing, leaving behind the faint scent of cinnamon and campfires, the perfect complement to their baking pie.

***

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you enjoyed!! (I got carried away and I'm SORRY).

[nestasgalpal]

Headcanons in case I don’t like ACOSF #2

The first IC member to be nice and welcoming towards Nesta, either while they are alone or with the whole group, is Azriel. He is Cassian’s best friend, and he is the one who actively decides he doesn’t care that much about why the rest hate on Nesta. Yes, she wasn’t the best sister to their High Lady, but all of them have done far worse, and the preassure their group of friends disliking her puts on Cassian’s shoulders just isn’t fair. Azriel, who is always silent, is the one who starts a conversation with Nesta. He asks her about her day, or her life in Illyria. He asks Nesta if Lord Devlon is still as hard on the new trainees as he was in their day. “He was a nightmare, right, Cass?” And so Cassian is included in a civilized conversation with Nesta where she is invited to talk about her feelings in a way she can get out of the topic if that’s what she wants.

Nesta does want to avoid talking about Illyria. It could be because she is going through a hard time there, or because she has found in those mountains a new home and sharing something so private with these people feels wrong. Az gets it because he doesn’t like to share a lot either, so he is quick to be the one who talks about himself. He tells her some story from his first year there, which he hardly ever does, even with the IC, so the rest get the hint: I want to talk to her, and you will do the same and make her feel like we get what it is like to be in the camps, or you will shut up and listen. (I don’t see Nesta asking to be in one of their reunions, so if she is there she was either asked to be present, or literally commnded into going. The least they can do after forcing her to go is to not exclude her for the whole evening lol)

Rhysand and Mor don’t want her to be so comfortable in their house. Mor is very territorial when it comes to Az and Cassian, so she tries to draw a line between the shadowsinger and Nesta as she has been doing with Cassian from the start. Unfortunately, Az is convinced he wants to give Nesta a safe space where she can either share whatever she wants, if she wants to, or at least have dinner without being ignored or attacked. It’s not just about being a decent person, he is doing it because he sees how much it affects Cassian and how little the rest care for him regarding that topic. And it’s also for Nesta, because he knows what it feels like to be excluded and mistreated by your own family. Azriel doen’t think Feyre is dong it on purpose, but intentionally or not, Nesta is paying for it. It is a hot night (or maybe it’s the middle of the winter but the chimney make the room too hot for long sleeves) yet Nesta is covered to her neck, and Azriel’s shadows let him know it is because her arms are full of fresh cuts and scars from training and she is ashamed of them. He knows she blames them, her sister, for giving those to her, and he also knows what that feels like.

So he will make the evening peasant to her. He will let his friends know she is not a target and she has his “protection”. Cassian also apreciates that he can actually talk to Nesta or pay attention to her in an environment where he won’t get looks from Mor and Feyre for doing so. In the past, every time he looked at Nesta, even if it was a quick glance, the rest would notice, and even if they didn’t mention it, he knows they made a big deal out of it in their heads. If he talked to her, Mor would be right there in a second to slap back at Nesta if she was mean in her response; and Nesta was always mean in her response. Cassian understands she does that to keep people away, and he hadn’t known how to properly approach her before. But thanks to Azriel, he can now. He feels good and careless asking her some things about her day he has seen from afar in the camps, but has hever had the courage to ask her about before. He tells Nesta about himself and his own experience in Windhaven, something he has never before gotten a chance to do, but has been dying to do, indeed.

He feels supported by his friend, and that’s all he needs. She feels like she has a choice to talk or not to, and deciding to be quiet won’t make it awkward for everyone else, as it usually happens with the IC. She, in the end, decides to share. The IC and Nesta are not her friends, but they can co-exist.

[epochofbelief]

Breath Control, Chapter Seven

An A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team AU

All characters belong to SJ Maas!

Feysand.... and welcome to Elriel. 

Warnings: cursing

Let me know if you want to be tagged! 

Authors Note: This chapter is a BIG gateway chapter to a lot of things. . . also VERY lightly edited... and enjoy the new POV shift... ;)

Masterlist Link!

SEVEN

~~~Elain~~~

It was around 9 am. I’d been in the kitchen for an hour already, trying to decide what to make for breakfast. I’d started making pancakes, then switched to waffles, then omelets.  I’d be set on my decision for as long as it would take me to pull out all the ingredients for my choice, then I’d change my mind, put everything back, and pull a bunch of different things out. 

My father walked in at around 9:30, as I was pulling the muffins I’d made from scratch out of the oven. I’d decided muffins were neutral enough that everyone in the house would like them and that I could make them well enough to everyone’s satisfaction. Nesta said I worked too hard to please people. 

No clue where she got that idea. . . 

“Is no one else up?” my father said.

I shook my head. “Just me and the muffins.”

He took one, buttered it, and made to sit down. He seemed to think better of it, though, because he set his muffin down and stood up straight. “I’d better go wake Feyre. I want to ask her about all those paint cans and supplies she’s left in the garage, and someone has to be here to eat these muffins. Best to do it know while Mr. Night sleeps; I know how sensitive that girl can be about her painting.”

I nodded, standing alone at the counter before I remembered.

“Dad, Dad, Dad! Let me wake up Feyre. I--um--”

He was halfway up the stairs when I caught up to him, pausing to look down at me. I went with the oldest trick in the book. “Girl stuff.” I widened my eyes meaningfully. “Best if I check up on her first.”

I prayed my father didn’t see through my very feeble attempt to make him uncomfortable. But it worked. He clicked his tongue and descended the staircase. “I’ll take your word for it, Elain. Hurry down. And tell Feyre to hurry too…”

It was like he knew. Oh Feyre was so going to owe me. 

I bounded up the stairs, not slowing until I was at the top of Feyre’s own narrow staircase. I knocked and entered, ready to get a kick out of what was about to happen.

“Oh, Feyreeee, Dad needs you downstairs.”

Nothing for a few moments. I thought I heard whispers but from where I stood, I  couldn’t see anything besides the large lump of her white bed coverings. “I guess I could send Dad up here…”

The whispering became clearer, now, and I made out something like, “Shut up!” and “I’ll handle it” and “Calm the fuck down.” 

Feyre suddenly appeared in a very large t-shirt and nothing else. “Thanks, ‘Lain.” She practically hissed my name. She stalked across the floor toward me. “How’d you know?” She murmured.

“Got up for a glass of water last night. Saw Rhysand’s ass as it cleared the top of the staircase. Figured I’d save you from Dad’s wrath.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “We didn’t do anything. And Dad has no right to dictate what I can and can’t do.”

“Obviously not,” I agreed. “But he could make things very awkward.”

“True. We’ll--I’ll--be down in a second. Please don’t tell Nesta. She’d be unbearable.”

“Tell me what?” A voice like iron floated across the small landing. 

Feyre shut her eyes and I cringed. Nesta’s judgment might be worse than our father’s.

“Hey, Nesta,” Feyre said guiltily. 

“Feyre. Hi Rhys!” Nesta raised her voice imperceptibly. 

A tan hand rose from the bed. “Why the fuck do you have so many sisters, Archeron?”

The light that shone behind Feyre’s eyes was like nothing I’d ever seen before. In either of my sisters’ faces. Or my own. I bit back my own grin. After Tamlin, and the shitty year Feyre had had, I just wanted her to be happy. And Rhys was so good-natured. Didn’t hurt that he was hot, too. She deserved to look all happy despite being caught out by her two older sisters.

“I’d get downstairs quick. And arrive separately.” Nesta was fighting back a laugh. “I can’t wait to hear Dad chew you out for your sex life. For once, it won’t be me.” She smiled wickedly.

“We didn’t--I didn’t--get out!” Feyre screeched at us. 

“You’re welcome,” Nesta and I said in unison, and we grinned at each other. Feyre pushed us out with surprising strength and slammed the door.  

“That was fun.” Nesta started down the staircase first. 

I was about to respond when my phone vibrated in my back pocket. I pulled it out.

Azriel: Mooorning

“Who’s that?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Nesta dropped her voice to a low whisper as we descended the main staircase and headed for the kitchen. “You’re grinning like an idiot, and not in the ‘I just caught my sister with a boy in her bed in my dad’s house’ way you were earlier.” 

“Uh, just looking at a meme.” Weak.

“Because you spend so much time scrolling through memes.”

Thankfully, Nesta let the subject drop. I honestly wished she hadn’t. Everyone had been treating me like a fragile piece of glass since the whole Greyson debacle. And while, yes, I wasn’t quite ready to share that I’d been secretly talking to Azriel for the past two months… I was strong enough to handle some sisterly teasing, or even fatherly teasing. Or any kind of teasing.

Instead, everything was, “Oh, Elain, your cookies taste so good!” and, “Oh, Elain, the garden looks wonderful!” and, “Oh, Elain, how’s nursing school?” Nobody wanted to talk about anything real with me, because they thought I wasn’t ready. And if I was the one to start down that road, they’d continue to tread on ice around me and just be grateful I was talking at all. Too grateful to really listen to what I had to say.

Which was why I’d downloaded a dating app two months ago, swiped right on all of two guys before I’d found someone worthy of deleting the app immediately after we started messaging. It’d been a constant stream of texting and snapchatting ever since, even if we hadn’t met up in person yet. My romantic past, Azriel’s loner tendencies, and the fact that he was one of Rhys’s best friends and Feyre’s teammate had made us decide to take things slow. But seeing how happy Feyre was with Rhys--and she didn’t even know it quite yet--made me think that I should tell my sister and then get Azriel to take me out. 

That would certainly surprise everybody. Elain made of glass, indeed.

Before I could lose my nerve, I texted Azriel back. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I reentered the kitchen with a smile on my face, trying not to ponder on the message I’d just sent.

Elain: I’ve been thinking. . . We should meet up… Face to face. 

Elain: Like on a date. 

I got a response within a moment and didn’t need to check my phone to know what it said.

Azriel: Hell yes. 

~~~FEYRE~~~

I slammed the door shut. I looked behind me to find Rhys, breathtakingly shirtless, propped up on one elbow behind me. 

“What are the chances that both of your lovely sisters keep their mouths shut about this? Cuz I have a feeling even a mutual love for collegiate athletics won’t stop your father from kicking me out of the house for staying the night in your room.”

I slumped onto the bed and he was suddenly there, filling all the empty space in the room as he hovered over me. I closed my eyes, fighting back a smile. “They’ve had their fun. Sisters don’t snitch.”

He rested his forehead against my shoulder. “Great. Not that I care about you, of course. I’m just very concerned about where I’ll have Thanksgiving dinner if your dad kicks me out.”

I sat up and pushed him back against the blankets all in one motion. “You take that back,” I said playfully. 

“Make me.”

“How about I go down there and confess to my dad before Nesta or Elain can rat us out? Then I’d be rid of your sorry ass much more quickly.”

“Feyre!” Elain’s voice floated up the stairs tauntingly, interrupting our flirting.

“This isn’t over, Archeron,” Rhys said threateningly. 

I pointed to the door. “Go put on something presentable. Your hair’s a mess.” 

He scowled. But he kissed me lightly on the lips before he left the room and I almost told him to forget about family breakfast and stay up here with me, instead.

------

The day passed in a blur. We spent the majority of it in the kitchen prepping for Thanksgiving lunch tomorrow afternoon. After a while, we all retired to the living room and marathoned the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Rhys sat next to me on the couch and as soon as it got dark enough outside that my father, Nesta, and Elain probably wouldn’t notice, he took my hand under our shared blanket and I set my head on his shoulder. 

I stayed in his room that night, although we were both too tired to do much other than fall into bed after a day spent in the kitchen. I woke before him the next morning and tiptoed downstairs to let him sleep.

I found Elain and Nesta arguing in my kitchen. 

“Why don’t you just tell me who he is,” Nesta was saying in a very low, very dangerous voice.

“Butt out, Nesta. It’s no one.”

“If it was no one, there’d be nothing for me to butt out of, now would there be?”

Elain was gripping the island countertop in the center of the kitchen. Nesta, surprisingly, was cooking up a huge skillet of scrambled eggs. It smelled as though they were starting to burn while her attention was focused on Elain. 

Elain’s phone vibrated. “Who is he?” Nesta shrieked.

“Fuck off!”

“What’s going on?” I asked. 

They both started speaking at once. 

“Elain’s being stupid--”

“Nesta won’t stay out of my own fucking business--”

“Help me convince her--” 

I held up my hands. “Oh, both of you shut up! Elain. Explain.”

Nesta mumbled something under her breath that I chose not to hear as Elain sighed. “Nesta thinks I’m talking to a boy. She thinks that she has a right to know who he is--if he even exists,” Elain added with an eye roll, “and that she deserves the right to approve. I told her to fuck off, but she’s not listening.”

I’d never heard so many “fucks” from Elain in one conversation. There was definitely a boy. 

“Well, why don’t you tell us? After everything…”

Elain pushed herself back from the countertop, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m not some fragile teenager who doesn’t know how to speak to boys! Despite what you think about how terribly broken I am after Greyson, I know what I’m doing! And now I don’t want to tell you even more. So leave me alone.” 

She turned and pushed through the door that led from the kitchen to the side yard. 

I looked at Nesta. She looked at me. 

“She better be getting it reallll good to get so upset with us for asking about it,” Nesta said.

I took a seat at the barstools surrounding the island. “Do you think she. . . Do we really treat her like a teenager who doesn’t know how to speak to boys?”

“Maybe. But that’s because she doesn’t know how to speak to boys--or men, for that matter.”

Nesta thought she knew what was best for Elain--and she usually did. But Nesta also liked getting her way. When her way wasn’t Elain’s way. . . It was difficult for both of them. I resolved that no matter what Nesta thought, I’d try to give Elain some space when it came to her Mystery Guy. Even if I was dying to find out who it was. 

“Speaking of boys. . .” Nesta began, but at that moment, Rhys stepped into the kitchen. Thank God. I didn’t know what exactly was going on between us at the moment. Discussing it with Nesta would be torture. 

“Good morning,” I said brightly as Rhys took a seat beside me. 

“Is it?” He asked. Nesta had turned around to find her eggs burnt to a crisp, ignoring Rhys entirely.

“What’s wrong?”

Rhys leaned his elbows on the counter. “My father called. He’s in town. And wants me to spend the weekend with him in my hometown.”

I couldn’t help the fear that gripped me at his words. Was he just making this up because he wanted to escape me? I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Where’s that?” 

“Two hours north of here.”

“Well I can take you and drop you off tomorrow morning,” I managed to say. “Would that work?”

He blinked. “I did tell you that my father is a horrible person, right?”

“Not sure you mentioned it. . . But it’s Thanksgiving. You should be with family.” Which was true. Although I’d rather he stay here.

He rolled his eyes. “I can’t burden you with driving all the way out there and back just so I can spend the weekend with a very unideal candidate.” He gave me a look that told me who was the ideal candidate. Maybe he wasn’t making this up. . . 

“Um. . . Uber?”  Stay here, stay here, stay here.

“Too expensive.” He glanced at Nesta, and then turned to face me more fully. “You could stay with us. We can just make it ‘meet the parents’ week.” He smiled hopefully.

Relief flooded my body. “Well…” I definitely wanted to go with him. Right now I didn’t want to leave his side at all after the past two nights sleeping in his arms. But I didn’t want to offend my family.

Nesta banged the skillet against the edge of the trash can, causing both Rhys and me to jump about a mile. “Go with him, Feyre. I’ll talk to Dad.”

I couldn’t help the smile that exploded across my face. “I guess you’re stuck with me.” I grinned at him. 

“There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with.”

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

Tag List: @sleeping-and-books​ @musicalfae​ @queen-of-glass

[thesurielships]

the perp II

note: I am practically making up laws in this. I have no idea how police and justice work in the US, nor in my country tbh, so please hold your disbelief. This is inspired by Brooklyn 99. If you haven’t watched it, you should.

note 2: I’m trying to write as much as possible, and to stop obsessing over the small details and just let the story flow. Which means that this will probably have a lot of imperfections, but a part 3 will be coming soon :))

Word count: 1.6k

Part 1 | Masterlist

An insistent knock startled Feyre out of her creative trance. She looked up to her boss’s usual stoic face.

“Captain Azriel,” she nodded in acknowledgement, trying to calm her panic down. He had only knocked once on her desk and folded his arms behind his back. That was never a good sign.

“My office. Now.”

Feyre blinked at his retreating figure. He hadn’t returned her acknowledgement. That was a terrible sign. She quickly followed him to his office as there was nothing he hated more than tardiness.

“Yes, Captain?”

He was already in his seat, hands steepled on his desk. “Close the door, detective.”

She did, noticing the keen gaze Lucien kept directed their way. She smiled and closed the blinds, too.

“Take a seat.”

She did, and then looked at the captain expectantly.

“Did you threaten a fellow officer with a gun?”

Feyre’s blood froze. “Captain, I - ”

“I have just received an official complaint from Detective Rosetool stating that you twisted his arm behind his back, pressed him against a wall and put a gun to his head.”

“It wasn’t to his head,” Feyre couldn’t help arguing. “It was to his spine.”

The captain leaned back in his seat, his expression unchanging.

“I didn’t want to kill him, only paralyse him.” Even she knew she sounded bratty.

“So you would have willingly maimed a fellow officer?”

“I didn’t actually do it, now did I? Besides, if we’re at the stage of filing official complaints, I might as well present one myself. Detective Rosetool is a sexist asshole who thinks that our past relationship gives him the right to get involved in my cases, to ask about my comings and goings, to follow me home and threaten other male fellow officers who dare speak to me. He has abused me multiple times prior to our break up, and I have several scars and medical reports to prove it.”

Feyre was breathing hard. She had stood up at some point during her tirade, and was ready to submit her resignation and storm off this Cauldron damned precinct if she had to. Why she hadn’t reported Tamlin before, or left all of it behind, she didn’t know. Her throat was starting to close up, tears pricking her eyes. But she would not break down in front of her superior officer. She. Would. Not.

“Alright.”

Feyre blinked. “Alright?”

The captain’s gaze was steady, either oblivious to the storm of emotions coursing through her or wisely choosing not to comment on it. “I will submit your formal complaint.”

“What about Tamlin’s?”

“As it is not entirely truthful, I have the right to refuse to forward it.”

Feyre could not believe her ears. “Why are you doing this?”

“Yours is not the first complaint I have received about detective Rosetool. Many others have spoken up about his inappropriate behavior before, and his record is not as clean as he would like it to be.”

“Sir,” her voice was shaky with unshed tears. “You do realize that his dad is the former NYPD commissioner, right? This could get you in trouble.”

Captain Azriel’s smile was small and full of menace as he said, “Do not worry about it, detective Archeron. I have my ways.”

***

The day after her intriguing conversation with the hairdressers at Dora’s, and her sob fest following her talk with Captain Azriel, Feyre went around the shops in that neighborhood looking for eye witnesses. She did not use her sketch, however, as that would have been a little unprofessional. And embarrassing, she thought as she remembered the powerful body, the sexy smirk and the violet eyes she had drawn the previous night in the privacy of her own apartment. Then her thoughts drifted to the dream she’d had of being pressed against a tattooed chest and cocooned in huge membranous wings.

And touched in places she hadn’t been touched in a while.

“… gone home by then. Detective?”

She nodded absently. If she hadn’t been so focused on hiding her flushed face behind her hair as she pretended to write something down in her notebook, she would have noticed the nervousness radiating off the owner of the sea food restaurant. He kept wringing his hands, his forehead shone with sweat and his feet were shifting constantly.

“Detective, actually…”

Feyre’s head snapped up at the careful tone. “Yes?”

“There is one more bit of information that might help you, but I don’t know if I can…” he trailed off with a wince.

“No one will know you told me, Mr. Varian.”

He swallowed audibly, then seemed to steel himself. “It’s about Dora, the owner of the salon.”

She nodded.

He hesitated, glancing at the salon behind her. Feyre tried her best to look reassuring.

“Her boyfriend is in the mafia.”

She held her breath. “Do you know which one?”

He cleared his throat. Once. Twice. “Actually… he’s the head of Hybern.”

Feyre felt like she went fishing for eels and caught a shark instead. “Are you certain?”

“I see him leaving her salon at 11:15 every night.”

She wanted to whoop and jump around in joy. David Hybern was just the kind of big fish she needed to catch to get her a promotion, hopefully away from the flower tool. “Thank you, Mr. Varian. You’re doing this city a great favor.”

And me, she thought, giggling internally, before mentally scolding herself for her selfishness.

“Just get him off these streets,” the chef answered wearily. “He strikes terror in everyone’s hearts. My kids can’t even sleep these days.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Varian. We will try our best to put this criminal behind bars.”

***

“So I heard our perp is quite the hunk.”

Feyre snorted. “They said he had violet eyes and blue hair.”

“Maybe he’s not human. Maybe he’s a vampire,” her partner, Suriel, speculated. “Or a faerie. My chaman told me those are on quite the rampage lately.”

Feyre rolled her eyes.

“What? A thief who doesn’t steal anything, who is so hot he charmed the pants off his victims, and who disappears into the night. Doesn’t this sound fantastical to you?”

“One, maybe he was just there to gather intel, and he’s planning his heist for later. Two, there is such a thing as Stockholm’s syndrome. And three, at least half of our perps disappear into the night.”

“Why would someone plan a heist on a hairdressing salon?” Suriel’s tone was dismissive. “It’s not even that fancy.”

Feyre kept silent, her eyes fixed on said salon.

“You know something, don’t you? There is more to this case that you’re not telling me.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve been there, Suriel. Next time, don’t leave me to interrogate moonstruck women alone.”

“It was a bad day for Pisces! I couldn’t get out of the house.”

“There is no such thing as astrologically impaired days, Suriel.”

Suriel glowered. She hated when her partner dismissed her beliefs, and Feyre let her rant about astrology more often than not; but when it got in the way of their job, she drew the line.

“So, why are we on watch duty?”

Feyre’s eyes roamed the street, lingering on the dark corners and on the roofs surrounding Dora’s. “I told you he might be planning a heist.”

“Cut the crap.”

“Dora is dating David Hybern.”

Suriel gasped.

“He supposedly leaves the salon every night at 11:15pm.”

Detective Pisces, as she liked to call herself, was now bouncing in her seat. “So we’re here for Hybern, not the faerie hunk?”

“I don’t know. The robbery is weird. Maybe it’s linked to Hybern. Maybe our perp is in a rival gang and wanted to use Hybern’s girlfriend as leverage.”

“But he didn’t do anything to Dora. You said he even apologised.”

“Maybe he was looking for drugs? I mean Hybern is one of the biggest Fairy Wine suppliers in Velaris.” She ignored Suriel’s meaningful glance at the drug she mentioned.

“But why would he look for it in Dora’s purse?”

Feyre was spared from admitting her lack of ideas as she saw a silhouette pass near the window.

“Did you see that?” Suriel asked.

They were out the car and halfway to the salon before Feyre could answer. When they were five meters away from the front door, the lights were turned on. Feyre could just make out three silhouettes in Dora’s office. Suriel gestured for her to go in first, signaling that she’d come in through the back door, as was their usual modus operandi. Feyre nodded, grabbed her gun, and hurried in the salon. The main room was dark, but she could see enough to tell that nothing was amiss. The office was quiet. Feyre stuck to the wall, carefully nudging the door open with her foot.

“Who’s there?” asked a gruff male voice.

She held her breath.

“Do come in, officer. We were awaiting your arrival.” This time, the voice was deep and husky and caused a shiver to run down Feyre’s spine.

She braced herself, then burst into the room, gun cocked in her hands. She shifted it between the three people.

“NYPD, freeze!”

“If your strategy was to scare us into a heartattack, detective, it only worked on me,” Dora stated dryly from where she was held at gunpoint by none other than David Hybern himself. Feyre fixed her gun in his direction.

“Pointing your gun at the first person you see. Not a smart tactic, detective,” mused the husky voice from her right.

She slowly turned her head, almost dropping the gun she kept pointed at Hybern as her eyes beheld the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall and tanned like he just got back from a vacation in Malibu. His muscled, shirtless chest bore an intricate tattoo. She hated to admit it, but his black hair did gleam blue. And the eyes that were studying her as meticulously as she had him were indeed violet.

There was only one small detail that ruined the wonderful portrait.

The faerie hunk had a gun pointed at her head.

 Tag list:  @joyceortiz13 @bailey-4244 @quakeriders @standbislytherin @mariamuses @ignite14 @1800-fight-me @velarian-trash @rhysands-highlady @queenblueoffire @rowaelinforeverworld @feeoly @buckybvrnes @dayanna-hatter @shadowstar2313 @goldfishh20 @sleeping-and-books @crackedship @your-high-lady @thesirenwashere

[azriel-is-my-cinnamon-roll]

“The new beginning”- chapter 5 The nightmare

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

A week later Elain was baking strawberry cupcakes in the kitchen of Feyres old townhouse. She loved the new home that Feyre build for her family with such a love. But she liked the old townhouse too. 

Besides, she felt like Rhys and Feyre needed more time for each other, with all the rebuilding going on they were very busy. Today was everyone's day off. So she left them alone for so much needed privacy.

Azriel, as well as others, had a day for himself. That is why she was baking now. She wanted to do something nice for him. After lunch, they were supposed to fly to the field of the wildflowers again. It had become their spot, it seemed. While the cupcakes were baking in the oven, Elain started to make a frosting.

After their encounter last week, Elain though that it will be hard to look at the shadowsinger, but it wasn't. They kept what happened to themselves. To hide a bond between them, Azriel used his magic. It was small magic he told her, and she was surprised how the most powerful high lord did not notice. Surprised and glad, she did not need Feyre to know. She would be heartbroken, and Elain didn't want to put one more thing on her sister's shoulders. Azriel helped her to keep this secret; he is a spymaster after all.

Elain wanted to do something nice to return his kindness; the problem was that she did not know how she could repay him for everything he has done for her.

When the cupcakes were done, she used the light blue frosting and put some blackberries and strawberries on top. At last, when she decided that it looked and tasted well enough, she went for her room to change.

She still had some of her clothes in the old townhouse and was glad of it.

She was also glad that the Illyrian markings were so high up her arm, that with her dress choices no one could see them. Today was a hot day, and she was not going to see anybody else but Azriel, so she picked a dress that had short sleeves. Her dress was cream color or more like a pastel yellow, and Elain personally loved it. It reminded her of summer in human lands. Her favorite time of the year.

When she went downstairs, Azriel was already there, giving her a greeting smile. "Ready?" he asked.

"Just a moment," she said going to the kitchen to take the cupcakes she placed in the light blue box.

"What's that?" he asked, looking curiously. Elain lifted a brow "You're a spymaster, shouldn't you know everything? "

"Sometimes even I like surprises," Azriel said, took her in his arms and held her while they flew through Velaris.

It was indeed an unusually warm day, and Elain was happy that she wore the lightweight dress. Azriel was in short sleeves as well. They set on the blanket in their usual spot and chated. Azriel ate five cupcakes, and Elain had one and a half. Azriel finished the other half of the cupcake as well. How could the Illyrians eat so much and look this good? The constant training probably, well whatever it was it did them justice.

After they had eaten, Elain decided to pick some flower, while Azriel was going to read some of the reports. Yes, even on his day of the spymaster seemed to be unable to leave his work behind.

Elain had seen this place more than a few times now. But it always strikes her, how beautiful the colors are, how vibrant. Every flower seems to look different with every visit. She picked the blue ones, the color of Azriels siphons and some of the deep shade of yellow for some diversity.

When she turned back to see where their blanket was she couth him looking at her. He was probably still worried about her, but Elain wouldn't think about that now.  

When she sat beside him, he looked back to his reports. It was strange that he was only on the first page. Elain could have sworn that she was picking and analyzing flowers for a good half an hour. She took the first blue flower and started to make a flower crown. When she was done; she looked at Azriel, who seemed very concentrated in his paperwork. She quietly placed the flower crown on his head and gave him a broad smile. He rolled his eyes up as if in that way he could see what she put on his head. "Well aren't you handsome?", she asked still with a grin on her face.

He just laughed in return and shook his head to the sides as if trying to get out of the trance.

The rest of the afternoon was also lovely. Later Azriel lay down on the blanket, still reading his reports. When Elain came from the flower picking the second time the shadowsinger was sleeping. At least it looked like he was.

What a view; one of the greatest spies in Prythian, laying on a blanket in a field of the wildflowers with a flower crown on his head. Which was by the way almost falling off him right now. He looked so peaceful. Elain doubted that many people got to see him this way. She felt privileged that she was one of them, and smiled to herself. She grew used to him. How could she not? With everything, he did for her, with how much he helped her. It was only natural that she felt these warm feelings toward him.  

She felt such a need to touch his cheek at that moment. She moved closer. But before her hand could reach for him, he started to stir. His shadows are going wild all around him, his eyes were closed, but his head was moving to the sides. A nightmare, Elain realized. He must be having a nightmare. Elain sometimes wished that someone would wake her from her nightmares, so she tried to wake him up.

She cupped his shoulders in her hands and tried to shake him. He didn't wake; she started calling his name louder and louder. And when his eyes flew open, it was panic in his eyes. Such a displayed panic. She had never seen him like this. And it broke something in her.

He must have seen it because after a few moments he said, "I'm fine." He closed his eyes, and open them again. "Really, Elain, I'm fine." It sounded like he was saying this for himself rather than for her.

She took his hands in hers. He followed the movement. "You can talk to me you know that.?" Elain said. "You helped me with my nightmares let me help you with yours."

From the expression on his face, Elain wondered if anyone ever offered him that.    

Azriel looked at her, took a deep breath and said, "I dreamed of that night when I got those." he squeezed her hand, and she realized that he was speaking of the scars that were on his hands, that she was now holding.

Azriel told her the story of his childhood, what his brothers did to him. What his father did to him. When he finished, Elain was crying. He wiped her tears away with one hand and let her take his hands in hers again. 

That he chose to share this part of his life with her... She did not have words for it. She was happy and sad,  and so, so furious with his brothers and everyone who dared to harm him.

He smiled at her sadly, "So now you know the darkest part of my existence." She squeezed his hands again, "I'm so thankful that you shared this with me, Azriel. I am happy that I was able to help you, the same way you always help me" Elain said smiling back at him.

He looked at her, and then to her arm where the tattoo that connected their lives was. And while his face was holding the same expression, his eyes darkened. He lifted his hand as if to touch it, but stopped himself, and looked back at her. "I am happy that I told you. And you help me Elain. You help me more than you think you do. "

Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10.

[hellas-himself]

Where There Are Shadows Pt 21

Writing has been difficult for me lately. Not so much this but with my personal endeavors. I’ve also become highly addicted to Dragon Age lol

But writing this helps me clear my head so I can get shit done. Idk 

I can’t believe it’s Thursday already. 

.

.

.

-Feyre-

 Lucien pressed a kiss to the inner part of my thigh before he came to lay down beside me. I turned to face him, bringing a hand out to touch his face. I was still trying to catch my breath and he smiled.

“I was supposed to be cheering you up,” I said softly.

He chuckled. “At your side, or between your legs, rather- I am as happy as I can be.”

I playfully pushed him by the shoulder and he laughed, pulling me close to him.

“Luce, really. How can I be there for you?”

He kissed my nose. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“When Rhys comes home, we’ll have more answers.”

We remained silent, holding one another. Rhys had left early in the morning with Azriel, the beginnings of finding out if what that bastard had said was true. My mate was quiet down the bond, he’d wished us good morning. He’d complained about the state of his clothes. But nothing more.

“I think that I’m afraid of the answers.”

“Whatever they are, Luce, we’ll face it together.”

“Indeed we will.”

Lucien and I sat up quickly, finding Rhys at the door. He must have winnowed in but I didn’t care. I scrambled out of bed and ran to him.

“I should leave you two alone more often if this is how I’ll find you.”

“Prick.”

His arms were around me and I sighed. Then I was laughing when a very naked Lucien stood behind me to join us in our embrace.

“Join me for a bath?” Rhys asked and neither of us refused.

“Where did you go?” I asked, scrubbing Rhysand’s back as he washed Lucien’s hair.

“Illyrian camps. Cas and I had things to discuss.”

“Is everything alright?”

“It will be.”

I sighed. “And?”

He chuckled, rinsing Lucien’s hair with a cup. He enjoyed going through the motions, especially when we three were here together.

“Viviane says hello.”

“You went to Winter?”

“Az and I can’t go about spying on anyone without giving Kallias good reason for us being at the border. Well… we could, but I want him to trust me.”

“Rhys… are you sure there’s nothing I can’t do?” Lucien asked, turning around. “I know the land, I know the monstrosity of where I once lived.”

Rhys kissed him. “Soon. For now, know that Kallias and Viviane have granted us entry to their Court so as long as one of us is with them.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, taking the cup from Rhys and rinsing his back.

“It means that while Az and I are off doing whatever it is we will be doing, someone from our Court will be present before Kallias, all in good faith.”

“So, like Summer but without all the lies.”

Rhys chuckled. “Exactly.”

“Amren still has our blood rubies,” I said as Rhys turned around and pulled me so that I was now between them both. I laughed as Rhys grabbed the sponge and Lucien undid my hair.

“I can clean myself, you know.”

“Yes, but it is far more enjoyable when we do it.”

I left them both sleeping. I slipped into a pair of trousers, and over my camisole, I wore one of Lucien’s shirts unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. My hair had dried a mess thanks to those two, so I tied it up the way I did when I went to paint. I went into the kitchen and grabbed the small tin of cookies and quietly went to the living room and laid out on the sofa.

Half the tin and one chapter of a book later, a soft knock came at the door. I waited for it again before I set everything aside and went to answer it. My heart dropped a bit at the sight of Elain standing outside, fumbling with the little blue shawl over her blush pink dress. She looked at me sheepishly, and I realized we were both blushing.

“Let me find my shoes.”

I locked the door behind me after I’d found my boots, Elain waiting patiently the entire time. I hadn’t bothered to throw more perfume on, I knew Elain was aware of us being together. And to her credit, she made no comment about it the way Mor or Amren would.

“I didn’t know you knew where we were. Location wise, I mean,” I said.

“I asked Azriel.”

“Oh.”

We started to walk, away from the apartment and without a particular destination in mind. Only that we kept a good distance from others.

“Feyre, I wanted to speak to you. Alone. I know that there are things I have to discuss with Lucien. And I will. I promise. But… you’re my sister.”

I think we both avoided looking at one another.

“Alright,” I said, wondering if this was why Rhys always shoved his hands in his pockets. Because my stupid trousers had none, and I really wished they did.

“I am sorry, Feyre. I failed you as a sister, and please don’t look deny it- You have always been far too kind to me. Everyone is. I was no better than Nesta. It changes nothing… But I want to fix it.”

I sighed. “Elain… There isn’t anything to fix. I was just angry.”

The look on her face told me she didn’t believe me.

“I won’t make this about me. Or my… Well, this.” She motioned to herself, and then her ear. Being Made. “But I hope you’ll understand… I didn’t know. That I had to do anything.”

“You didn’t know that you had to be the one to break it.”

I’d stopped walking. We finally looked at on another. She was blushing.

“Letting go of Graysen… I couldn’t find it in me to care about anything else. Even if it was wrong of me to do so.”

“I’m sorry, Elain. For the things I said…” She looked at me in surprise. “And I am sorry that I assumed you’d understand everything about… this.” I motioned towards the city. A life amongst the Fae. “I’m still learning.”

She giggled. “Are you?”

“Gods, there are rules and customs that I’ve yet to even discover. And to think we live in the most relaxed court in all of Prythian.”

“Goodness.” Elain adjusted her shawl. It was new, I realized.

“You wear a lot of blue these days,” I said as we began to walk again.

“It’s a lovely color. Especially for spring.”

I rolled my eyes, but I smiled. “I’ll remember that for Starfall.”

“Starfall?”

I looped my arm in hers, telling her all about the celebration.

“I think Rhys made adjustments to every dress,” I whispered as we came to a little bakery. We ordered hot chocolate and sat down to wait for our desserts.

“It amazes me that these men -males- are so… contrary to how they appear.”

I laughed. “Illyrian babies.”

“Azriel has such a way with gardening. And I know, you know, about what he does. When he isn’t home.” Her cheeks were red.

Home. I gave her a smile. Azriel found many reasons to sleep at the townhouse, especially now that Rhys and I weren’t there. He still shared the room with Cas… but I knew he preferred that than to going to his own home and staying up worried about her.

“We should get together with Mor and find you a proper Starfall gown.”

She chewed on her lower lip and I already knew what she was going to ask.

“Do you think… Would she come?”

Nesta. One mountain at a time, I reminded myself.

“I don’t know… But it wouldn’t hurt to invite her. Either way, if she goes outside that night, she’ll be looking at the same sky as us.”

Elain raised a brow. I hadn’t told her the whole truth of Starfall, I wanted her to have that surprise. And I knew that she would share that with Azriel, just as I had with Rhys.

“I suppose…”

“We can send it with a courier.”

“I like that idea.” Elain took a long sip of her hot chocolate. Nesta had pushed Elain so far away that she feared going to visit her.

“They won’t wear their leathers that night,” I blurted out and Elain nearly spit out her drink. “I mean, they’re dressed. Just not for a fight. They’re dressed like… Well, you’ll see.”

She laughed, trying to calm herself when our tray of mini cakes and cookies was set on the table.

“Oh Feyre, you’ve set the worst image in my mind. I might not be able to look at Azriel with a straight face ever again!”

“Elain! Have you-”

“No!” Her face went red. “No. But… they have no shame. Even your mate. Walking the house in nothing but a towel… The impropriety of it all.”

She looked scandalized but I had the feeling she enjoyed the sight far more than she would admit. I couldn’t blame her.

I walked her back to the townhouse, just in time to see Azriel walking down the steps. I snorted and Elain brought a hand to her mouth.

“Hello,” he said and we both started laughing. The poor thing blushed and I threw an arm around Elain, holding her against me and kissed her cheek.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” I said to her and then looked at Azriel. I gave him a smile which only seemed to deepen his blush. Elain returned the kiss and then hurried up the steps.

“You weren’t going anywhere, were you?” She asked, taking him by the hand.

“Not at all,” he replied and let her guide him back inside.

I found Rhys and Lucien having lunch when I got back. Rhys’ curls were a mess and Lucien’s long hair was in dire need of a good combing.

“Had fun while I was away?” I teased, making my way to Lucien whose back was to me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

“We just woke up,” Rhys said with a yawn.

I mussed up his hair before I kissed him and then took my seat between them. I noticed that they’d both tried to pretend they hadn’t scented Elain on me but I pretended not to notice.

“I had a very surprising visitor this morning,” I said as I reached for the lovely pitcher of iced tea that the twins had made thanks to Varian’s little recipe he’d given us on his last visit. Both males remained silent, suddenly their meals were very appetizing.

“Elain and I… we apologized to one another.”

“How lovely, darling,” Rhys said, patting my hand before returning to his plate.

“There are things that I think are better left for her to tell you,” I said to Lucien. “But I think that it’s going to turn out better than expected.”

His sigh of relief broke my heart.

“However,” I turned my attention to Rhys. “You and your brothers need a lesson on modesty.”

“Whatever for?” He was completely taken aback.

“There is a very big problem if Elain can you three naked.”

Lucien choked and Rhys howled, and I feared he’d fall back in his chair. But then I was laughing, too.

“I told her about Starfall. And mentioned you wouldn’t be wearing your leathers.”

Lucien snorted. “No wonder.”

“It came out wrong!”

“You’ve walked around the house naked,” Rhys said to me.

“When no one’s home but us.”

“And that time you had breakfast in a towel.”

“Elain is my sister.”

“Az and Cassian were there, too,” Rhys countered. Lucien nearly dropped his fork.

I blushed. “I was famished.”

“What is Starfall?” Lucien asked, as curious as he was eager to discontinue this discussion.

Rhysand’s eyes lit up and I had the good sense to watch quietly as my mate began to describe his idea of how we three would dress that night.

.

.

.

@readingismycopingmechanism @fuzdog @gently-say-aha @highladyofherondale @alxanxah  @city-of-fae

If you would like to be tagged, let me know!!!

PS: I was a fool and didn’t jot down who asked so if I missed you/tagged you when I shouldn’t have, I am sorry. 

[starofvelaris]

Feysand Mate Reveal AU

So I’ve always wondered how it would have gone if Rhysand had gotten the chance to tell Feyre about him being her mate himself. So this slight AU takes place the day after the Inn scene and assumes they had never been shot down and the Suriel wasn’t in the picture. — Rhysand grasped me tightly in his arms as he aimed us towards his Velaris townhouse below. The city was a canvas of lavender and orange in the fading light, the lanterns lining the winding Sidra like a chain of stars.

As he held onto me, I tried not to notice the way his torso was pressed up against mine, every contour of that strong body matching up with every soft curve of mine, the way his muscles eased and stretched with every flap of his enormous velvety wings. 

I let my head lean in to the crook of his shoulder and jaw, resting there beneath. I could almost fall asleep, despite my usual terror at flying with the Illyrians. I was so comfortable in his arms. I let my eyes close for a moment, savoring the warmth between us.

My mind wandered, and maybe it was the closeness of our bodies, but my thoughts took me to the night before…remembering the way we had tangled and touched in that tiny bed at the Inn…the way he had felt propped up behind me as I yielded to him…the way he had run his hands over me…how much I had wanted him to just take me fully...it was enough to set me aflame right there in the sky.

I jerked my eyes back open and tried to focus on the leather detailing of the lapels of his Illyrian training jacket, anything to stem those traitorous thoughts. I counted the threads in the silver embroidering of his undershirt, counted the buttons below that, opened loosely over the russet skin of his tattooed chest. The chest that was broad and smooth with muscled strength…another wave of warmth ran down me, pooling at the core of me and I bit my lip hard, hoping he wouldn’t notice the strain across our bond. 

I edged a glance upwards at his face, wondering if perhaps he too was remembering our night…but his dark brows were furrowed, his eyes faraway and focused. I swallowed, wanting to say something, address this thing between us, whatever it was.

We had scarcely spoken the entire way home after those hours training in the Steppes. I could sense he had wanted to say…something. I had indeed caught him several times opening and closing his mouth as if starting to speak before thinking better of it. I had shrugged it off, busying myself instead with my own training. But I wouldn’t be able to ignore it much longer, especially now that we had permanently crossed some invisible line that had been drawn in the sand between us these past few months.

As we touched down on the Townhouse roof terrace, I let out a relieved sigh at the reliable feeling of a steady surface below us. He set me down gently and removed his hands from me quickly, as if he were afraid of repeating last night so soon.

He straightened up, adjusting his elegant leather jacket as I tried to rearrange the tussled strands of my windswept hair. I watched his deft and graceful hands button the places his shirt it had gone loose from our day of travel, wanting so much to feel those nimble fingers in me again… But no. I couldn’t let those thoughts in. I reinforced my mental walls of adamant, envisioning them wrapping in more vines of protection. Whether from his intruding thoughts or my own traitorous ones, I wasn’t sure. “Dinner,” was all Rhys murmured after a moment, gesturing to the stairwell to our right. His eyes did not meet mine as we quietly made our way down to the dining room, where I hoped to find Mor or Amren or…anyone really. Anyone to fill the heavy silence between us.

The corridor of the Townhouse was dark, the last bits of sunlight streaming in from the stained glass windows casting a low glow over the floorboards. I watched my boots as we descended each flight of stairs, marking each of his steps behind me, thinking about how much I wanted to just turn around and hide in one of the passing bedrooms.

When we finally reached the dining room, I was disappointed to find the large oak table spotless and empty, save for two steaming plates of chicken and vegetables flanked by a glass of wine each. “Cerridwen and Nuala,” Rhysand said in answer to my questioning look, pulling out a chair for me. “I sent a request directly to their minds an hour ago while we were flying. I assumed you would be too tired to go out,” Indeed he was right, and I tried to arrange my face into some semblance of graciousness as I took a seat. I jumped slightly as I felt his broad hands graze my shoulders, but he was only spreading the napkin out into my lap for me. 

Ever the gentlemen, but it irked me for some reason. I shot him a mildly indignant look and snatched the napkin back. “I can handle that myself, thank you,” I curtly unfolded it myself. But Rhysand only smirked as he made his way around the table to the opposite side where his plate was set. Damn you, and your damn smirking.

Surprise flashed across his face as he took his seat, before being replaced by that feline amusement I was so used to. I felt a wave of relief at that. Maybe we wouldn’t have to acknowledge last night at all. Maybe we could continue on as normal, unchanged after all.

But something told me that wasn’t going to happen as my body thrilled at the sound of his deep voice in my head, replying,

But that winning smirk worked so well for me last night.

I felt a hot flush creep into my cheeks, but I refused to look at him. I gingerly began cutting my chicken, trying not to let my knife and fork tremble in my hands.

You’ll end up cutting yourself that way, Feyre darling.

I shot my eyes back up to meet the crinkled violet of his as his smirk deepened. I scowled and ignored him, carrying on with my tenuous cutting.

The clock on the mantel chimed half past eight, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin at the sudden noise. My eyes caught on Rhys’s movement across the table, it seeming to jar him as well.

“Is it really that late already?” I said, in a lame attempt at small talk. 

I watched his face, trying to read any reaction there. But it indecipherable was as he replied smoothly, “It’s been a long day, we should get some rest,” “Yes, I want another good night’s rest,” I slyly hoped he would catch my intention behind the words. I had slept more restfully last night than I had in months. The fact that it was due to being in his arms was a small matter I wasn’t sure I could handle. But he only cast his eyes down at my plate.

“Feyre, you’ve barely eaten anything,” he said, and I could see the veiled concern etched within his eyes. I looked glumly down at my barely-touched dinner, the food indeed more moved around on the plate than anything. “What is it to you?” I asked casually, putting down my utensils on the smooth wood varnish.

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Are you hurt? Sick?” he asked softly. “No,” I replied, sitting back in my chair. “I’m fine,”

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked, lying his hands flat on the table, as if ready to spring to my aid at a second’s notice. 

I resisted rolling my eyes as I said, “I’m just…not hungry. Really,” I hoped it would quay the emergent worry in his face. He relaxed, though I could tell he didn’t fully believe me.

“Well, then I suppose if I am just being a distraction,” he muttered curtly, swiftly standing and disappearing the plates with a wave of his hand. 

I felt an unwelcome pang at the word. Distraction. What I had asked for last night…not friendship, not a bond…not even love. I internally cringed and watched his dark silhouette disappear up the stairs.

I instantly wanted to run after him…to apologize or flirt more, I didn’t know. But my legs would not move, and any words died in my throat as I heard the distinct click of his bedroom door shutting upstairs. Ten minutes later, I found myself pacing outside his room, up and down the hallway, praying he couldn’t hear me, couldn’t see what a fool I was.

I nearly knocked once, but couldn’t bring myself to. Couldn’t think of what to say. I had too many questions for him. But I also felt a need to apologize. To explain. But the nerve never came. Not knowing what else to do with myself, I hid in my room the rest of the evening, holed up in bed with a book in my lap. But I read without really comprehending anything, my hands mechanically turning the pages as my mind wandered elsewhere. These months I’d spent here…how he had taken me in, given me clothes and money and food and shelter and everything else. It had begun as a bargain, yes, but now? I had had his tongue in my mouth and his fingers inside me last night. Yet I had stupidly told him it was just meaningless fun…but I knew, deep inside, that it wasn’t just fun. It wasn’t just a distraction. And that terrified me.

I sat there in bed, trying to find the right words to say to him until the clock on my cherrywood dresser tolled eleven. So, I gave up and dressed for bed, though sleep sounded as equally unappealing to my racing mind.

After slipping on my satin nightgown and silky robe, I crawled underneath the plush green duvet and switched off the lantern at my bedside. Instantly, the darkness sweeping across the room seeming to gloat at me, yet another reminder of the High Lord no doubt sleeping peacefully down the hall.

But as I drifted, my mind wandered back to that cramped room in the Inn…to the feel of his hands on my breasts, his fingers moving in me, his lips devouring my neck…how I had wanted so badly just to yield fully to him, to let him have me completely. How much that meant to me. How much that frightened me to my very core. I shivered and clamped my knees together, as if it could keep the wave of want at bay. My mind played the night over and over…the way he had spoken…the bits and pieces he had given me…Let me touch you…Because I was jealous and pissed off…She’s mine.

I stiffened. That was it.

I needed to know. Needed to know what it all meant. What I meant to him. I clenched my jaw, let out a sharp breath and sent one word down the bond;

Rhysand.

The seconds ticked on, and my heartbeat fluttered faster. Waiting. 

We have one awkward meal and you’re back to calling me Rhysand? I fought the tug of a smile that lifted my lips and I shot straight up in bed, though there was nothing in the darkness of my room. It was just his voice inside my head. Please. I want to talk to you. In person. 

A pause.

Might as well address me as High Lord, while you’re at it.

I rolled my eyes and just sent one word back down the bond: 

Please. For a few horrible moments, I thought he wouldn’t come. Perhaps he had decided I was too indecisive, too spiteful, too soiled for him. I put my hands over my face, feeling shame creep in, and slumped down against my pillow.

“Well I suppose if you say ‘please’…” I shot back up, throwing the covers off me as he appeared in the darkness, as if made from mist, silent and swift as the night. I clenched my bedsheets as I took him in; he was shirtless, loose silk sleeping pants the only thing covering his form, his velvet wings hanging unceremoniously behind him. 

With some effort, I fought to keep my eyes from tracing the contours of his torso, the way the pattern of his tattoos tapered off towards his lower abdomen…the corded muscles of his forearms leading to strong hands now dipping into his pockets as he leaned against my bedpost. “Feyre,” he said in a singsong voice, no doubt tracking where my eyes were. It snapped me from my observance and I flushed warmly. 

I could see the slight amusement in his eyes as I met his eyes again. 

“You wanted to see me?” I rose quickly and rather shakily from my bed, the hem of my satin robe hitting the floor and opening the front, revealing the simple albeit very short nightgown I had put on underneath. “Or perhaps you wanted another distraction,” he said as his eyes drank me in, not a question at all. I watched Rhys watch me, saw the panic and lust and unsureness cross his face as he took me in, from toes to eyebrows. Saw the silent restraint in his body, the body I had become so used to seeing over these months of training together. I took a slow step towards him. He stood unmoving, not taking his eyes from mine, though I could now see him grasping that bedpost like it was supporting him entirely. “Not a distraction,” I said firmly, trying to convey everything I felt in those few words. He did not hide his reaction to me as he again cast his eyes down my body. I tried to ignore the way my nightown rode up with each step, at the growing impulse to throw my legs around his waist right there and then. “I need to know…” I hesitated as I finally closed the gap between us. My shoulders tensing, I continued, “…what there is between us,” His face was unreadable and again he didn’t move, did not even flinch as he held steadfast onto that bedpost, as if one wrong move would send us spiraling into dangerous territory again. “I need to understand this, Rhys,” I gestured to the small space between us. I watched his face change again, into something hopeful, but hesitant. His hands finally let go of that post to grasp my arms, lightly running up and down them. It raised goosebumps in their path. 

Something drew me into him, something I couldn’t name. Like a tether, ever shortening as the minutes passed… “Feyre…” he voice was guttural as he angled his head to rest against mine. I heard him breath in. Breathe me in. I did the same, reveling in the citrus and sea that always hovered around him. “You said you just wanted fun,” I cringed, and swallowed thickly. “I know what I said, but that’s not what I want,” “Then why am I here, Feyre?” There was the question. His hands left my arms. My lower lip trembled as I took in his beautiful face. So devastatingly beautiful. “Rhys,” I steadied my voice, as I asked a question of my own, “Why do you bother?”

Confusion darkened his eyes.

“With…?” “With me,”

“I happen to find you quite attractive, Feyre,” His hands resumed their exploration, this time running slowly over the curve of my hips, gently tugging the fabric of my gown upwards. “As I have told you many times,”

“Evidently,” I breathed, pushing my pelvis against the new hardness of his, wishing we could just throw away all that had been said and submit fully to this feeling. He gave my thighs a long squeeze as his mouth met my cheekbone, trailing kisses down towards my earlobe. I could feel the cool air kiss my now exposed upper thighs. He bunched the fabric up more, his own hips moving ever so slightly in to crush gently against mine. I stifled a groan, tried to ignore the melting feeling soaring across my body.

“But why bring me here? To Velaris?” I whispered against his jaw as his mouth roamed to my ear, placing a restrained kiss upon its point. “I happen to find you quite interesting, darling,” Rhys breathed into my ear, but there was panic in his eyes as he straightened back around to face me. He couldn’t hide that, not from me. “But why bring me here to your home?” I broke from him, taking a step back, stemming this flow of warmth before it consumed us fully. “Why let me sleep in your private rooms? Why introduce me to your family, your court, your—” “I…care about you Feyre,” Rhys interjected, scanning my face. “Why?” My voice became strained.  “Is it just petty revenge against Tamlin, still?” “No,” Rhys hissed. “He has nothing to do with this, Feyre,” “Is it our bargain then? Are you not able to break it or–” “The bargain is nothing,” Rhys’ voice was flat as he placed both his broad hands on either side of my face. “Nothing,”

And I believed him, but still there was something missing. Something I couldn’t quite reconcile… “Then why am I here?” Tears escaped my eyes, tears I had kept at bay for too long, tears of frustration, tears of hopelessness. I still didn’t understand. Why he had gone through all these pains to give me a place to be happy. Even if he now felt as strongly for me as I did for him, in the beginning we had been barely more than strangers. It still didn’t add up. “What am I to you?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Rhys struggled for a moment, his jaw set, his eyes furiously scanning my face again, as if trying to read something within it.

“Feyre, I have to tell you something,” His voice sounded almost shaky, his lips near trembling. “Something I should have told you sooner,” 

I had never seen him so…vulnerable. Not in this way. I waited for him to go on. But he didn’t say anything for a long moment before he gently backed us up until my rear met edge of the mattress. I reached behind me and grasped onto it, anything to keep me steady, to keep my hands from grasping onto him and never letting go.

He leaned in and laid a soft kiss on each side of my neck, before lifting his mouth to my tear-stained cheeks. He gently kissed away my tears, as he once had done Under the Mountain.

“You’re not just a distraction,” I whispered against his face. “You’re…more than that, Rhys,”

I locked eyes with him, and before I could decide against it, I swiftly brought my face to his and kissed him deeply. There was hunger and desperation in that kiss, a kiss we had not truly shared yet. 

His hands returned to my hips, running over the bend of them as I pressed myself fully into him, wanting to taste him and feel him and understand this pull between us. And from the way his lips drank mine in, the way his hands roamed my thighs, I knew he was trying desperately to understand, too.

“Rhys…” I said from behind his lips and broke us apart again.

He stood panting before me, eyes closed. His hands went slack at his sides, and he angled his body away again.

“Feyre, don’t…” he trailed off. “I don’t think I can handle it…not again,” My heart broke for him as I took his hand back in mine. “Rhys, I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Just���tell me, please,” “Feyre…” He gave me another kiss, this time long and sweet, like it held all the words he was about to give me. “There is a story I need to tell you first,”

—-

I imagine after this, Feyre reacts very much the same as in the original, with her fleeing to Mor and demanding to be taken away to think. So you can assume the cabin scene plays out the same in my AU :) Hope you all enjoyed!

[queen-archeron]

Only the Beginning Pt. 2

Note: This is the second part of my feysand coffee shop fic! You can read the first part here! I hope you all enjoy! This was fun to write❤️

The warm air greeted me and Rhys as we walked through the doors to Rita’s. This coffee shop would always make me happy, because this was where I met him. The love of my life.

Rhys had moved on from working here and we eventually moved in together after months of dating. I had come in every day after I got his little note on my cup, and every single time he would leave another one. I finally got the courage to go up to him one day after his shift, and we got to know each other over some croissants and coffee.

“I bet I can guess your order,” he murmured next to my ear, sliding his arm around my waist as we approached the counter.

I laughed and snuggled up closer to him. “I bet you can, just like every other time.” I gave him wink which made him burst out laughing.

“Next!”

He led me towards the counter and I ordered my usual Pumpkin Spice Latte, like I always did in November, and Rhys nodded towards the corner table next to the windows. It was the same table I had always come to when I wanted to get to know him.

“Better grab that table before someone else does,” he teased, and I noticed there weren’t many people in the shop, but headed towards the table anyways. As soon as I left, Rhys started to whisper to the cashier, but I didn’t catch anything he said, and instead pulled out my chair to sit down.

A few moments later, Rhys came over and took the chair across from me, giving me a soft smile. “Can you believe it’s been almost two years since we met?”

Just thinking about it made my eyes widen. Two years. I had been with this man for almost two years, and those years have been the happiest times of my life. I had never thought love could be so strong, but Rhys proved me wrong.

After Tamlin, which felt like forever ago, I had lost all hope in finding anyone. Until I walked into Rita’s and got a secret note on my cup. So much had happened since then, and it was hard to imagine life before Rhys.

“It feels like just yesterday,” I sighed, resting my chin on my hand as I looked out at the street. I still got deja vu when I came here, and I sometimes wished it was Rhys calling my name for coffee, but what I had now was much better.

“Rhysand!”

The man from the counter called out his name and Rhys got up from his chair to grab his order.

Something about him was off today, but I didn’t know what. He had been more jumpy and cautious while we walked over here from our apartment, and he seemed to be constantly keeping an eye on me. It was almost like he was nervous. But why?

Rhys came back with a cup of hot chocolate and placed it on the table in front of him as he took his seat again. I watched the miniature marshmallows float around on top of the drink, wishing I had gotten the same thing.

“Feyre, stop staring at it and take a sip,” he chuckled, leaning his elbows on the table to push the cup towards me. I shook my head and held my hands up.

“I’ll just wait for mine. Besides, that looks extremely hot.”

Indeed, there was steam drifting from the liquid and the marshmallows began to melt into the chocolate.

“If you say so,” he shrugged, giving me one of his trademark smirks that made my toes curl.

We sate in silence for a moment, perfectly content on just enjoying each others company. We never had awkward silence, which was one of my favorite things about him. I was always comfortable.

“I love you,” he murmured, soft enough so only I could hear him. My heart leaped and when my eyes met his, I was taken aback by all of the emotion he let me see.

I reached forward and took his hand with mine, interlacing our fingers and squeezing. “I love you, too.”

“Feyre!”

My name was called from the counter and I got up to go get my order, ignoring the intense look Rhys gave me as he watched me walk up.

My cup sat on the counter and I quickly grabbed a few napkins, picking it up, but stopping when I noticed black writing at the bottom of the cup. The handwriting, though, was not the cashier’s, it was Rhys’s, and I nearly dropped the cup as I read the words.

Will you marry me?

Slowly, with wide eyes and a speeding heart, I turned around to find Rhys on one knee directly behind me, and a tiny black box in his hand. A dry sob escaped me, and there were several gasps from people across the room, but I only had eyes for Rhys.

“Feyre…” he started, and I could tell how nervous he was by the shaking in his voice. “I love you more than words can describe, and I can’t imagine a life without you in it, because you make me so incredibly happy.”

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I smiled at him when a tear slipped down his own cheek.

“You are my salvation, and when I first met you here, I thought I could never have a chance with someone like you. I thought you would never come back, and yet…” He swallowed and looked me straight in the eye. “You came back, and you made my life a thousand times better. I want to have a family with you, and grow old with you, and experience everything there is to do in life with you.”

He opened the box to reveal a stunning ring, and I thought I might pass out from so much joy.

“Feyre Archeron, you’re the love of my life, and I want to spend every day with you for as long as we live.”

He reached up and took my shaking hand, squeezing gently.

“Will you marry me?”

I swore he wasn’t breathing, but words were beyond me, so I nodded my head over and over and over, even as he stood.

“Yes,” I managed to say through my tears.

He slid the ring onto my finger, and I threw my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder and holding him like I could never let go.

I could hear clapping from around us, but I only held Rhys tighter, still shocked by what just happened. I pulled back and captured his lips with my own, kissing him like my life depended on it. My hand found his hair, and I pushed myself further against him, but he held my waist and pulled away slightly.

“As much as I’d like to kiss the heck out of you right now,” he glanced around. “We have an audience.”

I blushed as I realized, but only smiled at the people around us. When I looked back at Rhys, he had the most loving expression on his face, and it made my heart melt.

“Fiancé. It has a nice ring to it,” I murmured, and he chuckled.

“Wife will have a good ring to it as well.”

We grabbed each others hands and made our way out of Rita’s after thanking everyone who congratulated us. We headed outside into the cool air, and into our future life.

Together.

[rowanismybae]

Under the Stars (Nessian Fanfic)

So hello guys!! I was reading this AMAZING fanfic from @modernbookfae and Nesta sees a picture of Cassian hiking and I thought to myself: why not do one where everyone goes hiking/camping in the mountains? So this is how this fanfic was born. Also, I had help from a great friend of mine @deathbytitanium that also writes the most amazing/cute fanfics ever to help me with this one. So go check her out as well!  It’s a Nesta POV fanfic and contains smut, be warned of that! You can also read this at AO3. Enjoy! _____________

I was fucking tired but everyone else looked like they were having the time of their lives; all sweaty and spent, but happy. I was definitely more cranky than happy. But I liked the air of the mountains. But also loved showers, clean and warm beds and tons of blankets…

“So what if we camp here tonight?” Cassian asked. I turned to face him, eyes wide open in shock. 

“What?” I asked, surprised. 

“We set out camp here tonight. It’s close to a river so we can bathe, has trees to cover us so we won’t get too cold and also, it’s beautiful and peaceful. Seems like the place to stay the night.” He sounded proud of himself; in fact, his chest was swollen with pride.

I frowned and Feyre looked at me in confusion. “What’s wrong Nesta?” she asked, coming closer while the others were already setting up their tents. 

“I – I didn’t bring a tent.” I said in a low tone. “I thought we were going to crash in an inn or something. No one told me we would sleep outdoors…” I felt stupid. This was Cassian’s idea. Of course we would sleep in the wild. 

Feyre’s lips formed a thin line and her forehead wrinkled in a frown while she thought this through. This was an annual trip for Az, Cassian, Rhys, Mor and Amren. They always stay in Rhys’s family cabin and go hiking while in there. It’s a small village near a great forest filled with mountains and lakes and all that crap. And since Feyre and Elain started dating the boys, we were all doing it this year. She looked around: she would sleep with Rhys, obviously, Amren and Mor would share a tent, Az and Elain would share another one and Lucien was sharing with Tarquin. So the only one left there was…

“No. No way in hell I’ll sleep with Cassian.” Feyre’s look was torn between amusement and caution. 

“You would only share a tent Nesta. Not sleep with him.” She said, like that changed everything. “You seem to forget that I also don’t have anywhere to lay down on either.” I was knee-deep in shit and Feyre was trying really hard not to laugh at me.

“You know he‘s your only option, right? And he is always prepared. Like, for anything. Wanna see?” I was about to say no when she shouted: “Hey, Cass, do you by any chance have an insect repellent?” He looked up and nodded. “What about a first aid kid?” He mumbled something that sounded like of course I do, we’re in the wild. “What about…” she stopped to think about something really hard for him to have brought. “An extra sleeping bag?” Of course she would ask that. I sighed and rolled my eyes. 

He turned to face her. “As a matter of fact, yes, I did bring an extra. Who forgot it this time?” He looked at Amren. “Was it you Tiny Ancient One? You always forget your things… can you once get …” 

Amren faced him with a wild grin. “Shut up Cassian. It’s not for me.” 

He sighed in relief and turned to Feyre. “Why are you asking me those things?” 

I blushed. “Nesta said that no one told her we were going to camp.” She said and I cursed her mentally. He faced me and his expression became amused when he realized what she was implying. Everyone else was looking at us now. 

“I’ll be glad to sleep with you, sweetheart.” He said with that shit-eating grin he always had. 

“I’m not sleeping with you, I’m sharing a tent.” I repeated Feyre’s words and she chuckled and patted my shoulder when she left to help her boyfriend. 

“Sounds like the same thing to me, sweetheart.” He said with that stupid smile that turned my insides into a melted glob. “Come help me out then.” I set my feet in motion. 

I helped him out and when everyone had finished, Amren, Mor, Feyre, Elain and I went for a bath in the river while the guys set up the fire. Or, actually, Lucien did it. Apparently he was very skilled with fire. 

That damn river was freaking freezing! We all cursed during our bath and Mor kept talking to me about Cassian’s … arm span. They laughed themselves hoarse when I asked about what the actual fuck that was. Looks like that the arm span corresponded to the size of other parts of a male. They also said that Az’s was bigger. Elain blushed but smiled and added a low yeah baby that made us all cry of laughter. 

They all turned to me when Mor said that Cassian’s were pretty impressive too. I cursed them and sent them all to hell. I was not going to find out if that was true. We got dressed and went back to camp. The males left after asking what was so funny that made all the birds around flying away from our laughter. Amren simply said “We were talking about… science.” And that sent us all into a fit of laughter again. They all shook their heads and left for their baths. 

We sat around the fireplace as they went looking for food. By the time they came back, the meal was warm and we all ate together.  I never saw the stars shine as bright as they did that night. I was staring at them when I heard a deep voice in my ear. “They’re amazing, aren’t they?” I felt a shiver down my spine, but pretended that hadn’t happened. “Yes, they are” I said simply and felt him sit beside me. I dared a look at him and almost lost my breath at the sight. His face only lit up by the oranges of the fire, peaceful and warm. Somehow, he fit in the forest; like it was his place in the world. He turned his head to me as he felt me staring at him; his eyes shining brighter that night. 

“What?” He asked. No jokes, no playful smirk, no sarcastic comments, just him. I wanted to touch him, stroke his hair, his cheeks, his lips… oh those god-damn carved lips. I felt my face turning red and hoped the darkness covered it up. I said nothing and turned to face the sky again; it was safer than looking at him. What the fuck was going on with me? 

I felt that his eyes were still on me and turned again towards him. “What?” It was my turn to ask.

He had no intention of hiding his thoughts; his voice was almost a whisper though. “You are more exquisite than the stars. And I feel like I can’t stop being around you.” 

I swallowed, my mouth and my throat going dry; my breath hitched and my heart started beating frantically. I watched as the others were going to their own tents and saying their goodnights. “I – I’m going to bed.” I got up and he said nothing as I paced to our tent. I changed into my pajamas and went in the sleeping bag. 

I was awake for another 30 minutes, his voice on my mind, his words warming up my body, especially between my legs. I needed to release that tension, but I was not going to do it when he could come in at any second. Ten more minutes went by and I had to pee. I cursed, put on my boots and my jacket and went out, cursing my bare legs on the cold wind.

Cassian, Lucien and Tarquin were still at the fire and said nothing when I went deeper in the forest to find a safe place to pee. When I got back, they were all saying their goodnights. Cassian approached me so quietly that I startled at the sound of his voice. “Someone, apparently, also forgot her pants.” He chuckled; his hands on the pockets of his jacket. 

“Like I said, I didn’t know we were staying in the woods.” I sighed and got in. He followed me lighting up a small light that wasn’t exactly a flashlight. “And I’m wearing shorts, so stop staring at my legs.” He raised his hands up in surrender and went to his bag to pick up some shorts. He started taking off his clothes. “What are you doing?” I asked sitting on my sleeping back quickly after he took his shirt off and was loosening the strings of his pants. 

“Changing.” He said simply. He did a single movement and downed his pants. I let out a little cry covering my eyes and he barked a laugh. “Come on Nesta, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” He was still laughing. Thank God the tents were apart from each other! The girls would annoy me to my sad end if they managed to hear him saying that. 

“You could at least warn me!” I said with anger. “And no, I’ve never seen... you naked, Cassian.” I heard the sounds of clothes and a few seconds later, I felt his hands on my wrists. 

“It’s okay, you can look now.” I did not trust him. 

“Are you dressed?” 

He laughed. “Considering that I sleep naked even in the cold weather and I did the favor to put on shorts, yes, I’m as dressed as I can be to sleep.” I let him down my hands and looked at him. Worst decision I’ve ever made. Of course I knew he was a piece of art: his muscular body, his defined abs, the strong and defined legs (seriously, his calves were a thing to start drooling at and calves are not that sexy), his strong jaw, his longish black hair, his burning hazel eyes, those delicious pouty lips and his perfect smile… oh crap. He was hot beyond imagination. And he was also kind, funny, easy going, smart as hell, sexy, friendly, adventurous and courageous, not forgetting, an annoying pain in the ass, of course.

I didn’t even notice I was biting my lips until he faked a cough and I turned my eyes to his. Damn, he was grinning. “I can see you’re enjoying the view, sweetheart.” 

I let out a sigh and rolled my eyes. Yes, a pain in my ass indeed. Before I could notice, he was leaning forward and his knees touched mine, his hand landed on my left cheek. I jolted back and his smile was soft and amused. “Come on Nesta, we’ve been here before. In this situation, I mean.” Of course I knew what he was talking about. The first time we got closer and alone was in Feyre’s birthday party. We were fighting over something and suddenly he leaned for my neck and I let him. I was lost in his touch and when his tongue touched my neck I realized what was going on and ran back before anyone could notice. 

The other time, we were all at some club and we were tipsy. He went for more drinks and I used that moment to go to the bathroom. When I was getting there, I saw him leaving the men’s room and without a second thought, I threw myself on him. His lips were soft and gentle, but I wanted more, so I had grabbed his hair and he’d moaned and deepened the kiss, his hands sliding over my back and I had led them to my ass where he gently squeezed and slid his hands to my thighs lifting me up and I intertwined my legs on his hips when he pressed me against the wall. We kissed for about good 5 minutes and I backed away and went back to the table. We never spoke of it afterwards, of course. And no one knew.

His touch was gentle and I closed my eyes as he leaned forward to place a delicate kiss on my right cheek. I felt his lips on my ear and he whispered “Don’t worry Ness, our secret is save and my lips are sealed. And of course, I’d never do anything you didn’t want me to, especially tonight.” 

I felt my whole body surrendering to his voice and touch, my blood calling his name, my breath was uneven and my heart was a mess. And, of course, the heat between my thighs was almost impossible to bear. I opened my eyes and saw his intense gaze. He backed away to his own bed and I felt cold instantly, it was almost painful; I wanted him so bad that my whole body ached with his distance. I could no longer pretend I didn’t want him. 

“Fuck it” I said and threw myself on him; my hands went to his soft hair, still cold from the wind outside and my mouth crashed onto his. For a second he did nothing, but then, his hands went to my waist and the nape of my neck. He kissed me back slowly and I surrendered to him, following his pace. His tongue slid into my mouth and it set me on fire. I barely felt myself sitting on his lap, I felt his hot body pressed against mine and I moaned. 

His hands were gentle but firm and when one of them slid under my pajama shirt, his calloused hand caressing my bare skin, I lost all control. I released his hair and help the hem of my shirt pulling up as he stopped the kiss and looked at me with wide eyes “What are you doing, sweetheart?” 

I chuckled. “What does it look like I’m doing, Cass?” I never called him that, even after months knowing each other. He was serious and I saw him pause, like he was questioning my sanity. “I want you Cass.” His eyes sparkled with desire but he still did not move. I let go of my shirt and asked. “What?” He held my face with both hands; his gaze was so intense that I felt naked instantly.

“I want you too Ness, but I don’t want you to regret this.” I opened my mouth to say I wouldn’t but he cut me off. “I know we’ve been playing and teasing each other endlessly, but one thing is to kiss pinned to the wall of a crowded bar and another is having sex. I don’t want you to feel like this is a mistake.” I closed his eyes and leaned so our foreheads were touching. “I – I don’t want this to feel like I’m pressuring you. I want you to want me as much as I want you. To need me as much as I need you. And I’ll be happy to wait until then.” He said and I felt like I was choking. 

I felt my heart break with his words. I wanted him since that first time we touched, but I was too stubborn to admit it. And now, listening to his words, I knew that this was something I’d want for the rest of my life. But like hell he would know this now! So I let out the most as I could give him. “Cass, I want you.” He opened his eyes and our noses were almost touching now; he studied my face as if he was looking for any sign of restrain. “I’ve wanted you for a while now.” The corners of his lips were starting to turn up. “I’m not going to admit how much I want you, because you’re already an insufferable prick and I don’t want your ego knocking this tent down.” He laughed and his breath caressed my lips and I smiled. I touched his face and placed his hair behind his ear. “And I won’t regret this. I won’t regret us. I’ll never regret choosing you.” I smiled softly. And somehow my heart burned watching his eyes narrow due to his giant smile; he looked so free, so sure, so happy that I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my lips against his again. 

This time, he didn’t stop me from taking my shirt off. He looked at my naked torso and awe took over his expression. “Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” I said with a grin, using the nickname he always called me by. 

He laughed but added whispering “Yes, you’re too perfect not to admire and praise.” I ran to his lips again and his body was a furnace! No wonder he slept naked. He lowered his head to my neck, my clavicle and gently he leaned us onto the sleeping bags, my back against the floor; my legs never letting go of his waist. 

He lowered himself to my breast; I gasped at the first touch of his mouth. I couldn’t think straight, all I had in mind was his tongue on my nipple, him biting me carefully and his hand on the other, squeezing and running his thumb on the nipple. 

He let go of my breast and went for the other, my hands going to his hair once again and he moaned when I pulled it a bit too hard; the sound sent shivers down my spine and his mouth left my breast and started to trace a line of gentle kisses to my navel. His tongue played inside of it; every caress was like electricity. His fingers started to play with my shorts and I had no idea if I was gasping, asking him for mercy or saying his name. I looked at him at the moment he stopped licking my navel; his face was devilish. Oh that stupid prick was going to make me beg! 

He smiled and his fast hands took off my shorts and panties together at once. His hands slid from my feet to my hips, his callous scraping my skin in a delicious way. He help both of my legs and placed my ankles on his shoulders; he started to kiss my left calf, the sensitive area behind my knee and going up my thigh and when he was next to the spot I wanted him to stay, he went for my right inner thigh and I released a growl of disappointment. 

He had the audacity to laugh but kept going until he reached my right calf. He looked at me, lowered himself and managed to place my knees on his shoulders, his gaze never leaving mine. My breath was irregular and I could not take this anymore. He was inches away from me and instead of digging into it, he blew softly, hot air touching me instead of him. 

My back arched and I let go a sob. “Cassian…” I whispered. 

“What sweetheart?” Damn him. 

“Please Cassian, please!” I could not take this, I needed him to touch me. 

He smiled and lowered himself. If the kisses on my navel were electricity, this was a lighting. I moaned in delight and he chuckled. “You’re going to wake the others, sweetheart.” For the briefest second I was able to care about what the others would think… then it was gone the second his tongue touched my clit. Oh I was falling into the brightest place of the earth. It felt so good I had to hold myself into something. One hand found his hair again and the other found a sleeping bag. When his finger slid inside her, she thought she would die. After a few gentle and slow thrusts, he slid the second finger and she let out a loud moan. Let the others wake up. And they were away anyway. 

He was too slow. “Cassian…” I whispered and looked at him, his eyes turned to me. At the sight of him devouring me, I almost lost my shit. What? He seemed to ask. “Faster… go… faster!” I managed to say between breaths. His fingers obeyed and … Oh, yes. His tongue followed his fingers and a minute or a second later I shattered on his mouth and fingers. He eased my tremors sliding his tongue up my folds and he lifted his body until his lips were on mine again. His mouth tasted like me and I liked it. I managed to turn him on his back and he looked confused but he allowed me to do it. 

I kissed his neck and traced lines on his chest with my nails, his hands wandering on my back and my hair. I reached his nipple and softly kissed and licked it. He chuckled. “Oh… that’s different.” He said in heavy breaths. 

“Good different?” I asked, my mouth never leaving his skin. 

“Hell yeah!” I trailed his abs with my hands first, devouring the sight of those powerful muscles and then kissed his exposed skin. I moved to be on his left side so I could take his shorts off. “You don’t need to do it, Ness…” he said like I wasn’t going to enjoy it. He was so wrong! 

“I want to taste you Cass…” Before taking it off I noticed that he was hard for me. For me! I bit my lip and smiled at his glorious sight after I released him. I didn’t care about the arm span shit or if Az’s was bigger. He was perfect! Perfect and big and large. Oh I’d love to play with him.

I went between his legs and kissed his thighs. I felt his breath hitch. “Nesta” My name was a prey on his lips and I loved the sound of it. I held his cock and stroke it gently. I dared looking at him. His eyes were starved, his hands holding the sleeping bags and he was biting his lip so hard I thought he would hurt himself. I lowered myself while my thumb stroke the head that was already wet. Instead of taking him in my mouth, I went for his testicles. He groaned loudly and I couldn’t help myself. “Now who’s being loud?” I chuckled. 

His head was thrown back and his hand flew to my hair; his chest going up and down rapidly. I took his cock on my mouth and I felt him repress an even louder groan. My teeth gently scraping his dick, and with every movement I felt him tense up. I looked at him and he looked back at me. “Ness…” He breathed and groaned, his leg muscles tightening. “Ness, you need to stop… I won’t be able to hold any longer…” 

I let go of it with an indecent pop and said “You can only come when I do, understood?” If he could play devil, I could too. He only nodded and I crawled up until our faces were leveled. With one hand he held his cock and the other he held my face. 

Before I could lower myself, he asked “Are you sure?” Fear still in his eyes. How could he be so blind? I smiled and leaned to kiss him the same moment my hips downed and I slid him inside me.

We both moaned and I arched my back breaking our kiss; my hands were in his chest. He was so large and big that I needed some time to adjust. He held my hips and my arm, his thumb stroking my skin. “Are you ok?” He asked breathless, concern dripping his words. 

I looked at him. “Yes. I just – I … give me a minute.” He nodded and waited patiently. “I didn’t expect you to be this… large.” I said honestly and he chuckled. I thought I heard a female laugh for a second. I was too caught up on the feeling of him inside me, fitting so tightly, so perfect to care about anything else. 

“I’m sorry” he said. 

“Don’t ever say that again. This is perfect.” I started to move up and down slowly and he let go of a low moaned. I threw my head back, my nails digging into his skin. I was sweaty and my hair was clinging to my skin. 

“Nesta… you’re so perfect!” He praised me and when I looked at him I saw the truth in his words. I took his lips on mine and he broke us apart. I felt so empty for a second that my heart ached. 

He must have seen it on my face because he smiled and kissed my cheek when he went behind me and gently positioned me on my knees and hands. “Is this okay?” He asked and I nodded, needing him inside me again. He lowered my shoulders until I was almost face first on the ground. He traced kisses on my lower back and when he moved away, he thrusted slowly; too damn heartbreakingly slowly. I groaned loudly again and he waited a few seconds before pulling out and thrusting again, faster this time. I felt like I was about to break apart with pleasure. 

The sound of our skin touching, our uneven breaths and moans were the only sound that filled the earth. The symphony of our bodies, of our souls. I could die of wanting him, having him. I was already on the edge again. “Nesta…” my name was now a plea; he was waiting for me like I told him to do. “God, you’re so perfect, so tight, so wet…” he mumbled.

I was breaking, I felt every muscle in my body tense. He lifted my torso up so his was touching my back; I rested my head on his shoulder and with one hand he held me up  and with the other went between my thighs. “Cassian!” I breathed. 

“Yes, Nesta. Come for me, please!” With that order - plea - I shattered. He followed me a second later with a loud roar. Our tremors sent me back on my hands as he rested on my back, still inside me. 

He kissed my back, our uneven breaths and the sound of my heart was all I could hear and I had never felt happier. He slid out and laying down, the satisfied smile on his lips the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. 

I touched his face and lay beside him, my head on his chest, listening to his pounding heart. He hugged me and kissed my forehead. The sounds of nature around us started to come back to my ears. I felt him stiffen, “Nesta…” I looked at him noticing he was worried, feeling worried myself. “We didn’t use protection.” I let out a laugh. “This is serious! As much as I love you, I’m not ready to be a father yet!” I let the words sink in. Love. He loves me! 

I touched his cheek and said softly “I know it is serious, Cass. I’m sorry. But there’s no need to worry.” He looked puzzled. “I’m on birth control pills.” He released a sigh. “And I love you too, worried prick.” He looked confused at me first then he realized what he said and what I said and smiled. I small tear rolled out of his eye and I kissed him. 

“Look at us, all sweet and loving. No one would ever believe it.” We laughed. “Let’s hope we didn’t wake the others, or tomorrow we’ll hear about it until our ears bleed.” He added and before I could say anything, I heard a female voice. 

“Ha. Too late to care about that isn’t it Cassian?” I froze and Amren laughed. Damn! I forgot that our tents were close to each other and away from the others since we were supposed to just sleep, unlike the couples on the other side of the clearing. I buried my face in his chest and let go of a shameful groan. 

He laughed. “Sorry about that girls… Hope we didn’t turn you on too much though.” I pinched him and he laughed again. 

“Just be quiet now the two of you. Yes, you’ll hear about it tomorrow. And Nesta?” Mor asked and I wanted to die, but still answered. 

“Yes?” my voice was filled with shame. 

“I told you didn’t I?” I cursed and she only laughed and said goodnight, followed by Amren who was clearly smiling.

“What was that about?” He asked. 

“Nothing… just…  girl talk.” I tried really hard not to smile. “We should sleep.” 

He nodded and kissed my forehead. We heard a female voice saying a painful finally while he pulled the blankets up, to cover us. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.” He kissed me softly. 

“I love you Cass. And sweet dreams.” As I nestled in his arms and fell asleep fast, feeling happier than I’ve even been before.

[queen-archeron]

Start of Something New

The title is for all you HSM fans out there haha ;) Here’s a fic that me and @highladyfxyre did together!! Thank you to the anon for giving us the idea! We hope you all enjoy it as much as we did!!😊❤️

“Come on Feyre, lighten up a little. It’s a party. It’s supposed to be fun.”

Feyre didn’t deign to reply, and instead cradled her drink, casting a less than impressed look at her friend, who was clearly eyeing up the brunette on the dance floor.

“You can’t sit in the booth all night, Fey. Besides, there’s a guy over there who’s definitely interested.”

Feyre rolled her eyes at Mor. “I’m sure that’s not true. And even if it was, I’m not interested in hooking up with anyone tonight.”

Mor sighed. “Fine. But at least come for one dance with me. It’s New Year’s Eve, after all!”

As if that changed anything. As if the fact that it was nearly a whole new year meant that she should forget about Tamlin, or the fact that she didn’t know how her father was going to pay the bills or -

Feyre downed the rest of her drink.

Maybe Mor was right. Maybe she did need to relax, even just for one night.

“Let’s go dance.”

As Rhysand entered Rita’s with Cassian and Azriel at his sides, the smell of alcohol hit him like a truck. Then the blaring music that was flowing from the speakers, which were scattered throughout the large room. He had never been a “party person”, and the only reason he had agreed to come to this one was because of Mor.

The three of them had received a text from her twenty minutes ago, telling them to go. If he recalled correctly, the exact words were, “Get your asses over here before I drag you out of the damn house!”

Of course, no one argued, partially because they all knew she would actually drag them out of the house, but also because it was New Year’s, and tonight was a night to celebrate.

The dim lights made it slightly hard to move through the packed area, and Rhys turned around to say something to Azriel, only to find him being swallowed up by the crowd. Great.

“Cass!” He called, but he was out of sight.

Sighing, Rhys ran a hand through his hair and slowly made his way through the crowd, trying to find space to think.

He caught sight of the bar on the other side of the chaos, and made it his mission to get there.

He weaved through swarm of people, keeping his eye out for one of his brothers or Mor, since she was the reason he even came. He made it through the dance floor alive, and turned towards the bar to get a drink…

Right as a girl ran into him, spilling her drink all over the both of them. Her eyes widened, and he was taken aback by how beautiful she was. He almost forgot about the wet shirt he now wore.

Standing before her was the most beautiful male she had ever seen.And he was currently sporting her drink down the front of his otherwise pristine shirt.

Why did this always have to happen to her?

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you and -” Feyre was grateful for the darkness of the club, for if the lights were on he would certainly see the blush that had taken over her entire face.

The man lifted a hand. “It’s fine! I should have seen you. Completely my fault.”

“At least let me get you a drink? Or a new shirt?” God, she was embarrassing. And also close to tears, due to the fact she always seemed to get… weepy when she drank.

Why had she even agreed to come out tonight.

“There's no need too…” The stranger began. “Look, I should be the one buying you a drink.”

Feyre smiled. “Well, thank you. Though I owe you a drink as well…”

“Rhysand. Though you can just call me Rhys.”

Feyre ignored the sudden… rush of feeling that ran through her at his name. Rhysand. It seemed fitting, somehow. “I’m Feyre.” She replied, still straining slightly to try and hear his voice over the music.  

“Well, Feyre.” The sound of her name on his lips sent a spark of electricity through her. “Care to join me for a drink?”

And maybe it was the alcohol currently coursing through her body, or the fact that there was seemingly something magical about New Year’s Eve, or… well, the fact he was handsome as hell, but Feyre found herself agreeing to his offer.

And who knows? Maybe this night could turn very special indeed.

Feyre. He said her name over and over in his head as the two of them made their way to the bar. For some reason, everything about her grabbed his attention, and he didn’t miss the blush on her cheeks when she spilled the drink, even through the darkness.

Rhys helped her onto the high barstool as she swayed a little bit, and she smiled at him in thanks.

“So, Feyre, what brings you here on New Year’s Eve?” He asked as they waited for the bartender to notice them.

Feyre looked out at the crowd, as if looking for someone, and sighed as she returned his gaze. “One of my friends thought it would be fun, but I think she found better things to do than babysit me all night.”

Sounds relatable, he thought, giving her a nod.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I got ditched within thirty seconds of walking in. I have yet to see anyone I came here with,” he replied.

Her eyes lit up and small chuckle escaped her. He could barely hear it over the music, but he wanted to memorize that sound, the gentleness of it and the way her lips turned up in a smile.

“I guess we’re both on our own then,” she sighed, just as the bartender finally approached them.

Rhys ordered them drinks, and they each paid for each other when the beverage arrived.

“To us, the wallflowers,” he beamed, raising his glass toward her.

“To the wallflowers,” she grinned back, and they tapped their glasses together before taking a few sips.

It suddenly felt very hot inside, and the music was beginning to give Rhys a headache. Looking around, he spotted some doors that led outside, hidden behind a couple booths.

Feyre tracked his eyes and spotted the doors as well.

“Want to head outside? It’s way too cramped in here for me,” he joked, and she nodded right away, making him chuckle. Guess she felt the same.

He took her hand to help her get down, but didn’t release it as they made their way through the crowd once again, avoiding getting stepped on or shoved. He tightened his grip as he finally reached the door, swinging it open to a cool breeze, and some much needed silence.

Feyre was grateful for the cool air as soon as it hit her face.

She had never been a fan of nightclubs, and tonight was no different. Feyre had never really gotten the point of them, if she was being honest.

I mean, what was the appeal in sweaty bodies and shitty techno music?

Thankfully, it seemed that Rhys felt the same way, if his now relaxed shoulders were any indication.

Something we have in common. Feyre shoved that thought away.

She could still hear the music pulsing behind her, and saw several couples making out almost aggressively on the outer walls of the club. But even so…

It felt a little like she and Rhys were the only two people in the world.

God, what was the matter with her?

She hadn’t even met this man an hour ago, and already she was fawning over him like some lovesick teenager.

“You okay?”

Feyre almost started at the sound of Rhys’s voice, suddenly very loud against the near quiet; a stark contrast to the dizzying loudness of Rita’s.

She mustered a smile on her face, trying not to show how entirely sappy her thoughts were becoming. “Yeah! I’m fine. It’s just the, uh, silence out here!” What was she even talking about?

“I prefer it. Don’t get me wrong though, club music is the best.” Feyre let out a snort at the heavy sarcasm lacing his words.

“I can’t argue with that. I mean, music that sounds like what a headache feels like? I swear it’s like a modern age Mozart piece.”

Rhys chuckled at that, moving forward until he was resting against the balcony, tilting his head up slightly to look at the sky. Feyre joined him, and resisted the urge to reach across and lay a hand on his arm, or run her fingers through her hair or -

Well, she was definitely getting ahead of herself.

They stood in silence for a few moments, until Rhys said, “Five minutes to midnight.”

Feyre raised a brow. “Already?”

He nodded. “Crazy, right? It feels like it’s only been a second since January.”

“I don’t know… It feels like it’s gone slow for me somehow.”

Rhys nodded again, and Feyre inwardly cursed herself for being the dullest person ever.

They didn’t speak for a few painfully awkward minutes.

And then, “Have any resolution’s this year?”

Feyre sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The usual, I suppose. Go to the gym more, be nicer. You?”

Rhys ducked his head, suddenly seeming… shy? “Well, uh, I had one. That I would… That I would meet my true love by the end of this year.”

Her heart gave an involuntary leap. “And did you?”

Rhys looked at her, something she couldn’t read in his eyes. “Not yet. But I still have…” A quick glance at his watch. “Three minutes.”

This was dangerous ground, but Feyre walked on it anyway. “A lot can happen in three minutes.”

“Yes, it can.”

They both shifted nearer to the other, almost like a moth to a flame. Like they couldn’t help themselves.

Feyre certainly couldn’t, anyway.

The music from Rita’s seemed so far away now, like she was in another world.

And Rhys seemed just as focused on her as she was on him.

They moved closer.

Time seemed to still every time he looked at her, and the end of the year was getting closer and closer. Only two minutes now.

The streets below them were crowded with people, everyone ready to celebrate when the time came. Feyre was watching too, and every time she inched closer to him, his heart sped up, and he was nervous she could hear at times.

“One minute and thirty seconds,” he murmured into the cool air, checking his watch impatiently.

Feyre looked up at him, and he suddenly realized how close they were. He swallowed, but held her gaze.

“You know,” she started, searching his eyes. “Tonight wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

Rhys’s heart sped up more, and he inched even closer, their bodies almost touching. “I agree.”

He was lost for words, and in the distance someone announced that there was one minute left.

Feyre’s eyes slipped to his lips and back up to his eyes so fast he almost missed it. The air between them was too much.

They must have been staring at each other for longer than he thought because another person from the streets below announced fifteen seconds.

“The year’s almost over,” she sighed, in what seemed to be relief, but he looked at her with an unrelenting gaze.

“A lot can happen in ten seconds.”

A countdown started in the distance, and Feyre smiled as she whispered, “Ten.”

He grinned. “Nine.”

“Eight.”

“Seven.”

Her face was so close to his, and he was struggling to control his breathing.

“Six.” She moved her eyes to his lips, and this time they didn’t move away.

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two,” she slid her hand onto his arm, and he was done for.

“One.”

Fireworks went off in the distance at the same moment he captured her lips with his. The feeling was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and he immediately slid his arms around her waist pulling her closer. She kissed him back with the same intensity, and in that moment, he felt complete.

Feyre was certain she was dreaming.

But the feeling of Rhys’s lips on hers was very, very real.

She lost herself in the kiss, in the way his lips moved against hers that felt like they had been doing this forever.

Feyre had never had a New Year’s kiss before, but this was certainly making up for it now.

Rhys’s hands were on her waist, tugging her impossibly closer, and Feyre didn’t care that they were in public, or that she had only known for not even an hour, or that she was going to have a killer headache tomorrow.

No, she only cared about them, and the fact she had never felt more alive.

But eventually Feyre pulled away, the fireworks above them seeming a million miles away. And when Rhys smiled at her, Feyre knew she was a goner.

“Happy New Year, Feyre darling.”

And it was a happy new year indeed.