#rhys if you love feyre so much give her therapy!!!!!!!!!

[merwgue]

The absolute dumpster fire that is ACOSF and if I had the choice to I would erase it from my memory:

Let’s talk about A Court of Silver Flames, where logic goes to die and every character makes the absolute worst decisions. It’s like Sarah J. Maas took one look at the concept of personal autonomy and thought, “Nah, let’s replace it with some good ol’ authoritarianism, terrible communication, and emotional manipulation!” And guess who’s at the heart of all this madness? Our beloved High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, Rhysand and Feyre. The power couple we’re supposed to root for—except, plot twist, they’re probably the worst people to ever lead anything, let alone an entire court.

Let’s Start With Locking Nesta Up – Because Who Needs Therapy?

Ah yes, Rhysand and Feyre’s grand plan to “fix” Nesta: lock her up. Forget about therapy or actually talking to her like she’s a person with autonomy. No, no. The best solution is clearly to force her into isolation in the House of Wind. What a brilliant move! Because nothing says mental health recovery like a glorified time-out in the sky with zero chance of escape.

Rhysand and Feyre, in their infinite wisdom, decide Nesta’s problems can only be solved through forced training and “tough love.” Never mind the fact that Nesta has been through war, trauma, and, oh yeah, did we mention PTSD? Clearly, locking her up and controlling every aspect of her life is the most compassionate route. Why bother giving her choices when you can just strip them away for her own good, right? Besides, it’s not like they care about actually addressing the root of her issues. As long as Nesta becomes the compliant little sister Feyre always wanted, who cares about her emotional scars?

And let’s not even get into the moral implications. You’d think, after all Rhysand went through Under the Mountain, he’d be a little more careful about, you know, controlling other people’s lives. But nope! Apparently, totalitarianism is fine as long as it’s wrapped up in flowery speeches about love and family. So progressive!

Feyre’s Pregnancy: Where is the Choice? Spoiler: There Isn’t One

Then there’s Feyre’s pregnancy plotline, or as I like to call it: “Rhysand's Pro-Life Power Play.” Because what’s more feminist than completely removing a woman’s agency when it comes to her own body?

Rhysand knows from the beginning that Feyre’s pregnancy is a death sentence. Does he tell her? Of course not! Why would you ever give your partner the chance to make an informed decision about her own life? That would be way too much like respect and love. Instead, Rhysand just... lets it happen. He decides it’s better to let Feyre figure out that her wingspan baby is going to kill her after it’s too late.

But wait! It gets better. Rhysand decides that if Feyre dies during childbirth, he’s going to die with her. How romantic, right? Except for the fact that it’s the most selfish, irresponsible move he could make. This isn’t a love story—it’s a leadership failure. Rhys is so wrapped up in his Feyre-dying-with-me fantasy that he doesn’t even care about what happens to the actual Night Court. You know, the court he’s supposed to be ruling.

Rhys: “If Feyre dies, I’ll just die too. It’s fine. Amren will handle it.”

Amren, who has already sacrificed enough, is expected to pick up the pieces yet again because Rhysand can’t be bothered to plan for the literal future of his people. Oh, and did he even bother telling Amren that she might have to run the Night Court for the second time? Nope. Why communicate important things like that when you can just die dramatically instead?

Rhysand and Feyre: The Power Couple We Never Needed

Let’s really break down this trainwreck of a couple. First off, Feyre’s entire arc has been swallowed by her relationship with Rhys. Remember how she was supposed to be this independent woman? Yeah, that’s cute. But it turns out, her independence only exists when Rhysand approves of it. Their relationship is all about “choice,” but only if it aligns with what Rhys thinks is best.

Feyre, at the end of the day, is just another cog in Rhysand’s Great Leader complex. She’s constantly propped up as this feminist icon, but her choices are always manipulated by Rhys. Whether it’s going to war, having a child, or, you know, surviving childbirth, it’s always Rhys pulling the strings. If you think about it, Feyre’s “independence” has only been traded from one manipulative man to another. Tamlin was too controlling, but Rhys? He’s controlling for her own good. How convenient!

And then there’s Rhysand, our oh-so-perfect High Lord. Except, newsflash, Rhys is just as insecure and broken as the rest of them. His constant need to be the savior, the martyr, the all-knowing leader is exhausting. He can’t help but make everything about himself, even Feyre’s literal death. Rhysand isn’t a protector—he’s a narcissist with a god complex. And the fact that the entire Inner Circle just stands by and lets him act like this? It’s a miracle the Night Court hasn’t crumbled yet.

Cassian and Nesta: Let’s Just Ignore Our Feelings, Shall We?

Let’s not forget about Cassian and Nesta in this mess. Cassian, the oh-so-loyal general, is too busy being Rhysand’s lapdog to actually think about Nesta’s needs. Sure, he cares about her. But instead of helping her deal with her trauma in a healthy way, he’s like, “Let’s train until you’re too tired to feel anything!” Perfect plan. Rhysand would be so proud. And Nesta? She’s clearly been rewritten into a sex-crazed, self-loathing mess, because gods forbid we have a modest, complex woman character in this series. SJM couldn’t stand the thought of a female lead who doesn’t use sex and alcohol as coping mechanisms.

And did Cassian ever confront Rhys about locking Nesta up without her consent? Of course not! Because no one in this court actually communicates with each other. They just fall in line behind Rhys’s idiotic plans, hoping for the best.

In Conclusion: The Night Court is a Disaster Waiting to Happen

In the end, the entire plot of ACOSF is built on terrible leadership, forced confinement, emotional manipulation, and withholding critical information. Rhysand and Feyre are held up as this power couple, but in reality, they’re just two deeply flawed individuals who’ve made a series of reckless decisions that will probably destroy the Night Court one day.

But don’t worry, everyone. It’s all wrapped up in some sparkly “feminist” packaging, so it’s fine! Who needs actual character growth, communication, or autonomy when you can have sex scenes and pretty prose instead?

[jaysbookofnothing]

Acotar rambles

Nesta is the oldest sister and the one who was groomed by her mother to be perfect; she was literally prepared all her childhood to be perfect at everything and to be the wife of another man, never getting a life for herself. Nesta is a mean and passive sister that I'm not going to defend, but I hate when the fandom acts like that's all she is. Nesta has trauma herself, almost being married to a rapist and abuser, watching her sister get kidnapped, getting turned into a fae by force, and getting plunged into the middle of a war she should have had no place in. Her and Cassian are also all types of unstable; yes, I know they are mates, but that doesn't mean that they are good for each other. Cassian, repeatedly, let's talk down to Nesta. He doesn't even defend her; he lets his best friend and self-proclaimed brother threaten to kill his mate. Not only that, but he contributes to her self-doubt and hides the truth of her powers, even forcing her to keep secret the fact that her sister might die. I think she just needs a break from the inner circle, a long relaxing vacation with the Valkyries, and some therapy. (I do still hate her for letting a 14-year-old Feyre go into the woods.) Elain...sweet child Elain, God, you are pathetic. I don't mind the girly, peaceful, silent type of character. In fact, I adore characters like those, but Elain isn't it. What she is is just a sad waste. For example, when her 14-year-old sister was going into the woods to hunt animals for their family, she didn't try to use her gardening skills to maybe plant flowers during the spring. Try to use her flower gardening to sell the flowers, make dyes, or do anything else that would help the family. And then there's her whole thing with Lucian; I absolutely despise it. Even with her "thing" with the shadow MF, what she needs is to go off and live her cottage core life away from those poor men. I feel like Sara can still save her character, but I am just tired of her not doing anything. (I know she did things like kill the king and be a seer and all that, but goddamn, is she so bland?) Feyre, she could have been so much more. I liked her fistyness and determination in the first few books, but god did she tire me out by the end. First of all, she has such an "I'm not like other girls" vibe, and it's generally tiring after a while. Overall, she's a decent character. I just hate her ending, like, Why does she turn into a housewife? You're telling me that Feyre Cursebreaker, the woman who waged war on a Fae empire and won, is now a housewife? Honestly, the main reason I hate her ending is because of Rhys. I could get into such a big rant about Rhys; first off, in the first book, he drugged her and parraded her around in a sexual manner while she could not consent as a way of "protecting her." I don't think I have to explain how messed up that is. Next, he always talks about how much Feyre always has a choice in everything and that she can say no and yada yada, but did he give her a choice when he withheld the fact that she would die if she gave birth to their child? No. Did he maybe think of the side effects of sleeping with Feyre while they were both in their illerion forms, such as having a baby with illeion wings? Nope. Speaking of illerions, you cannot tell me that "the strongest fae lord of all time" can't smack some people with bat wings around enough so they stop abusing, clipping the wings, and raping their women. I guess he isn't as powerful after all. Speaking of women who Rhys let's suffer, your telling me he can't help the girls trapped in the Honestly, Rhys doesn't strike me as a good high lord; he is a patheric excuse for a love interest.

The inner circle God, where do I start? The inner circle is supposed to be this type of family, but honestly, it just feels like a group of bullies. They always talk about how powerful they are, how amazing they are, how their family is, etc., but they don't truly accept Lucian into their ranks, nor does Nesta. Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys are truly nothing more than emo frat boys. Are we going to skip the part in Silver Flames where they talk about how they used to fuck girls in the same room as each other? Yeah...nasty. Their views on women are mildly concerning as well; it seems like they don't care, but they do. Rhys talks about how much he loved his mom, his sister, and how he would do anything for Feyre, yet he didn't tell her about the child that might kill her. Cassian's mate is Nesta, and he "loves" her, yet he lets Rhys threaten to kill her and talk down to her multiple times throughout the series. Azriel, I forget he exists for the most part; he's kind of a wet, sad dog in the corner crying. 

Mor, sweet girl, Mor. I don't know how to feel about her, honestly; good for her for getting out of the court of nightmares, but I'm a bit fishy about what Eris meant by Mor knowing the truth and hiding it.

Speaking of Eris, let's talk about him and Lucian. My two favorite characters (other than Gwen) truly wish nothing more than Lucian to be happy and get a good ending away from the inner circle at the end; he's gone through so much and yet gets treated like a dog. In fact, he still doesn't know that his father is Helion, despite Feyre and Rhys being aware! Eris, I'm really hoping, is going to pull a Rhys and end up being good in the end. I doubt anything that'll make me happy will actually happen, though, so I'll probably just have to stick to headcanons and fanfiction.

[shallyne]

The Diary of Feyre Archeron Ch 10

Chapter ten! Last chapter before the epilogue. Enjoy!! Full fic on AO3

Words: 1.1k

June 29th

Rhys came with me to the Rainbow today. It has been nerve-wracking if I put it lightly. It took me about an hour before I even could step a foot into the artist's quarter but Rhys was there, reassuring me and giving me the time I needed. I actually wanted to do this after work but Rhys took the day off for us both and we walked to the Rainbow. In my quest to ignore it the past years I never realized how close the quarter was to the lounge.

After I managed to actually walk into the Rainbow (I gripped Rhys's hand the whole time like my life depended on it) I got that sudden feeling of nostalgia. Seeing people carrying canvases and paints, even the street musicians who were in their element. It was such a weird mix of emotions, on one side I wanted to bolt in the other I felt at home there, like I belonged. I teared up just standing there, probably looking like an idiot, but Rhys wiped my tears away with the hand I wasn't squeezing.

We even ate lunch there, right beside a gallery. I haven't gone into the gallery but Rhys and I agreed that this would be the next step, for the next time.

I'm actually excited! It's so strange, tho. Having all these different emotions.

July 12th

Tonight I had the first nightmare that I was alone to deal with. Rhys had to work longer and Elain and Nesta were on a double date with Azriel and Cassian. They invited me, too, but I was so exhausted after therapy that I just fell into bed right after dinner. I assume that's also why I had nightmares again, a lot has come up. I wish someone had been there but I managed, somehow. I didn't throw up and I, fortunately, didn't have a panic attack either. That's good, it's something to celebrate. I really don't know if I should tell Rhys, though, because I know he's going to feel bad for not being there and I don't want him to feel bad. I have to do this alone, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I don't know, I'll think about it. He's not in his office later when I work, so there is enough time to debate this until I meet him in the afternoon.

Also, I've bought a new dress. It's not like the others I took from home, this one is much more revealing. Mom would hate it, so I know it's great. Rhys will love it.

July 13th

I couldn't even say hello before he asked me if I had nightmares again? Is it that obvious??

But, okay, but that's not what I'm going to write about today. Something happened. Something GREAT!!! Rhys and I had sex last night. For the first time. And the second. And the third. Okay, a lot of times and it was amazing. It was the best sex I ever had. Not that I'm surprised but also I'm a little surprised because I didn't expect that. It was like something you'd read in Nesta's smutty books. I can't stop thinking about it. About Rhys and the last night and well, that's bad because we will have a barbecue tonight with the whole family (Nesta, Elain, Mor, Cassian, Azriel, Rhys's mother and sister, Rhys and me) and apparently you can read all my emotions on my face. Fuck, I have to work on that. I will! I'll try while getting ready. I'm still at Rhys's place but he already had a dress ready for me so I won't have to stress about that. (not in a controlling way like, his mother made that dress. She's a seamstress and I feel really honored to wear her dress but nobody would blink an eye either if I would turn up in pajamas)

I feel like I'm walking on clouds! It's surreal. If someone told my 16 year old self that I am where I am now she would laugh. She wouldn't believe it at all. I barely can.

December 15th

A decision was made!

I'm quitting my job at Rhys's lounge and going to art school. I started painting again around august and I just can't stop. There is so much that I have to tell, to get out. Rhys and I spent a whole night talking about the future weeks ago and the decision was a hard one to make but I made it. I'm going to art school. I'm living my dream, the thing I've worked towards my whole life until we had to leave my hometown. It's happening and I made the decision all alone. Without Rhys (although I've talked his ear off about the pros and cons), without Nesta or Elain, without my therapist. It was my decision! Isn't this exciting? I'm standing on my own two feet again. Baby steps evolved into quite big steps. I can't say how light I feel these days. I can paint it but words can't even begin to describe my feelings. I still have rough patches, especially now that it nears one year since my abduction but I'll get through this. I'm not alone. I'm not there anymore, I am safe now. And I am going to art school! Oh my god!

No words left, just happy.

January 1st

If you like a thing you should put a ring on it!

Okay, well, that's not the exact lyrics. I had to modify it a tiny little bit to fit my situation. Our situation. Rhys and my situation. Well, happy new year! I'm engaged! We are engaged! There will be a wedding. Between me and Rhys. Rhys and I. Engaged. Soon to be married. I'd say I believe I'm dreaming but I am not, I am looking at the ring as we speak. It's a family heirloom, Rhys told me. It's been through generations. The ring is also SO beautiful. It's a sapphire and in is etched with a six pointed star. The band of the ring is twisted of silver and gold. Never in my life have I seen something that beautiful. Sometimes, when the light falls in it in the right way, it looks like there is a star inside the stone.

Which actually brings me to the proposal. It wasn't something big, it was just me and Rhys and we went stargazing. I tried to find a constellation he had pointed at and when I turned around he was on his knee (his bad one, I basically had to pull him up), asking me to become his wife. Of course I cried. Nothing could beat this proposal.

It's Rhys and me. For the rest of our lives.

I'm thanking the stars everyday

Feysand Taglist:

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @starfall-spirit @rhysiedarling @corcracrow @sydney-fae25 @tothestarsandwhateverend @aayo-whatt @dreamlandreader

[darling-archeron]

Mild angst, a college au. Rated T. 2.4k words

Feyre Archeron is just trying to get through the end of the semester and move on. Rhysand Nox has spent the past year reeling from the breakup that shattered his heart. The last time they saw each other, things ended in disaster. As fate would have it, they meet again. Part 6/7.

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

This one is for @reverie-tales! thank you so much for your love and encouragement on this fic, especially for cheering me on this last chapter!

-

Bit by bit, Feyre recounted the anniversary party, the distance between them, and all the memories that had haunted and hurt her. Her voice was raw from holding tears back by the time she was done. She didn’t get to break down crying, not when she had already shed so many tears over this. 

Laying it all out to the person she had hurt opened the parts of the wound she thought were scabbed over. She had been so wretched, so lost, and she thought she had made her peace with the person she had been – the person that still made up parts of her - but she couldn’t stand the devastation in Rhys’s face.

Throughout her story, his anger had melted away. Now he looked like he had gone through their breakup all over again. 

Looking back with hindsight, it all seemed so…inconsequential. Her insecurities, his horrible family. With better communication on both sides, they could have talked things out. She could have started therapy sooner. A million little things could have been different, and then she wouldn’t have lost him. 

She braced for his anger to return, for him to tell her how foolish she had been, for him to storm out and crush the remaining shards of her heart.

But he didn’t – he stayed. Quiet, processing. Red-rimmed eyes never leaving hers. In the time since she had started speaking, darkness had fallen, casting the lamp-lit room in shadows that cut across his angular face. 

She took a breath and voiced the words she had already spoken so many times in her head.

“I’m so sorry, Rhys. Sincerely. I’ve regretted treating you like that every day since it happened. I got it in my head that I had to make a clean break before you could leave me – and it was so stupid and immature not to communicate.”

“Thank you,” he responded softly, voice raspy and face damp. “Thank you for saying that and telling me everything. You hurt me a lot, but I know there’s blame to share too. You’re right, I was distant. I was so focused on my family’s approval that I didn’t know what to do when they treated you so…so horribly. But I would never have suggested we go if I had known how terrible they were going to be.”

He paused. “Well – that’s not completely true, I suppose. I knew they could be terrible, but I was hoping that somehow, things would have changed and they would see you for the wonderful person you were – are. But they didn’t, and I reacted poorly on your behalf.”

“You were cold, distant…was it just because of them? Or was there something I had done?” She had to know, once and for all. She had to put the pounding question to rest in her mind. 

“Feyre, I swear, it was nothing you had done. I was in my head about my family’s approval and what I would do if they were assholes, and then they were, and I hadn’t prepared myself for the fallout.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, an endearing habit he had never been able to break. It meant he was thinking.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m not sure if telling you this makes things any better, but I did give them hell for it after we broke up. My father…didn’t take it well. It’s why I'm still in Velaris and not being trained in as the next CEO of Hewn Tech.”

The lump in her throat was making it difficult to keep the next wave of tears down. He had gone to bat for her, even if it had been too late and she hadn’t warranted it by then.

“Not that giving up that position was much of a sacrifice,” Rhys admitted with a strained, raspy chuckle.

“You did spend a lot of time trying to sway him from making you join the company,” she agreed, feeling the semblance of a smile on her lips for a moment. 

Though they were joking about it, she knew it would have been a more difficult decision than he was letting on. True, the family company had never been his passion, but it was about more than that. He had walked away from his family name, money, and the opportunity to influence the technology he had been passionate about. 

“Thank you for defending me, even after everything.” 

“It was what I should have done all along. I should have been better at communicating, too. How can I blame you for being so uncertain when I didn’t open up either?” 

“I don’t know if this matters to you either, but in the interest of being honest, I have been working on things. I know how terrible I was at opening up and expressing my fears. And a few months after I ended things, I had really spiraled. Things were…they were bad,” she trailed off, slipping back into the memories of those dark, dark months.

Rhys’s expression changed again, concern immediately lining his features. It hurt her heart to see it. He braced his arms on the side of the chair as if he was going to get up and come to her, but seemed to think the better of it. Or she was just reading too much into things. 

“Feyre –“

She cut him off. “Hey – I’m still here, aren’t I? And I don’t need to unload all of it now, but I realized I couldn’t let things keep going the way they were, because I didn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel anymore. Long story short, I started going to therapy, and it’s a process, but I’m doing so much better now.”

Outside, the wind continued to whip through the city, rattling her windowpanes, and Feyre shivered. 

Rhys released a long, deep breath. “I’m so glad to hear that.” 

“Me too,” she agreed softly. Such a small, simple thing, and yet it was one of the most difficult things she had experienced. Wanting to live for oneself, even with all the regret and pain. 

Silence fell between them, more awkward than Feyre wanted to admit. 

“Why didn’t you leave me at Rita’s the moment you saw me?” she asked. “I assumed you hated me. Nobody would have expected you to offer me a ride.”

Rhys raised his eyebrows. “Honestly? I told myself if I ever saw you again I wouldn’t give you the time of day, but I think I always knew it was a lie. Losing you destroyed me for months. Mor can attest to that. But I’ve never hated you. And I’ve never walked away from you willingly.”

Feyre winced at the subtle barb, and Rhys seemed to realize what he had said.

“Sorry,” he rushed, turning a bit red.

“No, I deserved that,” she admitted, turning over his previous words. Would she ever know what these last twelve months had been like for him?

“But I’m glad I didn’t leave today. Because we had this conversation, and I got to see your painting.” He gestured to the painting she had almost forgotten about, set on the coffee table in the heat of their earlier argument. 

That small affirmation was all Feyre needed to hear – at last, after all the hurt, she knew that he didn’t hate her. And something broke in her with his words, because she started crying all over again. 

Fuck – it was so embarrassing. What was she even crying over this time? She buried her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes fiercely to clear away the tears.

Even through her sniffles, she heard Rhys’s breath catch, as if he was unsure what to do. 

“What’s wrong?”

She scrubbed at her eyes some more and looked up again. “Nothing – I’m sorry – it’s just…this is a lot. It’s overwhelming.”

“You’re right – it is. This morning, I thought I’d never talk to you again. And now…” he trailed off. 

“Now?” Feyre asked hesitantly. Where did this leave them? In all her imagined apologies, she had never gotten this far. Even her daydreams couldn’t fathom Rhys doing anything better than laughing in her face after she spilled her emotions out before him.

There was one final thing – one thing she still hadn’t confessed.

Before she could weigh the merits of that final admission, Rhys spoke again. 

“Do you still have my number?” 

She nodded. Even if she had the strength to delete it, it wouldn’t have made any difference. It was an easy one to remember, she had it memorized. 

“Text me sometime?” He asked tentatively. “I missed having you in my life, Feyre. Not just as my girlfriend. But as one of the people who understood me best, who I could talk about anything with.”

“I’d like that a lot. I’d like to try to be in your life again, in any capacity. As slow as we need to take it, if you’ll have me.”

“Just promise me one thing,” he insisted, face turning completely serious. “Promise me we’ll talk our problems out from here on out. I can’t go through last December again.”

“I swear it. Never again,” she replied. “I know this doesn’t make what I’ve done any better, but I never stopped loving you.”

There it was – that final admission, out before she realized she was saying it. 

His eyes snapped to hers, lit with a fire she hadn’t seen in so long.

“You still love me? Truly?” He sounded breathless.

It seemed so obvious to her, but, like so many things between them, it hadn’t been. 

“I do,” she murmured. 

Faster than she could fully track his movement, he was out of his seat, then crossing the floor, then pressed up against her.

Before they touched, he paused, arms braced on either side of her, giving her just enough time to push him back or wriggle out of it.

She didn’t, and she gasped as his lips met hers for the first time in a year. 

His hands were roaming all over – up her thighs and sides, cradling her face, tangled in her messy hair. 

At long last, he was here with her again. Rhys, Rhys, Rhys. 

A distant part of her felt self-conscious of her messy, unwashed hair, and the hoodie and leggings that were about as unsexy as she could get. 

But Rhys had seen her at her lowest, and after the whole lot, he had come back to her.  

It felt so right, his body against hers after so long, that she started laughing through the sticky tears still damp on her cheeks. 

Rhys broke away, confusion and amusement sparking in his eyes. “What?”

“I just missed you,” she answered, smiling. “So much.”

The expression on his face said it all, and Feyre didn’t give him time to say anything as she leaned back in, snagging his bottom lip gently with her teeth. 

He reciprocated the feeling, clearly, as he pushed her back in the chair, hands cupping the side of her face – 

Until he broke away again.

This time, it was Feyre’s turn to be confused as Rhys picked himself up, moving out of the chair where he had basically been on top of her. 

“Rhys?”

“We should probably slow down,” he murmured sheepishly, running a hand through his tousled hair. Hair she had tousled, she remembered, with no small amount of satisfaction.

All the same – “You’re right,” she agreed. “We just agreed to take things slow.”

“To be fair, you said you’d take things as slow as I needed. And while a large part of me is insisting I don’t need to take things slow at all, it might not be a bad idea.”

She almost made a joke about him rarely being right, but it still felt too soon. 

And really, he had a good point.

“Then we’ll listen to that little voice in the back of your head telling us to slow down,” she agreed.

“So…where does this leave us?” Rhys asked, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. 

“For now? Let’s take it one day at a time.” She felt only truth in her own words – no masked uncertainty, no lies. She had lost Rhys once. If they were meant to find each other again, they could handle taking things slowly at first. 

“I’ll call you, then?” Rhys asked as he got to his feet, picking up his coat from the chair he had slung it over.

“That sounds great,” Feyre agreed, escorting him the few paces it took to get to the door, hoping if she kept moving it would squash the urge to kiss him again. 

From the way Rhys paused and looked at her, she could have sworn he was thinking the same thing. He reached for the tarnished door, undoing the lock with practiced familiarity.

“Well, goodbye for now.”

“Wait!” Feyre cried, scrambling back into the other room. “I almost forgot!” 

When she returned back around the corner, she held Rhys’s commission.

“I know it’s bizarre and horribly sad, but it is yours if you want it. No hard feelings if not,” she added quickly. 

Without a word, Rhys leaned in and carefully took the painting from her hands, taking a long moment to look at it again. 

He smiled ever so slightly. “I’ll call you soon.” 

“Bye,” Feyre replied and didn’t stop him as he turned the knob and left, leaving a stark silence behind.

Half in shock now that she was alone, Feyre dazedly walked back to the living room and sank back into her chair. 

It all felt like a fever dream. Had it only been a couple of hours ago that she had gotten a flat outside of Rita’s? And to think she had nearly skipped coffee and gone for an energy drink in the back of her fridge instead.

Thank God she hadn’t.

Feyre let the full weight of the day crash into her as tears of joy and relief started streaming down her face, with no end in sight. 

Maybe this would turn out to be nothing. Maybe it would change her life. But at the very least, Rhys was back in her life, and that felt like everything.

-

AN: If you've stuck around this long, thank you for reading! We just have the epilogue left to go. Thank you to all of you wonderful people for your patience and love for this story!

-

@thron3ofbooks @the-lonelybarricade @swankii-art-teacher  @ghostlyrose2  @brieq @cretaceous-therapod @live-the-fangirl-life @achernarlight @reverie-tales @starfall-spirit @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @highladysith @areyoudreamingof

[romanticatheartt]

Ok hear me out... Has anyone read twisted series by Ana Huang? because I was thinking an ACoTaR x Twisted crossover... but not like a full fanfiction just a description (?) of what it can be cuz I can't write for the life of me (I can't write in my mother language let alone in another one!)

Twisted Love x Elucien Twisted Game x Gwynriel Twisted Hate x Nessian Twisted Lies x Feysand

What do we think?

I mean Twisted Love is my least favorite of all the books (like very least) so I have to change many things of it to fit Elain and Lucien. Lucien is going to be so sassy and cocky (not like Alex who has a personality of a rock) and Elain is still a florist but ALSO a photographer. I'm pretty sure a modern AU Elain would be a great photographer as well!!

Twisted Games is my favorite out of all of them if I'm being honest. So Gwyn is a princess who likes to sing sometimes. She has a sister who's is about to be the future queen but is she? (yeah we're not killing Catrin in fact we give her a wife!!) and Azriel is her bodyguard.

Twisted Hate is my second Favorite and also the first book I read from this series (don't ask why I did that lmao). I always see Nesta in a modern au as lawyer!! She's studying and getting ready to become a lawyer. And Cassian is a sports massage therapist and a gym owner and happens to be her colleague and her trainer... he's a menace of course!!

Twisted Lies... well let me tell you the only reason I didn't liked this book as much as I wanted to, is Christian being so much like Alex but I liked the story in general and you can't tell me Stella and Christian doesn't give of Feysand vibes... Feyre has a art therapy degree and her dream is to open an studio but she's also a blogger on social media and tries to save money from their earnings but she has difficulty to reach a decent engagement. She also has a crazy stalker of an ex boyfriend that she still hasn't manged to get rid of (which is Tam/in). Rhysand is her landlord of the most secure apartment (she used to share it with Ressina, but now she's alone), and he's accepting the payment of her rent, which is way lower than the original price because she happens to be Nesta's sister who is his SIL and also Cassian's and Mor's BFF and you have to believe him that these are his only reasons... He has a security company and does other things as well... (and it's not illegal at all)

I mean as I go I'll defiantly add to the plot of each couple. But I'll start with Gwynriel because Twisted game was almost without any connection to the other books (and I love that book the most... and Gwynriel week is near) and from what I have in mind each one is going to be long lol

Lucien is a billionaire... cuz why not? Bat boys are adoptive brothers (Rhys' mother adopted Cass and Az) Azriel works for Rhysand but Cassian took a different road as you can see. Archeron sisters have a shaky relationship specially after their mother's death. Valkyries are bffs and went to collage together. Feyre, my baby, will go through it here as well. I'm not sure if I should keep Rhys' sister and mother alive and kill his father or kill them all... we'll see hehe

[zinniax]

I reread all the courts books and came to understand it better/ notice a few things(beware this may be long)

Starting off with Tamlin- he’s just a character that needs therapy. First he has to deal with one of his best friends dying, then comes along this mortal girl who he knows is the key to undoing the curse but doesn’t want it to hurt her, then they end up falling in love something he hasn’t had in years and is still afraid knowing the fate she must face. He was willing to go along with that but quickly realized that he loved her to much for that and sent her away. The best thing he could’ve done for her in that moment. Then of course she saves the day/ dies/ reborn anew. But what guilt must’ve ate at him knowing he sent her to her death and then when she woke up he protected her like she needed to be kept behind glass. Which isn’t the best and comes off controlling and manipulative but knowing the whole story I can see why he doesn’t wanna lose her. Then we have the infamous meeting. He’s been depressed, losing Feyre to his sworn enemy that shit must fuck with your head just like it fucked with rhys. Honestly I think it was good he snapped back bc no one else dared to comment on how shitty it was tbh bc they are afraid of rhys but he isn’t. So I thought what he said needed to be said yes it didn’t come off the best way but that’s bc his feelings we’re involved. King of Hybern- we know the king likes a show, so I’m sure he upped Feyre leaving him to get tamlin to open his gates, emotional manipulation, Tamlin was manipulated you can’t change my mind.. then he thinks he’s getting her back, his Feyre back, then she distroys the last bit of himself. His best friend, his soilders, like I think she got back at him with rhys, this was petty child’s play that ended up biting her in her ass later on.. basically he’s still a good guy at heart, he just had a rough time, and has a grey side( all these characters do) and btw I’m not gonna even mention the whole Tamlin/Rhys family murder bc they both are at fault, they might’ve not done the actual killing and they both couldn’t stop it, and they both hurt eachother in the end, if anyone is to blame their fathers are, they couldn’t get past whatever petty, small minded shit they used to rule- it seemed to be a personal vendetta, one that the sons had no choice but to take over, they were once friends and their fathers took that from them and made them enemies.

There’s to many books regarding him so I can’t get through everything, but these are just my major points..

Rhys, I loved him I thought this is the fictional man imma marry but rereading that isn’t the case. Yes he has some good parts to him and he’s a family man above all but he very manipulative and egotistical. When we first meet him, he’s saved Feyre yes we love that but then he goes right back like go home it’s not safe, but this is his first time meeting him we don’t know his story. Then second meeting he tells lucien he’s been in war before lucien was even born, aka his ego then he went into Feyre mind and told her deep dark fantasy’s ( and it isn’t the first times he’s done something shitty to her ) yes we get his side to it that he really didn’t know who she was but had an inkling later of what just happened but just no. Then the whole Feyre under the mountain like who tf fuck thinks that was ok all for again getting back at Tamlin (his ego) making her drink fuck me up forget everything juice, covered in his branding, basically having her dry hump him, and embarrassed her in front of basically almost every court like wtff. Then ferye constantly says how he gives her a choice but it’s another manipulation “you don’t have todo this but it would save a lot of people if you did, oh you don’t have todo this but imma have to do other nastier means to get the same result” oh isn’t that manipulation and he did it with Nesta he gave her a “choice” yes but the choice was “if you don’t do this then I’ll get your sister who you sworn to protect todo it if you don’t, your choice” not much of a choice if it feels like the only thing you can do to protect your sisters. He treats az and cassian like shit imma just say it, maybe that’s how you know their brothers but he doesn’t give them the same respect he does amern or mor. And the whole 2nd, 3rd is bullshit. And I hate how he’s saying “what amern said goes, what Feyre said goes” like ?! So no one can question him, the people he put in charge of his army, his spy can’t ever have a different opinion ever how is that the fair and just ruler everyone says he is? And feysand I like them when they are alone, but it’s just when they interact with other characters and you get to see how they really are it’s just nope they are shitty to their family, and really on a weird power couple trip.

Nesta. This girl has been through so much manipulation, abused, emotional warfare and everyone’s like she a a bitch but az,cas, rhys goes through the same shit it’s awww our little bat boys and tamlin goes through it he’s the devil like wtfff Feyre does it and it’s she’s so strong she kept her family alive and if nesta does it oh she’s selfish, doesn’t deserve to live or have a mate, yah this bullshit. Her being the oldest doesn’t mean shit tbh she was abused by her grandma, perfected to be this perfect housewife, emotionally abused and probably physically and wonder why she didn’t pick up a bow and arrow to save her family like idk maybe the girl just wanted a  parental figure to step up and save them. She didn’t get it as a little girl she probably thought “hey this is the time right he’s gonna step up and be a parent?” Nope and like I said before she was raised to be a wife of someone rich not be out in the wild. And no one gives elain shit when all she did was NOTHING. Didn’t stop any fights between her sisters, didn’t hunt either. And before anyone says “NeStA iS a BiTcH” ummm mother dead, dad useless, grandma who beat you, sister who is oblivious to anything other then herself, other sister who has a bf, hunts, has a whole other life. Yeah I would be bitter too cuz I wouldn’t know what my place or purpose is. That’s the ptsd and depression she already had BEFORE coming into this “so called wealth” your sister not here and you haven’t heard from her, being taken out of your home into a whole different land, involved and physically changed to a whole other species, caught in a war you don’t belong in and now have to fight plus given this power you don’t understand, now your immortal, your dad is dead, don’t even get me started on all the emotions she’s having. Yeah so she’s a bitch oh well I would be too. And it’s funny to think about nesta spending all of rhys money like as she should but people seriously have an issue and hardcore take it to heart like first off he’s had so much money since the beginning of time he anit gonna run out, second he buys Amren expensive ass jewelry all the time, like yeah she had no one to talk to bc everyone would yell at her so what is there to do beside get drunk and spend money and it wasn’t like she was living some lavish life on his dime, she had a crappy apartment, dirty clothes, and read old books and went to a bar like yeah she’s sure racking up so much money rhys is gonna be in debt and besides if he really wanted to he could pull rank and not pay for ANYTHING in that town and extend it to his people including sister in laws but he didn’t so really is it that bad? Obviously before her little rehab and hike she didn’t deal with her depression in the best way and depression makes you feel secluded and people instead of trying to understand her they just judged her and already thought bad about her which furthermore put her into more depression and why not prove everyone right?? and then she went into a bloodrite (again being taken from her home or in this case a friends house) thrown into basically another war, to top it off she “won” and got the news 2 minutes later not only is her sister dying but her nephew and brother in law?? and saved their life but yeah nesta still is a bitch yeah ok

[dragons-library]

OKAY I FINISHED A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES PEOPLE. (Spoilers obviously)

Here are the thoughts…

Feyre, yes!!! I’m happy!! She deserves an immortal life, the mortal world always sucked for her, she just needs some therapy and she can be happy, she was always better suited for prythian anyway. She was a badass, i really adore her. Everyone screwed her over tho, literally everyone. She deserves an apology and some time off.

I’m so glad Amarantha’s dead wasn’t some quick lethal blow, she begged and suffered and died. As she should.

Rhys, he really tried, thank god he’s fine. It’s crazy cause he is ruthless and cruel and a lot of what de did was so questionable, but also he’s not like evil out of spite or pleasure, he’s really smart and cunning, it’s perfect I love it so much, I can’t wait for the rest of the series. I love seeing the little hints that some people know the good in him. I love how feyre describes him, I love him, and the end… chefs kiss for that moment of shock. He’s the main reason i started this book I’m happy.

Tamlin…took you long enough to open your mouth, keep it in your pants…? Talk to your lady?? Maybe give her a hug and some reassurance instead of trying to fuck the trauma out of her… idk but hey! You killed that crazy hell beast so congrats 🥳

Lucien, I love him, he’s great, no notes, I truly adore him, I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid later in the series. so far one of my favourite characters.

Dude the poor fairies that died, I kinda wanna know who they were but also that would feel like a punch to the stomach, let’s see what happens next.

Feyre basically being in rhysand is so intimate and cute, I wonder what Tamlin would think of it lol.

[stargirlfeyre]

I love it when nesta or tamlin stans try to claim something about Feyre or even the IC abusing them, they can never give you actual evidence or valid explanations/excuses when you ask for it because it doesn’t exist. It’s like, did we even read the same fucking books?

They like to switch the story up to put Feyre down, someone who literally saved millions of people, to bring up their shitty characters, one who just sat on his ass for 50 years and the other who abused her little sister with no reason behind it

If you have to put down a character who has done so much for so many people to praise a shitty, horrible character, you really need to go to therapy and get some help.

There is a reason why Feyre is High Lady and not nesta. There is a reason why tamlins court fell apart so quickly and easily with Feyre barely doing anything. Nothing can change those facts.

Feyre is a lot nicer than me because I would’ve left their asses in the dirt. Nesta doesn’t want anything to with with me, ok! I’ll drop you off in another court or back in the human lands. You want to try to humiliate me at the high lords meeting, I’ll point out every single thing you didn’t do to try to help Prythian during those 50 years while you had the most freedom out of everyone else there.

Rhys did more than tamlin during those 50 years and he barely had any magic compared to tamlin. He was the one that risked his life to save and protect Feyre during her 3 months under the mountain instead of sitting on his ass watching her risk her life for him.

sorry I got carried away with that rant lol

•

[gardenfaerie222]

A Bouquet of Violets: Chapter 2

Pairing: Feysand

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Feyre is an undercover officer in PPD’s vice squad. Rhys is a mobster who runs a nightclub named velaris lounge. The police need evidence of his illegal transport of drugs and weapons, what they don’t know is no amount of evidence will ever bring him down.

Content Warning: Cursing, Allusions to Coercive Sex, Mental Health, Mentions of Sexual Assult, Mentions of Violence

Cold water washed away the sweat from the night, though it did nothing to help the anxiety pooling in her stomach. The cool tile, mixed with the cold perspirations of being awoken by another nightmare, soothed the nausea pooling in her stomach. Tamlin still laid in their bed, wrapped up in the taupe, cotton comforter she had picked. He slept peacefully through her vomiting in the early hours of the morning. She guessed she was grateful, Feyre didn’t imagine he would take kindly to being woken up in the middle of the night, and there were only so many issues she could focus on at any given moment. The one on her mind right now? Her first day back at work. 

She loved her job, truly. She loved that she was able to put away the bad people polluting the streets of a city she had grown to love. It didn’t matter if she hadn’t chosen to move here, and just followed Tamlin like the love sick puppy she was. She loved it now. There was a certain art to her job, a mystique. She was an actress, playing a part. Just, instead of getting an Oscar, she was lucky if she wasn’t shot, or evidently, raped. 

Pulling herself off the floor each morning was the hardest part of the day, everything after that seemed easier in comparison. Gripping the corners of the sink to hoist herself up, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot. Feyre hated that she cried while she thew up, but she always had. Probably some residual trauma from her childhood her therapist would love to pick apart. There were probably lots of parts of her that her therapist would enjoy prying out of her only to shove it back in for her to deal with. Correction, for her to deal with alone, because no amount of internal affairs ordered therapy was going to make Feyre talk. Her burden was hers to bear, and she had no one to listen or offer advice. Especially not someone on IA’s payroll. 

Feyre creeped quietly out of the bathroom and into their shared closet. Tamlin may take more than he gave, in all parts of their relationship, but damn did he give her some nice things too. She browsed the many trousers she had hanging, on specific velvet hangers made especially for pants, and took great care to only touch the pants, not the fabric keeping them hanging neatly. Settling on a plain pair of black pants, she moved on to shirts. Similar hangers, similar issues. It didn’t take her long to pick something appropriate for work, tucking a silky blouse into what were now much too large pants, grabbing for a belt and a pair of shoes to toss together. That’s the thing about business casual, it’s relatively easy to put together. 

The drive to the Prythian Precinct was quick, getting her there a half hour early, but she sat in her car stilling her nerves until she only had five minutes to make it to her cubicle. As it turned out, it didn’t even matter. 

“Feyre, a moment,” A distinctly cool voice ordered as soon as she made it inside the door.

“Of course, Chief Vanserra,” She responded, dutifully filing in behind him into the glass office near the front of the building. His son, Eris, was sitting in a chair across the desk, next to an empty one she assumed was hers. Beron and Eris Vanserra, Police Chief and Detective respectively, the most blatant act of nepotism she had ever seen with her own eyes. 

“We’re so glad you were able to make it back to us in one piece,” Eris offered her in a tone that made Feyre think he meant anything than what he just said. 

“Well I’m glad to be back,” She responded, setting her bag down softly as she sat in the stiff mahogany colored leather chair.

“We were so happy to get the report back from interal affairs,” Beron started, sitting in his own high back chair behind his desk, actual mahogany this time. He flipped through a few pages of the report infront of him, hers, Feyre assumed.

“Well, I’m glad you found everything satisfactory,” She eyed the father and son, not exactly sure why she was sitting in the room. Beron and Eris had never paid her much mind before, so why now? 

“Yes, quite so, in fact,” Beron paused, focusing on a line in the report before finishing his statement, “We have an immediate assignment for you.”

Feyre was shocked, so soon? She knew her report would be fine, she didn’t mention anything about her bending the law slightly regarding a murder, but shouldn’t she start back at the desk? She voiced as much, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I would have another assignment so soon.”

“Yes well, crime waits for no man and all that,” Eris answered for his father, not bothering  to glance at her. She never quite enjoyed the redheaded man, or his father, and something about the hue of his hair had her stomach forming knots that rivaled the ones she woke up with when she needed to empty everything her stomach contained.  

“There’s a gang operating out of a club, The Velaris Lounge, I’m sure you’ve heard of them? The bat boys,” Beron said the name like he had tasted something distinctly sour, “They’re a danger to the city, filling the streets with drugs and guns, making Hewn so unsafe. We were waiting to send an operative in when it would be the most discreet, and it just so happened there was a job opening. We need you to go apply, and to get it.”

“And how,” Feyre paused, looking the man in front of her up and down, “am I supposed to ensure I get this job?”

“We have another officer, Keir, who works there. He just so happens to be the hiring agent, he’ll ensure you get the job, just ask for him once you get inside,” The snarky tone Eris took with her, like her question was somehow beneath his intelligence made her nostrils flare, but she simply nodded, moving to get up, assuming she was now excused.

As she reached the door, grasping the handle, Beron made her pause, “Are you sure you can handle it, Feyre? We need all of our officers… thinking with a clear head.”

She saw red, stiffening, “of course I can,” She sniffed, grasping the door handle to tightly her knuckles were white, “I’ll get started right away.”

That’s how Feyre ended up in her car, once again, on the opposite side of the city sitting in front of a relatively large nightclub. It was pretty, she mused. All glass walls with glistening lights she could see even in the daytime. They looked like stars. She steeled her nerves as she climbed out of the car door, shutting it harshly behind her. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her work clothes, the click of her heels hitting the pavement like nails on a chalkboard as she approached the front door, also made of glass. Pushing it open, she was met with darkness. Momentarily blinded, it took her a moment to see the beautiful blonde behind the front desk, lounging in a scarlet outfit, painting her nails to match. 

“Hello,” Feyre called, the sound of her shoes still gritting on her nerves. 

“How can I help you?” The blonde asked, looking up and Feyre was stunned. She thought she was beautiful before, but seeing her looking up at her, Feyre knew she was probably one of the most beautiful girls she had ever seen, even rivaling her sister, who Feyre had always assumed was the prettiest girl she would ever meet.

“Oh, um,” Feyre stuttered, fumbling for her words, “Sorry, I’m here to apply for a job? I think it’s the bartender, drink runner position?”

“Oh yeah!” The girl smiled, “Hold on a sec, let me go grab Amren,” Amren? Feyre hadn’t heard of an Amren, but she was glad she hadn’t come in asking for Keir. Old intel never worked in her favor in this line of work. 

The blonde disappeared behind some closed doors but quickly reappeared with a petite, dark-haired girl in tow, Amren she assumed. She was also beautiful, but in a distinctly frightening fashion that sent a shiver up Feyre’s back. She offered the dark-haired girl a smile, one that wasn’t returned. 

“Follow me,” She barked, and her tone left no room for questions. Feyre trailed quickly behind Amrens back, settling into a booth in the near-empty lounge after Amren herself had already been seated.

“Well, what do you want?” Amren asked, and Feyre felt it was an odd question to ask for a job interview.

“Um, actually I’m here to apply for the bartender, drink runner position? I mean,” Feyre blustered, “I don’t actually have any bartending experience but,” She held up a package that had been laying in her cubicle, a fake resume, distinctly lacking in bartending experience for a bartending job, “here,” apparently, thinking they knew the hiring manager made Beron, and Eris by extension, sloppy. How was she going to get a bartending job with no experience?

Amren quickly glanced over her resume, sprinkled with facts both real and fake, huffing with indignation. That’s it, Feyre thought, I’m screwed.

“This is a piss poor resume,” Feyre flinched, knowing it was true, “you should be grateful I’m not the final decision, girl, I wouldn’t hire you with a gun against my head,” that sounded like a distinctly backhanded way that she got the job, “we’ll be in touch.”

Feyre left, leaving a message with Eris, who was to head her assignment, about her progress. She made it home quickly, showering and changing out of her work clothes. She prepped dinner, wet hair running down her back as she flitted around the kitchen. Her motions still as she heard the front door open, “Hey Tam,” she called in greeting.

“Hey baby,” he responded, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then assessing her up and down, “You know I don’t like when you walk around with wet hair, it looks messy.”

“Oh,” She did know, she had just chosen to do it anyway, “I’m sorry, I forgot. I just had a really long day at work.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes at that, and she took it as a sign to stop talking about work. Feyre ate her dinner in silence, listening to Tamlin rant about how the Assistant District Attorney didn’t want to pick up a case he thought they should, and how it was his call anyways, as Prythians DA. Another example of nepotism in Feyre’s life, as Tamlin’s father had also been the DA, and his connections had most definitely gotten him the job. 

She cleared dishes quickly and quietly once they finished, crawling into bed with him. She hid a grimace as he pulled her closer, pressing his lips against hers. She responded with despondent enthusiasm, just enough to not make him angry. Feyre flinched as she felt his hand skin under the waistband of her pants, pulling away.

“Tam, not tonight, please,” she spoke, dodging the kiss he tried to grace her with, “I  had a really long day and I’m not in the mood.”

“Feyre,” Shit, “I really need to relieve some stress,” he skimmed his lips against her neck and trailed his hand lower, “C’mon baby, I love you so much and I really need you right now. I’m aching for you.”

“Tam seriously I’m not in the mood,” His persuasion changed tactics, his teeth nipping at her sensitive flesh making her wince.

“Look at all this stuff around you, if I provide for you, I need you to provide for me,” he urged, soothing where he bit with his tongue, making her swallow in defeat.

“I just-” She sighed, closing her eyes, “Can you be quick? Please?”

A/N: First author's note! I hope y'all can catch the little triggers in her everyday life she's experiencing, and I hope the ending wasn't too triggering for anyone. I don't know if I should put a trigger warning right above it? Also, I'm drawing a lot of Feyre's trauma response from my own experience and what was in the books and kinda mashing it together, I hope it's coming out okay! I hope yall enjoy!

[summaryi]

A Court of Mist and Fury - Sarah J. Maas (Book 2)

oh my heart

SPOILERS BELOW

MY HEART FUCKING BROKE. YOU KNOW WHEN IT BROKE. YOU FUCKING KNOW.

IT BROKE WHEN TAMLIN LOCKED HER IN THE HOUSE.

GOD FUCKING DAMN

OKAY SO

Feyre pre-Amarantha needed her Beauty and the Beast moment. But she went through fucking SHIT in Amarantha’s bullshit trials and DIED and CAME BACK TO LIFE and Tamlin, I SWEAR TO GOD I KNOW YOU’RE FUCKED UP TOO, LIKE GODDAMN, A LOT HAS HAPPENED, YA BOI NEEDS THERAPY

WHERE’S THE FUCKING FAE THERAPIST

IT SURE AS HELL ISN’T IANTHE

AND HE

WELL

HE’S FUCKED UP TOO I GET IT

THEY’RE JUST

THEY’RE JUST NOT COMPATIBLE WITH EACH OTHER AT THIS MOMENT

AND IT

FUCKING HURTS TO SEE

I don’t doubt that he loves her. I don’t doubt that she loves him. They’re also - at this point - so very different than when they first met. 

Tamlin needs to rebuild (or try to) whatever vision he has for the Spring Court. He wants to pull inwards and deal with whatever lies outside the Spring Court’s borders with an overabundance of caution.

Feyre cannot look inwards, or else the fuckery she’s still recovering from and processing will pull her into its black hole.

God. It hurt so much when he. Stupid bubble. You know.

And Lucien. Fuck. I liked Lucien a lot more in Book 1. I just feel like. I don’t know. It’s a hard situation for him, too.

I love Rhys. I’M SIMPING UWU

The shit he went through with Amarantha. IT FUCKING HURTS ME TO THINK OF BABY RHYS, CASSIAN, AND AZRIEL GROWING UP TOGETHER. THE SHIT THEY WENT THROUGH. THE LOVE AND TRUST THEY HAVE IN EACH OTHER. GOD.

I do love that Velaris, for me, in MY PERSONAL READING EXPERIENCE, was mostly townhome. It truly is the secret getaway where Rhys and his Inner Circle get to be themselves. Not High Lord, or General, or whatever.

Honestly, I didn’t understand why Feyre was mad that Rhys didn’t tell her they’re mates. Like, when did he have time girl. WHEN DID HE HAVE A MOMENT. WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN CONVENIENT FOR YOU?

When he ran into you at Calamnai? HuH???? When the only thing you wanted was Tamlin and you weren’t even able to tell him you loved him?

Oh, Under the Mountain? I’m sorry, when you were busy trying not to die and Rhys was trying his damndest to keep you alive???? Oh, by the way, when you were doing all that shit for Tamlin? Should he have told you then?

Or what about when you were reeling from trauma and trying to piece yourself and your world back together? When you couldn’t eat or sleep? Should he have been like hey howdy hot stuff, it’s me, ya boi - we mates - see ya next month!

Or when he whisked you away from your wedding TO TAMLIN? yEAAH, that would have gone so well. SO LIKE. I DON’T KNOW. IS IT JUST ME. I DON’T KNOW WHY SHE’S SO UPSET HE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING SOONER BECAUSE IT SEEMS TO ME THAT THERE WASN’T EVER REALLY A GOOD FUCKING TIME FOR THAT KIND OF CONVERSATION

Not a big deal, actually, she gets over it pretty quickly. Am I the weird one, for not understanding why she gets mad? Not to like. Invalidate her feelings. You do you girl. Your emotions are valid. But also you are a fictional character and I’m dumping my own emotions and thoughts here. So like. I don’t get it. Like, he wasn’t telling you but also. When could he have. It’s not like he was like “hey i’ve been hiding a really big secret about like - how you can undo every bad thing that happened to you and there are no negative consequences.”

I hated that Rhys shared Velaris with the human queens. I hated that. I hated that. I get it. I understand it. It hurt me. IT HURT ME.

AND TAMLIN’S FUCKING BETRAYAL. HE SOLD THEM OUT TO HYBERN FOR WHAT? FEYRE? DOES HE ok so like

me? projecting? maybe. tamlin = fictional? absolutely

does he still love her (purely) or does he just want her back in this weird desperate hope that once she’s back everything will click back into place and give him the life he thinks he deserved and wanted and his happily ever after will occur and the rest of eternity will be happily ever after

So like

ya

what da fuck boi

I can see the angle of “keep your enemies closer” and “i would’ve been able to spy on Hybern’s plans and movements if I let them use my lands” but also like

dis some fucked up shit and idk if your reasoning is that sound my guy and is the price worth it and like - you are dealing with HYBERN here they are FUCKED UP, bro, like come ON, is any deal you make with them going to be worth it fr fr sheeeeesh

Lucien being like Elain is my mate kinda like

out of left field for me

very you get a mate, and you get a mate, and you get a mate, everybody gets a mate energy and i like

idk

it was a lot

i want a hot Fae mate too T_T (NOT THAT MY CURRENT PARTNER ISN’T FABULOUS I LOVE THEM VERY MUCH but like also Fae magic isn’t my current reality and i wish it was)

Feyre, High LaDY OF THE NIGHT COURT?

wig SNATCHED

i love this for her

fuck it UP, Rhys!!!!!!!!!!!! we stan a woke hot boi

[ladynestaarcheron]

"She expected him to give her a wicked grin and say something stupid like, You're a wolf" OMG we really are coming for their wigs huh

i reread "you are my salvation feyre" over the weekend and i was like uughhhHHHHHHHHHH. i hate that line.

[the-lonelybarricade]

I totally stole this from one of those writing prompt blogs, but can you do Rhys and Feyre going to couples therapy together as a joke when they only just met?

Okay my love, I literally just finished writing this and haven't actually proofread it. It was meant to be silly and jokey but ended up being a bit more serious than I intended, but I'm a sucker for fake dating tropes so maybe I'll continue their story at some point. Anyway here's a modern Feyre and Rhys going to couples thereapy together (whilst not actually being a couple):

Feyre was absolutely determined to prove Nesta wrong. Usually her sister’s grating comments didn’t penetrate Feyre’s hardened demeanor at home, but something about their stint yesterday had thoroughly gotten under her skin. Nesta had a talent when it came to barbed words, so it was the casualness with which she’d said Feyre was boring and predictable that had kept the words ringing between Feyre’s ears. They lacked the usual bite and venom that was characteristic of Nesta, and somehow that made them impossibly worse.

Was Feyre a creature of habit? Sure. But she had always been content with her quiet, unassuming life. They’d grown up poor, with little luxury, and as a little girl Feyre had always believed all she’d need to be happy was paint supplies and enough time to get lost in a blank canvas. Feyre had that now, and she was happy. She spent almost every day in her studio, a paintbrush in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. And that was fine. She may not spend a lot of time with other people, but that was fine.

Routine is fine. Being focused on your career is fine. So why did the implication that her life is stagnant rile her up so much?

Feyre couldn’t articulate what, exactly, had bothered her so much, since she was perfectly happy with the current state of her life. Yet the next morning she’d woken up, vowing to take a day off and spend the whole day being entirely unpredictable.

She was going to pull a Jim Carrey in Yes Man. She was going to seize this damn day. And any voice in her mind that pleaded her to stick to her comfort zone was going to be diligently ignored.

When she set out to get her morning coffee, she ducked into the first cafe she came across without checking the reviews. And instead of ordering her usual chai latte, she asked the cashier to make her their favorite drink. She sat at a booth and sipped it experimentally. It was sweet and tasted of caramel; she decided she quite liked it. So far so good.

She sat wondering what brave venture she should do next, something that would be worthy of telling people about. Something so brash and crazy and unexpected Nesta would eat her stupid, truthful words.

“Mind if I take this seat?”

The voice was like smooth velvet. Feyre glanced up to meet a pair of eyes that were such a deep, peculiar shade of blue they almost looked violet. She was momentarily stunned speechless, which caused the impossibly handsome stranger to lift one of his perfectly groomed brows in question.

“Of course,” Feyre answered, her mouth feeling a bit dry. She quickly took a sip of her coffee to quell this strong reaction her body was having to this man.

She’d been expecting him to take the chair to sit elsewhere, but he slid into the chair at her table, directly across from her. Feyre spared a cursory glance around the cafe. Customers milled about, but there were plenty of empty seats strewn here and there. It was far from necessary to share a table with a stranger.

Her interest piqued, Feyre turned her attention back to this strange, alluring man.

“I’m Feyre,” she said, sounding much more confident than she felt. But today was about branching out of her comfort zone. Making the first move with an attractive man certainly qualified.

“Rhysand,” he answered with a charming grin, extending his hand into the space between them. Feyre accepted it with a mirrored smile, for a moment marvelling at the way his hand completely enveloped hers.

Feyre cleared her throat. “So tell me, Rhysand, what brings you to this table in particular?”

The way he wrinkled his nose was unfairly endearing. “Call me Rhys,” he said. “I only really use Rhysand in a business setting. And I chose this table in particular, because I saw a beautiful woman sitting here and was feeling especially forward.”

Feyre laughed in surprise. “Forward, indeed. Well, Rhys, I have spectacular news for you.”

“And what’s that, Feyre darling?” the suggestive tone to his voice sent shivers down her spine and instantly those warning bells in her mind were blaring. This man was too handsome and he was a complete stranger.

“I’ve decided to do something completely stupid and spontaneous today, and you’re officially invited to join me.”

Rhysand grinned, his eyes flickering with mischief at her proposal. She supposed that should be concerning, too, but she felt her pulse quicken. “And what stupid, spontaenous thing will we be doing, darling?”

Feyre leaned back, trying to regain composure by taking a too casual sip of her coffee. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m open to ideas.”

Across the cafe, a man stood up so quickly his chair tipped over with a loud thunk. Rhys and Feyre both whirled their heads at the commotion.

“This is why we need to go to therapy together!” the woman across from him screeched. “You can’t control your stupid temper!”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” he growled. “I’m not going to sit there for an hour so you can manipulate some dumb bitch into agreeing with you!”

“It’s not about sides,” she groaned. “I want to work through this with you!”

Feyre felt a tug of sympathy at the desperation in the woman’s voice. She could feel her pain and frustration second-hand, having been in similar shoes herself.

“Fuck this,” the man grumbled, storming for the door.

The woman followed after him. “Our appointment is in 10 minutes! Please, let’s just try it.”

The door swung shut behind them. Feyre watched the couple continue their walking argument down the city pavement, gesturing wildly with their hands.

Feyre sighed. “Man, that poor woman. It sounded like she really wanted to work things out.”

“That guy sounded like an absolute ass, maybe it’s for the best,” Rhys said. Then, his eyes lit up and he turned to Feyre with a slow, conspiring grin. “It does give me an idea, though.”

“What’s that?” Feyre felt a bit intimidated by the roguish expression on his face, even if it did make her feel breathless.

“Well, I do happen to know there’s a psychiatrist's office right above this cafe. If I had to guess, that’s where our friends were going to have their first session. And from the looks of it,” he nodded towards the couple, who were now striding in opposite directions through the city, faces flushed with anger, “they won’t be attending.”

“And your point is…?”

“Let’s go in their stead. Make a game of it. First person to break character loses.”

“And what does the winner get?”

“Well, if I win, then I get to take you to dinner.”

Feyre considered for a moment. Dinner with a handsome man certainly didn’t sound like losing to her. “If I win, then I get to use you as a model.”

“You’re a photographer?” His brows rose in interest and Feyre summoned all her will power not to blush. Since when was she bashful about her career?

“Painter.”

Rhysand grinned. “If you win, you can use my body anyway you wish, Feyre darling. Nude would be best.”

And that was how Feyre had ended up in Dr. Suriel’s office, Rhys by her side on the sofa. It was perhaps the most adventurous thing she’d ever agreed to.

“So, Mr and Mrs Mandray. Apologies, I didn’t get your names on the forms.”

“I’m Feyre, this is my husband Rhys,” Feyre answered, thinking it lucky they didn’t have to guess at the mysterious couple’s forenames.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Feyre and Rhys. What brings you to my office today?”

Rhys immediately slipped into his role of the concerned husband. He placed his arm around Feyre’s shoulders and tugged her close. Rhys opened his mouth, then shut it, glancing at Feyre hesitantly.

“My wife and I have been getting into a lot of… disagreement lately,” Rhys answered carefully, and already Feyre thought this was going much better than it would have if the actual Mr Mandray had turned up.

“My husband,” Feyre said flatly, channeling her inner Nesta to put venom into the word. “Is insisting on painting our house purple.”

“I see,” Dr. Suriel says, assessing the displeasure on Feyre’s face. “And I’m assuming you want to paint the house a different color.”

Feyre pressed her lips into a thin line. “See, that’s just the problem,” she said, crossing her arms. “That’s exactly the color I would want to paint our house.”

Dr. Suriel frowned. “So you do want the house to be painted purple, as does your husband. Am I understanding that correctly?”

“No,” Feyre sighed. “He wants to paint the house blue, but is insisting we paint it purple, because he knows it’s what I want. This bastard refuses to be anything but accommodating.”

“We’re going to try to refrain from name-calling in my office,” Dr Suriel said calmly. “So, Feyre, you are clearly unhappy that Rhys wants to paint the house purple. What color would you paint it?”

“Blue,” she answered. “I know it’s what he secretly wants to paint it.”

“She doesn’t see the hypocrisy in what she's saying!” Rhys complained. Then, he turned to Feyre, looking impossibly serious. “Darling, I know you want to paint the house purple, and I already told you I’m fine with it.”

Feyre groaned. “I don’t want to paint the house purple! I want to paint it blue.”

“You’re only saying that because you think I want to paint the house blue.”

“Do you?”

Rhys hesitated. “No.”

“Don’t lie in front of our therapist,” Feyre said with narrowed eyes. “We promised to tell the truth while we’re here.”

“Then you tell me the truth, Feyre. Do you genuinely want the house to be painted blue?”

Now it was Feyre’s turn to hesitate. She could see the corner of Rhysand’s mouth twitch as she did so. “No. I mean yes! I do!”

“It sounds like at the heart of this argument, you are both ultimately concerned in pleasing the other person, is that fair to say?”

Feyre and Rhys glanced at each other, then nodded in agreement.

“Do you think there’s a color you could both compromise on, so that you don’t feel as if your partner is the only one making a sacrifice in this decision?”

Feyre met Rhysand’s brilliant violet eyes. In truth, she’d blurted the color purple because she’d been thinking about the color of his eyes. She'd never seen eyes that color, and they were wonderfully vivid. Feyre was lost thinking of painting a world in a monocrhome of violet, like a city that lived within his gaze.

Feyre realized she’d been momentarily swept away, snapped out of it by the humor that washed behind those starry irises. She blinked back the haze and tried to think of an answer to the question.

“Mustard yellow?” she proposed.

Rhys pursed his lips in mock consideration. “Mustard yellow,” he agreed with an emphatic nod of approval.

Dr. Suriel blinked in surprise. “All right, well I’m pleased we could solve that issue. Is there anything else you’ve been arguing about?”

“Yeah, actually. My wife,” Rhys gave Feyre a pointed glance. Somehow, despite being strangers, hearing Rhys refer to her as his wife sent waves of pleasure jolting through her. She felt her stomach flip on itself. “Isn’t satisfied with our sex life.”

Feyre instantly flushed at such an accusation, however fabricated.

“Is this true, Feyre?” Dr. Suriel turned her eyes towards Feyre and she shifted uncomfortably at having to make up stories about her sex life with Rhys. Making Feyre imagine rolling in a bed with him was certainly his goal, and she’d lie to say it wasn’t affecting her. Rhysand looked absolutely delighted to have made her squirm. Fine. Two could play at his game.

“Y-yes, well,” Feyre stuttered, the burning in her cheeks condemning. “I keep telling Rhys that 16 orgasms in a session is excessive. He’s much too generous a lover and he never lets me give as good as I get.”

Feyre felt satisfied with the way Rhysand’s face went crimson.

Dr. Suriel’s brows rose. “This seems to be a common theme in your marriage. Rhysand, would you say that you’re often prioritising Feyre’s desires over your own?”

“I think Feyre sorely underestimates how much pleasure I take from satisfying her desires,” he answered, his eyes flicking to Feyre with enough of a sensual promise that her heartbeat turned staccato.

“Rhys, it sounds as though your generosity is part of the way you express your love, is that safe to say?” Rhys nodded. “And Feyre, it seems as if you have trouble accepting your husband's generosity, both in and outside the bedroom. Do you feel that’s a fair statement?”

“I-I suppose so.”

“Sometimes people have trouble accepting their loved one’s generosity when they feel like they aren’t giving something in exchange. It can be hard to accept that kind of love when we don’t feel like we deserve it. Do you feel like this could apply to your situation?”

Feyre blinked. This was meant to be a gag, something daring and experimental. She hadn’t expected to be psychoanalyzed by Dr. Suriel, or at least for her analysis to hit so close to home.

Rhysand shifted forward on the sofa. “Is this true, darling?” he asked, sounding concerned. He took Feyre’s hands in his own, brushing his thumb along her skin as he met her gaze. “I think you deserve the world.”

She would almost think he was being genuine if she hadn’t met him only an hour ago. Feyre marked the conviction on his face, those burning pools of earnesty in his eyes, and marveled at what an incredible actor he was.

Somehow she ended up blurting part of the truth. “My family life growing up was kind of tough and I’ve never really known what unconditional love was like. I think a part of me still believes it's something I have to earn.”

“That sounds like it must have been very hard, Feyre. But it sounds like Rhys loves you very much, and that this is an issue the two of you can overcome together. When you feel the instinct to reject his generosity, try to remember where that message is coming from. And Rhysand, try to keep in mind that this is something your wife is still working through, and be patient if she feels more comfortable giving you something in exchange. This is her way of expressing love, too. At the core of your issues is both of you thinking about the other person, try to remember this when a breakdown in communication occurs.”

Somehow they’d lost control of their therapy session and were receiving actual therapy, which wasn’t part of the plan at all. But somehow, despite not actually being married to Rhysand, what Dr. Suriel said was reassuring.

Feyre turned to Rhys and smiled. “I think I understand better, now. You’re free to give me as many orgasms as you want, honey.”

Rhys grinned fiendishly. “And I’ll let you reciprocate in whatever way you feel comfortable, darling.”

Dr. Suriel clasped her hands together in approval. “Excellent. I think so long as the two of you take measures to accurately communicate your needs, you’ll find these breakdowns will occur less frequently. And that’s it for our time today, but I am happy to have the two of you back any time.”

Feyre walked out of the session hand-in-hand with Rhys, feeling a bit dazed. It had certainly gotten more serious than she’d expected, but perhaps her judgement had been misplaced in thinking therapy could be anything other than serious, no matter how joking the complaints.

“Well, that was certainly stimulating,” Rhys quipped once they’d left the office.

“And it seems we’re at a draw, considering neither of us broke character.”

“You do play my wife convincingly well,” Rhys practically purred, “perhaps I’ll let you take up the real role, if you feel so inclined.”

Feyre laughed. “I’m expecting a few other offers to come through. Give me a few days to look over the applicants, then I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay, well how’s this. I’ll give you my number, you can wait until all those applicants come back to you, and once you’ve decided that I’m clearly the obvious choice, you can call me.”

Feyre smiled as she pulled out her phone and handed it to him to insert his number. “You do make a very convincing husband. Perhaps I can hire you for weddings and Thanksgiving dinners?”

“Real husband, fake husband, a partner to do spontaneous, outrageous things with. You call me, and I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Feyre.”

It was perhaps the strangest and most generous offer she’d ever been given. When they parted ways, Feyre thought that she’d certainly filled her quota for an interesting story to tell. And maybe, most likely, she’d be calling that number very soon.

[mmvalentine]

Fifty-Six part 3 | Feysand

Okay last one, the smut finale. There's still no plot, blame @asteria-of-mars it's her birthday and this is what she asked for 🤪

Part 1 Part 2

Chapter 3: Return of the King

After that, Feyre suggested they not have males in the house for a while, and Rhys grudgingly agreed. Feyre had Mor around to help with the map she was making, and Rhys was writing a letter on the other side of the library.

The peace lasted for all of twenty minutes, until Mor said “Oh, Feyre you’ve got an ink smudge on your cheek.” Feyre swiped at her face. “No, not there, it’s… never mind, I got it.” Mor licked her thumb and rubbed the offending mark. And Rhys was shoving her bodily out of the room.

“Oh come on!” Mor wailed at the closed door. She thumped her fist against the wood, before storming out grumbling under her breath. Rhys did not get their clothes completely off before he was fucking Feyre against the door.

Amren, of course, refused to be Rhys’s next victim.

“No,” she had said flatly when they asked.

“I need exposure therapy!” Rhys said. “I’m sure I can get this bond thing under control.”

“And he wouldn’t dare mess with you,” Feyre added.

“Boy, get this through your head. You’re newly mated, and you can’t be around other people right now. So go hole up in the townhouse or the cabin or wherever you people live, and call me when your brain is functional.” Rhys opened his mouth, but Amren cut him off. “Until then, stop forcing us to be around all this lovey-dovey, over-possessive, hyper-hormonal shit. Now get the fuck off my doorstep.”

So they winnowed home, and when they got to their bedroom Feyre turned and stared at Rhys with her arms folded.

“Don’t say it,” Rhys warned.

“I told you!” Feyre yelled.

“I said don’t say it,” her mate sulked.

“I told you you weren’t ready!”

“You did.”

“I told you we should have stayed at the cabin another week!”

“Yes.”

“And now our friends won’t have a bar of us!”

“No.”

“Well??”

“Well, don’t stand there and pretend like I’m the only one affected by this thing!”

Feyre stared at him. “I might be affected, but at least I still have some semblance of self-control.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Rhys stiffened all over, and a mask Feyre had not seen for a long time settled itself over his lovely features. The air cooled so fast it took her breath away a little.

“Is that so?” Rhys asked. Dangerously soft.

“Of course,” Feyre said, but it did not come out as certain as she wanted it to. She wasn’t quite sure what was happening yet.

Rhys put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to one side. There was a steely glint in his eyes, and for a minute Feyre wondered whether she had made him angry. She felt the bond to see if she could get a better reading on him, but all that came back was a dark and pulsing energy.

Rhys walked slowly toward her, and Feyre found herself backing away.

“You’re perfectly in control, are you darling?” he asked. Feyre gasped and put her hands out as her back hit a wall. Rhys was now towering over her, power and shadows coiling around him like black smoke. He lifted a hand, and his fingertips were onyx talons. He hooked the claw of his index finger in Feyre’s neckline, and dragged it downward, tearing fabric like it was paper. All the way to her navel. Feyre shivered as the air hit her bare skin. Rhys bent his head and ghosted his lips along the shell of her ear. “Shall we test that theory, you and I?”

Rhys's gaze traveled down her torn dress and back up to her lips, and Feyre felt the hot line of it searing her skin. He moved his head, inches from hers, and she thought he might kiss her but instead he just moved a curl behind her ear. Feyre's heart beat fast, half willing him to touch her and half willing him to let her go.

And then he leaned in and took soft, slow, sucking bites: behind her ear lobe, against the side of her throat, in the hollow at the base of her neck, in between her breasts. As he did so, his hand slid up her thigh, and he stroked her softly through her underwear. Feyre whimpered. His free hand landed on the wall above her head, and now he was watching her with eyes that burned as the fingers between her legs moved lightly up and down. Made small circles against the cotton. Feyre let out a shuddering breath, and sank down a little further, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze but unable to look away.

Rhys stood up straight again, leaning his forearms on the wall either side of her face and her thighs clenched together at the loss of contact. “Now, Feyre darling,” he said. His breath blew against her face like an ocean breeze, and Feyre's eyes glazed over. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he watched her. “I know you’re rather new around here, but I’m going to have to teach you a lesson in control.”

Without warning, Rhys ducked down and picked Feyre up under the thighs. She yelped and grabbed a hold of his shoulders, and Rhys put her down on the bed. Smoothed her limbs down, then vanished her ruined dress with a thought.

“So,” Rhys said. He lay beside her, ankles crossed and propped up on his elbow. He trailed a finger from the tip of her nose, over her lips, all the way down her sternum. “Since you are so unaffected by this bond of ours, and I am nought but a wastrel of a male buffeted by the tides of my desire, you can demonstrate for me the virtues of self-restraint.” Rhys lifted her arms above her head. “You’re going to keep your hands there, until I say you can move them. And if you don't I'll tie you up so you can't. Think you can manage that, my sweet?”

Feyre lifted her chin. “Of course,” she said. This game was new. But she was fairly certain that after the way Rhys had been behaving all week, she could take him.

“Good girl,” Rhys purred, and then his finger kept moving, down her stomach, circling around but not touching her clit, and then deep inside her. Feyre moaned. “I do love you naked,” he said. “Laid out on the bed for me like this. Already dripping for me. Mine to play with.”

“And you?” Feyre panted. She eyed his jacket meaningfully.

“Why Feyre darling, this is an exquisite suit. I think I’ll keep it on for now.” And he started moving his hand, adding his thumb over her clit. Feyre’s eyes rolled back as his free hand cupped her left breast, and his closed his mouth over her right. His tongue flicked over her nipple in time with the movement of his fingers, and Feyre started to unravel under his touch.

“Oh and Feyre?” Rhys said, lifting his face but speeding his fingers.

“Mmmm?”

“You’re not to come unless I tell you.”

Feyre’s eyes popped open at that, and she opened her mouth to protest but then he curled his fingers, pressing hard against the most sensitive spot inside her and she had to bite down hard on her lip not to climax on the spot.

“Good girl,” Rhys said again, and that was it. She was going to obey. She would earn his praise, and prove him wrong, and win the game.

If you don’t want to play anymore, a soft voice said in her mind. Just say ‘sunrise.’ And I’ll stop and take care of you. Feyre nodded, and bucked her hips into his hand.

Rhys chuckled, and put his lips on her pussy. Sucked her clit into his mouth while his fingers worked inside her, and she could feel herself soak his hand. Rhys confirmed it when he groaned against her. “So fucking wet,” he murmured. “Give it all to me honey.” The vibration of his groan traveled all the way up her spine, and his free hand smoothed up toward her neck. He gripped her throat, just lightly, just enough to hold her down on the bed. And then squeezed harder when it made her moan. Her hands, remaining above her head, curled around the top edge of the mattress.

“Is that good, love?” Rhys asked her.

“Yes,” Feyre mouthed. “Yes, yes, so good….”

“You taste perfect, do you know that?” Rhys said, before rubbing the flat of his tongue fast against her clit. Feyre cried out, release bursting before her eyes- and Rhys withdrew. Took his hands and his mouth off her and she was mewling and writhing on the bed.

“You weren’t going to come, were you darling?” Rhys asked, head cocked to one side.

“Nnn… no,” she stuttered.

“Because we had an agreement,” he went on. “And you have such control as to not be trifled with a little orgasm delay. Right?”

Feyre nodded, her eyes closed and her hips still searching for him.

“Good,” he said. “Say, is rather warm in here, don’t you think?”

Rhys stood and, very casually, removed his jacket, taking care to drape it carefully over an arm chair. Then he stood at the end of the bed and took off his shirt, taking his time over the buttons while Feyre watched him like a starveling.

“Roll over on your stomach,” he said, and she did so. Rhys hummed his approval. “There’s that beautiful ass,” he said. He dropped to his knees at the end of the bed, and squeezed his hands over her backside. “No one has an ass like yours, darling dear.” While he kneaded her flesh, he tugged her back toward him and started eating her out from behind. Feyre moaned his name, and was rewarded with a deep push of his tongue inside of her. Meanwhile, one of his hands wandered down to the seam of her, and his thumb rubbed against her asshole. Feyre cried out at the new sensation, and her hands scrabbled at the sheets in front of her. She rocked her hips on his tongue, and tried to tilt her pelvis to get friction on her clit, too.

It was all so much. It was delicious. The pleasure curled tight in her belly as the three pressure points collided, and she was lost, lost in the swirling heat and honey and…

And then nothing at all as Rhys pulled back yet again. Feyre cried out in disappointment so sharp it almost hurt, and Rhys clicked his tongue.

“Now now dove, you’re not even trying to hold back.” He spanked her hard across the backside and stars burst before her eyes. “Where’s that self-control I’ve heard so much about?”

Rhys sat on the edge of the bed and kicked his boots off. “Roll back over and keep those hands up.” He removed the rest of his clothes, folding them equally neatly with the jacket. When he turned back to Feyre, she couldn’t help it. She looked down at his hips. At the rock hard length of him. Rhys grinned toothily.

“Oh, so that’s what you want,” he said, like it was only just occurring to him. He knelt on the bed, straddling her waist. “But darling you promised me. You won’t come until I say.” Feyre nodded.

“I won’t,” she whispered. Rhys smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip gently.

“I know,” he said. And then pushed two fingers into her mouth. Feyre sucked hard on them as he dragged then back past her lips and then reached behind to touch his wet fingers to her still-throbbing clit. Feyre lifted her hips to his touch, relieved that the contact had returned. Then with his free hand Rhys guided his cock to her lips.

Feyre licked at the head of him, reaching all that she could with her hands still above her head. Rhys groaned slowly, moved the tip of his cock back and forth over her tongue while the fingers between her legs slid inside of her. Feyre craned her neck to try and take more of him into her mouth, and was gratified when Rhys’s eyes slid closed momentarily and he moved his hips to slide further in. Feyre’s grip on the mattress tightened, fighting the urge to wrap her hand around around the base of him. Instead, she tried to move her head back and forth, range of motion very limited in this position. Rhys’s hand cupped the back of her head and held her up while he started fucking into her mouth, his fingers in her pussy speeding up at the same time, so she was being filled twice over. Rhys added another finger, and ground the heel of his palm against her clit while she sucked him off, and this time when her climax built, Feyre clamped down hard on it.

She tried to concentrate on swirling her tongue around Rhys’s head, focusing on his pleasure instead of hers. But when he moaned her name, she found herself in deeper peril than before.

“Cauldron fuck, Feyre,” Rhys groaned. “You feel incredible around my cock. Just wanna keep fucking your pretty mouth like this until I come,” he said. “Can you take more? Can I fuck your throat a little?” Rhys pushed further in and Feyre’s eyes watered, but she took it. “Fuck yes, Feyre. So good. So good taking my cock like this.”

She wanted him to come first. Surely if he came then she would be allowed to. But the dirty talk was turning her on like crazy, and she tried to hold her hips still to cool some of the heat off. Rhys was having none of that. He pushed a third finger inside her, and the sudden stretch pushed her over the edge. Feyre tried to hide it, but couldn’t stop her body from clenching and shaking beneath him.

Quick as a flash, Rhys had gotten off her, rolled her over and slapped her hard on the ass. Feyre gasped and sobbed as her climax was cut off.

“You wicked thing!” Rhys scolded. He sat down the edge of the bed and dragged her face down so her ass was across his lap, and then landed a spank with each word of his next sentence. “Didn’t- I- tell- you- not- to- come!” And then a final slap sang out right over her desperate pussy. Feyre cried out, and tears filled her eyes as her skin was shot through with electricity all over. She was over-sensitised everywhere; the air was too cold between her legs and the sheets were too rough on her skin.

“Rhys please!” Feyre screamed.

“Oh please is it?” Rhys asked, incensed. “You deliberately disobey instructions and now you’re asking for favours?” He rubbed circles against her clit, but then as she lifted her hips, spanked her pussy again.

"Oh! No don't- please, please Rhys please," she blurted as she was left cold yet again.

He slid out from under her, then pulled her hips up again so she was on all fours. “Fine,” he said coldly, and then lay on his back with his head between her knees. Pushed down on her lower back and held her there so that her pussy was in his face, and then sucked hard against her clit.

But it was too much now, she wanted him to touch her but needed him to slow down.

“Not so much,” she gasped. Rhys ignored her, moved his fingers inside her again at an alarming pace while he continued to suckle against her clit. Feyre’s elbows gave and she dropped to her forearms. Her body had started to shake now, and Rhys's tongue was relentless.

“You’ll take what you’re given,” Rhys said. He gave her a cruel smile. “Since you wanted it so badly, pet.” Underneath her, he slid up the bed to take her nipple in his teeth. She was dragged down his body, and felt him absolutely everywhere. The sensation piled up, and Feyre was falling apart at the seams. His tongue rolled the hardened point like he had her clit, and all the while his fingers pumped inside her. Feyre tried to move but he held her tight against his body.

Rhys pushed up again, and now he was shoving her hips down against his and grinding his hard length against her. She was coating him with her wetness, clenching everything as her pussy was slid over and over the ridges of him but not where she needed it. The tip of an index finger pushed into her ass, and his other hand was sliding along her scalp to fist in her hair. His nails scratched that back of her head, and Feyre didn’t know what feeling was coming from where, couldn’t find focus, couldn't stop shivering.

“Too much,” she gasped. “Please, please Rhys.”

“What do you need, honey?” Rhys asked. He continued to slide his cock up and down her bare, drenched pussy while her eyes rolled in her head. “You need to be fucked?” Feyre couldn’t even manage to nod. “You need to come?” Feyre just wept while she tried to hold her body up over Rhys’s. “Mating bond a little rough there, is it darling?”

“Yes,” Feyre babbled. “Yes, it hurts, I need you, please oh fuck please...”

“You know, you look gorgeous undone,” Rhys crooned, and then he rolled them over, grabbed a hold of her hips and slammed his cock into her, again and again and again, fucking her hard and fast like maybe, just maybe he had been torturing himself a little, too.

"Holy fuck," he groaned. "Fuck you're perfect, perfect and mine."

But Feyre didn't hear him. She was stretched and filled and the didn't know anything except for the pounding repeating and repeating. Her vision blacked out and the pleasure exploded behind her eyelids, and the unbearable pressure finally ignited, pulling her right off the bed with its force. By the time Rhys was coming too, Feyre’s screams had gotten so high they’d lost their sound, and all that could be heard was her name falling off Rhys’s lips as he shuddered his climax.

Feyre lay, completely spent and near comatose on the bed. Rhys pressed reverent kisses to her lips, her chest, her stomach.

“You can come now,” he said, voice sparkling with amusement. Feyre was going to roll he eyes, but then he kissed her slowly right over the clit and to her great surprise, she actually came again on his lips. Just a little.

When she had come down, she was sure she was dead. Rhys pulled her into his arms and kissed the back of her shoulder.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “Maybe I don’t have any self control either.” Rhys chuckled into her neck.

“It’s okay love,” he said. “We’ll work on it.” He slid a hand behind her head and gently massaged her there. “Besides,” he said. “I’m pretty sure we’ve been given orders to stay home and fuck.”

Feyre laughed, but winced as it tugged at her exhausted muscles.

“Oh poor darling,” Rhys said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Was I little rough with you?” His free hand stroked soothingly over her flank.

“Yes,” Feyre sighed. “It was divine.”

“I love you,” Rhys whispered, and then sleep claimed her.

****

And that's the end. Just had to squeeze in some of Liz's favourite CoN!Rhys for the final chapter there, and yes I am a cheeseball and named this chapter after Liz's *other* love. I rather like the idea of king of the nightmare court, don't you? Happy birthday darling xxx

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Fourteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: my quickest AND longest update to date?? who am i??

merry christmas for real this time. thank you sm for reading i never voice my appreciation for yall but it’s there i swear

tw: abuse mention

***

Cassian’s plan to grab his stuff and get the hell back home is intercepted by Feyre, who pulls him aside and proceeds to spill everything about her fight with Nesta to him.

His heart hurts for Feyre—he of all people knows what it’s like to feel unwanted by your biological family. But what did she really think would happen? Their entire friend group is about placing chosen bonds over blood bonds. Feyre can’t be that offended if Nesta prefers the company of her friends over her little sisters. And trying to talk to Nesta about her therapy? Jesus.

But Cassian has a feeling it’ll take both Feyre and Elain a long spelling out of things before they can begin to understand Nesta the way he does, and he doesn’t have time for that right now. He’s too distracted to even provide the comfort Feyre came to him for.

Somehow, he makes up an excuse and detaches himself from the conversation, leaving to find his coat and keys. Azriel spies him on the way to the door and gives him a look.

“Not a fucking word,” Cassian growls as he passes. Everyone else is engrossed in a game of poker and getting progressively more drunk. Feyre now sits on Rhys’s lap, once again content. Azriel only smirks but shakes his head, letting Cassian slip out of the penthouse unnoticed.

He takes the long way home, needing the night air and flashing headlights to clear his head. Once he gets off the freeway leading to town, though, he picks up his phone and calls Nesta.

She doesn’t pick up.

On the fourth call that goes unanswered, Cassian gives up. Fine. She doesn’t want to talk to him tonight. But still he finds himself driving past her neighborhood, once, twice, as if he’s listless without being able to talk to her. He has too many feelings he needs to get off his chest, and she’s the first person he always goes to for those things.

Try to consider her feelings.

It’s that thought that forces him to turn around and drive back to the cabin. They’ll both feel better in the morning, anyway. He can find her and talk as soon as the day starts.

It’s past midnight when he finally pulls up to the driveway, and still he’s disappointed to not see Nesta’s car there. Still he’s disappointed to enter an empty cabin.

The Christmas tree they decorated together sits unlit in the corner of the living room, their presents untouched under the fir leaves. Without turning the lights on, Cassian trudges upstairs and heads straight to bed.

Any sleep he finds is short and restless. His eyes shut sometime around three in the morning, and when they next open, early dawn light is streaming in through the windows. Snow flurries gently against the glass.

Giving up on the prospect of genuine rest, Cassian accepts that he’ll have to seek out Nesta with dark circles and a half-functioning brain today.

He already has a list in his mind as he heads downstairs: get coffee and breakfast for Nesta, get dressed, be at her door by the time she wakes at nine.

Then he reaches the foot of the stairs, and realizes none of that is necessary.

Straight out of his dreams, Nesta is sitting cross-legged on the ground before the coffee table, inspecting a puzzle piece in the cutest sweater he’s ever seen.

Cassian freezes with his hand on the banister, wondering if he’s still asleep. He watches her bite her lip intently, trying to fit the puzzle piece into a corner of the puzzle. It doesn’t fit.

“Fuck,” she swears softly, tossing the piece aside. Cassian clears his throat.

Nesta’s head shoots up, her focus broken. “You’re awake.”

“You’re in my house,” he says dumbly.

“That’s what the key you gave me is for, isn’t it?”

Hesitantly, like he’s approaching a wounded bear, Cassian walks farther into the living room. “Are you—I mean, are we…?”

“Use your words, baby.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn’t seem upset. There’s so much he wants to ask her: did she sleep well? Where did she get her Christmas sweater from, and does it mean she’s secretly been a fan of Christmas all along? Does she want hot chocolate or coffee with her breakfast?

“How was your night?” he settles on. He moves to sit across from her at the coffee table.

“Find where this goes,” Nesta demands, handing him a new puzzle piece and pointing to their nearly finished puzzle.

Cassian obeys, and Nesta talks while he works. “I was pretty pissed when I got home last night,” she says. “I wanted to tell you all about this stupid fight I had with my boyfriend, and how I knew he was right but I was still furious at him, until I remembered that you were my boyfriend, and I didn’t want to see you.”

Cassian pretends to focus on the puzzle, letting Nesta get her words out.

“So Gwyn called to say thank you for her present—you were right, by the way, she loves it—and then we ended up talking the whole night, and I told her everything about my sisters and,” she waves a hand, “the other shit.

“And at one point I realized that I was telling her the stuff I needed to be telling you. So I came here as soon as I hung up with Gwyn.”

Cassian looks up. “When was that?”

Nesta shrugs. “Five in the morning?”

“Nesta,” he scolds. “You’ll fuck up your sleep cycle.”

“Will you let me get to my point, damn it?”

Cassian shuts up and sits back.

Nesta is staring down at the puzzle, fiddling with her fingernails. Carefully selecting her next words like an attorney would. “I wanted to apologize for—the things I said last night. I was projecting my insecurities onto you, and I’m sure you already know it, but that doesn’t make it okay.” She looks up, face serious. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other. We always have. But I let that affect how I treated you when you had nothing to do with it.”

“But you were right.” Cassian can’t stay quiet anymore. “I mean, a lot of what you said was wrong, but at the heart of your point you were right.” It took Cassian all night to sift through what Nesta had said, to separate the truth from the meaningless words of hurt. He finally sees it now.

“I should have watched out for you last night, even if I couldn’t claim you as my girlfriend. I know how you are in new environments with new people and I left you to the wolves.” The wolves are his most trusted friends, sure, but they aren’t Nesta’s. And he was an idiot to forget it.

Nesta fixes another puzzle piece into place, and for the first time this morning, true regret passes over her face. “I didn’t enjoy hurting you. I hated every second of it while I was doing it. So as long as you know I didn’t mean any of it, I’ll be fine.”

We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world.

You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now.

Cassian nods once. “I know,” he says softly. “You could never lie to me.” Even if some of her words had struck a little truer than they should have. Cassian realizes bitterly it’s because her insecurities are the same as his.

“So are you going to tell me about what the real problem was yesterday?” He dares to broach the elephant in the room.

Nesta stiffens, refocusing on the puzzle to avoid his gaze. “I already told you,” she says. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other.”

“There’s more to it than that, though.” When Nesta doesn’t respond, he adds, “Feyre told me her side of the story. It probably wasn’t all of it, but if it makes you feel better, I agreed with you.”

Nesta snorts derisively. “She was being unreasonable, but I made it worse. You know that, don’t you?” She raises a brow. “You know how I am.”

Cassian remembers their screaming match from the time he tried to get her a doctor’s appointment, and oddly enough, smiles. “I know you hate it,” he says, “and I know it’s frustrating as hell, but people stop taking your arguments seriously when you start flinging insults. It probably isn’t fair, but you’ve been in a courtroom. You know how it works.”

Nesta grimaces. “Believe me, the future lawyer in me is not proud of how I held up in last night’s fight.”

“Right there.” Cassian slides a section of green pieces over to himself and fits them into place, completing the rolling hills of the landscape scene. There’s only a handful of pieces left, all in the sky area. He waits for Nesta to be ready to speak.

After several moments of working in silence, she says, “My sisters have never really accepted me the way I am. I used to think Elain did back when we were kids, but then I stopped prioritizing her and she stopped understanding.”

Cassian knows Elain is pissed that her once-closest sister no longer cares to talk to her. But what he wants to know is why Nesta stopped answering her calls. Why she pulled away and went into isolation, and wouldn’t come out for anyone until a few short months ago.

Nesta clears her throat. “I was not a well-adjusted kid. I’m not a well-adjusted adult, either, but—I was even worse in my youth. I had a deadbeat dad, who I hated while my sisters adored him. I hated the life we had to live because of him, and I let that hate seep everywhere. Into everything and everyone else.” She blows out a breath and shakes her head. “There was no place closer to hell than that fucking one-bedroom apartment. I hated the person I was in that place—like I had no control over my emotions, my tantrums, my entire self. I was stuck in this childlike state of rage and I couldn’t move on, couldn’t grow up.

“No one could figure out what was wrong with me, so I had to take care of my issues myself. I read more books, I went out more often, I always had headphones in—I learned how to escape. I learned how to limit the destruction. Once I did that, I could care for Elain more openly. I could have civil conversations with Feyre, too. That’s where we went wrong, I think. I gave Feyre hope that I could be a better person, and once she latched onto it, she refused to let go.” Nesta picks at the sleeves of her knit sweater. “She never understood that I was cold and removed just because I was. She always had this belief that deep down, I secretly had a heart of gold and a shit ton of love to give. I never bothered telling her she was wrong, so her expectations of me grew. And so did Elain’s. And then I graduated high school.” She shrugs.

Cassian frowns. “That’s when you left your family and moved here?”

She nods. “The distance helped. For a short time, I thought I was free. No responsibilities or people to answer to. But then I met Tomas—my ex—and Feyre and Elain followed me to Colorado not long after my dad died. And even then I stayed optimistic, because most people would be lucky to have their sisters and boyfriend all in the same place. I thought I could finally have all the relationships a normal person my age was supposed to have if I just put in the effort.” She meets Cassian’s eyes. “I never told you much about Tomas, did I?”

His stomach sinks, but he shakes his head.

“It was not a fun first love. But the only reason I didn’t tell you about it earlier was because I didn’t know how to describe it myself.” She rubs her palms down her thighs, but it isn’t enough to hide their tremble.

“I know what to call it now,” Nesta says. “It was abusive.”

Cassian says nothing. He can’t. But his hands curl into hard fists under the coffee table.

“Lana made me work up to using that word.” She rolls her eyes, like the whole thing annoys and embarrasses her. “He was abusive: physically, verbally, emotionally. I’m not going to go into the details or anything, but it’s what was happening to me during those college years that my sisters needed me to be there for them.”

Cassian would never in a thousand years ask Nesta for information she isn’t ready to give, but in that moment he’s overwhelmed with the need to know everything—every little thing that’s ever been done to her, so he can draw up a list and exact calculated revenge for all of it. His voice is rough against the lump in his throat, out of fury or despair he doesn’t know. “Nesta…”

“I promise I’m almost done.” She holds up a hand.

Take your time. Tell me everything.

“This isn’t about him,” Nesta says. “This is about my sisters. Because even if I hadn’t been stupid enough to let that man waste almost four years of my life, I would have ended up in the same place with Feyre and Elain. They’d still be disappointed when they realized I couldn’t be what they wanted me to be.” She wraps her arms around herself in a hug, and Cassian wishes he’d sat beside her so those could be his arms.

She shakes her head. “I did my best so I wouldn’t be cooped up with them, wouldn’t be lashing out at them… and it still wasn’t enough. They wanted me to be nice, friendly, talkative. So I tried doing that too, even though I hated it. But around the same time things with Tomas started to get unbearable, Feyre found Rhysand and you guys. So now I had to hang out with my sister while she had a group of strangers constantly surrounding her, and go back home to a man who hated me at the end of the day.” She looks up at Cassian then, and her blue-gray gaze hits him with the force of a truck. “As soon as Feyre moved away to Velaris, I saw my way out. I finally broke up with Tomas. I gave up on all my relationships and I let go, and I don’t care if you or anyone else thinks it’s pathetic, or the bare minimum. It’s all I had to give.”

Cassian swallows roughly, unable to find his words. “It’s not pathetic, Nesta,” he finally says. “There’s nothing pathetic about doing what doesn’t come easily to you.”

There’s a million other things he needs to say to her, to make sure that she knows she isn’t stupid, or embarrassing, or not enough. But it all floats right out of his head when she heaves a big, dramatic sigh, as if a great weight has been lifted off her chest. As if Cassian’s measly words were all she needed to hear to feel alright.

She snatches up the final remaining puzzle piece and clicks it into place. “And we’re done,” she declares.

Cassian looks down at the table between them, which is now fully lit by the beaming morning sun outside. His eyes land on an empty space near the corner of the landscape, and his face falls. “There’s a piece missing,” he says.

“No way, where?” Nesta leans closer.

Cassian is already on his hands and knees, checking under and around the table for the missing piece.

“This is all your fault,” Nesta is saying above him. “You bumped into the table that time we were making out and all those pieces went flying.”

“Well, how fucking far could it have gone? Help me find it.” He’s serious now, searching the floor with intent. They can’t leave the puzzle unfinished. It was the only thing he could find in his garage all those months ago that could distract Nesta from anticipating her MRI results. And after the diagnosis, it had been a way to lift her mood, to give the two of them an excuse to spend every evening together—

“Sweetheart, it’s just a puzzle.”

Cassian sits up straight at that. “Just a puzzle?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Well, it’s either that or an overextended metaphor for our relationship—are you crying?”

“No.” He blinks quickly. If there’s wetness there, he doesn’t know how Nesta glimpsed it.

He’s had a hard twelve hours. Nesta even more so. “I just feel really bad, about last night and everything else.” Because even if she acts like what she just spilled to him isn’t a big deal, he’ll never forget it.

He looks up to find Nesta laughing. Hand-over-her-mouth cackling. Before he can ask what’s wrong with her, she’s climbing up onto the coffee table, breaking up the puzzle and sending pieces scattering as she crawls across it. “Nesta—” he starts to protest.

She drops into his lap, winding her arms and legs around his powerful body. And she leans in and kisses him, long and deep and sweet. His hands settle into the curve of her hips, where they’ve always fit perfectly.

She breaks the kiss to fit her palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she says. She never says that. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Her lips quirk up teasingly, but real guilt from the night before lingers in her eyes. Cassian realizes in that moment that Nesta could never hurt anybody more than she hurts herself.

“Don’t waste your apologies on me.” He nudges her nose with his. “Save them for people who’ll actually need to hear them.”

A real smile starts to bloom on her face. “I’ll try.”

Pride and love take his breath away, but he manages to say, “Thank you. For sharing so much of yourself with me.”

She makes an embarrassed noise and waves him off, but emotion shines in her eyes. Just to spare her, Cassian changes the subject. “Now what in the world are you wearing?”

She glances down at herself, frowning. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it.” The sweater looks hand knit, bright red with a green Christmas tree in the center. Balls of colorful fuzz decorate the tree as ornaments. “I want you to wear it every day,” he says.

“Over my dead body. I’d rather you help me take it off.”

Nesta’s hips feel especially snug against his as heat rushes to his crotch. She smirks like she caught him on a hook and leans in to whisper, “You look tired. Did you stay up thinking about my dress last night?”

Cassian swallows roughly. It might have crossed his mind a few times—not just the dress, but the fact that she had picked it out for him. He didn’t know that Nesta cared about things like that.

She rubs a thumb under his weary and reddened eyes. “After your anger faded, did you think about all the make-up sex we were going to have? Because I did.”

“Nesta,” he groans, dropping his head to rest against her chest. Either she plays him too well or he’s too easy to play, because Cassian is half a second away from damning everything to hell and dragging her to the living room carpet.

Until Nesta’s stomach growls loudly.

That’s when he remembers: it’s Christmas morning, he’s with the love of his life, and they’re both starving and sleep-deprived.

He looks up to find her eyes screwed shut in frustration. Before she can protest, he warns, “Don’t even think about it.” He pats her thighs. “Let’s get some food in you.”

***

Cassian makes them chocolate chip pancakes, and Nesta, feeling clingier than usual today, hangs piggyback off his body the entire time he cooks. She hasn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, yet she feels like she was born anew this morning.

In the middle of breakfast, Cassian’s phone vibrates. He hardly even glances at it before turning it over.

“Who was it?” Nesta asks through a mouthful of pancakes. She hasn’t asked him about how his own night went, but she expects that his friends will want to call and talk to him at some point today.

“Feyre,” he says without looking at her. “She asked where I went last night.”

“Why’re you ignoring her?” She raises a brow.

Cassian looks a little surprised. “I thought we were mad at her.”

“No.” Nesta sets her fork down. “I’m mad at her. What’s your excuse?”

He shrugs. “Solidarity. I’m mad that you had your Christmas Eve ruined. I know what it took you just to show up there.”

“You’re the only one that knows.” Nesta supposes that not everything has been cleared up with Cassian after all. “Listen,” she tries to soften her blunt tone. “Whatever is between me and my sisters… you don’t need to concern yourself with it. You’ll never have to choose sides between us.”

He watches her closely, carefully. “Even if I want to defend my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flutters at that inconsequential word, but she doesn’t show it. “Even then. Feyre looks at you like an older brother. I’m sure Elain does too, a little bit. Don’t let me get in the way of that.” He probably feels guilty every time he texts Feyre, the loyal bastard.

Cassian looks at his plate, then nods resolutely. “I can do that.” He adds a moment later, “For what it’s worth, I do get where the girls are coming from. Even if they had a shit way of going about it.” His eyes darken as he remembers.

Nesta doesn’t know what he was told about the fight, but she chuckles at his moody face anyway. “I expected you to. You’ve always loved spending time with your family, and you’ve never known anything different. But the reality is this: the closeness you have between you and your brothers isn’t something that can be forced onto every group of siblings. And the more Feyre and Elain try to force it, the more I push against it.”

“It sounds stifling.” His face is open, understanding. “To feel like you’re always too much but never enough.”

Nesta pauses, stunned. Cassian is almost too empathetic sometimes, like he carries a thousand past lives within him. Maybe he spent his time learning Nesta by heart in those lives.

Or maybe she’s getting too damn sentimental. She chokes out a dismissive laugh, going back to her pancakes. “Just text Feyre back. Then we can have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

***

Late morning brings heavy snowfall and a chill that infiltrates the walls of the cabin. The Christmas tree in the living room is lit—something Cassian didn’t notice earlier when he came downstairs to find Nesta in his house. Realizing that she’s the one who lit it up first thing in the morning does something to his chest, but he pushes the feeling down where it can’t scare Nesta away.

The weight of the past day must finally catch up to her, though, because by the time Cassian finishes lighting the fireplace, she’s knocked out asleep on the couch.

“No makeup sex then, Nes?” he says softly. Getting up from the hearth, he goes to pull the fur couch throw over her body. Cassian settles at the end of the couch near her feet, taking care so she doesn’t wake, and picks up his laptop from the coffee table. He’s been slacking with his work ever since he got with Nesta, and he might as well catch up on it now before Rhysand takes notice.

The first email that pops up in his inbox is a corporate reminder about the annual New Year’s Eve fundraiser gala, hosted in some high-class hotel in Denver this year. Cassian reads the email once, twice, three times before reaching for his phone.

Rhys answers on the first ring. “Oh, so you don’t hate us,” he drawls.

“What?” Cassian is confused.

“Because with the way you’ve been acting at family events lately, one would have reason to think you don’t want to be around your family much.”

“Oh—no, this isn’t about that.” Cassian refuses to let Rhys linger on this topic. “I called about the New Year’s party.”

“What about it?” he says. “Other than that tacky hotel.”

Cassian decides to spit it out. “I’m not coming.”

Rhys is stunned silent over the line for a moment. “What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Cassian never misses company events, no matter how much he hates dressing up and driving out to the city to schmooze with donors.

But too many of his holidays have gone to Rhys instead of Nesta this year, and he finds himself unwilling to give more.

“I’ve been stressed as hell lately,” he lies, trying to stay quiet for Nesta. “I’m always the one driving hours to see everyone else, and I can’t go all the way out to Denver for another party. I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” Rhys responds. “You have nothing going on at work and nothing going on outside of it. What could you be stressed about?”

Cassian makes a mental note to find a hobby that doesn’t include his brothers, if only so he can use it as an excuse to spend time with his secret girlfriend in the future. For now, he has to settle with the truth. “I can’t tell you.”

It’s a petty card to play, but it’s a valid one. No matter how nosy his family might be, they know how to back off when a line is drawn, no explanation required.

Rhys’s voice softens. “Is it serious? Is it a health issue?”

Cassian nearly laughs, even though he feels bad for making Rhys worry. “No, nothing like that. But I still can’t come.”

“What can I do to make it easier for you?” Rhys tries again. “New Year’s isn’t the same without all of my family in one place.”

Cassian snorts. “Come over to my place then.” He says it half-jokingly, but then Rhys doesn’t answer, as if he’s thinking.

“The gala guest list is too big to fit in the cabin…” he ponders. “But I guess I could have it narrowed down at the last minute. The Mayfairs certainly won’t be happy about it, though.”

Cassian’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Nesta’s sleeping form. “Uh…” He scrambles for something to get him out of this.

“New Year’s at a luxury cabin, all of us reuniting at your home for the first time in months? I love it,” Rhys declares. “Better than fucking Denver, that’s for sure.”

Cassian coughs, then covers it up with a forced chuckle. “I’ll have the place ready by next week.”

The call is over before he knows it, and all he can do is stare at the phone in his hand wondering what the hell just happened.

You didn’t entirely lose, he thinks to himself. You’re spending New Year’s with Nesta.

Yeah—New Year’s with Nesta and his entire family. He drops his head back against the couch and groans quietly.

***

Nesta wakes up late in the afternoon to Cassian presenting her with a mug of eggnog and bad news about New Year’s Eve.

The idea of another party, especially one with her sisters present, so soon after the last one makes Nesta’s very bones ache. But she supposes she’ll just have to take the next week to recover and prepare, because she isn’t missing out on a holiday with Cassian for anything.

The way she’s started romanticizing simple things like the new year should probably alarm her, but it doesn’t.

They sit down to open presents with the TV playing lowly in the background. It’s nothing serious, and Nesta isn’t expecting to get anything much until she unwraps her present.

It’s a vinyl record packaged in an elaborate sleeve with the words Nesta’s Mix etched across it. She slowly pulls the record out of the sleeve, staring at it. “What’s this?”

“It’s called a vinyl.”

She spears him with a look. “I got that. What’s on it?”

Cassian turns sheepish, sprawled out across from her on the carpet. “I stalked your Spotify to figure out what you listen to. Then I made a playlist based off what I thought you’d like and got it turned into vinyl. It’s all new music…” He trails off at the look on her face. “But if you hate it, the B-side has your favorite songs on there. You can listen to it either way.”

“I don’t hate it.” Nesta blinks her burning eyes rapidly, staring down at the gift in her hands. She’s not used to receiving thoughtful gifts—or pricey ones. “Thank you,” she says plainly, trying to let her feelings speak for themselves in those two words. “I love it.” She knows she should be saying more, damn it, but what can she say?

Cassian reaches out to put a hand on her knee, his thumb stroking circles across her leg. She looks up at him and realizes she doesn’t need words. Leaning forward, she lands a kiss on his cheek and can only hope that it’s sufficient. “Where am I going to play it?” she asks.

“I was close to getting you a record player when I remembered I already have one. I’ve never used it in my life.” He looks at her more gently now. “So it’s basically yours.”

Nesta’s chest tightens painfully. Not because he’s giving the record player to her, but because he’s suggesting they own it together.

“My present is going to look so stupid next to yours,” she says quietly.

Cassian grins. “Now I really need to see it.”

Nesta buries her head in her hands in humiliation while he tears open the wrapping paper of his gift, and only looks up when she hears him laugh aloud.

He’s holding a copy of one of Nesta’s favorite romances, and the first of many of her books that he’s ever stolen from her and read. He turns the vintage paperback around in his hands. “I remember this one. I totally had a sex dream about it.” He gazes in reminiscence at the busty blonde on the cover.

Nesta snorts, but scoots closer to him eagerly. “Look inside.”

He flips it open to find dark scribbles along the margins, in every single margin.

“I annotated it,” Nesta says hesitantly. “With my thoughts and analysis on each scene. It’s probably dumb to critically analyze a ninetie’s erotica novel, but I thought you’d find it funny.”

Cassian is flipping through the pages more slowly now, taking his time to read each one. “I don’t think it’s funny,” he says after a moment, his eyes still on the book. “I think it’s more than anything I could have asked for.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic for a romance book—”

“Not the book.” He looks up at her with something in his eyes. “It’s all your thoughts.” He looks back at the book in wonder. “Written out for me in detail to keep.”

He starts to smirk, searching for a specific page. “I already know how you feel about the boat scene, but now I need to read about it.”

Nesta makes a noise of protest, grabbing for the book. “Don’t spoil the good parts yet.” She can hardly believe it. He finds her joke present good. “You always spoil the good parts first and get sad about it later.”

He makes a face. “True.” He lowers the book, growing serious. “Nesta.” He clears his throat, and her heart starts pounding. She can hear the words before he says them—

“You’re a really good gift giver.”

Nesta’s breath shudders out of her, in relief or disappointment she doesn’t know. Cassian is still staring at her in amazement, and she can only respond by throwing herself at him, her arms holding him tight.

He doesn’t falter under her weight, but pulls her closer. “Thank you,” he says into her ear.

She pulls back far enough to see him. His beautiful face is outlined with too many emotions for her to read, yet somehow she knows exactly what he’s feeling.

Overwhelmed, she leans in to place a soft kiss above his upper lip, then on his mouth. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Nesta.”

***

please tell me if you wanna be removed from the taglist so i can make space for other readers!

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[hacawijo]

Alright, If We’re Gonna Play with Az’s Bonus Chapter, Let’s PLAY with Az’s Bonus Chapter (Pt. 1)

I’m going to do a close reading of this bonus chapter, because this whole thing is stressing me out and I want to write out what I think I know what I definitely know and what I’m worried about. Here. We. Go. 

I’m not going to directly quote supporting info in this post, but I will be using a LOT of quotes in the next few weeks, so if anyone wants me to confirm a certain statement I’m making here just let me know and I’ll drop the receipts :)

Also this is super long but I had a lot of thoughts I’m excited about! My commentary is in bold italics!

The river house had finally fallen quiet after the raucous Winter Solstice party, the faelights dimming to cast little pools of gold amid the deep shadow here is an example of contrast between light and dark, which many have made salient points on regarding the counterbalance of Elain/Azriel and their relationship of the longest night of the year.

Amren, Mor, and Varian had finally gone to bed, but Azriel found himself lingering downstairs.

He knew he should get some sleep. He’d need it come dawn, for the snowball battle up at the cabin. Cassian had mentioned no less than six times tonight that he had a secret plan regarding his so-called impending victory. Az had let his brother boast. Especially since Azriel had been planning his own victory for a year now. Had been planning his own victory for a year now, and had one the past 199 years’ worth of fights.

Cassian wouldn’t know what was coming for him. And Az fully planned on capitalizing on the fact that Nesta likely wouldn’t let Cassian sleep much tonight.

Az snickered to himself, to the listening shadows around him. Note the differentiation between himself and the shadows around him - he snickers to them outside of himself, as they are not HIM, they are his companions.

Sleep, they seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep.

I wish I could, he answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days. Again, engaging in a conversation with them. Though he does say that they SEEMED to whisper sleep, which is interesting. He seems to communicate with them beyond worded language, this is a case where he’s translating whatever that communication is into words.

Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike Yeah this guy needs some therapy for sure, love him but this feels very much like the state of avoidance that Nesta found herself in. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling taut across his bones. so he slept only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours. This feels very much like an extreme, one that certainly didn’t exist all of the time with Mor (otherwise he’s truly not been sleeping for…ever). I have a very, very hard time believing he would have this reaction because of lust or a coveting kind of obsession.

Azriel surveyed the empty family room, presents and ribbons littering the furniture. Cassian and Nesta hadn’t reappeared downstairs, though that came as no surprise. He was elated for his brother, and yet...

Azriel couldn’t stop it. The envy in his chest. Of Cassian, and Rhys. This is almost exactly the sentiment expressed by Cassian in ACOFAS/ACOSF

He knew he’d be swallowed by it if he went up to his bedroom, so he’d remained down here by the dying light of the fire.

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Entering the foyer for what? Entering in order to go to bed? Or was he drawn there, somehow knowing Elain would be there? I really don’t know the answer and I don’t have a preference as to whether or not they are mates, but it’s worth thinking about. Also important to note that the SHADOWS ARE NOT ENOUGH FOR AZRIEL. They are his friends, an important coping mechanism, but they are not the sum of who he is, nor do they even represent the part of himself that is most realized or fulfilled.

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. Again, imagery to highlight a contrast between the two of them, Elain as the sun at dawn. Note that it’s talking about dawn, not day. SJM has repeatedly used language about Summer, Dawn, Spring and such to describe Elain, which makes me wonder if her light is meant to transcend the courts - in the same way that the shadows are not the sum of Azriel, the sun (the Day, the Dawn, Spring, Summer etc.) is not the sum of Elain.

“I...” He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. “I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier.” One thing I noticed on closer examination, she went downstairs to leave it in his pile, not to see him. I wonder if it hurts her to be around HIM as well. Elain has said several times in this book (either on the page or in second- or third-hand account) that she is committed to this court, and I wonder if that same commitment that had her going to the Hewn City is what also has prevented her from ending things with Lucien. It’s not in her nature to be disingenuous, and so she cannot fake certain feelings for him, but it IS in her nature to be selfless, and she probably understands what their mating bond means and how important Lucien’s alliance is. I wonder also if she is unsure as to Azriel’s feelings or if she knows somehow, as Azriel sort of implies she might below.

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn’t need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face. She’d waited until everyone was asleep before venturing down, where she’d leave her gift amongst his other, opened presents, subtle and unnoticed. This is another instance in which Azriel sees her when no one else does, even when she’s not intending or someone to see her. Also, of course, important to note that he can read her without his shadows - a crutch that he uses in interactions with many other people.

Elain closed the distance, and her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away. She extended the wrapped gift, her hand shaking. “Here.” Elain makes ALL the moves in this scene - she approaches him, she asks him to put the necklace on her, she leans in, she says yes etc. etc. I think Azriel is actually very respectful and restrained throughout this whole interaction.

Az tried not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. Azriel is ashamed of his scars, and is ashamed of them with Feyre and Mor as well as Elain, this is an across-the-board part of his characterization. She hadn’t bought her mate a present. But she’d gotten Azriel one last year — a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind The headache powder: proof that Elain has been seeing him - specifically seeing him rub his temples. Not to use, but to look at. Which he’d done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid. Elain is not a casual person, she can’t even handle it when Feyre (her sister) tries to talk to her and Nesta (her other sister) privately about High Fae menstruation. For every lack of flourish or formality that Elain gives Azriel, that is another measured degree of comfort she feels with him - she wouldn’t give an unsigned, familiar note to just anyone.

Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, “You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you...”

He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse. “No wonder you didn’t want me to open it in front of everyone.”

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Nesta wouldn’t appreciate the joke.” Elain and Azriel have similar senses of humor. Not necessarily in content, but in the way it sort of crops up off-the-cuff and sometimes unnoticed. I like that Elain makes him laugh.

He offered a smile back. “I wasn’t sure if I should give you your present.”

He left the rest unspoken.  Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn’t stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

Elain’s large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days. Alright so, this is really curious. Does this mean that they both seem to be aware of the other’s feelings AND aware that the other is aware of their feelings? I really do wonder if, in this case, Az is an unreliable narrator- maybe assuming more certainty of Elain than she actually has. Again, I don’t think he would have such a visceral reaction to Elain and Lucien being in the same room (and not even close to each other at all) if he was just infatuated or in lust with her

But tonight, here in the dark and quiet more juxtaposition, with no one to see... no one to see, except the two of them, who always see more than others and who always see each other more than anyone else He pulled the small velvet box from the shadows around him. Opened it for her.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They’d always been prone to vanish when she was around. If Azriel is aware of the fact that his shadows disappear around Elain, and is still almost certainly in love with Elain, I think we can gather that it’s a positive thing for his shadows to give them privacy- which- btw, is what I think they are doing. The shadows feel to Azriel, to me, the way that the HoW feels to Nesta. The HoW doesn’t dislike Cassian, but also doesn’t need to be as diligent with Nesta when he’s around, because the House trusts Cassian with her.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary — it’s chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the truth depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. So I don’t think he’s saying that Elain is a thing here. I think he’s saying that HIS FEELINGS for her are a thing of secret, lovely beauty. It’s been made pretty clear that Elain’s physical AND inner beauty are decidedly visible and prominent. She is, the opposite of secret- though she is often described as lovely. I think what’s more interesting here is the time dedicated to describing this gift and the time dedicated to describing Lucien’s gift of pearl earrings (more on that later, but spoiler-alert, that’s the extent of the description)

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets this word choice is notable because it’s an indication of layers and depth and different sides, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows he let them do it, again the way he interacts with his shadows does not make it seem like they ARE him. It would probably say “Azriel’s shadows whisked away the box” or “Azriel used his shadows to…” etc. whisk away the box as she said softly, “Put it on me?” Again, Elain is driving the action

His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck. That this situation is described in such slow, delicate detail evokes a sense of intimacy and gravity to the reader. Every tiny piece of this little bite of interaction means something to Azriel and probably to Elain.

He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin this word choice is admittedly a little strange, but the use of this and later of the word sacrilege is FAR from the first time SJM uses religiously-coded language to describe a romantic/sexual/intimate situation. In this very book, Cassian describes his sex with Nesta “as close to a religious experience” as he’d ever gotten - furthermore, there is often talk of the worship of bodies. More on this in another post! ALSO, of course he thinks about touching her in relation to himself. He is himself, for one thing, for another, one of the most reinforced aspects of Azriel’s character that has been made clear to us as readers is his belief that he is unworthy. This comes up not at all just with Elain, it comes up everywhere. It comes up when Azriel volunteers for the most dangerous assignments, it comes up with Mor A LOT, it comes up with Rhys and Cassian. I HAVE A LOT MORE TO SAY ABOUT AZRIEL SO I JUST NEED TO STOP TYPING RIGHT N. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered that’s hot and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Azriel’s fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine SUCH precise language, so agonizing. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

It had never gone this far. They’d exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. Another important line in reiterating the fact that there are two people participating in this interaction and the broader relationship, with the use of ‘exchanged’ and ‘their.’ It could easily also say something like, “Azriel had never gone this far. She’d sometimes caught him looking at her and he her, and every so often he’d taken the risk of brushing his fingers against hers.” Elain’s agency in these interactions and this relationship is SO IMPORTANT! It is the difference between Az viewing Elain as a two-dimensional and unattainable figure and as a real person with wants and needs.

Wrong — it was so wrong. Azriel knows, just as well as Rhys, what is at stake in Elain’s relationship with Lucien. He also has reverence for the mating bond in the same way that many other fae and faeries do. Of course he thinks it’s wrong!

He didn’t care.

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue — There is literally so much talk in Feysand and Nessian of tasting and eating out. Both Rhys and Cassian make it very clear that they spent a lot of time thinking about what their partners would taste like and how they might go about finding out for sure.

Azriel’s cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn’t peer down. Prayed she didn’t understand the shift in his scent.

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Because he knows it’s a fool’s hope. He never thinks about this as a viable path! Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep again a recognition of the separation between him and his shadows. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she’d make. See above: Nessian and Feysand are just as dirty and graphic (especially Nessian) and Rhys and Cassian are JUST AS WORSHIPFUL of their partners.

Elain bit her lower lip, and it took every ounce Azriel’s restraint to keep from putting his own teeth there.

“I should go,” Elain said, but made no move to leave. Again, they are BOTH cognizant, I think, of the risks and dynamics at play here.

“Yes,” he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He’d beg on his knees for a chance to taste it Rhys’s WHOLE THING is that he kneels before Feyre in reverence. But Azriel just stroked her neck again. SJM repeatedly uses the scent of arousal as a way to confirm sexual interest beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their scars. I personally think this is Azriel being self-deprecating. I think that Elain is a seer, and probably has some idea of what Azriel does. Does this mean he puts her on a pedestal or that he views her as pure? It’s possible, but I think Azriel views most people whom he loves as pure compared to himself in one way or another— even Cassian. There is a line I’ll cite eventually where Rhys muses on the similarities between himself and Azriel, since Rhys is the only person Azriel allows to see the full scope of his rage. Ditto with the pedestal.

Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege same story as my point above on the word immaculate, but again I do totally admit that it’s a strange word. I just think that we have had so little of Azriel’s perspective that we can’t really say whether this is a perversion of his connection to Elain or if this is a regular sort of attitude for him for his fingers to touch her skin, tainting her with his presence.

But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it. AND THAT WOULD BE IT. HE DOESN’T THINK IT WILL GO FURTHER!

“Yes,” Elain breathed, like she read the decision. You fucking go Elain get that ass Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother interesting choice of words given Nesta’s association with the Mother and Nesta’s apparent tacit acceptance of Azriel’s feelings for Elain (more on that later) might witness them.

Azriel’s hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain’s mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before flirting shut.

Offer and permission. OFFER AND PERMISSION. ELAIN WANTS THE SHADOWSINGER D!!!!!

He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Azriel. And suddenly, the one time they both are comfortable with how they’re being seen (that Azriel is being seen by no one else BUT Elain, that Elain is finally being seen intimately, by someone, in the dark, namely, AZRIEL)

Rhys’s voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain’s sweet mouth.

Azriel. So if you were to ask me what the biggest sign of Elriel’s longevity in this chapter is, it is this: that they did not kiss. SJM built a very tightly worded and wound tension around this moment with her language, and.  the fact that it is not fulfilled is frustrating, right? We know that he touched the knob of her spine - we know that she shivered. For that level of intimacy not to end in a kiss, means something. Rhys could easily have interrupted them after their lips had already touched, and if this relationship were a device serving another, that’s what would have happened.

SJM knows that the tension is built and unfulfilled, and I think she also knows that this wouldn’t have been the right time for them to have their first kiss - which is what I think many readers have noticed in so many words. Where my thoughts differ is that I think SJM is walking a line between romantically coding the moment AND acknowledging that this moment is not ideal, and that it doesn’t deserve to be fulfilled satisfyingly, especially given Azriel’s self-loathing. MORE LATER :) Which should maybe be my catchphrase.

Also, them not kissing can’t just be about the fact that it’s a bonus chapter. You can’t make that argument about their not-kiss and then argue that the interaction with Gwyn is essential to the coming story. Which, I think it is significant, by the way, I’m just not sure how yet :P

Unrelenting command filled his name, and Azriel looked up. Rhysand stood atop the staircase. Glowering down at them.

My office. Now.

Rhys vanished, and Azriel was left standing before Elain, who still awaited his kiss. His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand away from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, “This was a mistake.” UGH. The capital P Pain.

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, “I’m sorry.” See, this reaction makes me think that she is not as aware of his feelings as he thinks she is. That she later returns the necklace (or did she?) reinforces this. I think that if she was certain how he felt about her, she would be frustrated and maybe angry in the way that she has responded to Feyre’s comments about her mating bond with Lucien, not hurt and confused.

“You don’t — Don’t apologize,” he managed to say. “Never apologize. It’s I who should...”  He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he’d brought to her expression. “Goodnight.” But at least it definitely confirms her feelings to Azriel.

PART II IS BEING POSTED BACK-TO-BACK!

[starbornvalkyrie]

ACOSF USA BOOK TOUR NOTES

Hey y’all! I just attended the LiveTalks Los Angeles event with Sarah J Maas and Eva Chen!! I took lots of notes so I wanted to share them with you all! They’re a little incoherent on the page, so it might seem a crazy, they jumped topics a lot. Feel free to chat with me about what she talked about! But first.

MY RULES:

NO SHIP OR CHARACTER SLANDERING. I know that we all may have different opinions. I will not offer my opinions here, this is purely informational for those of you who did not have the opportunity to attend this event.

PLEASE NO ARGUING IN MY COMMENTS OR ASK BOX WITH ME OR ANYONE ELSE WHO COMMENTS

Acknowledge that I am not perfect and may not have written down everything perfectly. I did my best while still trying to enjoy the event.

I AM NOT SARAH J MAAS AND CANNOT INTERPRET WHAT SHE MEANS

I’m tagging this with #acosf spoilers and #acosfspoilers just in case.

If you understand and can abide by these rules, keep reading below the cut, and enjoy!

SJM said it was weird doing this event from her living room where you might be able to hear her dog in the background or her son trying to get into the room.

ACOSF started as a passion project while she was writing ACOWAR! It was never anything she thought she was going to publish. (more on this later)

About reading and writing growing up

in middle school, she read a lot of fantasy

in high school, she didn’t read as much, but wrote A LOT. it became her fixation, almost an obsession.

in college, she only really wrote on vacations (she had a very healthy social life hehehe) but her junior year is when she found her balance between schoolwork, writing, and socializing.

there was no plan B for her!! it was always to be an author. if it didn’t happen right away, she was going to find a job that would get her by until plan A could come to be.

her favorite author growing up was Garth Nix. She longed for books about badass women. She got to meet him and write a blurb to be on one of his books! She cries when she meets her favorite authors.

Talk about character names!

her character names come from everywhere and nowhere

sometimes she’ll just hear a name in her head and think “that’s it!” (Rhys, for example)

she needs to know the name to write the character

if the name doesn’t immediately come to her, she spends a lot of her time on baby name websites and makes lists until it clicks

sometimes the names just... connect. sometimes she doesn’t mean for them to.

it will always be uncommon. never “Frank” lol

Writing about Nesta!

on a “surface level” she loves writing when Nesta comes out to fight. for example, her favorite scene in this aspect to write was the bog scene. As soon as she got to it, it flowed out of her. The final product was almost identical to the first draft. She wrote it in one session, from the terror & tread to the “who am i?” to when she emerged--she went YES. MAJOR Mic Drop moment for her.

going deeper: definitely her overall journey was one of the favorites she’s ever written. From the dark place she’s in at the beginning to the very end. 

Writing about Nesta meant so much to her because of her own mental health. She channeled a lot of her own feelings and went on the journey with Nesta.

it was a lot of “how do you face mental health in a fantasy world without therapy and medication”

it was easy to get into Nesta’s mind but emotionally intense.

ACOSF’S BIG MESSAGE: LEARNING TO LOVE YOURSELF AND OTHERS. YOU ARE WORTH OF LOVE.

YES there is a book planned for Elain!

As soon as Nesta and Elain came onto the page again in ACOMAF, she knew they’d get their own journey.

Nesta grabbed her by the throat in book 1

She was originally contracted for only the first three books but realized there was more she wanted to explore. Essentially the “what comes next” after ACOWAR in this new world with out the wall.

FUN FACT: while editing ACOMAF/writing ACOWAR, she drunkenly told her editor at the time, “hey guess what happens next?”, and it turned into a two hour conversation about everything she wants to happen for Nesta, Elain, Mor, Azriel, etc. TWO WEEKS LATER, she gets a call saying they want to buy the stories!! Obviously, she said yes.

This allowed her to start planting the Easter eggs for these stories in ACOWAR. She knew she did not want Nesta to be sympathetic at the beginning of the book! But she did not want people to hate her.

She always has one eye on the horizon for future books.

If she could visit one court for a day, which and why?

She LOVES the season Autumn, it’s her favorite. “BUT EVERYONE IN THE AUTUMN COURT IS AN ASSHOLE”. She would want to visit the Autumn Court when no one is there so she can enjoy the beauty of Autumn.

But also she would want to go to the Summer Court because she has a thing for Tarquin but only if it’s not gross and humid.

She would ALSO want to go to the Day Court for Helion and all his libraries.

ESSENTIALLY she would want to go everywhere but Spring because Tamlin sucks and is an asshole lmao.

BEAST FORMS

SJM’s beast form would be something totally not cool or majestic like a sea otter.

Nesta’s beast form would be something terrifying and beautiful like a snow leopard/dragon hybrid, a griffin, or a sphinx. **WANTS SOMEONE TO DRAW THIS**

FUN QUESTIONS

Nesta’s favorite smutty book would be JR Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood series. She reads these books for the distraction, of course, but also for the comfort they gave her that everything turns out okay for the characters.

Nesta’s Starbucks order: cappuccino- something simple, nothing with too much sugar or whipped cream. Elain’s would be a Frappe- something delicious and sweet. SJM’s is a flat white, iced or not, but never after 2PM.

SJM usually listens to classical music and movie scores while she writes, but she’s gotten used to write in silence so that she can listen for her son’s shenanigans with Josh.

“Stay Together for the Kids” by Blink 182 semi-inspired the scene when Nesta and Cassian go back to her family’s cottage. She can hardly explain why.

WRITING ADVICE

Write what you love, not what you think you should be writing.

Give yourself permission to suck. Her first drafts are shit and are usually accompanied with an email that says “I know I need to fix this, this and that” lol.

WRITE THE DAMN THING. Vomit on the page!

YOU CAN’T FIX A BLANK PAGE.

Her least favorite part about the publishing process is the first pass of copy edits, those last minute checks and balances. But once it’s off to the printer, it’s not her problem anymore.

She’s every publisher’s worst nightmare because she sends it off to the printer at the LAST possible minute.

For reference: Throne of Glass was finished almost... a year and a half? ...before it hit shelves, but ACOSF was finished this past fall.

MAIN CHARACTER TALK

All of her heroines have a piece of her.

SJM’s personality is a hybrid of Bryce and Nesta.

Feyre and Nesta got most of her in terms of learning to be empowered.

She has to have a connection to them in order to write them. It’s an out of body, method acting experience.

MISCELLANEOUS

She said “CC2 is a year from now.”

She started writing ACOTAR in 2008 before she published TOG.

She loves the story and dynamic of Elizabeth and Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. Cassian is Elizabeth. Nesta is Darcy.

And that’s all I have, folks! Thank you for reading, I hope you got something out of this!