#sjmromanceweek2024

[sjmromanceweek]

To everyone receiving notifications from SJM Romance Week 2024 — don’t be alarmed! The account was previously shadowbanned, but it looks like Tumblr has finally fixed that 🩷

See you all in February for SJM Romance Week 2025!

[velidewrites]

This Ends In Fire

Everything goes wrong when Nesta Archeron crosses the Wall to find her sister. Kidnapped and trapped Under the Mountain, she must now become the very thing she swore to destroy. But there is a light in the darkness—a flicker of a flame, ready to show her a way out. If she’d only let it.

Pairing: Nesta Archeron x Eris Vanserra

Tags: Rated Explicit; Marriage of Convenience; UTM AU

Notes: My humble submission for @sjmromanceweek!

Chapter 1 || Go to Prologue || Read on AO3

ONE WEEK AGO

Eris Vanserra wiped the last of his blood off his back and straightened his shoulders despite the soreness. Now that he was alone in the quiet darkness of his rooms, he could hear the rapid pulsing of his veins as it echoed off the stone walls. Eris gritted his jaw, letting his body tense and muscles harden. He would let no one, not even the servants, hear.

Dipping the wet cloth into the basin, he twisted the fabric and watched as the water slowly turned a pale shade of pink. It felt lukewarm on his skin, doing nothing to ease the pain, to bring any sort of relief. Not that Eris had expected it in the first place.

Fifty years ago, back when his magic had still been his own and not yielded to the hands of another, he could have opened a rip in time and space and let the cloth disappear in there, all evidence of tonight erased in the blink of an eye. The best he could do today was a quick snap of his fingers to strain the cloth of all liquid, and a flicker of a flame to burn its remains. The ash, he knew from experience, would soon melt into the cracks between the stones anyway.

With that taken care of, he slid both arms into the sleeves of his jacket, fighting off the wince his body demanded to submit to. Everyone had eyes Under the Mountain—especially the darkness.

He did allow himself a quiet breath, though, as he realised the usually stiff back of the jacket had mysteriously been padded, the fabric no longer roughly grazing his skin as he walked. It did little to calm him—no, his breath only seemed to encourage the fire stirring in the pit of his stomach, the flames rising higher and higher until they licked at the column of his throat. It had been foolish for her to risk it for something so small, so insignificant in the grander scheme of things. For him. But his mother had never seemed to listen, anyway.

Whatever she’d sewn into the spine of his jacket, it helped, and Eris hated it with every step he took as we walked out of his chambers. The Vanserra family tailor answered to his father, like everyone in the family’s employ, which meant Beron would find out about what his wife had done one way or another. She had been shackled to his side long enough to understand that, which made everything all the worse. She knew—she knew what the consequences were, and yet…

She thought Eris was worth it anyway. It was the Mother’s most cruel of punishments, perhaps, to allow Lady Vanserra to keep her heart despite the family she’d been given. It was why Eris never prayed to her, or the Cauldron, or any of the Gods that had once used to roam these lands. They had all abandoned them long ago. The monsters stayed.

One of them awaited Eris at the end of the narrow hallway, carved so deeply into the Mountain he doubted even its native dwellers were aware of its existence. The shadows had led him here once before, the last time he’d needed to bargain. They had sensed his urgency—desperation was not a word Eris preferred to resort to—in his sleep, and revealed the location somewhere in the depths of his dream. It was the first and only night Eris had not been plagued by nightmares.

He had not been blessed with such comfort the second time. All he’d had to do was think the right words at the right time, and watch as a shadow of disdain passed through Rhysand’s face. To Eris, it was confirmation enough.

“Tell me why I should not kill you right where you stand,” the darkness purred, and Eris rolled his eyes.

“I come with a proposition.”

“If there is anything you require, I suggest you take it up in a formal audience with our Queen,” Rhysand said simply. “All this secrecy is…” His gaze narrowed on Eris’s. “Troubling.”

“I would hate to inconvenience our Queen in such a momentous time,” Eris drawled smoothly. “The time is almost up, after all.”

Though Rhysand remained silent, Eris could have sworn the darkness tensed around him—watching. Waiting.

He continued, “A celebration is in order, I hear. The Attor is on the hunt—if my information is correct.”

Rhysand angled his head an inch. “And where do you obtain such sensitive information, Eris?” he asked.

Eris let a smile creep onto his mouth. “Oh, you have no reason to worry, Rhysand,” he crooned. “I can assure you you’re still the only one warming our Queen’s bed.” 

Rhysand’s gaze darkened.

Still, Eris pushed, “I do wonder what Amarantha will make of you, though, once her precious Tamlin arrives.”

“You dare speak our Queen’s name?” Rhysand asked him quietly. “I could leave right now and tell her of your disobedience—and I think we both know which one of us she would believe.” A smile of his own tugged at the corner of his lips. “How, I wonder, will your mother take the death of yet another beloved son?”

There it was—the monster he had come to bargain with.

“While I’m sure you’re eager to return to her side,” Eris taunted, “there is something I need from you.”

“And why, exactly, should I feel inclined to help you?”

Eris smiled. “Because if you don’t, I will tell your Queen of your little visit to the Spring Court on Calanmai.”

For a heartbeat, the air around them seemed to still.

Then, “That visit was sanctioned,” Rhysand said. “I was acting on Amarantha’s will.”

“Ah, yes. The three drunken wraiths conspiring to dethrone her rule,” Eris mocked. “One shudders to think what might have happened had you not stepped in, High Lord.”

The darkness seemed to narrow on him. “Is there a point to your empty threats, or have you requested my presence simply to annoy me?”

“A little bit of both” did not seem like an adequate answer at this time, so Eris simply said, “As I’ve told you before, there is something I require from you.”

“And I told you, I am not feeling particularly generous tonight.”

“No, I imagine you save all your generosity for the Queen,” Eris answered. “I can also imagine her pretty face when I tell her the wraiths were not the only traitors you spoke to that night.”

Rhysand went wholly, entirely still.

“A human girl,” Eris hummed, delight rising through his chest as he watched that darkness stir with unease. “With pale blue eyes and hair like ancient, molten gold. A mere Child of the Blessed, one would think,” he mused. “But I am told that minutes after you left, she was approached by a very concerned Lucien Vanserra…and hurried right back into Tamlin’s manor.”

“Your brother has always had an affinity for the ones beneath him,” was Rhysand’s only reply. But Eris could tell—could feel the shift in the power around them, like lightning bracing to strike at midnight.

It was why he waved a dismissive hand. “Lucien Vanserra is an embarrassment to my family, and an exile,” he said, the words souring on his tongue even as he spoke them. “I will not claim him as my brother unless he miraculously regains his senses,” he added, letting a grimace twist his face. “Though I very much doubt that will ever occur.”

“Well, from what you’re telling me, a reunion seems to be imminent,” Rhysand commented. “Your mother will be delighted to see her youngest after such a long separation, I’m sure.”

It was the second time he mentioned Eris’s mother tonight. The threat was more than clear—and that fire inside him stirred at the message it carried.

Rhysand crossed his arms over his chest, something too hidden in the dark for Eris to discern rustling with the movement as Rhysand asked, “How did you get your spies from Under the Mountain?”

“I don’t feel particularly inclined to share my secrets with common whores.”

“Careful, Eris,” Rhysand warned, something cold slithering into his tone—perhaps to combat the fire cracking at Eris’s fingertips. “Your words may be your greatest weapon, but in our current situation, they remain your only one.”

Rhysand straightened then, and even the darkness seemed to take a step back as he announced, “I grow bored of your company. Tell me what it is you want, and don’t try screaming into my mind again.” He grimaced. “Your voice is exceptionally unpleasant, you see.”

For what had to have been the hundredth time tonight, Eris rolled his eyes. But as much as he wished to show Rhysand how, exactly, he’d been trained in handling the monsters’ threats…

“I need you to manipulate someone’s mind.”

Rhysand arched an eyebrow—and Eris thought that, perhaps even if his plan failed, the surprise on the High Lord of Night’s face would be compensation enough.

“So rebellious,” Rhysand drawled, his gaze studying him closely. “What would your dear father have to say, I wonder, if he found out his heir has grown a little too ambitious in the dark?”

“Say we have a deal, Rhysand,” Eris simply told him. “And I will never mention the girl ever again.”

Rhysand must have let the mask slip a little, then—a new kind of darkness finding its way behind his stare as he met Eris’s at last. “Not a single fucking word about her, Eris,” he warned, and when Eris nodded, his shoulders seemed to relax a little. “Alright, then.” He outstretched his hand.

Eris shook it firmly, his own skin tingling strangely as the darkness infused with the quiet scent of jasmine scented night.

“It’s a bargain,” Rhysand said.

***

PRESENT DAY

Nesta’s cell was shrouded in darkness, occasionally broken by a flash of a strange, blue flame. It had taken less than an hour for her to learn that the screams would soon follow, filling the space with an echo of pain and agony.

Somewhere in the distance, the fire burned again, casting shadows on the wall ahead—dancing in what she couldn’t help but feel was a mockery of her misery.

She sat up straighter, waiting for the wailing to come. From what she had discerned earlier, the voice belonged to some male creature bearing wings. She could still hear them flapping in desperation, as if their tortured owner still believed he had a chance of escape.

The only other sound accompanying the prisoner’s screams was the Attor’s raspy laugh, and Nesta tried not to shudder every time it came. She could still feel the monster’s voice on her skin, like grains of sand brushing over her roughly. Though she had not seen the Attor since the moment it had knocked her out mid-flight, the mere sound of its cruel laughs had been enough to make her stomach twist and her heart drop heavily in her chest.

The worst, and perhaps the best thing about all this at the same time, was that Nesta was not alone. She had been tossed into the cell unconscious, but had woken up to the quiet murmurs of both concern and excitement—the mixture odd enough that she figured out quite quickly whose company she’d been shoved into.

Nesta had no interest in finding comfort in the arms of the Children of the Blessed, but she found herself listening in on their conversation anyway.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” the eldest of the group cooed, her slim hand patting another girl’s head gently, easing her quiet sobbing. “This is all a misunderstanding. Once the Fae understand we have come to serve them, we will be released to perform our duty.

Nesta rolled her eyes.

It did not go unnoticed—and another woman shot her a look, her navy gaze piercing. “You’d do well to show some sympathy,” she hissed. “Where we come from, the Fae do not shove us into their dungeons without prior questioning.”

Nesta was not sure what to take offence more—that someone so empty-headed felt within their rights to snap at her, or that they assumed Nesta, of all people, was one of them.

“Where are you from, anyway?” another Child asked her, red hair spilling over her shoulder as her head angled in curiosity. She had not arrived with the other three, Nesta remembered, with one of the guards only bringing her in hours after. “Do your clans not bear the symbols of our masters?” she asked, finger tapping on the wood-carved token around her neck. Nesta could hardly see the details of it in the shadows, though she made out a pair of hands holding up something rotund in shape—yet another meaningless thing of the world she had no desire to be a part of.

“She must think herself above such things,” the blue-eyed one scoffed, then returned her attention to the trembling girl in her friend’s arms.

Nesta turned back to the red-headed one. “I lost it on my way here,” she lied. “It fell from my neck mid-flight.”

The girl’s brows knitted into a scorn. “You ought to pay better care to such things in the future.”

“I doubt there’s any future for us left,” Nesta replied, ignoring the loud shush of the others as the youngest cried even harder.

The girl glanced over her shoulder quickly. “I saw the creature that brought you here,” she whispered. “It must’ve been terrifying.”

“I thought the Children are servants of all faeries.”

The girl scrunched her nose. “I doubt that thing can be called a faerie at all.”

Despite herself, Nesta snorted—and the girl smiled weakly. “My name is Carisa. You didn’t tell me where you came from.”

Nesta cleared her throat. The girl might have been tolerable, but it hardly meant Nesta was going to reveal to her everything about her life.

Especially not when she felt like, despite being entirely devoted to the torture next door, the Attor was still watching her, somehow.

“I was sent as an emissary to the South,” Nesta explained. “But I come from Scythia.”

Carisa’s face seemed to light up even in the darkness. “So am I!”

Shit.

Carisa continued, “Did you attend Queen Vassa’s coronation?”

Nesta had no idea the human lands on the Continent had appointed a new queen. “I was already gone by then.”

Carisa hummed. “You must have been here long, then,” she said. “You missed quite the celebration. I have a feeling Vassa is going to be a fair and just ruler.”

“I don’t particularly believe in the monarchy.”

Carisa blinked.

“For once, we agree on something,” the blue-eyed one cut in, apparently now part of the conversation as she looked at Carisa reproachfully. “The only authority we recognise are the Fae.”

“How glad we are to hear it,” a hoarse chuckle sounded above them—and they all jumped up with a shriek. Nesta included.

The Attor’s smile revealed all his silver teeth. “Come, Children. Mother has been expecting you.”

***

Eris watched as the blood trickled down the table in thin streams of crimson, the sight so dreadfully familiar he had to fight the urge to check over his back. It pooled at his feet, filling the small chamber with the scent of iron and wet earth, betraying the nature of its owner. These Lessers were native to the southern regions of Autumn, with the power to rip the roots of the strongest oaks from the earth with a mere nod of their fur-clad heads.

It was a shame this one had to die. He had proven himself to be one of Eris’s most capable spies, and, for the past forty-something years, had proven loyal enough that Eris had stopped questioning his reports only two decades in.

But, no matter how useful, he was still only a pawn.

And Eris was playing a larger game.

“Clean it up,” was Beron Vanserra’s only command as he wiped his hands on the pristine white cloth he’d summoned from thin air. No matter how much of his power Amarantha had claimed for herself, he was still High Lord—which meant he had access to magic Eris could only dream of.

It was one of many reasons he had framed his own spy. Why he’d turned to Rhysand, of all people, to get one step closer to winning the game.

“I should feel honoured,” Eris commented, using the spy’s discarded tunic to wipe his own hands. “You usually let Aran and Conall have all the fun.”

Beron scoffed. “Those fools would have bragged about it to the first whore that landed in their beds,” he said, as though it was not his own sons, his flesh and blood he was talking about. He cut Eris a look. “I should not tell you this is a matter of utmost secrecy.”

Eris nodded. “What is your plan, then?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beron simply told him, his attention already elsewhere as he slid on his dark-bronze jacket, the material thick enough to cover the blood speckled over his formal shirt.

Eris did not let himself get surprised easily, and he liked to think he knew his father well enough to anticipate his reactions accurately. But this—this strange, eerie calmness about him as he buttoned up the hems was enough to make him say, “I do not understand.”

Beron met his gaze.

Eris continued, “We just found out one of our own spies reported for Amarantha. How certain can we be that the others have not been compromised?”

His father waved a hand in dismissal. “She will learn of this one’s death quickly enough,” he told Eris, something souring in his expression as he added, “I do not know what the Hybern bitch is playing at, but with this death, the game has officially begun.”

For Beron—perhaps. But Eris…Eris had been playing for a long, long time.

If the knowledge of Amarantha sending Beron’s own sentries after him was not enough to steer his father’s focus far away from Eris’s own dealings, it only meant Eris had to push a little harder. “You wish to wait for her next move.”

Beron cuffed his sleeves. “I want her gone, as we all do.” Another look at Eris carried a flash of a warning. “I have not taught you such impatience,” he mused quietly—too quietly. “Your mother, perhaps. It would not surprise me to see yet another failure of hers in my one and only heir.”

Eris stiffened.

“Mother has nothing to do with this,” he said slowly, as if to calm the rising urgency in his own chest. Clever—he was so clever bringing Mother into this, dangling her life right before Eris’s nose until he stumbled grasping for it.

Beron hummed. “Perhaps you require another lesson instead,” he said, and something like a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he gestured to the body and ordered, “Clear the table.”

Eris was going to abide—the way he always had.

His feet carried him to the centre of the room as though they possessed a mind of their own, completely isolated from the thoughts pounding through Eris’s head. His back had fully healed—courtesy of the newfound comfort of his clothing—and, in a few moments, Beron would know exactly who to blame.

But then a knock sounded on the heavy, wooden door—and Eris stopped.

“My lord,” a voice called, quiet and hesitant. “My lord, you and your family’s presence is requested in the throne room.” A pause. “I’m afraid time is of the essence.”

Eris did not dare to move.

Beron sighed deeply. “Clean up later,” he instructed, then made his way for the door. “Kill him on your way back in.”

Eris’s face eased back into its usual stillness. “Naturally.”

“Good,” Beron nodded, the word the highest of praises in his mouth. “Now let’s see what this is all about.”

Praying Amarantha had somehow heard as the High Lord of Autumn referred to her as “the Hybern bitch,” Eris followed his father. It was ridiculous of him to hope,  it the thought brought him some entertainment, at least, as they made their way up the labyrinth of corridors carved into the Mountain, passed only by the occasional guards or maids scurrying toward their designated rooms.

They reached the throne room quickly, Beron disappearing immediately to take his place by the other High Lords—in the alcove right above the western side of the hall and overlooking Amarantha’s iron throne.

A little higher up, in the lounges reserved for nobility, Eris slid into his usual chair, his gaze not leaving the throne for one second as he, ever-so-slightly, leaned toward his left. “You should not have done that, Mother,” Eris murmured. “He—”

“Straighten up, Eris,” came the reply, soft and quiet. “Smile.

So Eris did.

“Who are they?” a female voice to his right asked, and Eris bit back a hiss as he realised Aran had brought in a female into his family’s section. Again.

“Fresh meat for the Attor,” his younger brother snorted. The female visibly winced.

Only then did Eris finally regain his senses enough to scan the area below. A small group of people gathered before the throne, where Amarantha lounged—with a smiling Rhysand beside her.

Eris gritted his teeth.

“Kneel,” the Attor announced, wings sprawling high up from where he stood behind the group—as if to block them all from turning. “Before your Queen.”

One of them—the shortest one—slid the hood off her head, the others quickly following suit before dropping to their knees. Eris realised then—there would be no torturing Beron Vanserra today, even despite his best wishes.

No. They’d been invited for a feast.

Amarantha’s red-stained mouth curled into a smile as she leaned back in her throne, her right arm wrapped around Rhysand’s. To his left, Eris heard Conall scoff. “What have you brought me today, my dear?” she asked, clearly addressing the Attor to the horror of Aran’s companion. “Ah. Children of the Blessed. How delighted I am to see your lovely faces,” she added, and one of the women—the closest one whose features Eris could make out—seemed to beam at the acknowledgement.

“These three were found near the Winter border, Your Majesty,” the Attor explained, the rasp of his voice carrying throughout the hall. “This one arrived at Autumn’s eastern docks earlier today,” he pointed to a red-haired woman. “And this one,” he said, wings flaring in unabashed pride, “Came from Spring.”

It only lasted a second—even less, perhaps—but Eris did not miss the flash of fear in Rhysand’s violet gaze. There and gone, like the flicker of a star as it descended down on the last woman.

She looked up, then, her black hood falling farther down her back—and met Amarantha’s gaze directly.

Eris held his breath.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

Woman, he corrected himself immediately after the treacherous thought, if the rounded tips of her ears weren’t enough of an indication. Had Eris not been his father’s only suitable heir, Beron would have killed him for harbouring such a sentiment without hesitation. It would not have been Beron’s first time.

Even so, Eris could not help but let his gaze linger. There was a devastation to her beauty, as though all the gods he’d forsaken had decided to prove him wrong in crafting this woman. When she looked at Amarantha, there was no admiration, no blind loyalty that shone from her companion’s misty stares. No, this one looked at Amarantha with…challenge, shining brightly from those blue-grey eyes.

Eris stilled at that, the realisation ripping the world underneath him open as he understood why he glimpsed fear in Rhysand’s eyes.

A human girl. Those were his own words, spoken no more than a week ago. With pale blue eyes and hair like ancient, molten gold. A mere Child of the Blessed, one would think, but I am told that minutes after you left, she was approached by a very concerned Lucien Vanserra…and hurried right back into Tamlin’s manor.

This woman had come from Spring—and she was no Child of the Blessed.

The lie burned like fire in those eyes of hers as she held the High Queen of Prythian’s gaze. “We are here to serve you, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice smooth and clear.

“Such devotion,” Amarantha purred. “I would be delighted to have you as my guests tonight. A ball—in your honour.”

The other four erupted in whispers, their excitement so palpable it turned Eris’s insights sick as Amarantha added, “And a very special offering from my court later.”

In the past five decades, Eris had attended enough of those celebrations to know exactly how Amarantha liked to play with her prey. To know what would happen to those women the minute the final note of the violins marked the ball’s bloodied end.

But, if he was right, one of those women, the fraud…

If he was right, she was the one they’d all been looking for. The one Rhysand had met that night, knowing she was the key to everything.

A newfound fire sparked in Eris’s chest as a new pawn appeared on his centuries-old board.

He was going to save her.

And in turn, she was going to save them all.

[shadowqueenjude]

SJM Romance Week Day 7

I posted my Elucien fic on the collection! It is not done but I wanted to post it for sjmromanceweek. Elain had stood before Graysen, so open, so hopeful. Believing in love, that it conquered all. She had been so certain that that love would be enough to overcome her physical changes. As she stood before him, his watery blue eyes glaring down at her, she realized she’d been dead wrong.

@sjmromanceweek

[mariaofdoranelle]

Catastrophic Blues - part 2

Part 1

Written for @sjmromanceweek

Prompt: Free Day

Welcome to my part 2!! And probably last. It took me so long to find these two a decent closure, now I wrote it in one day and I feel eMpTy

Warnings: language and innuendos?

Words: 2,3k

Aelin’s hurried footsteps were barely audible on the bustling airport, while the umpteenth last call for her flight to Suria blasted through the speakers. A few aimless passengers curiously watched her, a reminder that this scene would be a lot prettier if she stopped skipping cardio at the gym.

In her defense, the bookstore was too far from her gate, and you can’t rush finding the perfect rom-com.

At her designated gate, Aelin was one of the very few last to arrive. She held her pillow and bag close, rushing through the straight corridor of the airplane. Not minding the passengers staring at her, but trying to ignore a very specific one that followed her with his gaze the entire time.

When Aelin finally found her seat, she didn’t even find time for her muscles to settle before he said, “Still running on your own time zone, I see.”

His deep voice was always quick to soothe her, but this time it brought back a wave of melancholy that haunted her days, way too persistent in comparison to her previous heartbreaks.

“I thought you weren’t coming anymore.” Aelin shouldn’t pry, but she couldn’t help herself. Rowan did say he would still go on the trip with her, but that was before his new relationship. “I’m surprised Lyria let you.”

“She didn’t. We broke up.”

“Oh.” This was unexpected, given Lyria’s annoying loving posts on Instagram.

“We really did.”

“I’m finding it hard to believe you.”

“You should.” Rowan had this boyish grin on, it was hard to believe he was talking about his latest ex.

“Of course.” Fuck, this is awkward. “I’m sorry,” she lied.

“Don’t be. Lyria was… you know—”

“I don’t. Please don’t enlighten me.”

“Fair enough.” He slugged into the airplane seat that was almost too small for his frame, and the lightness of his expression had faded away by now. “I just realized that this trip meant more to me than her.”

“Because of the money we wasted, you mean?”

Rowan furrowed his brows, his gaze unfocused when he said, “Something like that.”

“Wow.” Aiming for levity, she chuckled. “Now it kinda feels like I dodged a bullet.” Well, he did just say that he’d rather lose the girlfriend than waste the money. Aelin had to keep things light to survive this trip.

However, he didn’t seem to find it as funny. “No. Actually—“

“What’s the itinerary again?” She asked, desperate to change the subject from his love life.

Of course, Rowan had a copy of their entire trip plan on his phone. They’d arrive at the hotel too late to explore Suria, but tomorrow they’d have a—

Aelin snatched the phone from Rowan’s hand, zooming in the details of the excursion.

“Did you book us in a tour for seniors?”

“You said you wanted to relax.” He took his phone back. “There’s no tour calmer than one made for the elderly.”

˜˜

“I’M BURNING THROUGH THE SKY, YEAH!” A chorus of the nicest old people Aelin had ever met sang in the small bus, still bursting with energy after several hours of touristing in Suria.

Emrys, the tour guide, had a guitar to entertain everyone during the longer stretches inside the bus, while his husband drove and sang along with them. Most of the passengers were either clapping to the rhythm of the song—which was Rowan’s choice of participation—or singing their lungs out, like Aelin when she put her hands around her mouth to shout, “200 DEGREES, THAT’S WHY THEY CALL ME MR. FAHRENHEIT!”

The initial goal of this trip had been relaxation, but her active little tour group had been a small blessing today.

Rowan paid for a small, extra bed in their room, but last night and this morning were still uncomfortable. Sharing a room and being this close left a hollowing type of ache inside her, but taking a bath after him just to start the day with the smell of his cologne and shaving cream completely ruined her mood for breakfast.

But now, between the tour and singing and assisting cute old people with their phones, Aelin and Rowan didn’t have the time to be awkward around each other.

Or worse, they were easily falling into an old, comfortable rhythm.

The tour’s last stop was on a closed street for pedestrians. The tourists were eager to get off the bus and join the lively street, filled with shops, restaurants, and street artists trying to be louder than the pedestrians’ chatter. Outside, the smell of fried street food lured Aelin like a magnet, but Rowan watched their new acquaintances disappear into the crowd with a surprised grin.

The hand he kept on her back while descending the bus’ small corridor slid to her hip outside, and he whispered on her ear, “I think we are the elderly ones.”

His breath fanning against the shell of her ear sent a shiver down her spine, and by the way his hand tightened around her hipbone, he noticed it too.

“We?” Aelin shrieked, forcing a smile despite the heat on her cheeks. “Buzzard, I’m going dancing with Emrys right now.”

Aelin scurried away, her back already to Rowan when she realized the ease in which Rowan’s old nickname fell from her lips and cringed. It’d only be weirder if she returned to take it back.

Emrys was swaying alone in a small crowd around a saxophonist, and Aelin was quick to join him. The man knew how to lead a dance, and he led her so well her mind wandered back to Rowan.

Turns out she was a lot less over him than she thought. Big fucking deal, Aelin just needed to keep in mind that they broke up for a reason. A jazz version of some trendy pop music blasted behind them, and Emrys twirled her in a way that flared her long green skirt, making her laugh despite feeling conflicted.

She doubted Rowan would want her back after all this time, especially since his breakup with Lyria was so new. But in the few glimpses she took, he watched her every move, leaned against a streetlight, arms crossed with a knowing grin on. When the song ended, Emrys hugged Aelin and smiled at someone behind her.

“You looked like you wanted your girl back,” the old man said to Rowan’s approaching figure.

He just nodded and said his goodbyes before leading Aelin away, a hand on her waist.

Rowan was onto something, he had to be.

His thumb went up and down in unsettling strokes on her waist while they quietly strolled down the street, his arm around her wiring her every nerve. Aelin feigned interest in the boulevard as she tried to slow her breathing. This was a low blow after two months swatting away memories of his bulky arms nestling her, picking her up, yanking her down.

“Where am I buying you dinner?” Rowan asked against her ear yet again, giving her another shiver.

This was getting ridiculous. It had to be intentional.

“Here.” Aelin pointed at a street vendor nearby, heart racing. He wanted to snuck her into a closed, dark place and buy her fancy food? Nuh-uh. Not today.

The break-up happened for a reason, Aelin reminded herself, though it was hard to remember which reason was that. No matter how many times she said it to her mirror.

Undeterred, Rowan found them a bench near the vendor and joined the small line by the cart. With both hands on his pockets, he sent her a small smile, eyes crinkling as if waiting there to buy his ex food was the highlight of his day.

Aelin looked away. This is a trip with his ex he forced himself to go because of the money already spent. No need to overthink what she already overthought two months ago, it wasn’t relevant if her feelings changed or not.

As her treatment worked and Aelin realized she ended a permanent thing because of a temporary situation, the gaping hole in her chest opened further and further, almost swallowing her whole.

But everything was already said and done, no going back now.

Besides, Rowan’s probably over her by now. Maybe he just wants ass and thinks that what happens in Suria stays in Suria. That’s… highly unlike him, but he’s still a man, and that’s what Aelin needs to tell herself to get through this evening.

He sat beside her sooner than expected, coming back with pan-fried trout.

Aelin pouted. “You know I don’t eat fish.”

“Give it a try.”

“What happened to good old french fries?”

“Come on.” He playfully elbowed her. “I’ll get your fries if you at least try.”

She sighed, frowning at the trout. It did look perfectly edible and crispy. She held one and carefully inspected it before taking a bite. After breaking the delicious fried crust, Aelin tasted the most tender and moist flesh, the flavor of butter and herbs exploding inside her mouth.

“That good, huh?” Rowan teased, making her realize that she was practically orgasming next to him.

“You should’ve bought the fries. Now you’re going bankrupt with all the trout I’ll make you buy.”

He didn’t seem to mind, so they silently ate together, only making scarce comments about passers-by—and their dogs, in Aelin’s case. She ate her entire fish, then snuck bites of Rowan’s, to his snarling dismay.

He grabbed one of the vendor’s cheap, thin napkins. “Here, you have a…” Rowan slid it against her lower lip, sending her heart racing. Once done, he still cupped her face and brushed his thumb against her chin, then he smiled. “I think smudged red lipstick might be your best look.”

Aelin’s face faltered. “I think…” She added some distance between them and crossed her arms, feeling mad for him making her feel things she worked long and hard to suppress. “I think you’re using your lowest weapons, and I think it’s not fair.”

Rowan had the gall to cock his head and smirk. “I haven’t even tried using my lowest weapon yet.”

She got up. They were too close, her chest was too fluttery, and… no. She did it for him, and it was a little upsetting if Rowan didn’t recognize that, especially after she worked so hard to not rebel against her own decision.

“Aelin.” He followed her, hot on her heels no matter how much she tried to distance herself, on the crowded main street and then into a quieter side one. “Talk to me.”

She paused, taking deep breaths with her heart still racing, and Rowan knew better than to get nearer right now. “What’re you trying to do?”

“Win you back,” he said, plain and simple.

“Because we’re traveling together and sharing a room corrupted your thoughts?”

“No,” Rowan trailed, looking as if he couldn’t believe he had to explain something so obvious. “Because you broke up with me, but your reasons never convinced me.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, full of disbelief. “Was I supposed to think that while you dated Lyria?”

“Lyria was—“ He huffed. “You know—“

“You won’t get any points if you belittle her or—“

“I’m not trying to do that!” Rowan ran a hand through his hair, looking away for a second to gather his thoughts. “Look, I liked Lyria. She was nice. I only got serious with her because she’s someone I could see myself falling for.” Rowan swallowed, his pine-green eyes boring into her soul as he continued, “But it’s fucking impossible to do that if I’m still in love with you.”

Aelin crossed her arms, looking away and blinking hard so she wouldn’t lose control of her emotions. “You’re not.”

“Seriously?”

She glared at him.

“I love you. Is that what you don’t wanna hear?”

Aelin took a deep breath and sat on the sidewalk curb, not caring about the cute skirt she bought in his favorite color a million years ago. She’d prepared for his hatred. Indifference. Even a hookup, worst-case scenario.

She did not prepare for Rowan still having feelings for her.

He sat by her side, eyes vacant. “Look, you were going through a hard time and I was worried. But you can’t stop me from worrying, and when shit escalates, my worrying does too.”

“I’m still fucked in the head—progressively better, but the trip’s kinda making me forget about it—I just think you’re happier without me.”

“I’m at my happiest when I’m with you.” Rowan sighed, looking up now. “In a relationship, we’re supposed to go through shit together. Not to break up because things are hard, let alone to spare me. Spare me from what?”

“I’m trying so hard not to disagree with my own decision.”

“Then don’t.” He put his hand above hers on the sidewalk, tentative. “Take me back.”

Aelin tried to swallow the thickness in her throat while she fought her own instincts. Trying to distance herself from the memory of Rowan is one thing, but she was too weak to hear him out like this. Besides, he did have a good argument. It kinda added to the little voice in her head saying she ended a perfectly good relationship because of one bump in the road.

“I’m still in love with you too,” she confessed, the words hanging in the air with no closure to them, just that raw feeling.

Rowan reached for the side of her face, his hand slowly cupping her jaw. He stroked it with his thumb, his eyes looking for an answer in hers.

She silently gave it to him.

They hesitantly grew closer, her eyes half-lidded as Rowan grew bolder with her melting in his arms, until he lost patience and took her lips.

Aelin’s body relaxed when he washed her away with the familiarity of his mouth on her, and she had to break the kiss for a second to smile. This dopamine rush he spontaneously gave her was greater than any antidepressant and, right now, the one thing she felt in her bones was that she wouldn’t let go.

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♡ SJM Romance Week 2024 Masterlist ♡

Read on AO3 here!

Day 1 ♡ First Date

you look so pretty (and I love this view) — Nesta's Hinge date doesn't show up, so Emerie steps in.

modern au

Day 2 ♡ Traditions

Now That Your Rose Is In Bloom — Lucien buys Elain a bouquet of flowers for every year they’ve been together.

modern au

Day 3 ♡ Weddings

meet me at the altar (in your white dress) — Nesta and Cassian elope to take the edge of wedding planning.

modern au

Day 5 ♡ Favorite Tropes

it’s you (they add up to) — Five times Azriel showed Nesta he cared, plus one time Nesta showed him she cared, too.

canonverse, 5+1 fic

Day 7 ♡ Free Day

Handprints and Good Grips — Cassian and Nesta are absolutely, one hundred percent going to make it to their fancy dinner reservations this year.

modern au, smut

[starsreminisce]

SJM Romance Week Day Seven Free Day: Angst

Lucien's gaze bore into Nuan's, a well of despair pooling in his eyes as he extended the faebane towards her, a silent plea etched in every line of his face. But Nuan met his desperate look with a disapproving frown, her reluctance evident as she hesitated to accept the offering.

"Please," he implored, his voice a fragile whisper, pushing the faebane into her hand with trembling fingers. "I just need something. Anything."

"Loosh," Nuan began, her tone heavy with concern. "I just don't think dulling it is the solution."

Desperation laced his words as he pleaded, "Please... I just want it to stop hurting. I want it to stop. Please. It’s not forever."

He watched as Nuan's expression shifted, her features tightening with a mixture of empathy and caution. "Does she know?" she inquired, her voice soft yet probing.

His response came in a defeated murmur, "She doesn't care."

Nuan's scrutiny deepened, her eyes reflecting a guarded understanding. "She hasn't given you an answer for years, Loosh. I think it's the opposite."

"It's not forever," he reiterated, his voice barely above a whisper, clinging to a thread of hope amidst the turmoil.

Nuan pursed her lips, contemplating his plea with a weighty silence before finally relenting. "Okay," she conceded, her voice resigned yet determined. "Let me see if I can isolate it so that it can just affect the bond."

“Thank you,” Lucien breathed, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes as he clung to the possibility of respite from his torment.

***

Lucien sat at the dinner table, his wine glass swirling idly in his hand, his attention drifting away from the lively chatter around him. Across from him, Elain wore her usual charismatic smile, effortlessly charming everyone present. He couldn't help but wonder why he had agreed to Feyre's invitation to this so-called family dinner, and even more so, why Elain had chosen to grace them with her presence.

Ignoring the distance she maintained from him, Lucien couldn't help but notice how she positioned herself closer to Azriel. It stung, especially considering the coldness with which she had regarded him just a few weeks prior, as if he were somehow at fault for something beyond his control. He hummed to himself, recalling the panic Feyre had experienced when she couldn't feel her mate's presence after weeks of faebane poisoning.

Lucien's hopes hinged on Nuan's ingenuity in isolating the effects of the herb, ensuring that he could alleviate his pain without sacrificing his abilities entirely. Not that he relied on them heavily to begin with. So when Nuan finally reached out with a potential solution, he couldn't help but feel a surge of hope and gratitude.

However, Nuan's offer came with a condition: Elain would need to be made aware of the remedy and consume the other half of the potion. It wasn't strictly necessary, but Nuan believed it would be beneficial. Lucien made no promises or bargains; he simply stated that if Elain showed him attention, he would share the information with her. But if she remained indifferent, he would inform her after the week had passed.

With his decision made, Lucien wasted no time in informing Rhys and Feyre of his intentions. He believed he had earned this respite, and he was determined to take full advantage of it.

"So, where again are you headed?" Feyre inquired, leaning forward with curiosity.

Lucien took a sip of his wine before replying, "Montesere. It's a beautiful country, a playground for the wealthy."

Rhysand's jaw tensed at the mention of the place. "They're planning to march on us. Not exactly an ideal vacation spot."

Lucien knew that all too well. He had no intention of actually going there; he just needed to create the illusion that he was far from the reach of their daemati abilities.

"Worst case, I can provide a report on the climate," he offered with a casual shrug.

"Well, I hope you have a wonderful break," Feyre said warmly, reaching for his hand. "You've certainly earned it."

As the conversation lulled and the guests began to drift towards the living room, Lucien positioned himself by the door, waiting for an opportunity to speak to Elain. He had promised himself he would try.

"Lady," he called out as she made to walk past him, her gaze fixed firmly ahead.

She seemed intent on ignoring him, but he reached out and gently grasped her wrist, prompting her to stop abruptly, her expression alarmed as she glanced down at his hand, which he quickly withdrew.

"I need to tell you something," Lucien said quietly, his voice tinged with urgency. "I'm going to—"

"Montesere," Elain interjected, her tone icy. "Have fun."

Without another word, she turned and made her way upstairs, leaving Lucien feeling defeated.

Well, he had tried.

***

Elain sighed deeply, her wrist still tingling from the warmth of his touch, a sensation that sent a flurry of conflicting emotions coursing through her veins. It took every ounce of her willpower to resist the urge to throw herself at him, to press her lips against his and drown in the longing that flickered in his gaze.

The mere sound of her title on his lips had sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a fierce longing within her that she struggled to contain. She was furious with him for choosing Montesere, for opting to escape to a place where tulip fields bloomed, rather than staying in Velaris where she had hoped they could spend time together. She had planned to follow his every move, to linger in his favorite spots, in the hopes of engaging in genuine conversation away from the prying eyes of her sisters and their mates and the disapproving scowl of Azriel, who seemed to view their interactions as nothing more than a spectacle.

Montesere. The mere mention of the place felt like a betrayal, separating them by an entire ocean.

But she steeled her resolve, pushing aside the ache in her heart as she attempted to quell the turmoil within her. How could she possibly bring herself to speak to him when there are seemingly better uses for that mouth of his?

Yet, a small voice within her whispered, urging her to wait, to bide her time. Perhaps one more week would grant her the courage she needed to finally confront him, to lay bare her feelings and let him know just how deeply she cared for him. Until then, she would have to endure the ache of longing and the torment of unspoken words, hoping that when the time came, he would be ready to listen.

She just hoped she wasn’t too late.

***

Alone in the secluded cottage, Lucien allowed himself a moment of bitter reflection. No one knew of this place except for him, a small haven tucked away close to a tranquil lake on the border between Autumn and Spring. If Feyre hadn't been so deceitful towards him, he might have brought her here instead of the cave where he had camped. They could have waited out the faebane poisoning together, but he couldn't bring himself to trust her with the knowledge of this sanctuary. He didn't want Rhys to know about it either.

Lucien had meticulously warded the cottage, drawing on what he had learned from Helion's public spellbooks. Even if someone stumbled upon this hidden retreat, they would find it registered under the name of Jesminda Berdara—a combination of his first love's hilariously common first name and his mother's surname. With his mother's family being so extensive, no one would question his connection to the property.

As he stepped inside, the lights flickered to life, and the fire in the hearth crackled warmly. Lucien carefully unpacked his provisions for the week, ensuring the icebox was filled with enough food to sustain him.

With a sense of trepidation, he retrieved one of the four vials from Nuan, the solution to his torment. Taking a deep breath, he downed the contents in one gulp, feeling the effects wash over him like a gentle wave. His vision blurred slightly, and he stumbled towards the bed, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh.

As sleep enveloped him, Lucien hoped that the next week would bring him respite from the pain and turmoil that had consumed him for far too long.

***

Elain's scream echoed through the stillness of the night, jolting her awake from a restless slumber. Panic gripped her chest as she frantically looked down to the thread that bound her to Lucien, the lifeline that had always connected them.

But to her horror, it was dull and lifeless, a mere shadow of its former vibrant self. With trembling hands, she reached out and yanked at the thread with all her strength, desperation fueling her actions. Yet, there was no response, no flicker of pain or protest from Lucien.

She pulled harder, her heart pounding in her chest, her breaths coming in short gasps as she fought against the suffocating grip of fear. Still, the thread remained unchanged, refusing to yield to her desperate pleas.

In a last-ditch effort, she tried to reach out to him through their bond, searching for the familiar warmth and comfort that had always flowed between them. But there was nothing. Just an empty void.

No sunshine coursing through her veins. No fire enveloping her soul. Just an increasingly overwhelming void where his presence should have been

Tears welled up in her eyes as she kept pulling and pulling and pulling through the bond they shared, but there was nothing. No presence of Lucien's essence intertwining with hers. Only an eerie silence where his presence once thrived.

For the first time since she had turned fae, Elain felt truly alone. The absence of Lucien's presence left her feeling adrift, as if a vital part of her had been torn away. In that moment, she realized just how deeply intertwined their souls had become, and the emptiness that now consumed her was almost unbearable.

***

As Lucien slowly emerged from the depths of sleep, he was met with an unfamiliar sensation, an eerie silence that permeated the air around him. His consciousness struggled to fully awaken as he reached out for the bond that connected him to Elain, only to find it lying dull and lifeless, like a faded thread lost in the shadows.

But it wasn't just the bond that felt muted; everything around him seemed cloaked in a strange, suffocating quietude.

Attempting to summon his powers, Lucien felt a feeble spark flicker within him, barely managing to conjure even the smallest flame. Yet, despite his initial frustration, he couldn't deny the curious absence of the usual tumultuous thoughts and emotions that typically swirled within him.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was no incessant chant in his mind, no overwhelming urge to claim his mate, no irrational devotion clouding his judgment. It was as if a veil had been lifted, granting him a rare moment of clarity and tranquility.

A smile tugged at the corners of Lucien's lips as he embraced the newfound serenity that enveloped him. Perhaps this unexpected reprieve from the chaos of his emotions was exactly what he needed to truly enjoy his vacation. With a sense of calm settling over him, Lucien felt ready to embrace the quietude and explore the depths of this newfound peace.

***

Elain remained seated by the window, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, longing for the warmth of the sun to return to her life. Despite the voices of concern that surrounded her, she remained lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to the inquiries directed her way.

"Elain," Nesta's gentle voice broke through the haze of her reverie. "Is there something we can get for you?"

"Sunshine," Elain replied softly, her voice tinged with longing as she tugged on her bond.

She could hear Feyre's suggestion of fetching Lucien, followed by Rhys's response that they couldn't reach him—he was too far away. And just like that, Elain knew. She couldn't reach him either. He was too far away, lost in a distance that felt insurmountable, leaving her to yearn for his presence as she sat alone by the window, waiting for the sunshine to return to her life once more.

***

Lucien immersed himself in the simple pleasures of solitude, filling his days with activities that allowed him to escape the turmoil of his thoughts. He fished in the tranquil waters, the rhythmic motion of casting and reeling in the line soothing his restless mind. He swam in the cool embrace of the lake, the water washing away the weight of his worries with each stroke. He hunted in the dense forest surrounding the cottage, finding solace in the primal rhythm of the hunt.

Between these moments of activity, Lucien found refuge in the pages of books, losing himself in tales of adventure and romance. And when exhaustion inevitably crept in, he allowed himself the luxury of napping in the warm embrace of his bed, drifting into dreams that offered fleeting respite from the ache in his heart.

Occasionally, he sought solace in the hot springs nearby, the steam rising around him like a comforting blanket, easing the tension from his weary muscles. But even amidst these moments of tranquility, the absence of Elain lingered like a shadow, a constant reminder of the void that had formed between them.

Yes, he missed her—tremendously. But the memory of her cold gaze, her distant demeanor, served as a bitter reminder of the chasm that now separated them. He couldn't help but recoil from the imagined touch of her hand, the memory of her indifference cutting deeper than any physical wound.

Yet, despite the ache of longing that gnawed at his soul, Lucien harbored a flicker of hope that she was happy, wherever she may be. He had no way of knowing for sure, but he clung to the possibility that she had found peace in their newfound separation.

As the days passed, Lucien came to a quiet realization: perhaps one more week was needed for both of them to adjust to their newfound independence, to learn how to navigate a world where they were no longer bound by the threads of fate.

With that thought in mind, Lucien penned a letter to Feyre and Rhys, requesting an extension of his vacation. And then, with a heavy heart and a weary soul, he returned to the familiar routine of fishing, hunting, reading, napping, swimming, and soaking in the hot springs nearby.

And all the while, he missed Elain.

***

Feyre's brow furrowed in concern as she absorbed the contents of Lucien's letter, her mind racing with worry. "Well, that's not good," she murmured, her voice laced with apprehension. "Lucien just said he's staying one more week. We need to get him back."

Rhys's expression grew irate as he processed the information, his gaze distant as he growled, "Lucien isn't in Montesere. I sent someone to retrieve him. He isn't there."

Confusion and frustration welled up within Elain, igniting a fierce anger that burned like a raging inferno. She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she glared down at the thread that bound her to Lucien, her thoughts swirling with bitterness and resentment.

Prick. Prick. Prick. How dare he think he can hide from her? How dare he believe he can escape her reach?

Her eyes widened in astonishment when she noticed a faint glimmer of life flicker within the thread, a fleeting sign of his presence that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. With a desperate surge of determination, Elain reached out, attempting to grasp the elusive connection before it slipped away, leaving her once again enveloped in the oppressive emptiness of their bond.

"Where are you?" she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty and fear. "Where are you?"

"I need to talk to Helion," Elain declared abruptly, her tone commanding and resolute. "Now."

Rhys's expression softened with understanding, but he shook his head with a heavy sigh. "Helion can't find him," he explained wearily. "We've already asked."

But Elain's resolve remained unshaken. "Now," she repeated firmly, her gaze burning with determination as she refused to accept defeat. Whatever it took, she would find him. She would bring him back, no matter the cost.

***

Lucien sighed, gently swaying in the hammock as he contemplated what to make for dinner. Salmon and rice seemed like a comforting choice, a simple yet satisfying meal to ease the hunger pangs that gnawed at his stomach. As he pondered the menu, his thoughts drifted back to Elain and the inexplicable anger he had sensed from her earlier. He couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at his conscience, concerned for whoever might have been the unfortunate recipient of her rare wrath.

Furrowing his brow, Lucien glanced around the serene surroundings, a sense of unease prickling at the back of his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, even though he had taken every precaution to ensure his solitude remained undisturbed. But then, he realized with a start that there was only one person who could possibly find him here, hidden away from the rest of the world.

His breath caught in his throat as he sensed a presence nearby, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. And then, as if materializing out of thin air, a pair of chocolate-colored eyes met his gaze, shimmering with intensity and emotion. Elain's eyes.

They lingered for a moment, sweeping over the tranquil scenery before settling on him with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. There was a hint of anger in their depths as they narrowed ever so slightly, a silent accusation that made him swallow hard against the lump in his throat. And then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished into thin air, leaving Lucien to grapple with the unsettling feeling of being observed from afar.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Elain was trying to tell him something, a message conveyed through the silent language of her eyes. But what that message might be, he could only guess. And as he continued to swing in the hammock, the weight of her gaze lingering in his mind, he couldn't help but wonder what lay behind the anger that burned within her heart.

***

Elain let out a heavy breath, her mind swirling with determination as she confirmed Lucien's whereabouts in the Autumn Court. It was a risky move, one that Nesta vehemently opposed, warning her that she would meet her demise if she dared to venture into that treacherous realm.

Cassian offered no assistance, Feyre could only promise aid if Elain could scry Lucien's location, and Azriel remained frustratingly unhelpful despite her attempts to sway him with her charms. Even Mor refused to get involved, citing her reluctance to meddle in the affairs of mates for a third time, and Amren offered no solutions either.

But Elain refused to be deterred. She would find a way into the Autumn Court, by any means necessary. And so, she turned to the next logical course of action: reaching out to Eris.

In a calculated move, Elain penned a letter to Eris, requesting a meeting to discuss a matter of utmost importance. To her surprise, Eris agreed to meet with her at the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, where they could walk and talk discreetly under the guise of shopping alone.

As they strolled through the stalls, Eris wasted no time in addressing the elephant in the room. "I know why you're coming to me," he stated bluntly. "He's not there."

Elain's response was equally pointed, her tone icy with disdain. "I didn't realize I was speaking to Beron," she retorted, refusing to be intimidated by his veiled threats.

Eris chuckled at her retort. "I cannot be seen with you there, knowing who you are," he explained. "You're risking even suggesting that Lucien is hiding in the Autumn Court."

Elain met his gaze unflinchingly. "Would I if I were to go to Beron and plead for his help, knowing how motivated he is to find his wayward son?"

"You wouldn't dare," Eris countered.

Elain's lips curved into a cold smile. "I don't think you're much of a gambling male."

After a brief exchange, Eris agreed to her request, offering to assist her in locating Lucien in exchange for a favor. With the terms set, Elain wasted no time in presenting him with Feyre's painting, a clue to Lucien's whereabouts.

Eris examined the painting with interest, but admitted his unfamiliarity with the location depicted. Nevertheless, he agreed to take Elain to the Autumn Court's gates by the Spring Court and adjust the guards' schedule to give her a day to search for Lucien.

With the deal struck, Eris wasted no time in leading Elain to the designated location. As they approached the cave, Elain's heart pounded with anticipation. She glanced down at the dull thread that still connected her to Lucien, a silent reminder of their bond.

With determination in her eyes, Elain followed the thread into the darkness of the cave, knowing that even though it may be dulled, it still led her home—to him.

***

As Lucien ventured out to hunt for ducks, he found himself unable to shake the persistent ache of longing that seemed to pulse incessantly in his groin, a physical manifestation of his yearning for Elain. He tried to dispel the distraction by conjuring images of her icy glare, but his mind wandered to more explicit fantasies, fueled by the primal urges that surged within him.

With determination, he lined up his bow and arrow, intending to focus. Yet, despite his efforts, his aim faltered, the arrows missing their mark time and time again. Frustration gnawed at him, exacerbating the tension that coiled within him.

Desperate for relief, Lucien pressed his hand against his throbbing cock, hoping to ease the pressure. But the sensation only served to fuel his desires further, igniting a primal urge that demanded gratification.

As he finally managed to make a successful shot, bringing down two ducks, Lucien's excitement was palpable. Returning home, he cleaned the ducks in preparation for a roast, setting one aside for the following day and preparing the other for his dinner.

With a cheeky thought, Lucien decided to fully indulge himself, reasoning that no one was around to witness his actions. Stripping off his clothes, he ventured outside, the cool breeze caressing his skin as he settled into a chair overlooking the serene expanse of the lake.

With a hand wrapped around his hardened length, Lucien surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure that enveloped him, groaning softly as he stroked himself with increasing fervor. His mind filled with thoughts of Elain, her name escaping his lips in a whispered mantra as he neared the peak of ecstasy.

As the tension built to its crescendo, Lucien felt the wave of release crash over him, pleasure washing over every fiber of his being in an electrifying surge of bliss. With a ragged gasp of her name, he succumbed to the ecstasy, his body trembling with the intensity of his climax.

But before he could fully savor the moment, a sharp voice shattered the stillness of the air, jolting Lucien from his reverie. His eyes snapped open in disbelief as he beheld the sight of Elain standing before him, her arms crossed and her expression a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

"Nice to know that it's still me you think of, even when you try to reject the bond by your own doing," she retorted, her words laced with accusation as she took in the scene before her.

Caught in a moment of vulnerability, Lucien's cheeks burned with shame as he scrambled to compose himself, his mind racing for an explanation to appease her wrath. Yet, as he searched for the right words, he found himself at a loss, the weight of her gaze bearing down on him with unwavering scrutiny.

***

Elain's voice pierced the tranquil air like a thunderclap, causing birds to flutter away in alarm. She fixed her gaze on Lucien's sheepish expression, her heart pounding erratically in her chest as she struggled to maintain her composure. Cauldron boil her, he was huge, and the memory of his release, the evidence glistening on his stomach, sent a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her. Fate seemed to conspire against her as the breeze wafted his scent to her, enough to make her knees weak.

"Montesere?" she repeated, her voice trembling with disbelief as she struggled to process the surreal encounter before her.

Lucien shifted uncomfortably, his sheepish demeanor betraying his guilt. "Can I clean up?" he asked tentatively, his gaze flickering with uncertainty.

"Montesere?" Elain persisted, her voice growing more insistent with each repetition.

"This conversation would be better in pants," Lucien admitted with a sigh, his tone resigned as he acknowledged the gravity of the situation. "Go inside, and we can talk."

Elain remained rooted to the spot as Lucien made his way to the lakeshore to clean up. Despite her inner turmoil, she couldn't tear her gaze away as the drops of water trailed off every contour of his body, a sight that stirred a familiar ache within her.

As Lucien approached her, Elain couldn't help but notice the way his cock swayed freely, a tantalizing temptation that she dared not indulge in. With a silent gesture, Lucien held the door open for her, motioning for her to enter. Elain stepped inside, her eyes darting around the simple abode as she tried to regain her composure. The rustling of fabric signaled Lucien's return, and she braced herself for the difficult conversation that lay ahead.

Futile. It would be futile. All she wanted to do was pace and process. Sit and process. Why, just why. Lucien said nothing, offered nothing. She could see he was restless for any sort of action, but the reunion she had planted in her head was different from the actuality.

Never mind she had done the impossible and found him with a close-to-dead bond between them in enemy territory. Never mind that she felt like she was losing her mind the moment he was lost to her and she found out that it was because he had lied. Never mind that the only thing she could do, still could only do, was to climb him and demand that he never leave her.

"Tea?" Lucien offered, breaking the heavy silence that hung between them.

She turned to him, her expression demanding an explanation. "Explain."

***

Lucien remained quiet as Elain absorbed the weight of his words, her silence echoing through the room like a deafening roar. He had laid bare his soul to her, revealing the truth behind his actions and the depth of his feelings. Yet, as he watched her withdraw into herself, a sense of panic gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole.

But it wasn't just her silence that unsettled him. It was the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way the silver began to line her eyes, a telltale sign of her growing turmoil. His heart clenched with dread as he sensed her impending departure.

He surged forward, desperation lacing his voice. "Where are you going?"

Elain's response was simple, yet it struck him like a blow to the chest. "Velaris."

The words hung heavy in the air, the finality of her decision crashing over him like a tidal wave. He reached out to stop her, his hands trembling with urgency. "Stay. For dinner. For the night."

But Elain's resolve remained unyielding. "I was just told that my own mate would rather poison himself, and he expects me to stay?"

His heart thundered in his chest at her acknowledgment of their bond, the realization hitting him like a bolt of lightning. In a desperate bid to convey the depth of his emotions, he pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice cracking with emotion. He had never intended to cause her pain, yet here they were, caught in the aftermath of his actions.

"Lady, please," Lucien sighed, his voice pleading as he held her tightly in his embrace. "I messed up, okay? I messed up."

But Elain remained limp in his arms, her body rigid with tension as she struggled to process everything that had transpired between them.

"Talk to me," he implored, his voice filled with desperation. "Yell, talk, do something, please."

Slowly, Elain pulled away from him, her expression unreadable as she averted her gaze. "I can't."

"Then you don't have to right now," Lucien murmured, his tone gentle as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. "I'll cook, and as the duck is roasting, you can shower, nap, I don't know... come with me to the hot springs, take whatever you need. But we are going to talk about this."

"Hot springs?" Elain's voice carried a hint of girlish surprise, her cheeks flushing pink as she looked away from him.

Realizing his oversight, Lucien quickly amended his suggestion. "Yes, I had plans to go while the duck was roasting. Or I can take you there while I stay here." He offered, hoping to alleviate some of the tension between them.

She looked up at him with a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity, her eyes searching his face for answers as she pulled away from his embrace and made her way to the couch. Lucien sighed heavily, feeling a weight settle in the pit of his stomach as he forced himself to focus.

Making his way to the kitchen, he began to prepare the duck for roasting, his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to quell the tumult of emotions swirling within him. Yet, his concentration faltered when Elain appeared beside him, her presence a silent reminder of the unresolved tension between them.

"I've never made duck before," she remarked softly, her voice breaking the silence that hung between them.

"Feyre never hunted for one?" Lucien replied, his tone equally subdued as he continued with his preparations.

Elain shook her head, her gaze fixed on his hands as they deftly worked the ingredients. She remained silent for a moment before speaking again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you like it?"

"I do," Lucien responded, his own voice tinged with quiet contemplation. "Just wanted something other than fish for a change."

"Which fish is your favorite?" Elain inquired, her curiosity evident in her tone.

"Walleye," Lucien answered, a faint smile gracing his lips as he glanced at her. "I might try to get some tomorrow."

With the duck now in the oven, Lucien turned his attention back to Elain, his smile widening at the sight of her stone-faced expression. "Have you decided what to do while we wait?"

"I can take a nap," Elain replied, her voice soft yet resolute as she retreated into herself once more.

"Would you like me to show you to the room, Lady?" Lucien offered, hoping to make her feel more comfortable.

Elain blinked in surprise, her cheeks tinted with a slight blush as she turned away. "I think we are beyond you calling me Lady. Elain is fine."

"As you wish, Elain," Lucien replied with a warm smile, grateful for the chance to address her by name.

***

Elain sat on Lucien's bed, the soft mattress enveloping her in comfort as she bounced gently on it. The scent of him lingered in the air, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She hugged herself tightly, reminiscing about the desperation in his eyes as he pleaded with her to stay and talk, and the understanding he showed when she confessed that she couldn't. She couldn't shake the memory of his warm embrace, the ease of his smile, and the way he looked at her with longing. She filed away the information that he considered walleye his favorite fish, but he also enjoyed duck.

Her thoughts drifted to more intimate moments, moments that made her heart race and her cheeks flush with heat. The sheer size of him, the way he gasped her name repeatedly, the intensity of his desire for her... She couldn't deny the effect it had on her, the way her own desires mirrored his.

She blushed at the sound of her own name on his lips, tinged with longing and desire. He couldn't revert to calling her "Lady" now, not when her own name sounded so intimate and enchanting from him. She couldn't help but scoff inwardly. What was next? Would she tease him with her ankle? Although she knew that if she did, that would be as far as he'd go, never pushing for more or begging for further intimacy.

She glanced down at the dull thread that bound them together, a tangible reminder of their connection. Lucien had promised that it would wear off, but the thought of him poisoning himself just to alleviate pain weighed heavily on her heart. He was willing to endure his own suffering if it meant she could find happiness, all while allowing the bond to remain intact.

Her mind raced as she searched through the wardrobes, finding no trace of another woman's clothing. It was just him—his presence permeated every corner of the room. Her thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind of possibilities, imagining scenarios where he slept in the nude, perhaps even sharing his bed with her in such a state.

She covered her face with her hands, a squeal escaping her lips as she grappled with the overwhelming rush of emotions coursing through her. This was only the third time they had been alone together, and it was the longest they had ever spoken. All she wanted was more, more of him, more of this connection that seemed to pull them inexorably closer.

But she knew that he would offer her the bed while he slept on the couch or the hammock outside. It was the kind of selflessness she had come to expect from him, and it only served to deepen her feelings for him.

She hadn't truly wanted a nap; every nerve in her body was on fire, and she couldn't blame the bond this time. All she wanted was to be near him, to talk to him, to explore the depths of their connection without the weight of the world bearing down on them.

***

Lucien frowned at his hardening cock through the murky water of the hot spring, cursing its untimely arousal as he tried to relax. With his hands stretched behind him, he attempted to let the warmth of the water ease the tension that seemed to coil within him, but it was a futile effort. The presence of his mate only seemed to exacerbate his inner turmoil.

He could feel her eyes on him, scrutinizing his every move, and he couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were racing through her mind. Despite the hurt he saw in her eyes, he noticed a hint of curiosity soften her gaze as he went about preparing their dinner. He debated internally whether he should offer her company or give her space, uncertain of what she truly wanted.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to let the tranquility of the moment wash over him, grateful for the absence of the usual primal urges that came with the mating bond. Yet, even without the overwhelming need to claim her, he couldn't deny the desires and yearnings that still lingered within him, independent of the bond.

His breath hitched sharply when he heard Elain's quiet footsteps approaching, her presence stirring something within him. Dressed in his shirt—the sight of which sent a jolt of desire coursing through him—she hesitantly made her way to the edge of the hot spring.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the gentle splashing of the water.

Lucien compiled without hesitation, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited her next move. He listened intently as she entered the water, the sound of her movements mingling with the soothing bubbling of the hot spring. Though he couldn’t see her, he could feel her presence, a tangible warmth against the comforting heat of the water.

What felt like an eternity stretched on until she broke the silence with a “this is nice.” The sound of her voice, soft and melodious, sent a shiver down Lucien's spine, and he swallowed a huge lump in his throat.

“I was angry when I found out that you weren’t staying in Velaris instead, opting to go to Montesere,” Elain's words flowed gently, filling the space between them with warmth. “Truth was that when I first heard that you would be returning to Velaris, I was weary and scared because I knew the inner circle would try to force us together but you staying in Velaris is different than you visiting Velaris.”

Lucien listened intently, his heart aching with understanding.

“I can’t talk to you,” Elain murmured softly, her vulnerability palpable in the air between them.

Lucien furrowed his brows, his mind racing with possibilities. “We have to start somewhere, Elain. I wouldn't know that I am hurting you if I don't know that I am.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Is there something I can do? Something to help? Letters or …”

“There is,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

With closed eyes, Lucien turned his head towards where he hoped she was, anticipating her next move. He felt her presence drawing nearer, her breath ghosting over his skin as her lips brushed against his, startling him into wide-eyed alertness.

His heart pounded erratically as he stared into her equally startled face, a mix of confusion and longing swirling in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Elain stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she attempted to retreat from the unexpected intimacy.

But before she could escape, Lucien reached out and gently grasped her hand, anchoring her in place. His eyes softened as he looked at her, a silent plea for her to stay. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her bare skin. He felt her tense initially, her body stiffening in response. But instead of pulling away, she surprised him by leaning into his embrace, her own arms enveloping him in return.

Her touch sent a wave of warmth coursing through him, easing the tension in his muscles and soothing the ache in his heart. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent and reveling in the closeness they shared. The scent of her hair, a delicate floral fragrance mixed with the natural aroma of the hot spring, enveloped him like a comforting embrace.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured softly against her skin, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should apologize to you for doing something you weren’t expecting.”

He felt her relax more in his arms, her breaths coming slower and more steady. The tension seemed to dissipate with each passing moment, replaced by a sense of intimacy and connection that he had longed for.

Elain looked nervous, her gaze flickering with uncertainty, but the nerves weren't directed at him. He could sense her inner turmoil, the conflict raging within her as she struggled to navigate her emotions. Lucien leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above hers, his heart pounding with anticipation.

With a surge of desire and longing, his hands began to caress her skin, his touch gentle yet possessive. His fingers traced the curves of her body, memorizing every contour, every dip and curve. He felt her respond in kind, her own hands exploring his form with a hesitant but eager touch.

“Kiss me how you want to,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and anticipation. He waited, breathless, for her response, his heart pounding in his chest as he yearned for the connection that only she could provide.

Elain's breath caught in her throat as she raked her hands through his hair, her touch sending electric pulses through his body. Her fingers trembled slightly with anticipation, the warmth of her touch searing his skin. Lucien couldn't help but throw her a grin, his heart soaring with hope.

"You already know how I feel about you," he whispered.

"Fuck, Lucien," she finally sighed, her voice husky with emotion.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise at her choice of word, but before he could say anything else, she took the initiative. With a surge of longing and pent-up desire, Elain closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a fierce and passionate kiss. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she tasted him.

He responded eagerly, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her even closer as he deepened the kiss. Their bodies pressed together, heat building between them as they lost themselves in each other's embrace. 

As Elain's lips trailed along his neck, Lucien couldn't help the gasp that escaped him, his body responding eagerly to her touch. He felt a surge of heat coursing through him, his senses overwhelmed by the sensation of her soft lips against his skin.

With each kiss, he felt himself growing more and more lost in the moment, his hands moving instinctively to pull her closer. He could feel the rhythm of her movements, the way she rocked her hips against him, igniting a fire within him.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he surrendered to the pleasure, his mind clouded with desire. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her, to give in to the overwhelming need that pulsed through him with every beat of his heart.

With a soft moan, he leaned into her touch, his body trembling with anticipation. He knew he couldn't hold back any longer, couldn't deny the longing that burned within him.

"Show me, Lucien," she whispered huskily, her words sending a shiver down his spine. "Show me how much you want me."

And with that, he let himself be consumed by the passion, surrendering to the irresistible pull of desire as he showed her just how much he wanted her.

[duskandcobalt]

Stargirl: Part Four

Following her last vision, Elain and Azriel navigate the surprise revelation and the frenzy that comes along with it.

...

Well, well, well... my smutty little darling that was only ever supposed to be one part comes to an end. This last part was intended to be just a little dirty short thing but somehow it turned into a 6k word monster soooo???? idk i had fun writing this, I hope you have fun reading it and I'm so thrilled I could get this out just in time for the last day of @sjmromanceweek 💕💗💞

this can be read as a stand alone but if you'd like to see how elain's sexy little visions came to be, you can find the first part of stargirl here as well as all the other parts in my masterlist xx

18+ please, gratuitous smut and a little bit of breeding kink as a valentine's day treat 💌👀♥️

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Elain runs a trembling hand down the front of her dress as she takes a deep breath. 

She’s wearing a beautiful ivory gown made of delicate lace that’s almost sheer. Only heavy clusters of floral embroidery cover her from the top of the bodice down to the middle of her thighs where it tapers off before picking up again to form a stunning train that trails dramatically  behind her.  The dress has long sleeves, also covered in embroidery, but her shoulders and decolletage are left bare - an intentional design choice that she and her seamstress had made with a certain someone in mind. 

A veil is ever so carefully placed into the crown of Elain’s intricately woven hair by the practiced hands of the twins when a soft knock sounds from the bedroom door, interrupting the mindless chatter she’d been exchanging with Nuala and Cerridwen.

She catches sight of the male in the reflection of her mirror. His tall, lean frame occupies almost the entire doorway. He’s dressed in an immaculately tailored suit and a small dusk coloured rose is pinned to the lapel of his jacket. His violet eyes soften as they meet hers and the very corners of his lips turn up into a fond smile.

“He’s not going to know what to do with himself when he sees you.” Rhysand says quietly. “You make for a beautiful bride, Elain.” 

Elain ducks her head in thanks. The warmth of a blush creeps up her neck and blooms across her cheeks as the nerves that she’s been trying to keep at bay all morning finally settle low in her stomach at her brother-in-law’s sincere compliment and at the reminder of the male waiting for her in the garden.

She couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Couldn’t believe that she was about to walk down the aisle to her mate. 

…

It had been two years since she’d had that vision that had hinted at a truth she hadn’t been prepared to receive. A vision that had shown her this day - a mating ceremony to a dark haired Shadowsinger instead of the son of Autumn as the Cauldron had once suggested. 

That single vision had come out of nowhere and thrown her entire life into a spiral. 

She’d never forget sitting up in his bed, turning towards him and whispering those words that had turned their entire world upside down. 

You’re my mate.

Azriel had only stared at her, still as a statue, as she fumbled over her words in a desperate attempt to explain to him exactly what she’d seen. 

The offering of cake. A black ribbon binding her wrist to his. 

He’d broken down moments later after finally finding his voice and asking her a few carefully curated questions to understand exactly what she’d seen. He’d clutched her tight to his chest as tears trickled from his eyes and into her hair. She’d never seen him like that before but she understood immediately that the overwhelming feeling that coursed through him was relief. 

Relief from the knowledge that he hadn’t been forgotten by the Mother or the Cauldron. From knowing that he hadn’t been deemed unworthy of a mate because of all the blood he’d drawn over the centuries.

They’d gone to Feyre first, clumsily explaining what Elain had seen only to realise they would also need to confess to already having been spending time together. They told Rhys next and though it was perhaps naive of them, neither she nor Azriel had expected that the High Lord  would react so poorly to the news.

For all the times that Elain had wished she could be with Azriel without needing to hide from the others, opening themselves up to the wrath of Rhysand for daring to mess with intercourt politics had resulted in a world of pain. He’d torn into Azriel for even thinking of pursuing a mated female, let alone a female mated to an Autumn Court male. For daring to bed her while her mate slept in the same house. 

At the time, it had seemed that no matter how many times Elain tried to make it clear that the bond in question wasn’t even a real bond - that she had pursued Azriel just as much as he’d pursued her, that they’d never risked sleeping together when Lucien was in residence -  her pleas fell on deaf ears. Rhys had stormed out of his office without sparing her a glance, only giving a stern warning to Azriel to stay the hell away from her.

They hadn’t stayed away from each other, of course. They’d simply resumed what they’d already been doing - sneaking in and out of each other’s rooms in the dead of night and only barely avoiding each other during the days. 

There had been countless tears and numerous arguments. An entire war had almost been waged over their claim that the Cauldron had been wrong. Iit had taken almost an entire year of working with various High Lords, priestesses, and other contacts and associates of Rhysand to confirm that something had indeed gone wrong when Elain was submerged in the Cauldron - that a spell had been cast in an attempt to hide her bond to Azriel and guide her in another direction. 

It had been confusing and messy and terrible for everyone involved but they had somehow come out on the other end, still together and still hopelessly in love. Now, there was a brand new element to their relationship. A bright, glowing tether that connected their bodies, their souls - already so tangible despite the fact that neither of them had formally accepted the bond. 

Azriel, usually so reserved and attention avoidant, had surprised her when he insisted on even having a ceremony. She’d had to talk him out of going down the same path as Nesta and Cassian and after going back and forth too many times to count, Elain had eventually relented and they’d compromised on having the small garden ceremony that had come to her in that vision. 

The title of mates had never meant much to her. She’d have chosen him a million times over where there’d been a predetermined connection between them or not. But she knew how much it meant to Azriel, knew that he considered the bond to be a blessing unlike any other. 

It was why she attempted to look past the, quite frankly, insane behavior he’d been exhibiting over the past few months. Azriel had turned into something reminiscent of the girls that Elain had grown up with. The ones that became obsessive over their nuptials the second a ring was placed on their finger. 

Just because she’d given in to his desire to have a ceremony, it didn’t mean that she hadn’t enjoyed torturing him from time to time when he was difficult about place settings or flowers. 

“Never should’ve told you about that stupid vision,” Elain would taunt him, if only to feel the delicious trickle of arousal slither down her spine at the way his shoulders would stiffen and the promise of punishment would spark in his eyes. 

Not that he’d ever actually deliver on that promise. 

It was the one true point of contention between them. The stubborn male was intent on not formally accepting the bond before the ceremony and would hardly touch her, let alone fuck her, for fear of accidentally solidifying the bond between them before they could have it blessed by a priestess. And though she tried, there was no amount of teasing and taunting she could do that would get him to break. 

He even went as far as to refuse food made by her whether she handed it directly to him or not. 

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Azriel had made up for some of it though, meeting her halfway by insisting on incorporating certain aspects of a human wedding - starting with a proposal that had come as a complete surprise a few weeks before they’d broken the curse.

They’d been in the garden one evening, Azriel more quiet than usual as he studied her from over the brim of a chipped tea cup that appeared like a dollhouse toy in the grasp of his large hands. She’d only looked up from her notebook when he gently lifted her feet from his lap and shifted until he was on his knees in the grass beside her. 

He had said her name so softly, his eyes gleaming with an unfamiliar quality that they’d later identified as nervousness when they laughed together in bed later, recounting the moment while Elain lifted her hand above their faces until the low fae lights caught the surface of the sparkling sapphire that newly graced her ring finger. 

…

That sapphire gleams brighter than ever on her finger as Rhysand steps towards her and offers her his arm.

“Ready?”

He’d come to them after they’d announced their intention to have a ceremony and asked if he could walk Elain down the aisle - a sign of peace and a way of offering them his blessing. Something that she knew meant the world to Azriel after the tense year he and Rhys had had. 

“Ready.” Elain swallows, slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow.

Apart from Rhys walking her down the aisle, most of what she’d seen in that vision remains the same. A harp plays as Rhys leads her out to the garden. Bright blooms of flowers are arranged on either side of a makeshift aisle. The sun shines and the Sidra glitters behind them. Nesta and Feyre smile brightly, tears gathering in the corner of their eyes. Cassian gives her a bright smile before clasping the broad shoulder of the handsome male standing next to him.

Elain’s breath catches in her chest when Azriel turns and his eyes land on her. She tries to keep from crying but there’s little she can do to stop the tears from falling when Azriel gives her a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen before, his own eyes shining with tears and admiration for his bride.

The sight of Azriel in his leathers was something Elain often dreamed of when she lay in bed at night, but it only takes one slow pass of her eyes over his body before she realises that the only thing better than Azriel in his leathers, is Azriel in a suit. 

The suit is perfectly cut to his body and is befitting of a royal prince - the sash draped across his body, the medallions pinned to his chest - she realises that in a way, he really is dressed the part of a high ranking member of the Night Court and something about seeing him proudly dressed like this for her, makes her heart swell.

It feels like an eternity before she stands in front of him, before Rhys kisses her cheek and gives Azriel a hug. Before Azriel’s wonderfully familiar hands clasp around hers. 

“Beautiful.” He gives her fingers a gentle squeeze as his eyes roam over her dress - the delicate lace that frames her exposed neck and shoulders. The embroidery that conceals the part of her that only he would ever see. He doesn’t bother to conceal his satisfied hum of approval as his gaze tracks back up the length of her body to her face.

The priestess takes over then, welcoming all their guests and guiding them through a short ceremony that culminates in an exchange of vows that leaves both of them with happy smiles and tear streaked faces.

They exchange rings after their vows - an homage to Elain’s  human heritage but also something she’d quietly insisted on because the possessive part of her wanted him to have a physical marker that made it clear that he was taken to any female or male that dared to set their eyes on him.

Before she knows it, Nyx is teetering over to them, a small plate that holds one cinnamon bun haphazardly cradled in his small, chubby hands.

It’s the final point of difference from her vision - a small change she’d intentionally made to incorporate Azriel’s favourite of her homemade treats into their day. A nod to the day this had all started that only the two of them would understand.

She bends down and kisses Nyx on the forehead, gingerly taking the bun in her fingers before standing and bringing it to Azriel’s lips. 

“Eat.” Elain murmurs.

Azriel’s lips close around the soft bun, teeth sinking into the sweet pastry. He swallows and Elain swears she feels the bond between them intensify. Unlike the uncomfortable pull she’d felt once upon a time, this is different. This time it’s desire and admiration and pure love that she feels when it tightens around her ribs.

By the way Azriel is looking at her, she knows he feels the same. 

The ribbon is the next and final part of the ceremony. Feyre and Nesta both step forward to wrap a length of black satin around the couple’s wrists - sheepish looks on both of her sister’s faces. Rhysand and Cassian take over from their mates- tightening the ribbon and tying it into a firm bow. 

“Remember, Az,” Cassian's eyes shine with mischief. “This stays on until you make her come hard enough to cause an avalanche on Ramiel.” 

“Cassian!” Nesta groans, pinching the bridge of her nose, at the same exact time Feyre clasps her hands tight over Nyx’s ears even as she and Rhysand fail  to stifle their laugh.

…

They don’t last long after the ceremony. It’s only a couple of turns around the small dancefloor and a few congratulatory conversations before the pull between them becomes too much to bear and Azriel bends down, his lips brushing over the delicate point of her ear as he quietly asks if she’s ready to leave.

He laughs at the eagerness with which Elain responds but she can’t bring herself to be embarrassed - not when she’d felt the absence of his touch so thoroughly for over a month now. 

She needed to be alone with him. Needed to get away before the desire got the best of them and put them at risk of doing something obscenely stupid like consummating their bond in the middle of this garden, in front of everyone they held close to their hearts.

After a very quick goodbye to their amused guests, Azriel whisks Elain into his arms and flies directly to the townhouse that Rhys had gifted them as a mating present, grumbling that they may as well have it seeing as they’d already spent the last year or two desecrating every part of it. 

No words are exchanged as Azriel lands, still cradling Elain in his arms as he wanders up the path and opens the door, carrying her over the threshold once more. 

It was funny really, when she looks back at how far they’d come since that very first time Azriel had flown her here, to this place they could now call home.

She’d been a shell of herself back then, clutching to her human life with a desperation that had almost broken her completely. Despite it all, she’d felt a split second moment of reprieve from the intensity of her grief when Azriel, little more than a stranger to her at the time, carried her over the threshold and set her down with such care before he led her out to the one place he somehow knew she might find some sense of normalcy.

 She’d felt it then - upon seeing the kindness in his eyes and feeling the gentleness of his touch - the tiniest inkling of hope that maybe one day she could find happiness in this new place, in this new life.

Sure enough, that little drop of hope had been warranted because just a few years later, Elain is the happiest she’s ever been. 

The signs had all been there from the start. 

That single strand of hair that had snagged right over his heart should’ve told her all she needed to know. 

He carries her upstairs, toeing open the door to the bedroom that once belonged solely to her and Elain’s jaw drops as Azriel finally sets her down and she peels her eyes away from his perfect face to take in the room. 

She knew that Feyre and Mor had come by earlier to decorate but she didn’t expect all of this. Her usual lilac linens have been replaced by billowing white sheets. There’s blush coloured rose petals strewn across the bed that match the roses that had framed the aisle and candles were scattered around the room, casting the bed in romantic, flickering golden light. 

Azriel’s free arm winds around her waist from behind and his lips follow the path of her shoulder up her neck as he pulls her back towards him. Elain tilts her head up to meet him halfway and his mouth travels along her jaw until his lips hover centimeters from hers. 

She feels like every bit of her skin is on fire. She could never imagine that the level of her desire for Azriel would surpass what she felt for him in the past but she was sorely mistaken because what she feels in this moment makes her think that if he didn’t do something to quell the ache thrumming between her legs, she might just die. 

“Azriel.” She breathes his name, turning towards him fully and breaking the silence that had settled comfortably between them.

“Elain.” He answers. His fingers press into the plush flesh of her hip, the very tips of them venturing low - teasing at the curve of her backside.

“My mate.” Elain says quietly, raising her hand to cup his face. Her thumb drags along his sharp cheekbone.

“My mate.” He repeats. The word is almost unfamiliar on his lips, like he still can’t quite believe the term is his to use. Azriel brings his lips to hers and her entire body is overcome with a desperate need. “My wife.”

Elain can’t help but whimper as her body curves into his by its own volition. She melts into his searing kiss. 

“My husband.”

Azriel lets out a soft moan at that and a slight shift of his stance allows her to feel him hard against her hip.

Elain is suddenly nervous as she pulls away to look up at Azriel. She doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly shy, standing in front of him like an innocent, blushing bride even though they both knew that ship had sailed long ago. He stares back at her, candle light catching the flecks of green in his eyes. 

She recognises the wonder there as he takes in the sight of her. It’s a perfect mirror to her own emotions. To the disbelief that they’d actually made it to this moment against all odds. 

“Not sure how we’re supposed to consummate anything with our wrists bound together.” Elain frowns, her voice shaking slightly. “I won’t be able to get you out of this suit.”

“I think it’s more of a symbolic thing.” Azriel smiles, kissing her once more to ease her nerves. His fingers slip from her waist to their wrists, deftly plucking at the knot of black satin until it comes loose and their hands are freed. He sets the ribbon down and fixes her with a look that sends a shiver down her spine. 

He motions for her to turn and then his hands are in her hair, gently removing pins until her hair falls in a gentle, albeit slightly messy, golden wave down her back. He gathers it to the side and more kisses are placed to the sensitive place where her neck meets her shoulder. 

Azriel’s fingers find the buttons that run down the back of her dress and he begins to undo them slowly. Elain knows that he’s doing it on purpose. That even on this special day, he wouldn’t dream of missing the opportunity to have her beg. 

But Elain, for once, won’t let him win. She somehow finds the will power to hold still as he undoes her dress and drags it down her arms and over her torso until it falls to the floor and she’s left standing in front of him in nothing except for the very expensive scrap of ivory lace that covers her sex and the shiny rings on her finger.

She reaches for his suit jacket and helps him maneuver out of it and then she steps around to his back to undo the buttons of his shirt around his wings. And maybe, just maybe, during the process of ridding him of his shirt, she lets her knuckles smooth over a part of the delicate membrane that has him gritting out her name in warning. 

Elain grins, moving back around to his front to reach for the buttons of his fine pants - slowly undoing them as he kicks off his shoes just in time for her to slide his trousers and undershorts down his legs.

She can’t help the way her eyes linger on the proud length of him. On the small bead of moisture gathered at the tip that gleams in the glow of the candles, practically calling for her to put her lips on him. She’s so distracted that she barely even registers Azriel reaching back for the ribbon he’d placed on the desk a few minutes ago. 

“I can think of better uses for this ribbon.” Azriel’s eyes flick up to meet hers as he smooths out the ribbon and dangles it from his fingertips. 

“I can think of something even better.” Elain plucks the ribbon from his hands and backs him towards the bed with a single finger against his chest until he’s laying down. His eyes shimmer with amusement as she motions for him to put his hands above his head but he silently follows her instructions.

She kneels next to him, leans down and tries so very hard to ignore the sweet press of his lips to her sternum as her fingers make quick work of wrapping the ribbon around both of his wrists before securing the remaining length to the wooden posts of her headboard. 

“You have the rest of our lives to touch me whenever and however you’d like. Let’s see how long you can last before you’re begging to touch your wife.”

She moves to settle herself on his lap but he stops her with a slight shift of his knees that sends her sliding further up his torso. 

“On my tongue first.”

Elain bites down on her lower lip, her core already tightening in anticipation as she shifts further up and carefully places a knee above each of his shoulders, mindful of his wings.

“Look at you.” Azriel’s eyes are fixed on the damp lace covering her center. On the gleam of arousal that covers her inner thighs. “Such a mess already and I haven’t even begun.”

“So much talking.” Elain grumbles, her face flooding with heat at just how wet she was for him when all he’d done was take her dress off.

“Make me stop.” Azriel challenges. She huffs but slowly lowers her hips until the defined tip of his nose brushes over her, dragging her soaked underwear over her clit in a delicious slide of friction.

It’s far from the first time he’s had her like this but it is the first time he hasn’t been able to use his hands. It’s in this moment that Elain realises just how much she relies on him to guide her down to his face. To pull her hips closer and closer, to help her rock against him as she rides him. With his hands restrained, it all falls  back on her to gain the confidence to use him like this. 

“Sit.” The single word is laced with pure demand and she can sense that Azriel’s patience is slipping. His need to get his mouth on her overruling any of the previous gentleness he’d shown her this evening. 

She does as she’s told and her hands fly out to grasp for purchase on her headboard at the first pass of Azriel’s mouth over the lace that covers her. He doesn’t give her a moment to catch her breath before he uses his teeth to tug the lace to the side as best as he can and then his tongue is on her, eagerly tasting her, consuming her with long, effortless strokes.

“I’ve missed this.” He groans against her skin. His tongue dips inside her. “ I’ve missed you.”

She doesn’t have the words to admonish him. To tell him that he could’ve had her this whole time if only he hadn’t been so stubborn. But a month without having him like this has taken its toll and Elain finds that she’s utterly incapable of forming any words or  sounds that aren’t a simple keening moan as she rolls her hips and chases the sensation quickly building low and intense in her stomach. Her thighs tremble, her fingers clench around the wooden posts of her bedframe and before she knows it, the wave of pleasure crests and she slumps forward - the already precarious rhythm of her hips falters as she comes hard and fast on his tongue. 

Azriel’s mouth doesn’t stop working her until she pulls off of him completely but even then, she isn’t granted a single moment of reprieve besides a couple seconds to catch her breath.

He calls in his shadows and icy, invisible hands are firm around her waist, guiding her back down to where she’d started. Her hands find his cock as his shadows stay with her, slipping in between her legs and over her breasts in feather light caresses that have her aching for more despite just having come mere seconds ago. 

Elain raises her eyes to look up at Azriel as she lowers her mouth to his cock. At the first slide of her tongue over his head, a particularly daring shadow slips inside her. The feeling of it is one she knows well, so similar to Azriel’s own fingers. 

Elain pulls off of him for a second, glaring up at him. The menacing look she’d been going for is cut short when she gasps as the shadow still inside her presses hard against her upper wall. 

“You said,” Azriel starts, eyes squeezing shut when she takes him in her mouth again. “You said I couldn’t touch you. You never said my shadows couldn’t.”

“Not fair.” Elain mumbles around the length of him, unwilling to stop the movement of her lips and tongue. She only takes him deeper, relishing in the way his hips lift to push himself further down her throat. 

“Did you think I’d forgotten?” More of his shadows are in her hair now, tugging at her roots with delicious pressure. “All those times you’ve taunted me this past month? Did you think I would forget?”

She gives him a subtle shake of her head, hollowing her cheeks around him all the while.

She’d been praying that he wouldn’t forget, that he’d catalogue all those moments until he could finally deliver on that promise of punishment she’d seen gleaming in his eyes each time she’d deliberately taunt him with her words or actions. 

“Touch me.” She doesn’t know how the tables have turned so quickly. How in a split second, she’s pulled off of him and has relinquished all control to him - begging him to touch her instead of the other way around as she’d initially planned. “Azriel, please.”

His shadows aren’t enough and too much time has passed. They’ve put it off too long and the thread between them has grown too taut. She wants his hands. His fingers. She wants him inside her. 

Elain blinks and Azriel’s hands are free. She blinks again and she’s on her back in the exact spot he had just been. His hazel eyes burn into hers as his hands - those glorious, beautiful scarred hands - smooth over every inch of her body that’s within their reach.

“Please.” She begs again, unsure as to what she’s even asking for. All she knows is that there’s greater forces at play and her wants and desires are careening dangerously out of control. 

“Okay.” Azriel nods and suddenly it’s clear as day to her that he’s experiencing the exact same thing on the other side of the bond glowing between them. There’s a new sense of urgency to his words. To his actions. His calloused thumbs drag over her nipples. “Okay, my love.”

He moves a hand inbetween her legs and pushes her thighs further apart and then she feels him, hot and heavy against her sex. He drags his cock over her twice, coating himself in the arousal he’s pulled from her. A moment later he’s inside her and Elains swears it’s the best thing she’s ever felt in her entire life.

“It feels…” She can’t finish her sentence. She’s too overcome by a wave of emotions so intense that it wracks through her body. That thread between them that had seemed so tangible for the past month had suddenly solidified into something else entirely. She could feel it in her blood. In each and every nerve. Could feel him. Each of her emotions - all the joy and the pleasure and the relief - it was all amplified. Doubled. Because she could feel his twin emotions on the other side of this new connection.

It had snapped. The bond had finally snapped into place once and for all. 

Elain laughs, high and bright, and full of disbelief because each time she had thought that what she felt for him couldn’t possibly be topped, she had been proven wrong.

“I know.” Azriel sweeps back the hair clinging to her sweat slick forehead and keeps his eyes on hers.

“It just…” Elain gasps, fingernails clawing at his back in a desperate attempt to get even closer to him. To feel even more of him. 

“I know.” Azriel repeats, lowering his mouth to hers in an all consuming kiss that renders her utterly useless. “I felt it, too.”

Azriel continues to whisper sweet nothings into her skin as he takes her, his hips meeting hers as he delivers long smooth strokes that have her crying his name. 

“Want you to come with me, okay?” He says gently, waiting until her eyes focus on his and she nods that she had in fact heard him before he bends one of her knees to her chest and picks up his pace. 

The new position has tears forming in the corner of her eyes from the sheer bliss that courses through her.  It’s a feeling that’s only heightened when he brings a hand in between their bodies to thumb at her clit.

“I meant every word.” Azriel murmurs, his forehead pressed tight to hers. “You’re my sun, Elain.” 

The smooth movement of his hips stutters and she knows he’s close.

I spent the first part of my life shrouded in darkness with only shadows for company.  I thought I’d learnt what it was to live in the light of day again but I didn’t truly know what it meant to feel the warmth of the sun until you looked at me for the first time.

The beautiful words Azriel had said to her earlier in the garden echo in her head and she can’t stop the sob that escapes her at the reminder of the vows they’d made. At the promises they’d sworn - the declarations to love and to cherish each other for the rest of their long, immortal lives. 

“I love you.” Her hands land on either side of his face and she holds him to her, kissing him deeply as he spills inside her. Her muscles contract around him, an endless pulsing sensation that makes her ears ring and her eyes go blurry.

He says it back to her - three words chanted over and over again in combination with her name as he fills her.

Her blood pounds through her veins and her heart feels like it’s going to explode out of her chest. No amount of reading and research into mating bonds would have prepared her for the magnanimity of what she felt in this  moment.

It isn’t until Azriel pulls out of her and kneels in between her legs that her eyes focus and she regains any sense of who or where she is. He gently pries her legs further apart and his eyes darken at the sight in front of him. She watches as he takes two of his fingers and collects the come smeared on her thighs. It coats his fingers and the sight of a small bit of it  sliding off the knuckle of his middle finger and landing over the gold band on his ring finger is so beautifully filthy that it has her holding back a moan.

“Back where it belongs.” Azriel says the words with a satisfied, purely male smirk and Elain’s breath hitches as he slides his fingers back in her, fucking his spend back inside her. She shivers at the sensation of cold metal grazing her skin. 

“Sometimes when I see you like this - your pretty cunt so wet and swollen, so full of my come that it drips out…” He pauses for a second, eyes fixated on the easy slip of his fingers in and out of her. “I wonder why I still take the tonic every morning.”

Elain summons the energy to prop herself up on her elbows so she can look at him. She’s shocked at his admission, at all that it entails. 

“If you want me to call you daddy, Azriel, all you had to do was ask.”

It’s a weak attempt at humour, a pathetic attempt to buy her some time as she tries to figure out what to say. 

Azriel’s head tips back and he laughs in that way that makes her heart ache with love for him.

“I’m serious, Elain.” He gives her a soft smile, his fingers still moving within her. “If you want that with me, I… I’d be honoured.”

“I need,” she gasps when his fingers curl inside her, pressing against the spot he knows will get her where he wants her to be. “To think.”

“Okay.” He agrees. “Whenever you’re ready. If you’re ever ready.”

“After this…” Elain’s back arches off the bed and her legs threaten to close but Azriel holds her open for him with his other hand.

“After the frenzy.” He completes her thought for her and watches, completely enamored as her head tilts back and her slender fingers frantically clutch at the sweat soaked sheets. 

“With a clear head.” She barely manages to get out the words. “We’ll talk about it.”

She’d need a clear head to discuss that particular subject  because right now, with how unbelievably aroused she was at the idea of his fingers pushing his come back inside her - back where it belongs - she’d do just about anything he asked of her.

Azriel only leans forward, crowding her body with his as he once again sends her falling over the edge. Her moans are swallowed eagerly by his mouth. 

“Always take me so well.” He praises her. “So beautiful each and every time you come for me.”

When she finally settles, utterly spent against the mattress, Azriel moves to pull back but Elain clambers to keep him with her and she finds herself startled by her own automatic reaction to him moving even a fraction of an inch away. She buries her face in his neck, drawing in the scent of him - that cedar scent that is now completely intertwined with notes of jasmine and honey- and the depth of her desire terrifies her.

Elain can’t fathom that there will be a time where she won’t need to feel the weight of him on top of her. Couldn’t imagine that there’d be a second of the foreseeable future in which she wouldn’t need to feel the warmth of his skin under the tips of her fingers. The possessive quality that already lived deep within her bones had grown into a whole new monster because even though she’s  been told over and over again that it’s the males who get territorial once a mating bond has been accepted, the way in which she needs to have Azriel all to herself makes her feel confident that she could rip someone to shreds if they looked at him for even a second too long.

“I never want to leave this bed.” Elain sighs, fingers slipping down the expanse of his back as she arches upward, her breasts pressing against his chest. She’s delighted when the shift of her body allows her to feel him hard against her stomach again because despite her sore muscles and the tiredness seeping into her bones, she’s somehow immediately ready for him. Desperate to have him inside her once more.

“Too bad.” Azriel’s lips skate up the column of her throat until his lips are right over her ear. “Because I intend to fuck you on every single surface in this house.”

He sinks into her again and Elain is convinced once and for all that this frenzy might never end.

[sirendeepity]

[ SJM Romance Week, day 7: Free Day ]

A/N: I might be completely and unashamedly biased, but I love those kids to pieces. In my mind, there are one too many options on how the triplets have come into the world, but this is the one I hold dearest, so I tried to put it into words. Hopefully, I did it justice. A short summary would be a canon-compliant fic of sorts, set years into the future, where Nesta and Cassian had kept their pregnancy a secret from the world, but not anymore. Enjoy <3

@sjmromanceweek

T/W: occasional mention of past traumatic events;

W/C: 3.9k

It’s been four years since Cassian had last felt the “jumping off a cliff with tied wings would be less stressful” kind of nervous.

You want this, he reminded himself. And gods damned him, he did. He had all but howled when Nesta had given him the green light. He had written a letter—little more than a scrap of paper with a date, place, and time scribbled on it—, and counted down the days. Eleven. He had double-checked that everything was how it was supposed to be before stepping out of the house—still fifteen minutes earlier. Cassian didn’t want to take any risk. He simply leaned against a tree and waited, looking at the hollowed-out trunk they had used as a drop-off point for their letters during those past few years. A couple of years shy of a decade had passed since he’d last seen his family, so Cassian took those moments of quietness to let his memories flow. How the last war they’d fought had taken everything from his mate, leaving an empty shell of the fierce female she used to be; how he had kept his promise and took her far, far away, to a place no one knew about. A place where they could both rest and heal. Their friends had been distraught when Cassian had told them they would leave for an indefinite amount of time and asked them not to contact Nesta in any way—to give her space and, most importantly, time. And they had. Rhys and Feyre had rarely spoken to him using their daemati abilities, asking for updates, if they needed anything, when could they meet again. Even Azriel’s shadow had kept their distance. Kept their secret, too. A little more than two months and Nesta had held out a closed envelope to him. “For Feyre and Elain,” she said simply. So Cassian had found that very place in the middle of nowhere, tied a white ribbon around one of the lowest branches, and let a simple thought travel out into the ether: “I’ve got something for you.” That had been their first contact. But even as the letters became more frequent, Cassian could see how Nesta’s eyes shuttered every time he tried to bring up Velaris, or the House of Wind. So they all waited. Time flew by, and before Cassian could take a full breath, weeks turned into months turned into years, and now—

“Cass.”

Cassian blinked, turning to face the owner of the voice. Feyre stood a few steps from him, tears already filling her eyes. Rhys was at her side, and Mor, and Az. Everyone had come, right when he’d told them to. Not a minute before, and not a minute later. Words failed him, so Cassian just opened his arms wide, inviting his friends and family back into his life. Tears fell, and laughter soon filled the air around them as hugs and kisses were exchanged. Even Amren, for a fleeting moment, wrapped her slender arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly despite her furrowed brows. Cassian wasted no time, kissing Gwyn on both cheeks in congratulations, careful of her round belly, before setting off into the woods and beckoning them to follow. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“I told you Nesta would turn the wolves prowling this place,” Mor gestured at the mountains around them with a manicured hand, “and make puppies out of them.”

Feyre laughed. It must’ve been a recurring joke between them.

Cassian only grinned, “Something like that.”

A few minutes later they reached an opening, a meadow big enough for comfort, and a house came into view. His house, the one Cassian had built from the grounds up. It was two stories high, with a small patio on the front—mirror to the much larger one in the back— and a tall stone chimney. He had flattened out one side of the rooftop, making a little terrace of sorts—which Nesta had decorated with pillows and plants and candles—, and every door and window had been painted a bright red. It had taken them some time to turn that place into a home, but now there was something unequivocally theirs about it all. Cassian had come to cherish the peace of mind granted by its four walls, and it had turned into a safe space for him as much as it was for his mate. Instead of opening the doors to them, Cassian guided his friends to the back. A couple of stray trees dotted the space, with flowers ready to bloom. They hosted swings and knotted ropes. A sheet had been tied between two trunks and turned into a makeshift hammock.

Planks of wood were still piled up beside the furthest tree. Once upon a time, Cassian had promised he would pick up the project again, but he could hardly bring himself to look at it without bile rising up his throat. That broken tree-house was all he could see.

“Daddy’s back!”

A small figure wrapped in a yellow dress ran toward him, chubby arms already raised in the air. Cassian caught his daughter as she launched at him, swinging her in the air before bringing her close to his chest. Gasps echoed behind him.

“Look, look!” Nora exclaimed. Twin pigtail braids swayed this way and that, following the movements of her head. “Mommy put her ribbons in my braids! Now I’m a valykirie, too!”

Cassian laughed at his daughter’s words. “Valkyrie,” he corrected her, kissing her rosy cheek. “You look so pretty, Ladybug.”

Nora giggled, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and wrapping her arms around him.

“Cass,” Mor choked on a whisper. He winked at her, inclining his head as he moved deeper into the garden. A large blanket had been laid onto the grass, almost every inch of it covered with small plates and trays filled with hard cheese, cured meats, and veggies of all kinds. Nesta had even made fresh rosemary and olive bread that morning, filling the house with its aromatic scent. Thankfully, the Mother had blessed them with a sunny day—a rarity in Illyria, especially during that time of the year, when spring and summer met in uncertain weather. Sometimes it was so warm they had to strip off layers of clothing, others the sky was raining down on them, or the wind sneaked into their home and tried to steal anything light enough to be carried away. That day was perfect, with white clouds sheltering them from the harshness of the sun and a light breeze to keep them cool. The trees helped, too. It was there, under the shadows of rustling leaves, that his mate was. She was seated on a plush pillow, one of the many they had thrown around, with a baby curled over her chest. Two, actually. Maya left a kiss on her brother’s cheek, patting his soft curls as he wiped at his eyes. His wings were relaxed, low on the ground, and Nesta was rubbing his back in wide circles. Nora’s excitement must have woken him from his nap. Athos tended to be grumpy when someone disturbed his dreams. With one last kiss, Maya parted from her brother and ran to Cassian.

She stopped at his side, barely reaching his knees, and Cassian bent down to place a hand on top of her dark hair, braided in a crown—so I can look like Mom, she had said that morning. But it was not at him she was looking at. Her gaze was fixed behind him, where Emerie stood. As Nesta rose, Athos still in her arms, and walked closer, Cassian watched his daughter study the female, waiting. Everyone held their breath.

“Are you Em…” Maya’s blue-gray eyes, Nesta’s eyes, turned to him, and Cassian nodded in encouragement, “..Erie?”

Emerie sniffed once before clearing her throat. “That’s me.”

Maya gasped, joy lighting up her soft features. She pivoted, pink skirts and all, and spread her little black wings. The right one stretched open, while the left couldn’t go past half its length. A brutal scar ran down its inner side, covering leather and skin alike. Cassian’s throat closed at the memory of his daughter, his Butterfly, falling from the tree house. The one he’d built for them. The one he should’ve built better, making sure everything was safe before letting three toddlers get in it.

One of the floor planks had given out when Maya had jumped on it, the wood breaking beneath her tiny feet, and in her fall the exposed shards had dug into her back. Had cut through tendon and bone alike. They had managed to save her spine—fuck, they had managed to save her life—but there was nothing they could do for the little wing. It had been devastating. For weeks, Cassian had barely been able to eat, to sleep, to look his kids in the face. He’d been ridden by guilt and shame. He still was, the darkness lurking toward him, hitting him in waves, and more than a year had passed since that awful day. A warm hand grabbed his, holding gently, and Cassian turned toward his mate, exchanging glances. She knew, he knew, neither of them would let the shadows take control of their thoughts, their emotions, again.

“Mama said I’m like you!” Cassian could’ve sworn pride laced his daughter’s words. Nesta had told her, told all of them, countless stories about Emerie, and Gwyn, and even Feyre and Elain. About those females who had not allowed the blows life had dealt them to break their spirit, to bend their will.

“Did she now? Well,” Emerie said, voice thick with emotions as she bent down and stretched her open palm toward Maya, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, then.”

“I’m Maya,” she said, grabbing Emerie’s fingers with both hands. “And she is Nora.” On cue, Nora started wiggling in his arms, so Cassian placed her feet back on the ground and wrapped his newly free arm around Nesta’s waist. “And that is Puppy.”

“He is Athos!” Maya scolded her sister, both of them bursting into a fit of snorts and giggles. Athos blinked once, twice, golden-brown curls falling into the hazel eyes they shared. With skin one or two shades paler than his sisters’, he was the one resembling Nesta the most—save for the pair of leathery wings on his back, now tucked in tight as he turned his head the other way and hid in the safety of his mother’s arms. He had her same quiet nature, too, but that didn’t stop his sisters from luring him into trouble at any given chance. Nora, on the other hand, was Cassian’s carbon copy. Not just in looks, but in spirit too. She laughed as hard as she cried, living her emotions to the fullest. Much like the day they were born, she was always at the lead, always the first to act, to make way for her twins. Believe it or not, she was not the mind behind their shenanigans. Maya was. Their eyes were the only feature that set them apart. One from forests and mountains, the other from skies and seas. Maya was a little devil in disguise, already too clever for her own good.

“Oh, my,” Elain breathed, cheeks stained with tears. “Are they-”

“Triplets,” confirmed Nesta. The waterworks began again.

“When?”

“How?”

“Girls, finally!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Congratulations, brother.”

Cassian raised his hands, exposing his palms in surrender, and said, “We’ll tell you everything, but we should eat first, or only the ants will enjoy my bread.”

Cassian took Athos from Nesta’s arms so she could greet her sisters properly, and edged Nora and Maya toward their embroidered pillows, the others following suit.

As he caught Azriel’s eyes, his brother left his mate’s side and inched closer.

“Hey, Puppy,” Cassian murmured into his son’s ear, guiding his attention toward Az. “Do you see this guy?” A nod. “If you don’t like the noise, or if there are too many people, or you just don’t feel very good and your mother and I are not around, you go to him, okay?”

Azriel inhaled slowly, his shadows swirling with the movement. A black curl reached out tentatively, and Athos studied it. His warm eyes rose to Azriel’s then, who patiently waited for the boy to make the first move. “Do they hurt?” He asked, one little finger reaching back.

“No.” To prove his point, he let the black tendril wrap around Athos’ finger. “They’re very curious, though. They like puppies, I’ve been told..”

Athos’s gasp turned into a quiet giggle. “They tickle.”

Soon they were all seated, letting fresh food and berry juice pass from hand to hand, talking about everything and nothing at all. From the projects Nyx wanted to explore to modernize Velaris—the male, now more than 50 years old, had a mind so brilliant it turned Dawn’s thinkers green with envy—, to the journey across the continent Lucien had promised Elain as a gift for their latest anniversary—only a couple of arrangements left to make before their departure—to the obvious new double-addition to their ranks, Azriel and Gwyn’s twins. There was so much to tell, so much to catch up on.

Cassian looked at his brother and found him smiling tenderly at the boy, love and gratitude filling his eyes.

“But let’s focus on the real stars of this day,” Mor said, face still splotchy from all the crying. Her brown eyes jumped from one little face to another, as if she wanted to imprint their soft features into her brain as quickly as she could.

“When is your birthday?” Rhys asked, taking a sip from his glass. “We have missed five of them. We must fix it.”

Maya didn’t even finish chewing her food before replying. “Four.” To prove her point, she raised three jam-sticky fingers in the air. Rhys chuckled, bending his head. “My apologies.”

“At the crack of dawn on the 23rd of September,” three curly heads turned one after another, entranced by their mother’s voice. “After ten hours of labor,” Nesta added pointedly, twisting Maya’s dark strands around her finger, “Came Nora, then Maya, and then Athos.”

Nesta exhaled heavily, Cassian replicating the gesture. “Our brave boy.”

At his words, the groups shared a sort of understanding.

There was this belief, among Illyrians, that every time a baby was born, they were faced with two options—two mothers. If they got too scared by the world surrounding them, so dark and cruel and full of terrors, the Mother would cradle them in her arms and take them someplace else, where no harm would ever find them. Nesta, Cassian knew, was still plagued with nightmares of her pained, desperate screams filling the silence left by their son. He’d come out of the womb with the birth cord wrapped around his neck. Despite the midwife’s lightning speed in freeing his airways, it hadn’t been enough. But then, just as the sun peeked from behind the mountain tops, time had seemed to slow as a small, frail, tentative wailing filled the room.

“Really?” Gwyn exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. She placed a hand on her bump, forcing her lips to curve in a smile despite the tears brimming her teal eyes. “They’re supposed to be due at the beginning of August. Close enough.”

“Sissy’s birthday is in August, too!”

“No, Nora,” Cassian laughed, grateful for the distraction. He placed a cheese stick in her hand. She chewed on it without hesitation. “Her birthday is in June.”

“Who is Sissy?” Lucien asked. “Are we missing someone?” He looked shocked, as if he couldn’t believe there were more.

“Trixie—Beatrix,” Nesta amended, “is our oldest.” By the look on their faces, Cassian knew they were all doing the math.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned, “She will be here, soon.”

“She already is.”

All eyes turned toward the house, to the proud female stepping out the backdoor.

Joyous screams rose from the kids, their smiles lighting up like fireflies as they stood and ran to their sister.

Trixie crouched, arms open, bracing for the collision. She kissed their cheeks, their little noses, their soft curls. Cassian’s heart swelled in his chest at the sight.

“Such cute overalls, Puppy,” she said, taking his hand and guiding him into a spin.

His son smiled from ear to ear. “You gave it to me!”

“I did, didn’t I?” She gestured for the kids to sit down again with one hand, the other holding the ribbons tied around a box. Trixie bent to leave a soft kiss against Nesta’s temple, placing the box on the grass at her side before rising again and making her way to him. She knelt behind him, and Cassian moved his wings to make space for her body as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, moving to sit at his side. Nyx, to her right, looked anywhere but at her, the tips of his pointed ears turning a deep shade of red. Cassian was tempted to call him out, but knew his “over-protectiveness” would only piss off Trixie.

“Everyone, this is Trixie,” Cassian said, grinning like a cat. “Trixie-”

“Everyone,” she cleared her throat, bobbing her head once in acknowledgment.

Maya made her way onto Trixie’s lap, passing food to her older sister, and they flowed back into easy conversation.

From the opposite side of the blanket, Amren nodded in Trixie’s direction, “How did you find that one?”

“She found us,” was Nesta’s reply. She opened the box containing the Illyrian’s typical pastries Cassian had asked Trixie to buy, and found a little corner to place them among the rest of the food. “She had made the house her own. I found her sleeping in our bed when we came here.”

Cassian, Mother damned him, had come dangerously close to losing it when he had realized they were not alone in the house. The dagger was in his hand within moments, ready to take down any threat, when Nesta had climbed down the stairs on nimble feet and told him, in that no-nonsense way of hers, that there was a little girl asleep in the main bedroom, and he should cook dinner for three that evening. Cassian had kissed her senseless, and just like that they had found themselves with a daughter. Well, Cassian wished it had been that easy. Trixie, who had seen and lived through more than any fourteen-year-old should, had waged war on them for months, trying her very best to push them over the edge. But Nesta was relentless, and so was he. Nothing she could’ve said or done would have made them turn their backs on her. So she stayed, and soon enough Beatrix became Trixie became Sissy. A blessing, that’s what she’d been. She had healed some intrinsic part of Nesta that not even Cassian had been able to reach. He would forever be indebted to her for that reason only. Her wings had not been clipped, so he’d been able to teach her how to fly, and fight, and dream again. His daughter in all the ways that mattered, and then some.

“The house was big enough for all of us,” Nesta glanced pointedly at her, adding, “It still is.”

Trixie stared right back at her, one of those wordless conversations happening between the two females. Cassian was used to it.

“That’s amazing,” Elain smiled brighter than the sun. “I am so, so happy for you guys.”

“Please,” Gwyn whined, “Don’t cry or I’ll cry, too.” The two laughed, tears slipping free anyway.

“I can see why you kept contacts to a minimum,” Lucien passed a napkin to Elain, gently pulling locks of hair away from her face as she dabbed the corners of her eyes. “I would’ve kept this little corner of heaven a secret from the world, too.”

Cassian glanced at Nesta and found that she was already looking at him. Now, her eyes seemed to say. A tug on the bond confirmed that.

“Speaking of which,” Cassian exhaled. Should he break the news gently? Or should he go straight for it, and adapt to the consequences?

Nesta, it seemed, had already made that choice for both of them. “We’re coming back to Velaris.”

Feyre could barely contain her enthusiasm. “Really?”

“Really,” Cassian echoed. “It will be good for the kids. They should make friends and play with other kids their age and drive us crazy. Am I right?”

Maya looked up at him, a mischievous gleam in her bright eyes. Nora, closest to Nesta, was already giggling.

“Mother spares us all,” Rhys murmured. They had their hands full, and they had never left this mountain. Cassian already felt weak in the knees at the idea of unleashing the triples on Velaris. But, fuck, how he wanted to take them on walks along the Sidra, or see the House turn into an even bigger mother-hen for Nesta’s kids, or teach them how to fly on one of its many balconies. And Starfall! They would love Starfall, he was sure of it. And the week-long celebrations for Solstice, with presents and hot cocoa and-

“Oh, no,” Trixie’s voice called him back to the moment. She was facing Nyx, answering a question he must’ve asked her while he was lost in his thoughts. “I’m going to stay here.”

Nora gasped, and Nesta was instantly there to calm their daughter down before she started what they had taken to call “the domino cry”.

“It’s okay,” Trixie said while rubbing Maya’s arms. The pout on her face was not a good sign. The trembling chin was even worse. Cassian gazed down at Athos, looking for any hint of distress. Trixie went on, “We’ll see each other every week, I promise.”

“But why can’t you come with us?” Nora sniffed. “It’s unafaire.”

“Unfair,” Nesta murmured to her, “And she can’t come with us because there are other kids who need her here.”

“Other kids?” Athos scrunched his little nose.

He nodded. “You three have each other, but other kids might not be so lucky. Trixie was among them, a long time ago.”

“But Sissy is our Sissy.”

“I am, yes,” Trixie said, “But maybe I can be that for all the other children who need a Sissy as well, don’t you think?”

Nora blinked at her a couple of times, mulling over the words. “Will they become Ladybug, Butterfly, and Puppy, too?”

Behind her, Nesta shrugged. “Why not.”

Cassian’s heart made a backflip inside his chest. He met his mate’s serene gaze, the most delicate pink staining her cheeks. They would end up with a legion of kids if Nesta had her way. Cassian couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t.

Cassian mirrored her smile with one of his own. “We should start thinking about names, then.”

“You guys are out of your minds,” Amren commented, but the concern in her voice didn’t match the grin stretching her red-painted lips.

Athos started laughing, the giggles turning into full belly laughs as his sisters joined him. And as the wind made lullabies of rustling leaves, and the smiles of his family outshone the sun itself, Cassian knew with absolute certainty the one reason he was still there, alive and content. Or maybe it was three.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Take My Hand, We'll Be Fine (Promise I Won't Let You Down)

A/N: did you really think I could go all of @sjmromanceweek without posting some Nessian? I just think there's no better romantic gesture than telling your hot neighbor to dump her piece of shit boyfriend, ya know? 😉 Special shout-out to @dustjacketmusings for giving me this prompt!

Read on AO3

They’re fighting again.

Cassian swipes up his television remote from his coffee table, muting the game currently playing. He doesn’t even need to prick his ears or listen closely to make out the muffled voices filtering through the wall to his right. Doesn’t need to try hard to recognize the rough, clipped voice and the more feminine, cool tone that answers. He can’t quite make out the words being said, but it’s easy enough to guess. It doesn’t help that this is practically the norm for the apartment next to his.

He still remembers the first time he met his next door neighbor, Nesta Archeron, the day she moved in. Even in that moment, even with her hair messy, her cheeks pink, and a large box hefted in her arms, she had been the most beautiful woman Cassian had ever seen in his life. Her face was all sharp, beautiful lines, high cheekbones and arching eyebrows. Her eyes had been a stormy, piercing blue that had enraptured him as soon as their gazes met. Her pretty pink lips twisting into a scowl had him wanting to drop to his knees right there in the hall, fire blazing through his chest to meet that expression.

Could anyone really blame him for being a goner from that moment on?

He’d found any and every excuse to see her again, to talk to her again. Casual run-ins in the hall, in the lobby. Getting the mail at the same time. Going down to the laundry room at the same time. Anything to see her roll her eyes at him. To see her give that expression that he’s deemed her I Will Slay My Enemies look. Anything for the game of back and forth he built with her full of quips and retorts that always leave him wanting more.

Anything to see her smile. To hear that beautiful breathy melody of her laugh. To watch the way her eyes light up when she talks about something she’s passionate about. To catch that softness that takes over when she talks about her friends or her family. Every tiny piece she hands over Cassian tucks away close to his heart. And every interaction, no matter how small, no matter how much time passes in between, leaves him yearning for more.

And he’s learned a lot about Nesta through those interactions. He learned that she has two sisters, one who lives in the city and another who lives in the countryside. He learned she’s a damn good lawyer and definitely his first call if he ever needs to be bailed out of jail. He learned that she’s a terrible cook and has a serious affinity for ordering takeout most nights. He learned that she has a serious book addiction if the endless bookstore packages are any indication.

And he learned that she has the worst boyfriend Cassian has ever had the misfortune of meeting.

Cassian still isn’t sure how Tomas was able to get a woman as beautiful and as amazing as Nesta to agree to a single date with his sorry ass, let alone agree to be his girlfriend. The bastard clearly doesn’t know what he has, how lucky he is. That a woman like Nesta Archeron is incomparable. And yet, Cassian has seen the way his eyes have wandered to the blonde in 4C’s ass. Has witnessed the unimpressed, bored expression he wears when Nesta is speaking. Has heard the unnecessarily rude and sometimes cruel words he flings carelessly at Nesta.

The last one in particular always has Cassian’s blood boiling, dark tendrils constricting through his chest until he’s glaring daggers at the man in question any time he sees him in the apartment building. He wishes he and Nesta were more than just neighbors just so he could tell her what a piece of shit her boyfriend is. Wishes it wouldn’t be weird if he suggested she dump him.

He wishes he could tell her how he really feels, how he swears he’s already falling for her despite their limited interactions. How he fears that there will never be anyone else for him. Wishes he could show her what it’s like to be with a real man, one who respects her. One who genuinely cares about her and isn’t afraid to show her, to shout it from the rooftops. He’d treat her right, treat her so much better than Tomas ever could.

A door slams next door, and Cassian is on his feet in a moment. He glances around his apartment, looking for something he can quickly grab as an excuse. The last time he had heard a crash come from next door, his worry and concern had consumed him enough to send him propelling out of his own apartment and banging his fist against Nesta’s door. But things had been awkward and tense when Nesta answered the door seemingly alright, and when Tomas demanded to know what he was doing, Cassian had ended up stumbling over his words, too distracted by a pair of icy blue eyes swimming with questions. So this time, Cassian ties off his half full trash bag and hauls it up out of the bin.

“Will you hurry up?” Tomas’s voice reaches Cassian as he yanks open his front door. “You know that I don’t like to be late to Sullivan’s, or else we won’t get the best seats at the bar.”

“Maybe if we went to a proper restaurant where you can make a reservation instead of the same dive bar every week, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Nesta answers him, and even before he lays eyes on her, Cassian can perfectly picture the way she must be rolling her eyes.

“Maybe if you didn’t take so long doing your stupid fucking hair–”

Tomas’s words trail off when he notices Cassian standing in his now open doorway. Already, the man looks annoyed at his presence, jaw clenching with a restraint scowl. The sight has an easy smirk tugging up Cassian’s lips, how fast he’s able to garner such a reaction, but he only has eyes for Nesta.

She has on a short, dark blue dress, black flower lace overlaid on the silky fabric. Black heeled boots further elongate her legs and the skin on display, the tantalizing lines of her collarbones highlighted by the dress’s neckline. Her hair is styled in her preferred braided crown, but a few strands curl around her temples and frame her face, and Cassian knows he’d give anything to curl one of those strands around his finger. With the pink dusted across her cheeks and mascara heightening the icy blue of her eyes, he has to swallow hard and clear his throat before finding his voice again, struck dumb by the beauty of her in front of him.

“Nesta,” Cassian greets, finally flicking his gaze back to the other man in the hall. “Tommy.”

“It’s Tomas,” Tomas snaps back, his sneer only deepening when Cassian shrugs in response. “What are you even doing?”

Cassian’s smile is all mocking and teeth, holding up the trash back in his hands. “Just taking out the trash. Maybe Nesta should consider doing the same.”

Whether Tomas understands the double meaning or not, Cassian doesn’t get a chance to find out. Nesta steps forward, linking her arm with her boyfriend’s with a quiet, murmured reminder that they’re running late. They continue down the hall, Cassian watching them until they vanish around the corner, until he hears the quiet ding of the elevator.

He closes his front door with a soft sigh, glancing consideringly back toward his television still playing the game, but then an idea hits him. It’s a risk, most definitely stupid, but maybe he’s always been a bit reckless. Rushing back toward his living room, Cassian grabs his phone where he left it, opening up the text chain with his family.

Anyone down for drinks tonight? Found a new bar we should try

~ * * * ~

Sullivan’s isn’t much to write home about as far as bars go. Posters and photos litter almost every free inch of space on the walls, a pool table set up to the right, and round high top tables and bar stools arranged around the rest of the space. The bar juts out from the wall in the center of the room, bottles lining the shelves. It may be the nicest dive bar Cassian has ever set foot in, but it’s still a dive bar, the stench of beer and sweat heavy.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Azriel sighs from Cassian’s right.

Cassian turns toward his brother, but Azriel’s attention is elsewhere. When Cassian follows his gaze, he finds Nesta and Tomas sitting at one of the high top tables. Her back is ramrod straight, fingers curled tightly around the glass of wine sitting primly in front of her, but Tomas doesn’t seem to notice. He sips casually from a beer bottle, his attention focused more on the patrons around him.

“Isn’t that your neighbor?” Mor pipes up from Cassian’s left. “The one you’re in love with?”

“Is Nesta here?” Cassian asks innocently, refusing to meet either Azriel or Mor’s gaze. “What are the odds of that?”

“If I’m playing wingman tonight, you owe me so many drinks,” Azriel grumbles with a shake of his head.

“Drinks on Cassian?” Mor teases, looping her arm with Azriel’s and dragging him toward the bar. “I like the sound of that. Let’s order all top shelf.”

Cassian rolls his eyes good naturedly, but he follows behind his family, buying the first round of drinks after all. He lets Azriel and Mor get settled, lets them chat about their respective weeks and jobs, and all the while, he stares across the bar at Nesta and Tomas. He doesn’t understand how anyone can sit across from Nesta Archeron and ignore her. How they can want to do anything other than bask in her presence. How they could care more about a freshly out of college girl clearly working the pool table just for free drinks.

“So, I need a favor,” Cassian begins, interjecting into the conversation swirling around him.

“I’m surprised you waited this long,” Azriel remarks dryly.

“Very funny,” Cassian fires back, turning his attention to Mor and offering the blonde his best, most winning smile. “I need you to go flirt with that guy over there.”

“Seriously, Cass?” Mor huffs, her face exasperated.

“Please? I’ll buy your drinks for the rest of the night. The best wine they have. However many glasses you want. Especially if you can somehow make an accident happen that gets him away from the table.”

Mor narrows her eyes, scrutinizing him, her eyes dancing briefly toward the table across the bar. “This Nesta better be worth it.”

“Trust me,” Cassian assures her quietly, unable to stop from smiling. “She is.”

Cassian isn’t sure what Mor sees on his face, but her expression softens. She rolls her eyes fondly and swipes up her glass of wine, slipping off her bar stool. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she strides her way over to Nesta and Tomas, plastering on a wide, flirtatious smile. It’s certainly entertaining for Cassian, watching his friend work. She twirls the blonde strands of hair around her fingers, places her hand on Tomas’s arm, makes a big show of laughing loudly at whatever is said. It would almost be comical if Tomas wasn’t eating up every second.

“Come on, Mor,” Cassian mumbles under his breath. “Hurry it up, already.”

“You really need all the help you can get, don’t you?” Azriel sighs, setting his now finished drink on the bartop.

Azriel steps around Cassian and heads toward the table as well. He makes eye contact with Mor, some sort of silent agreement passing between the two, and then Azriel is walking behind her. His arm brushes along her back, Mor’s cue to fake stumbling forward a step, her half full glass of wine spilling right across Tomas’s shirt and pants.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tomas’s voice carries even to where Cassian is sitting. “Do you have any idea how expensive this shirt is?”

Tomas storms off toward the bathrooms, Mor hot on his heels and offering overly innocent apologies. She winks at Cassian as they pass, and Cassian has to stifle a laugh into his hand to keep Tomas from noticing him. One last glance to make sure Tomas is gone and the coast is clear, and Cassian wastes no time cutting his way across the bar and sliding into the now vacated seat across from Nesta.

“Some date, huh?” Cassian jokes lightly, Nesta’s attention snapping to him.

“Cassian… what are you doing here?”

Despite the question, Cassian swears he sees Nesta’s shoulders start to relax from where they’re pitched up near her ears, swears he sees what looks suspiciously like relief flood through her eyes. He lets it fuel the hope swarming and twisting in his gut, the warmth blooming between his ribs and tightening around his heart like a golden thread. He knows he could easily play the whole thing off as a coincidence, shrug the question away with mentions of his family and their drinking habits.

But he knew the gamble he was taking by crashing Nesta’s date tonight, and maybe, this is his chance. His chance to show Nesta just how much she already means to him. To prove to her that he can treat her better.

“Your boyfriend sucks,” Cassian says rather than answer her question.

Nesta blinks a few times in surprise, eyebrows pinching slightly. “What?”

“Tomas. He sucks ass, and you should absolutely dump him. I’m serious, Nes. You deserve so much better than his sorry excuse.”

“You seem quite sure of that, do you?”

“Yeah, I do. I might not have known you very long, but I know that you’re beautiful, and you’re smart, and you’re witty and passionate, and you care so much about your sisters and your friends. And you deserve someone who cherishes you. You can do so much better than that piece of shit.”

Cassian’s words hang in the space between them, the rest of the bar fading away into nothing until it’s just him and her and the sparks and electricity charging the air around them. Nesta stares at him like she’s never seen him before, like no one’s ever said things like that to her before. It sends cracks ricocheting like icy claws through his chest. Especially, when Nesta drops her gaze away from him, fiddling with the stem of her wine glass.

It leaves him wanting to find whoever in her past has her unsure, wanting to go track down where Tomas has vanished to and punch him in the face for making her curl into herself. It makes his determination to show her what it could be like harden even more, makes him want to spend the rest of his life properly cherishing her if she’ll let him.

“I don’t know about all that,” Nesta offers, her voice quiet.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Cassian asks instead, reaching his hand across the table and skating his fingertips across the back of Nesta’s hand, drawing her attention fully back to him.

Nesta sighs softly. “Cassian—”

“Let me prove it to you. Prove what it could be like, should be like. Prove what a good date is. Prove that I’d treat you better.”

Nesta thinks about it for a moment, emotions flitting through those blue eyes faster than Cassian can decipher. But then Nesta is slipping out of her seat and grabbing her purse, turning away from him. Cassian’s heart sinks through his feet and the floor, and it takes all his willpower to keep his disappointment off his face as he watches her.

“One date,” Nesta tells him, looking back at him expectantly.

“One date is all I need, sweetheart,” Cassian assures her, jumping out of his own seat. “Now, let’s get out of here before Tomas realizes what’s hit him.”

Cassian grabs Nesta’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together and leading her out of the bar. Her hand feels right in his, his fingers curled around her own, their palms pressed together, and Cassian knows in that moment that he has no intention of ever letting go again. He uses his free hand to dig his phone out of his pocket, working quickly to get everything ready, to make everything perfect for this opportunity, but he’s still nervous by the time they arrive at their destination.

Nesta’s steps pause as she glances around them. “Our one date is going to be at our apartment complex?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Cassian asks, holding open the door for her.

“You sure are asking a lot for this one date.”

“And the night is still young.”

Cassian offers her a wink for extra good measure, earning a laugh from Nesta in return. The sound is light and easy, the melody wrapping around Cassian’s limbs as surely as it wraps around his heart. It might just be his favorite sound, the way her blue eyes light up along with the reaction his favorite sight, and he can’t wait to draw even more laughs out of her.

He leads the way back up to their floor, all of the paper and plastic bags he expects waiting right outside his apartment door. He sends up a silent prayer to the Mother in thanks that so far everything is going to plan.

“What’s all this?” Nesta asks, eying the bags as well.

“Well, I noticed you order a lot of takeout,” Cassian explains, gathering up the different bags and unlocking his apartment door.

Nesta scoffs even as she steps inside and into his apartment. “Are you judging me for being a terrible cook?”

“Never. I’ll have you know I actually love to cook, so we’re a good pair, but I didn’t really have time to prepare anything tonight, so I figured I’d order everything I’ve worked out to be your favorites based on what you seem to order the most,” Cassian explains, setting all the bags down on his kitchen counter and beginning to pull the different containers out. “Crab rangoon from Bar Bao. Butter chicken and basmati from Urban Tandoor. Garlic breadsticks and ravioli from Tony’s. California rolls from Black Dragon. And triple chocolate cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory.”

Nesta is silent, staring wide-eyed at all the food, at him, so Cassian turns to grab plates just to give his hands something to do. When she still hasn’t said anything, he clears his throat awkwardly, pushing a hand up and through his hair.

“So…” Cassian starts, handing a plate over to Nesta. “What do you think?”

“I think you might just get a second date after all.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise

[theladyofbloodshed]

SJM Romance Week - Day 6 - Romantic Gestures

@sjmromanceweek When a grouchy man starts haunting her coffee shop, Nesta's romantic gestures come in the form of insults on his coffee cups.

A drizzle had misted the glass and as the world darkened, the yellow streetlights were blurs on the other side.

At the opening of the door, a brisk wind blew in. The man it carried with it was sharp-faced in a finely made dark pea-coat with an umber and orange patterned scarf tucked into it. It contrasted starkly with his red hair and pale complexion.

Emerie nudged Nesta in the ribs: target acquired.

He’d turned up a couple of days ago, coming after the evening rush and poor Gwyn had the displeasure of serving him. His first coffee had apparently been too cool despite being close to scalding. Then he’d summoned Emerie to wipe his table despite the evidence of the previous wiping still evaporating as he sat down. Nesta would handle him today. The best part of her day was to offer up the same rudeness that was given to her friends.

‘Yes?’

The man’s odd, amber eyes snapped from the signage to her. ‘Black coffee.’

Of course, he had needed to scan the entire menu for that difficult choice. Nesta ensured he could see how hot the water pouring from the machine was lest he complain that the temperature wasn’t warm enough.

‘Anything else?’

‘A little bit of customer service wouldn’t go amiss.’

Nesta shrugged one shoulder in response. ‘When you rediscover your manners.’

He stalked away to pounce on one of the vacant, highly-popular armchairs tucked away amongst the tall shelves. It was slow that evening; they were staying open later, trying to offer an alternative to bars for the non-drinkers, but it hadn’t quite taken off the ground.

There was no need to do it, but when his coffee was ready, rather than deliver it – as she might do for anybody else – Nesta called out, ‘Black coffee for the man with no manners.’

Emerie was wide-eyed. He’d reduced Gwyn to a stuttering mess when he’d pressed her for the details of suppliers for their snacks and refrigerated drinks. Emerie had simply called him a dick at the end of her shift when she got home.

To Nesta’s surprise, he pulled himself away from his book to saunter to the counter.

‘Thanks.’ His eyes glanced at her cleavage then noticed there was no name tag pinned there. There was a slight flush to his cheeks when he realised that he’d simply looked at her breasts.

‘Want my name to complain to the manager?’

His brows raised. ‘Not interested in your name.’

‘Oh, just my breasts.’

The man didn’t dignify her with a response, merely took his coffee then strolled back to his table, plucking a different book off the shelf as he went.

‘His name is Eris,’ supplied Emerie.

‘His name is a pain in my ass.’

As the evening wore on, the shop became more subdued. With only four people left – a group of three plus a solitary Eris – Nesta ushered Emerie home for the evening.

‘I don’t like you walking home alone so late,’ she complained.

Nesta held out Emerie’s jacket to help her into it. ‘Well, I like my dinner cooking when I return home, wife.’

‘You wish.’

‘Sometimes I do,’ she replied.

Emerie leaned back against the counter, arms folded. ‘It’s Gwyn’s turn to cook tonight.’

‘Get home, immediately.’

She gave a laugh and tossed her dark braid over her shoulder. ‘If there’s anything left of the house. If a fire truck is there when I get home, I’ll call.’

‘Such a beautiful woman but she cannot cook for shit,’ said Nesta with a shake of her head.

Emerie placed a hand on her heart. ‘Thank goodness she’s got us. See you at home. Be safe. Call me if you need.’

When the group left, Eris called her over with a beckon of his fingers as if she was a hound.

‘Can I get a camomile tea?’

Nesta gestured to the counter on the other side of the store. ‘Have your legs stopped working?’

Eris gave a pinched smile in return. ‘You don’t seem particularly rushed off your feet.’

That was true, she’d give him that. Nesta swept an imaginary cap through the air, collected his cup then set to brewing a tea for him – and one for her. She dimmed the lights in the coffee shop although the candles were still illuminating the tables and soft lights were on in the bookshop area. It had been an idea that had come as a result of burnout in corporate life. She’d climbed the ladder almost ruthlessly, soaring to the top, giving hour after hour to her job then her sister almost died in childbirth and she’d not seen Feyre for nearly her entire pregnancy. Work always took precedent. After that, it felt pointless. Her life revolved around work and she didn’t enjoy a single moment. Nobody ever woke up with the dream of spending twelve hours a day in an office. With the money she had been hoarding, Nesta lived her dream. Maybe it was a little dream, but she made the place she wanted; a cosy bookshop with good coffee and better cakes. It wasn’t a fortune maker, but Nesta loved it. Emerie and Gwyn worked with her to help out in its first few months of existence, but it was going well. Nesta had made something that she was proud of.

When she carried the tea over, Eris had swapped books. She knew that merging a coffee shop with a book shop would result in patrons reading while they drank, but it wasn’t a library – so she told him as much.

‘What if I chose one book and only read that when I’m in here?’

‘Again, not a library.’

A shrug was offered, but that shrug gave her pause because she’d been there before, been that person without a spark. As Nesta went through the motions of cleaning out the coffee machine and washing up the last few mugs, her eyes continually flickered to Eris. He hardly read the book in his hands. His eyes kept drifting to the wall then he’d skip a page or two and try to focus like his heart wasn’t in it. Not once did Nesta see his attention stray to his phone. He was somewhere else – a bad break-up maybe plaguing his thoughts.

Taking pity, Nesta plated up the last few sugary items – the three of them wouldn’t shrivel up and die if they didn’t polish off the stock for once – and set them down on his table with a paper bag.

‘Yours, if you want.’

‘Oh.’

‘Thank you, Nesta. You are welcome. There, manners.’

There was an elfin quality to his face like the bones of his face was sharper, more pointed than others. ‘Your name is Nesta?’

‘No, the other person working right now.’

Her sarcasm usually cut the skin, but Eris snickered. ‘Thanks, Nesta.’

By the time he left, Emerie was blowing up her phone with calls asking why she wasn’t home yet along with a picture of the charred dinner Gwyn had made then a message asking her to pick something up on the way home for them to eat. She’d stayed open later than usual because she felt too guilty to kick Eris out when his mind seemed occupied elsewhere. He’d thanked her again before he left along with returning his plate and mug to the counter – and a hefty tip that she was not expecting.

***

Eris came in every single day that week. He’d stand, stormy-faced in the queue, awaiting his black coffee. Depending how snappy or short he was, depended what name she scrawled on his cup. Grumpy man in the coat. Man who looks like a drowned rat. Mr. Miserable. He never took much offence by it, just raised his brows, paid for his drink then stalked over to the books to sit alone. By Friday, Nesta began preparing his coffee the moment he came in from the rain. When his lips parted, she pressed the cup into his hands. Eris scanned the writing on the receipt.

Mr Can’t-even-crack-a-smile-on-a-Friday.

‘I’m going to touch your newest books with greasy fingers.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said.

His lips quirked. ‘Try me.’

When he retreated to his favourite corner, Emerie cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me.’

‘You may be excused,’ replied Nesta.

She rolled up a tea towel and whipped Nesta across the thigh. ‘What’s that? Were you flirting?’

Her jaw dropped. ‘That was not flirting. That was me warning a customer that if he ruins a book, I will beat him with it.’

Emerie gave a slow nod, not believing it for a moment. ‘I wish I had that shield. I go home feeling bad if a customer is rude. Gwyn cries. You grow more powerful.’

‘When they ask to speak to the manager, I hit them with the uno reverse card.’

Once the coffee shop had cleared out, Nesta was left alone again with Eris. Like the previous nights, he was unsettled. No book truly held his focus.

‘Camomile tea and a brownie. If you get crumbs on the books, I will bill you for the damage.’

‘This music is awful,’ he said, not tearing his attention from the novel – although she’d been watching and this was the most focused that he’d been all evening so it was likely a façade.

‘Take it up with the manager,’ she replied.

‘I wish I could,’ he muttered.

While he drank, Nesta changed the window display. New stock had arrived that morning so she was eager to have it on show ready for the morning. Through it all, Eris murmured that a book was wonky or the colour schemes clashed.

‘Would you like to do it?’

‘Not particularly,’ he replied, sipping at his tea – but for once there was some life behind his eyes, a slight brightness that hadn’t been there all week. ‘What time does this place close?’

Nesta mimed looking at an imaginary watch on her wrist. ‘Oh, about seventeen minutes ago.’

Eris screwed up his face. ‘I thought you’d be eager to kick me out.’

‘It’s a Friday night. You’re a young, presumably single, handsome man. If this is the only place you have to go on a Friday night then I feel bad to kick you out.’

‘Well, I sound pathetic.’ He drained his tea. ‘Sorry. Your boss won’t be mad?’

‘Yeah. She’s a bitch. Don’t mess with her.’

Surprising her entirely, Eris asked if there was anything he could help with to ease the lock up process. She’d already put the day’s takings in the safe, so she handed him a cloth and spray to wipe down the tables again. Dutifully, he set to the task.

‘You after a job?’

Eris gave one low chuckle. ‘I have a job.’

This was a man that she simply could not work out. From the exterior, he seemed sour and irritable, but he took her sniped words and parried them back.

Even when Nesta locked up the door, Eris remained nearby, watching over her shoulder as revellers began to emerge for the night and stumbled down the pavements.

‘Can I give you a ride?’ He gestured to the rain then pointed to a car worth more than any she’d ever sat in before. It was a massive, gas-guzzling beast that could plough down anything in its path. If the four horsemen of the apocalypse upgraded from horses to vehicles, it would be this one.

‘I don’t make a habit of getting in cars with strange men. Goodnight.’

It was a twenty-minute walk, fifteen if she moved her legs a little quicker to avoid the drunken idiots staggering around the streets. Nesta zipped her coat to her chin then steeled herself for the walk.

Eris turned his car around and she heard it roaring behind her.

It crawled along the road beside her, keeping pace with her walking.

‘If you won’t accept a ride then I can at least make sure you get home safely this way.’

‘You’d be so cut up if something happened to me,’ she scoffed. ‘We’re strangers.’

‘True,’ Eris admitted, an arm resting on the wound-down window. ‘But it's difficult to find a decent cup of coffee around here.’

Each night, Eris had given a generous tip to the pot which was at odds with his prickly demeanour. He could continue to come and be miserable if a fat tip was pushed into the jar at the end of it all.

Nesta made a tutting noise. ‘Will you stop this? You make me look like a woman of the night, driving along beside me and calling out the window.’

‘Ah, a jezebel,’ he said with a laugh. ‘It’s pouring. I’ll drop you off. Get in.’

She slipped her phone from her pocket and hastily flung a badly typed text into the group chat telling them she was in the car with Eris and shared her location. At the sensation of the heated seats, Nesta eased out a satisfied noise. The car was not what she expected on the inside. A blanket was strewn across the back seats and it was covered in muddy pawprints and dog hair. More of it was on the upholstery.

‘You have a dog?’

‘Uh. Yeah. I did,’ he replied, face tightening. ‘Tell me the way.’

‘I’ll give you five stars if you don’t talk to me,’ she quipped but the sadness had already leaked into his expression like those first couple of nights that he’d come to the shop. Maybe not a break up at all.

In a silence that was only interrupted by her directions, Eris drove her home. He was a good driver, never speeding, never taking risks despite the engine that thrummed with power. At the house, he pulled up.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Nesta nodded. ‘Sure. Eight 'til eight tomorrow, but we have shorter hours on Sundays.’

‘Thanks for the heads up.’

Her fingers stilled on the door handle. ‘Are you alright? You’re spending every evening until close in a coffee shop. Don’t you have a home to go to?’

‘Yeah. I don’t want to be there,’ he said without expanding on it. ‘Goodnight Nesta.’

***

That weekend, they continued their strange dance. Nesta called out orders for the dude with the stick up his ass, the guy who needs to get a library card, and the neat freak who keeps re-arranging the books. Each time, Eris sauntered to the counter or waved his hand through the air expecting table service, not at all bothered by her insults.

‘You’re definitely flirting,’ murmured Emerie as she hung up her apron for the afternoon.

‘I’m harassing him,’ countered Nesta.

Gwyn shook her head. ‘He seems to like it.’

Eris was sprawled out in a chair, shoes off, socked-feet resting on the chair opposite as he read. A cookie had chunks bitten out of it sporadically as he remembered its existence. He looked well and truly at home in the alcove cut into the wall. It was Nesta’s favourite part of the shop – the main reason she’d purchased the building. They’d pinned a lattice to the wall and wound fake ivy and fairy lights through it to make it something special.

‘Are we kicking him out to close?’

Nesta chewed on her lip. ‘I feel guilty every time. He’s got nowhere else to go.’

‘It’s not a shelter for waifs and strays. It’s a business,’ said Emerie.

Sunday was meant to be a chill out day with the coffee shop closing just after lunch to at least give Nesta a little bit of free time away from it. Eris seemed far too cosy to turf him out. She convinced Em and Gwyn to go on ahead in the gloomy weather and she’d catch up. Then, Nesta plopped down on the stool beside Eris.

‘Closing time?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

Eris heaved a sigh as he closed the book.

‘You know you can buy the books,’ she said, raising a brow. ‘That’s how we make money.’

‘Sorry. Tell your boss I enjoy the ambience too much.’

She gave him a half-sigh. ‘I am the boss.’

He reached back to the shelf to slide the book – a fantasy one – back into its place. ‘I was wondering why the manager put the grumpiest member of staff on every single day.’

Nesta choked on a laugh. ‘Me, grumpy? You have an aura like a sad, wet cat around you. It sucks me in like a black hole. That’s why I stay away.’

Eris slipped his long feet back into his shoes and tied up the laces. He wasn’t particularly dressed down for a weekend. All of his clothes screamed money.

‘So, what’s the story? Why do you spend every minute here?’ Nesta scanned him from head to toe. ‘Bad break up? Don’t want to pay for heating at your own home?’

‘I just don’t want to be there.’

Under her piercing stare, Eris crumbled. He pulled his phone from his pocket and slid it across to her. She was expecting a gorgeous woman there or a cute couple’s photo. Instead, Nesta was met with a massive, black dog with masses of shiny fur.

‘My boy,’ said Eris, wincing as he spoke. ‘Fifteen years old. Put to sleep last week.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s so quiet at home. I can’t bear to get rid of his bed – or that blanket in the car.’ Eris shook his head. ‘I know, just a dog. Get over it.’

Nesta clenched her teeth together then, ‘That’s not true. Fifteen years is a long time to love something. It’s natural to grieve a pet. Sorry for insulting you for the last few days. If I knew there was a reason for this mood, I’d have left you be.’

‘It’s alright. It was fun. I just needed a place that was open late so I didn’t have to go home. Then I found you. Your insults stopped me feeling sorry for myself.’

His words, though not deep, still had her heart giving a flutter. ‘I’ve still got to kick you out, I’m afraid.’

Eris dipped his chin then buttoned up his coat. He carried his own tray to the sink and loaded the items onto the dishwasher because he was practised enough with the closing routine.

‘Black coffee tomorrow for the dog lover?’

‘Ask your manager when you can get the night off.’

‘Drop me home and you can talk to her.’

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Assentio Mentium: Chapter 22

Update for SJM Romance week! It's feast or famine with this story apparently.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33608452/chapters/136029976

Teaser:

Azriel smirked, “You can go up to Rhys’ room and break into that expensive whiskey. I’ve got this.”

“No,” Cassian shook his head. “I want to see that everything is perfect for myself. I’ve seen the Pinterest board.”

“And you think I haven’t?” Azriel rolled his eyes and took out his phone. “A few fires to be put out. I’ve got it but I’m sending Cass up to you. You’re going to owe Nuala a lot of money and say goodbye to that bottle of Champagne at the Hamptons house. It’s Gwyn’s now.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Rhys’ voice was still groggy with sleep. “But sure, fine, whatever you need to do. I could make a point about Cassian having his own money but that feels a bit trite on his weddings day so just send the bastard up.”

[sjmromanceweek]

♡ SJM Romance Week 2024 Masterlist ♡

Thank you so much to everyone who participated in SJM Romance Week 2024! Instead of one big masterlist, we’ve compiled them into smaller roundups for each day of the event. Happy Valentine’s Day, and see you all next year! ♡

Daily Roundups

Day One: First Date

Day Two: Traditions

Day Three: Weddings

Day Four: The Little Things

Day Five: Favorite Tropes

Day Six: Romantic Gestures

Day Seven: Free Day

Other Links

AO3 Collection

2023 Masterlist

2022 Masterlist

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Should've Worshipped Her Sooner (ao3)

Cassian can't sleep because he's too busy simping over Nesta. A drabble partially inspired by Hozier's Take Me To Church. (Happy day 5 of @sjmromanceweek! The trope here is just... Cassian being a simp. That's it. That's the trope. Absolutely no plot.)

~~~~

The light was a glint of silver moonlight, dawn a still far-off whisper lurking beyond the edges of the horizon. And in that comfortable darkness interrupted only by the shaft of moonlight slipping between the gap in the curtains, Cassian lay awake, unable to sleep.

But he didn’t mind.

Even though he needed to be up with the dawn to leave this bed, the thought of how tired he would be tomorrow simply wasn’t enough to make him close his eyes. How could it be, when to fall asleep was to abandon this— the sight of his mate, sleeping peacefully in his arms.

Nesta’s heart was steady, an even beat that would have lulled him to sleep had he wished, but the moon turned her golden-brown hair to silver, her pale skin to porcelain— his north star, nestled against the pillows and pressed tight against his side. He wanted to savour it, this moment, not waste it by closing his eyes.

There was nothing in the world he could ever have wanted more than this— the woman he loved asleep against his chest, the whisper of cotton sheets as she shifted in concert with the steady rhythm of her breathing.

The most perfect thing in the world.

In centuries past, Cassian used to stand on the House roof and watch the sun set, or wake up at dawn to see it break above the horizon. He’d always thought it the most beautiful thing in the world, to watch the moment the day yielded to the night, the sun to the moon. He’d thought that the glitter of the stars, pinpricks in the gathering black, were the most wondrous thing the world had to offer, a sight so humbling it could bring him to his knees.

How wrong he had been.

He knew now that there was only one thing that could ever truly bring him to his knees, and her eyelashes fluttered now with her dreams, her fingers curling gently against his bare chest. Softly Cassian’s hand smoothed down Nesta’s shoulder, skating across her arm as his other hand wrapped itself more firmly around her waist.

All the wonders of this world paled, now.

The sun was at its most beautiful only when it danced across her face, its most wondrous when its light gilded her skin. The stars were their most glittering only when they were reflected in her eyes, and though the night still held so many myriad wonders and beauties untold, it was in her arms that Cassian found he loved the night best.

And it wasn’t in the skies that he now looked for that once-breathless sense of awe. Instead, he found it every when he opened his eyes and found hers, silver-blue, looking up at him from beneath thick, dark lashes that he, every damned day, wanted to brush with his lips. Every day he woke and every day he asked himself how he gotten this lucky— how the Mother had seen fit to give him to Nesta fucking Archeron as a mate.

How he got to be the one curling around her in the dark, his body cradling hers as sleep took them both.

In those moments, quiet and serene, when there was nothing but a tired, peaceful kind of silence, Cassian often found himself linking his fingers through hers, feeling her palm brush his as sleep began to beckon. The cool brush of the ring on her finger - the one he had put there the day of their mating ceremony - always made his heart kick, and in the quiet now, Cassian reached for her hand, the one she had resting above his heart, fingers searching until he found that ring, the silver glinting.

Together, they were a fire. Blazing and burning, a love that scorched him right down to the bone. He loved it, loved her, exactly as they were— a tempest of emotion. But there were moments like this - quiet, peaceful, comfortable - that he loved too. When there was not a soul to disturb them, when they could lie together in the silence and find comfort in one another. When he could hold his sleeping mate in his arms and forget about the world outside.

Lady Death and the Lord of Bloodshed, wrapped in cotton, sheathed in the dark, clinging to one another as they slept.

It was the purest kind of peace Cassian could ever have imagined.

And as Nesta shifted once more in her sleep, Cassian dropped a kiss to the crown of her head, smiling at the murmur it elicited from her lips. Her eyelashes fluttered, close to waking, and Cassian drew her closer to his chest, his wing extending and curling around them both.

“Sleep,” he whispered.

A mumble was his only response. A sound of untold softness from the woman who had endured so much horror, who had once cut the head from the shoulders of a king.

Cassian smiled, his heart swelling to the point of pain. His thumb brushed the band of the ring he had given her before he linked his fingers with hers— fingers that had held countless blades over the centuries, and spilled so much blood they could never be clean again. And yet somehow Cassian felt all of it diminish in her presence, like each and every one of his sins was absolved by her touch alone.

Silent, he squeezed her hand.

“Sleep,” he murmured again, feeling his own eyes grow heavy.

And there, in the place that they had made their home, Cassian closed his eyes at last, knowing he’d never need anything more than this— the peace found in his mate’s embrace.

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

you’ll never guess what pairing it is

[mariaofdoranelle]

Catastrophic Blues

Written for @sjmromanceweek

Prompt: Favorite tropes (exes to lovers yay!)

I wrote most of this oneshot a year ago, and I never posted because it’s so sad, and also it’s the only time I fully trauma dumped on my fics. Anyway. Enjoy this thing that was based on one of the most pathetic days of my life lol

Warnings: none?

Words: 2,2k

The low lighting the uber had at night only called more attention to the cold, churning mess that was Aelin’s stomach. It was the lack of something to focus on when what she needs right now is sensory overload. The smell of alcohol, loud music, strobe lights.

Aelin wanted to focus on anything that wasn’t her destination—or who she’d meet there.

It was fine. She was fine.

It was Fenrys' birthday. The cheeriest of Aelin's cheery friends. Aelin definitely couldn't miss his birthday. Today was about Fenrys, and not the ex-boyfriend who was also invited.

But Aelin was fine. It wasn't a big deal. It’d been more than a month since they broke up, and Rowan even texted her asking if she’d be comfortable if he brought his new girl tonight.

How considerate of him.

But Aelin agreed, with no regrets. The only thing she regretted was merging her group of friends with her ex-boyfriend when they were dating. That was something she’d keep in mind for the next time she met someone.

Out of the car and in front of the bar, Aelin let the cool summer breeze wash her nerves away. He was probably in there already, always on time. She knew this would eventually happen when they broke up and decided to stay friends for the sake of the gang. There was no need for her to freak out—good thing she wasn't. And if she acted weirdly today, what would Rowan do a month from now?

The crowded place was booming with laughter and drunken yells, busy waiters running around the place, barely paying attention to the graceless group of friends singing Bohemian Rhapsody at karaoke.

A large hand gripped her waist, turning her towards the source, and Aelin met a smiling pair of onyx eyes.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

“Fen!” She hugged her friend and handed him his present, wishing him a happy birthday.

“Everyone’s at a big table back there, and…” Fenrys trailed, trying to read something on Aelin’s expression. Whatever words he was about to say died in his throat.

Aelin crossed her arms. “Spill.”

He shrugged. “You’re hotter than her.”

Lyria, he meant. And Aelin agreed, she was definitely hotter. It wasn’t hard to find Rowan’s new girl on Instagram after she commented a red heart on his last picture like a dog peeing on the comment section for territory. She found out about it even before he told her himself.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at Fen. “I’m over him.”

He shrugged. “Just thought you’d like to hear it.”

Her smirk was met with a similar one from Fenrys. He knows her too well.

Then Aelin shook her head, chastising herself for such thoughts. She was the one to end things, due to her… distressing circumstances. She had no right to shame Rowan for settling for a less hot person.

It’s not like she cared, anyway.

Stepping onto the back of the bar, Aelin quickly spotted the table and greeted everyone��including the lovebirds.

Rowan was stiff like a robot, and Lyria was polite. Bland. Guess he lied when he said he liked Aelin’s fiery personality and the way they clashed, since his new girlfriend is the total opposite. He’d probably still be his dutiful self to her in a month, and Aelin would be in Suria with rows of men—or vodka, most likely—lying at her feet.

She sat beside Elide and ordered a non-alcoholic beer—the doctor had cleared her to drink alcohol with moderation by now, but she didn’t want to risk it. Connall decided to restart whatever work gossip he was telling to keep Aelin in the loop.

She was paying attention, or at least she was trying to, but—why did Rowan shave off his beard? God, she loved his jawline. How it looked so firm by far, but felt so soft under her lips and teeth. Aelin could still remember how his beard tickled against her skin when he decided to grow it, or even better, the feeling of it against her thighs when he--

"Ace, are you alright?" Elide whispered in her ear, "You look a little lost."

Aelin blinked, trying to focus on her friends. Apart from Ellie, no one noticed she'd zoned out. Looking back at her friend, Aelin nodded, a small smile on her lips.

Her friend arched one eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Rolling her eyes, Aelin chuckled. "Of course."

Looking back at everyone, she caught Rowan’s eyes on her. Busted, the only thing left for him to do was send her a small, close-lipped smile and tip his head to the Heineken 0.0% she clutched. Aelin raised it and took a long swig, letting the bitter beverage go down throat, the feeling so close to the real thing.

He feels proud of her growth. Not a big deal when he keeps a perky brunette under his arm.

But she knew this feeling was just an initial clash of their lives apart. Aelin was fine, she truly was. Her feelings towards Rowan would never be the same she had to a regular friend, because the nature of their memories together was different. Erasing their history was impossible, so it was either fully leave or learn how to live in the shadows of what they used to be.

This hollowness she felt in her chest was just an initial shock, an adjustment. Aelin wasn't the only person in the world to lose the love of her life, and some of them even did great after that, with their second-best significant ones.

No one can keep every good thing that happens in their life forever. Even if said good best thing is right there, standing in front of you.

Actually, she was wrong. Aelin did keep Rowan in her life. As a friend. Which was enough, and just what she needed.

“…Right, Ace?”

Aelin blinked, being dragged out of her thoughts back into the conversation. “Excuse me?”

Elide sighed. “The birthday cake, Fenrys got it from Emrys’. Isn’t that the place you recommended to him?”

“Oh.” Aelin blinked. “Yes. Absolutely, yes. They’re the best.”

Ellie gave her a quick look that was hard to decipher, but maybe it was time for Aelin to pay attention.

And pay attention she did. She leaned on the table and held her chin under her palm. Turns out the owners of Emrys’ are regulars at the motel Fenrys works at. Disgusting news to hear, and Connall agreed with her unshared thoughts. Fenrys accused his brother of being homophobic, since they’re talking about a gay couple. Connall retorted, saying that he can’t be homophobic if he’s gay, and it’s not prejudice if he hates everyone equally.

The twins bickered on and on. Rowan watched them as if it was a tennis match, with undiluted attention, while Lyria seemed endlessly amused by it.

Aelin wished she had stayed home.

But she came here for Fenrys, and for Fenrys she stayed. And stayed and stayed and stayed until that fucking song started playing. For Mala’s sake, today was not her day.

Aelin looked around, trying not to be too obvious that she was looking at them. Trying not to look too much or too little.

He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart.

Rowan took Lyria's hand and held it against his chest.

Just like he used to do with her.

Aelin swallowed, her chest shrinking. She was going to be sick.

She excused herself and got up, walking to another section of the bar near the restrooms where she couldn't be seen from the table, and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

Breathe in.

She could still feel the shape of Rowan’s lips against hers.

Breathe out.

She could still feel the weight of his body above hers.

Breathe in.

She could still feel his calloused hands caressing her bare back in bed.

Breathe out.

Her heart was beating just as much as on the day she finally got the courage to cuddle him after sex, almost two years ago. When she first rested her head on the crook of his neck, Aelin scented her favorite version of Rowan’s smell because it was completely ingrained with hers. And she did it again. And again. And again. Her hand could trace the shape of him even that long after the last time they were together. She hated how much she'd cling to those small details, and she hated even more that she cared about this. Because she did. Aelin would barely admit it to herself, but of course she did.

She took a deep breath, ignored her quivering stomach and schooled herself, walking to the bar's counter.

The man next to her leaned on the counter so much he was half laid in it, but he still managed to turn his piercing blue eyes at Aelin and smile.

"Can’t find a bartender," he complained, his speech slurred. "I need a beer."

Aelin chuckled, leaning her forearms on the surface too. "And I need water."

He raised his head a little. "I'm Dorian."

"Aelin." She looked at him up and down, from the fumbled hair to the rumpled clothes and untied shoes. “Are you sure the bartenders aren’t bartending you on purpose?”

“I’m sure they are.”

“Huh.” Aelin scanned the liquor selection, tempted. She really was doing better with this new medication, and Dr. Hafiza cleared her for an occasional drink. She could definitely use a drink now. Instead, she tilted her head at Dorian and said, “Did you lose a puppy or something? Or this is just your usual Friday night?”

He ran a hand through his hair and grinned at her, so confident it reminded her of Fenrys. "My answer depends on whether you're giving me your number or not."

Aelin snorted. She thought of how satisfying it would be to watch Rowan watch her leave the bar with someone else, but a drunk wouldn't do. Besides, this wasn't a competition. Aelin had already lost.

"Not a chance. Spill."

He sighed and slumped again on the countertop, hitting his head against it.

"My situationship doesn't see me as dating material."

Aelin grimaced. "That sucks"

He waved a hand, dismissing her pity. "You?"

Her mind went back to a year ago, how he stood by her side, red-rimmed green eyes when Aelin became a shell of herself. How his anxiety skyrocketed when hers did too. How well he was doing now that she wasn't his problem anymore.

A bitter chuckle left her lips. "My sadness is contagious."

Dorian rolled his eyes. “I just bared my soul to you, and this is what you tell me?”

“You did not!”

“I’m gonna get another drink if you don’t entertain me.”

“Is this a threat?”

“Absolutely, yes.”

Aelin sighed, looking up while she gathered her thoughts. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

“Obviously.”

“Because I was bringing him down. No drama. We decided to not break up our group of friends.”

“No drama, you said?”

“He’s with his new girlfriend at the back of the bar and all my friends are schmoozing with her now.”

“I sense drama.”

“And we have a trip booked for next month we didn’t discuss.”

“Paid it all before the breakup, huh?”

Aelin nodded and ordered two waters before they traded stories about their pathetic love lives. She didn’t know how long they stayed there, neither if she liked Dorian or just this escape from the table from hell, but being here was a respite.

They were about six Tinder horror stories in when a hand landed on Aelin’s shoulder, making her jump, heart racing with surprise.

Rowan stood beside her with his trademark frown. “It’s been a while since you left the table.”

“Yup.” What was she supposed to say?

He jutted his chin towards Dorian. “Is he bothering you?”

“Not at all.” She squared her shoulders, trying to find a light way to describe their pity party. “This is Dorian. I’m getting funny dating stories out of him before I call an uber and send him back to his world of heartless women and tawdry men.”

“I see,” he trailed, eyes trained on them, and took a step back. “Okay. I have to go back there, but if you—“

“I know.” She waved him off. He needed to be at the table and be a good boyfriend to someone else, she got it.

Aelin was fully aware that her mind was going on a petty path, but she couldn’t help it. Yes, Lyria was nice. Yes, Lyria had been nothing but polite to her the entire night. The only problem was that Lyria was dating the wrong person. Or the perfect one, if Aelin wanted to address her issues more directly.

She banged her head against the disgusting counter, resting there to contemplate this rare moment of self-pity.

Aelin dug her own grave.

Dorian had his eyebrows raised. “Damn, he’s hot.”

“And thoughtful.”

“I wasn’t thinking about his thoughtfulness when he murdered me with his eyes.”

“He did not.”

“He did. And you know why.”

“I do not.” Aelin sipped her water. “Anyway, what happened to the guy who was cheating on his wife with you?”

Dorian’s eyes sparkled with the memory of this unfinished divorce story, and she was thankful to get the spotlight of the conversation away from her.

Unlike Aelin, Rowan had his shit together and was happy. She wouldn't—actually, she couldn't—disturb this little peace he found after she cut him off.

Her selfishness only went so far.

Read part 2 here

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[moodymelanist]

Handprints and Good Grips

happy last and final day of @sjmromanceweek, everyone! I couldn’t let this week go by without giving y’all some Nessian smut, so I hope this hits the spot 🤭 this one is a continuation of Take All of Me from SJM Romance Week 2023, but all you need to know about that one is Nessian didn’t make it out the house for their reservations.

I had such a blast putting this week together and seeing everyone's amazing contributions. I hope you enjoy today's fic and see you all very very soon for @nestaarcheronweek in April!!

Summary: Cassian and Nesta are absolutely, one hundred percent going to make it to their fancy dinner reservations this year.

At least… that was the intention. Again.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut lies ahead!

Read on AO3 here!

♡♡♡♡♡ Cassian

As Cassian fussed with his tie in front of the bedroom mirror, he couldn’t help but grin at his own reflection. He knew he looked good in his crisp, white button-up shirt and well-fitted black slacks, but his favorite accessory had to be the gold wedding band settled perfectly on his left hand.

Two years in, and he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of looking at it. 

They were supposed to celebrate their second wedding anniversary tonight, and for once they were actually moving according to schedule. Nesta was in the bathroom doing her hair and makeup while Cassian had been relegated to the bedroom, and they had about twenty minutes left before they needed to leave.

After they hadn’t even made it out the house last year, Nesta was even more hell-bent on making it to their reservation this time. If she could have it her way, she would’ve gotten ready elsewhere and just met Cassain at the restaurant just to cut down on the risk of what happened last year happening again. 

It made absolutely no sense to do that, though, so Cassian was treated to the sight of watching his wife get ready for a night out. Nesta was always stunning to him, but there was just something about watching her get all dolled up just for him that rubbed him exactly the right way.

Once Cassian finished messing with his tie in the mirror, he winked at himself before settling on the corner of the bed to wait for Nesta to come out of the bathroom again. It didn’t take long for her to make an appearance; as much as she liked to complain about him distracting her, they both knew how much she liked having his eyes on her.

When Nesta walked by him, Cassian couldn’t help but reach out and snake an arm around her waist. She was still in the robe she liked to wear when she was getting ready, the silky material perfect for running a hand across her ass. “Mhmm, you look so good.” 

“I’m not even dressed yet,” Nesta responded with a roll of her eyes. Her hair was still in rollers, but her makeup was mostly done, and Cassian was a little obsessed with the way her smoky eyeliner made her eyes look so blue. 

“I don’t see the problem with that,” he answered, still rubbing a hand across her ass. Was she wearing underwear right now, or were they so thin that he couldn’t feel them through the material of her robe? Either option would be good. 

“Don’t you start with me,” she told him, cutting off his train of thought with a flick to his forearm. She let him grab one last handful of her ass before she wiggled out of his grip entirely. “We are not canceling this reservation again. Do you understand me?”

“Uh huh,” he answered. His eyes were still glued to the way the fabric clung to her body, and he forced them back up to her face with an unrepentant smirk. “Perfectly, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you sweetheart me,” she warned him, fixing him with a highly unamused look. “I know exactly what you’re up to.”

“A man can’t appreciate his wife without being accused of ulterior motives?” he asked innocently. “What has this world come to?”

She just rolled her eyes before grabbing the earrings she’d been looking for and walking back toward the bathroom. He hated to see her go, but holy shit, did he love to watch her leave. “Save it, Cassian. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Cassian headed toward the living room while he waited, deciding to at least try to be good while she finished getting ready. It didn’t take long for him to put on his shoes and grab their coats, and in a burst of foresight, he briefly ran outside and started warming the car up so they wouldn’t be freezing when they got outside. 

When Nesta sashayed out of their bedroom, she found Cassian holding her coat out to help her slide into it. “Hey. You ready to go?”

“Yeah. You look…” Cassian trailed off, trying and failing to come up with the right words to describe Nesta in her silky red dress and her bouncy curls and her smoky eyes. Her dress especially had his mouth falling open a little from the way the silky material clung to every curve, and the slit on the left side revealed just enough skin to make him go a little crazy. “God. I can’t even think of a good enough word right now, Nes.”

“A for effort, right?” Nesta replied with a smirk. Once her coat was on and she was facing him again, she didn’t hide the way she looked him over just as appreciatively. “You certainly cleaned up nicely.”

“I have to keep up with you, don’t I?” he fired back without missing a beat. 

“You can certainly try,” she retorted, still smirking a little bit. 

Nesta reached up and cupped Cassian’s face briefly, and he couldn’t stop himself from turning in to press a soft kiss to the inside of her palm. Her expression turned fond for a quick second before she grew serious.

“The only reason you’re driving is because I can’t with these shoes,” Nesta told him, motioning toward the car keys in his hand with a serious glare. God, she was so sexy when she scowled at him. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop it.”

“I can’t help it, sweetheart,” Cassian answered. He forced himself to step away from her so he could open the door for her, very much enjoying the way she stared him down the entire time. “You know what the glaring does to me.”

“Well, undo it,” she replied without missing a beat. After another long look, she finally sighed and moved toward the door. “We have places to be.”

They stepped outside into the cool February air and Cassian jogged ahead so he could open Nesta’s car door for her, too. She murmured a soft thank you as he offered his hand to get her up into the passenger seat, and he walked back toward the front door to make sure everything was locked before he got into the driver’s seat.

Once they were both strapped in and ready to go, Cassian pulled out of their driveway and put his hand on Nesta’s thigh as usual. He realized his mistake immediately after he felt all that bare, soft skin under his fingers — of course it was on the side where the slit in her dress was — but it seemed worse to pull away from her now. It was fine. He’d just… suffer in silence for the remaining twenty minutes of their car ride.  

“Ugh, it’s too quiet in here,” Nesta commented a few minutes into the drive. She shifted to reach for her phone and Cassian bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from thinking about how dangerously close his fingers had gotten to her panty line. Guess she was wearing underwear after all. “You like Reneé Rapp, right?”

“Whatever you want,” Cassian agreed, not even really hearing a word his wife said. He did like Reneé Rapp, but he didn’t process what Nesta said for at least another thirty seconds into the first song she’d queued up. “Oh. Yeah, I do like her.”

She just snorted. “Just focus on the road, baby.”

The next few minutes of their drive were uneventful until Cassian made his second mistake. He came to a stop at a red light and stole a quick glance over at Nesta… and managed to look right down the front of her dress. He’d picked the exact moment she leaned down to grab something out of her purse, revealing that she was not wearing a bra tonight. For those few seconds that she was bent over, every thought flew out of his mind other than how much her breasts were stretching the fabric of her dress and how perfect they would feel under his hands right now. 

Cassian didn’t come back to himself until the person behind him honked, and then he had to get himself together enough to start driving again. Stop thinking about Nesta’s tits, stop thinking about Nesta’s tits, stop thinking about Nesta’s tits…

“You alright?” Nesta asked from beside him. “The light’s green.”

“Yup,” Cassian answered, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strained as his pants were starting to feel. It turned out that telling himself to stop thinking about Nesta’s chest was the perfect way to only think about it, and his brain decided to be oh so helpful by playing his personal montage of favorite moments. Nesta at the pool last summer, Nesta fresh out of the shower, Nesta on her knees in front of him — Nesta, Nesta, Nesta. 

What was Cassian supposed to do? He was only a man, and one who was head over heels in love with Nesta. He only had but so much willpower, especially when she looked as good as she did right now. How the fuck was he supposed to make it through dinner and dessert when the only thing he wanted to eat was his beautiful wife?

Sighing heavily, he turned off the main avenue and got lucky a few minutes in finding a warning sign for a hidden road. Honestly, he was surprised he’d lasted as long as he did before giving in. 

“What are you doing?” Nesta asked, sounding deeply unamused. “The restaurant's the other way.”

“I know which way the restaurant is,” Cassian answered. He was practically white knuckling the steering wheel and it was a miracle it didn’t give under his grip. “We’re not making it.”

“Yes, we are,” she replied coolly. “Turn the car around.”

Cassian didn’t listen, instead continuing down the road until they were far enough that they probably wouldn’t be spotted. 

“Get in the backseat, Nesta,” Cassian told her once he’d parked the car and taken off his seatbelt. 

The unimpressed look on her face morphed into a glare so fierce it would’ve sent lesser men running for the hills. “Are you out of your mind? Keep driving, Cassian.”

“You have two choices,” he replied, turning to face her so he could reach out and grip the side of her neck. He wasn’t quite choking her, not yet, but it was more than enough to make her eyes go a little wide so he knew she was listening. “Either you get your pretty little ass in the backseat, or you get in my lap. Pick one.”

Cassian had never been more thankful to own an SUV as he watched Nesta sigh heavily, get out the car, and yank open the rear passenger door. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he told her once they were both in the backseat. He was way too big for them to lie down, so she tossed her shoes in the front seat and climbed into his lap.

“Yeah, I do,” she insisted with a glare. He wondered how long it would take to make her eat her words this time. “I wanted to actually make it out this time!”

“Then why’d you wear this, huh?” he asked, pushing her coat off her shoulders so he could play with the straps of her dress. They were so thin it would be a miracle if he didn’t end up snapping one of them by accident. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. The effect was lessened by the way she was starting to breathe a little faster and lean into his touch. “I just—”

“You just what?” he cut her off. He pushed one strap off her shoulders and held back his smirk at the way she angled her other shoulder out. “Just wanted to push all my buttons so you could blame it on me?”

“No,” Nesta said, her eyes a little wide now. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Cassian said back. He reached up to push the other strap off her shoulder and was immensely satisfied when she swallowed thickly. “Letting me feel you up, bending over to flash me… you think I don’t know all the little games you like to play with me?”

“I wasn’t,” she tried to argue, but she wasn’t really trying all that hard.

“Yes, you were,” he told her. The top of her dress was slowly sliding down now that there wasn’t anything to hold it up anymore, but he refused to give into temptation until she begged for it. “If you just admit it, maybe you’ll get what you want.”

“I don’t want anything,” she lied through her teeth. The way she was trying to subtly lean forward and push her breasts into his face said otherwise, though. “I just wanted to go to dinner.”

“Why, so all those people could look at what’s mine?” He laughed, a little meanly, and goosebumps broke out across her skin. “We can probably still make the grace period. I’d love to bend you over the table and teach you a fucking lesson.”

Bingo. Nesta’s eyes went really wide at that, and Cassian decided to take a little pity on her. He reached up and dug a hand into her hair so he could pull her down for a kiss, and she moaned right into his mouth once their lips finally met. She opened up for him immediately and started rocking her hips against his, both of them breathing hard now that they were grinding together to the same rhythm as their tongues.

“Fuck, look at you,” Cassian breathed once he pulled Nesta back by her hair. She was making him a little — no, a lot — crazy by how wrecked she looked already, and that was only the beginning. He was going to ruin her. “Love when you get like this.”

“Cassian, come on,” Nesta replied, whining just a little bit. She was still rocking against his cock and it was taking all his concentration not to give in and move with her. “Stop fucking with me.”

“You were fucking with me first, sweetheart,” he retorted. He shifted his grip on her so he was holding tight to her hips, earning an annoyed sound as he stopped her from moving altogether. “Maybe if you’d owned up to that we wouldn’t be in this situation, now would we?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” she cut herself off with a frustrated huff. He wanted her unable to string her words together, so this was a good start. “Please.”

“Please what?” he asked, grinning up at her.

“Please,” she repeated. “Touch me, let me touch you, I don’t care, just— something, please. I can’t fucking take it.”

“Take my cock out,” Cassian demanded after a few moments. Nesta reached down and unbuckled his belt, moving fast to unzip his pants and wrap her hands around his hard length. “Come on, Nesta. I don’t have all day.”

He breathed a sigh of relief once he was finally free, but it quickly changed to a groan once she started stroking him. She knew exactly how he liked it, her grip on the perfect edge between pleasure and pain, and he let his head fall back against the seat while he watched her. One of her hands wasn’t enough to wrap fully around him, but they both liked how much bigger he was than her.

Cassian nearly lost it when Nesta brought two of her fingers to her lips to taste the precum leaking from the tip, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and get a goddamn grip. “That’s enough. Pull your dress up.”

Nesta released her fingers with a pop and reached down to yank at her dress, exposing the tiny scrap of red lace that was supposed to count for underwear. All the jostling made the top of her dress fall down even further, exposing her breasts to the warm air of the car, and Cassian tweaked one of her nipples roughly before pushing her underwear to the side and thrusting two fingers inside without warning.

“Oh my God,” she moaned, one of her hands reaching out to steady herself on his shoulders. She was so soaked he was surprised it hadn’t spread to the inside of her thighs. “Cassian…” 

“You must really want it,” he commented casually, like she wasn’t hot and tight around his fingers and practically begging for his cock. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please fuck me,” she pleaded without missing a beat. She started rocking against him and her grip on his shoulder turned near-painful as she dug her nails in. “Please, I need you so bad, I’ve been thinking about sitting on your cock all night—”

Cassian couldn’t take waiting anymore. Hewithdrew his fingers and brought them to Nesta’s lips, his cock throbbing as she tasted herself with a little groan. She licked his fingers clean and stared right at him as he slowly pulled them out of her mouth; if he hadn’t been so ready to fuck her, he would’ve put her on her knees right then and there.

It took a little manuevering, but they managed to get the angle right for Cassian’s cock to line up perfectly with Nesta’s entrance. They both moaned as she slowly slid down onto his cock, Cassian unable to make up his mind about whether he wanted to watch Nesta take him inch by inch or her face while she did. He chose to look at her face so he could catalogue every little sound that came out of her mouth until their hips were flush.

“So fucking perfect,” Cassian murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to Nesta’s neck. It was so warm inside the car now that her skin was a little slick with sweat, but he didn’t give a fuck. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Nesta said. He lived for these tender little moments just as much as he did the rough, dirty ones, and so did she. “But I thought you were gonna fuck me.”

Cassian shifted his grip so he had one hand on her hip and the other on her ass so he could smack one of her cheeks. “I never said that, sweetheart. Get a fucking move on.”

Nesta didn’t waste any time, reaching out with both hands to steady herself on Cassian’s shoulders as she started rocking back and forth. She started slow and eventually picked up more speed, the windows starting to really fog up now as she bounced on his cock. She felt like heaven wrapped around him and felt twice as good, but it was only a matter of time until he was going to take matters into his own hands.

Cassian shifted his legs as wide as he could with Nesta sitting astride him, moving the hand on her ass back to her other hip so he could move her up and down on his cock in time with his thrusts. 

“Jesus Christ,” Nesta panted, holding on for dear life as Cassian really started fucking her. “Ah — don’t stop, fuck, you feel so good—”

“Love how you take my cock,” Cassian grunted, thrusting up into her even faster now. Nesta tipped her head forward onto his shoulder so her next moan was quite literally music to his ears. “Love fucking your perfect pussy.”

“Oh my— fuck, I love it, love your cock,” Nesta whimpered between gasps for breath. 

He didn’t miss how one of her hands disappeared from his shoulder to sneak down between her legs. “You gonna make yourself come?”

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” she moaned. He was fucking her so hard it was honestly impressive she could keep her fingers on her clit, but he wasn’t about to ask questions. “So close.”

“Let me see,” he told her, panting. He wasn’t far off from coming, either, but he always made sure she came first if he could help it. “Wanna watch you come on my cock—”

Nesta cursed loudly as she came, clenching down hard and milking him for everything he was worth. Cassian couldn’t stop his own climax even if he’d wanted to and went right over the edge with her, groaning as a wave of pleasure slammed into him.

They didn’t move for another few minutes so they could catch their breath. Nesta managed to crawl into the passenger seat without leaving the car, but Cassian had to put his cock away and open the car door to get back to the driver’s side.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” Cassian said eventually. He rolled down the window to let some of the hot air out and let out a relieved sigh as the cold air started rolling in. “Maybe next year we’ll make it to the restaurant.”

Nesta pressed her lips together to hide her smile as she pulled out her phone, her fingers moving quickly to open the UberEats app. She hadn’t bothered to put her shoes back on and her dress was definitely on backwards, but she was still the most beautiful thing in the world to Cassian. “Happy anniversary to you too, baby, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. Now… what do you want to order for dinner?”

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