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mmvalentine · 4 years ago

Note

feysand prompt (+ smut request!)

(either modern au or canon)

feysand experiment with blindfolds/handcuffs/teasing BUT they have a long conversation about it first and establish that both of them are actually okay with it

when they do it (idk if this would make sense) feyre starts on top but then afterwards rhys takes control so they both get to try being dom/sub

Oof okay there's a lot in there and this has become very very long without me even getting through everything I have to say!! I know this is not the approach you had in mind but it's what came out in the end... also I have stolen a line from Suicide Squad.

Lessons

It is the first anniversary of their mating and after a year, Feyre sometimes thinks the frenzy of the new bond is finally abating.

Rhys will smile and laugh as Cassian jostles her shoulder at dinner, will twinkle his eyes at Mor when she smooths a stray hair back from Feyre’s face.

Other times, it’s in full force. Rhys waits until they are back in the privacy of their own room, and then he glazes over with lust and confesses his every envy into Feyre’s skin as he pounds her into the mattress (the floor, the wall, the bathtub).

Either way, a year is worth celebrating, and Feyre walks by Rhys’s favourite lingerie shop on her way home. The shop clerks know what day it is, and are already a-titter. Feyre blushes and says she wants something special, even though she knows Rhys has gone through this store several times over. She picks out something in the shade of red that he likes, but when she collects the bag it is heavier than she expects. The clerk winks at her. Something special, they whisper. When Feyre gets home, she tips the bag out on the bed and a pair of leather and brass handcuffs fall out.

Rhys walks through the bedroom door before she can register her surprise, and he stops at the sight of them. One eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitch upward, and Feyre says, "They were a gift from the shop."

Rhys comes up behind Feyre and slides his arms around her waist, planting a kiss on the back of her shoulder as he surveys the contents of her bag. Over the course of the year, Rhys has delighted in discovering the ways he can turn Feyre on. One of the very lovely things about her is that she gets so pliant in his hands. Today, he has a different idea for her.

"How would you like to be in charge today, Feyre darling?" Rhys purrs against her neck.

"In... charge?" Feyre asks.

"Yes," Rhys says. He kisses his way up to the nape of her neck. "I think you could do it."

Feyre bites her lip, and leans into the warmth of his body. "Will you show me how?"

"Of course," Rhys agrees. "You can be in control for, say, twenty minutes. And then we'll swap. Okay?"

From the air he pulls a hourglass filled with what looks like black smoke, and a floating silver ball. When the time is up, the ball will drop and ring against the glass.

"Okay," Feyre nods, with only a little nervousness. Rhys sets the timer on the nightstand.

"Alright," he said. "But first." He pulls back and looks at her, and his magic vanishes her clothes. He spends long seconds drinking in her naked body, before carefully dressing her in the red lace set. When he is done, he sits down on the end of the bed. "So how do you want me?" he asks her. And the smoke the in the hourglass begins to move.

Feyre tilts her head, and a blush steals over her pale cheeks. Although she knows Rhys knows what she likes, she's not used to vocalising it. "Shirt off," she whispers, and is gratified by Rhys's jacket hitting the floor, and his shirt being pulled slowly over his head. Rhys's eyes never move from hers. He holds his wrists out to her, and very shyly, she fastens the handcuffs around his wrists.

"And now what?" Rhys asks her softly.

Feyre steps between his knees and kisses his mouth. She raises his cuffed wrists and puts his hands behind his neck, and then sits on his lap to straddle him. It makes him hard in an instant.

"Like this?" she asks Rhys, putting her hands on his chest.

"Like how ever you want my love," Rhys says. But he lifts his hips a little, because he knows what Feyre likes.

Indeed Feyre's fingers close a little tighter on Rhys's shoulders, and if it's all about what she wants, it turns out what she actually wants is to be able to grind in his lap like this. Usually, his hands would pull her hips against him but they're stuck behind his head, so Feyre has to make her own rhythm. She lets her head fall back and her eyes close, but then Rhys says, "eyes on me."

She snaps her eyes open, and Rhys is grinning.

"That's it," he tells her. "Use me the way you want to. Make sure you watch while you do it." So she continues moving on him but this time looks into his eyes, and finds here a sparking lust that tightens across his face with every pass of her hips. A hot pride curls in her belly- that she can make him feel like this, and Rhys is right. It is worth keeping her eyes open for.

Feyre places her hands around Rhys's throat like he sometimes does to her, and the groan rumbles through him. Excitement flares in her chest, and she wonders what else she might do to him.

"Use your words," Rhys tells her next. "Tell me what you want."

"I want..." Feyre licks her lips. "I want you down on the bed."

"Okay," Rhys says. "So push me down like you mean it."

Feyre places a hand on the solid planes of his chest, and after only a moment's hesitation, she shoves hard. Rhys falls back, his hands still behind his head, and chuckles softly. "That's it," he encourages.

Feyre removes his trousers and Rhys is naked on the bed. She crawls up his legs, and while he watches her, she licks her tongue up the length of his cock.

Rhys's hips twitch, but he can't move his hands to her. He hums in his throat. Feyre smiles, and licks him again. Slides her hand around him while her lips shape over his head. Rhys's breathing starts to shallow, and it does beautiful things to the muscles in his torso. This time, she takes the whole of him into her mouth and Rhys groans long and low on the bed.

"That's it Feyre," he says again. "Like you know that I'm yours."

The words go to Feyre's head like heavy wine, and then she's running her nails down the flat of his stomach while her mouth works his cock. The sounds she wrests from him delight her, and every so often she glances up to see the way his triceps twitch. She knows he wants to put his hands in her hair, knows he wants to push her head down the way he wants it. But he can't, because his hands are bound behind his neck.

When Rhys starts to get loud, Feyre lifts her mouth from him and slides up his chest. He groans in complaint, and this thrills her. She wants him to want her. She lays her body over his, and nips at his lips. He's trying to kiss her properly, but she just snaps her teeth and laughs above him.

"Are you having fun darling?" Rhys asks her. Feyre bites down on his chin and nods. Her eyes dance and Rhys is smitten. He rolls his hips beneath her, but is powerless to do more while he is hand cuffed, and Feyre laughs again.

"Oh so if you're in charge, all you want is to tease?"

Feyre shrugs at first, and then moves a little lower to slide her hips on his. He lifts up off the bed to meet her, and her eyes are wide with joy. She slides over him again, and as he jerks under her she is giddy with the feeling of having so much effect on him, of being so in control of his pleasure. She wonders briefly if this is what it feels like for him when he doms, and then the thought fades away as the back and forth motion starts to heat her core, too.

She's just starting to lose herself in it, has just let her eyes slide closed in pleasure when the silver ball in the hourglass hits the glass and the sound peals out like a bell.

Feyre stops, looks at Rhys, and watches his eyes go wholly black.

"My turn," he whips out, low and dangerous, and then his magic flares and the dark gutters and suddenly Feyre is on her back beneath Rhys. She tries to reach up to him, but her wrists are shackled to the headboard.

"Submission is not weakness," Rhys told her. They had been mated only a few weeks and sometimes the need for him, her desire for him took over her so completely it felt like she was out of control. Over time, Rhys began to take the lead. Began to hold her tighter and tighter so she felt contained and grounded, until she needed his grip on her hips and his teeth in her skin. Feyre was relieved as she was mortified. Rhys noticed, and sat her down in the middle of the bed and told her that she only ever needed to submit to him when she wanted to, and when it fed her, and when she felt him worthy.

Rhys's shoulders move like a jungle cat, and a rolling purr slides from somewhere in his ribcage. Feyre finds that his weight is pressing down everywhere, and she can't move at all, and his cock is a pulse between her thighs.

"Possession is fragile but desire is divine," Rhys said. "Desire becomes surrender and surrender becomes power." He got to his knees and put her fingers to his lips.

Feyre feels the heat of his skin over every inch of her, and she relaxes into his touch. As fun as it had been to tease him, this is where she could truly let go, this is where her mind could finally stop, this is where she was free. And despite the heavy muscle that pins her to the mattress, she feels light as air. Rhys puts his mouth on her breast and pulls her nipple through his teeth, slow and viscous. He scrapes his fingers down her sides as his takes bites out of her neck, her collar bone, her stomach. He finds the knife edge of pain and adrenaline rushes through her on a wave of goosebumps, but she is never afraid.

"I promise you that I will always be in control so that you don't have to be. I will be your scout and your servant and your guard. If you let me. If you want me to. I just need to hear it from your lips."

"Yes Rhys. I want you to."

Rhys's tongue darts between her legs and unlike her playful, teasing movements over him before, he is sure and slow and thorough. He's pushed her underwear to one side, and now tears if at the seams. Feyre is molten beneath his fingers, and then one of his hand snakes up her body to softly squeeze over her throat. Feyre's core clenches and her moans lose their sound as the ecstasy floods in.

"Now you need to make me a promise. If you ever feel unsafe. If you ever want me to stop. If you ever change your mind. I need you to say the word 'yellow' to me, and then I will know to immediately stop. You can also tap me or a surface three times, if you cannot speak."

Feyre nodded.

"What's the word, Feyre?"

"It's yellow."

"Good girl."

Rhys rises before her, and does not take his hand from her throat as he rubs the head of his cock over her pussy. Feyre's hips buck off the bed, looking for more, but Rhys just holds her down and continues his motion.

"Don't you like being teased, Feyre darling?" Rhys asks her. "Not as good when you're on the receiving end?"

Feyre can't form words, is still trying to wriggle herself toward more friction. Rhys moves up her body and pushes his cock between her lips and down her tongue instead, deep as she had wanted it where he was before. She moans around him, and tries to touch herself, only to remember she is bound.

"Take it just like that," Rhys croons. "Show me what your pussy would be like." He thrusts into her mouth again, and she sucks hard against him. "Mmmm that's so good Feyre," Rhys tells her, and spends a minute watching her head move before he relents and settles back down over her.

"Are you ready to be fucked yet?" he asks her. Feyre nods soundlessly, and grinds her hips upward. Rhys slides himself tortuously slow up and down her slickness, and the shocks of pleasure light up her spine. She moves her knees up to his sides to try to get more contact, but although his head nudges at her entrance, he just continues to move back and forth over her.

"Does that feel good darling?" Rhys asks. "Shall I just stay here for a while?"

"No," Feyre moans. "More Rhys, more."

"Where are your manners, mate?" Rhys snaps. He reaches round to spank the side of her backside.

"Please!" Feyre blurts. "Please, please, please please," she begs. Rhys kisses her neck with his tongue, and the tip of him is pushing inside her. "Yes," she moans.

Then he pulls away, ducks his head and licks her roughly instead.

"No!" Feyre cries, while at the same time her hips buck up against Rhys's mouth. He sucks against her clit and flicks his tongue over and over it, before returning his hips to hers.

"Please," Feyre whispers. "Please, please."

He lines himself up again, his cock head just inside her as he kisses up her sternum. And now his hands are squeezing over her breasts and his thumbs stroke over her nipples through the sheer lace of her lingerie.

"Fuck," Feyre moans, arching her back to him. "Please Rhys, oh gods please, please." She strains against the leather cuffs, and the bed head creaks under the pressure.

Rhys sits up on his heels, and surveys with deep pleasure the writhing mess that Feyre makes on the bed. He can read her need for him like his name is inked on her skin, and there's nothing he loves more than the sight of her like this.

Except maybe being seated all the way deep inside her.

Rhys glides his hands down her skin and grips her hips as he finally, finally sinks himself all the way into her. The moan that Feyre makes is more than worth the wait.

"Rhys," she breathes out, and he fucks her lazily now, a slow rocking because he likes to take his time with her.

But Feyre has has enough. She plants her feet on the bed and pulls against the handcuffs for leverage, and she begins to fuck herself on his cock. For a minute Rhys just lets her, but the image is so gorgeous that he has to fuck her back, and then they're colliding hard and Feyre is coming before he even has the chance to tell her to do so.

Feyre bites her bottom lip hard as she climaxes, and Rhys watches it hit her like a wave cresting. After a minute, it begins to slow, but Rhys is not done by half. So he tosses one of her legs over his shoulder, holds his thumb over her clit, and speeds up the pace of her hips until her first orgasm bleeds into a second. He is relentless, will not let her come down until his own release is sliding down his spine and when he comes his hands grip the headboard hard enough to crack it.

Rhys bends to kiss her belly, her throat and then her mouth before he removes the handcuffs and rubs her wrists gently. He pulls the blanket up over Feyre as she lies there, spent, and then continues to press his lips behind her ear and in her hair as he curls his body around her.

"You did so good today," he whispers.

"Even when I was on top?" Feyre asks sleepily.

"Especially then," Rhys assures her. He eyes the red mark on her shoulder where the lingerie strap has been sitting tight, and he takes it all off with his magic. He likes it when she sleeps naked anyway.

"I love you," Rhys says against her back.

"I love you too," Feyre murmurs, and within seconds she is asleep.

****

Yeah look this is a bit of a mess because I was trying to fit a lot in. Normally I could actually go a bit harder on the kink but since we're supposed to be trying a little switching and delving into conversations, I spent time doing those things instead? Maybe should try to focus on just one in future. Or, not be so post-happy and actually edit my shit. Anyway I hope you guys still like it lol.

MASTERLIST

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

#asks #prompt fill #feysand #feysand fic #acotar #smut #mine #hoo boy that's a long oneshot

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cloudywriter · 4 years ago

Text

i never got to say i love you - 3

honestly no idea how this actually worked out but i did find it in me to pick it up where i had left off. i’ll keep working on this story and see where it goes but i think i have a few ideas. it’s not very long but it’s a start ya know. it looks nice right now too but don’t worry the angst will be there soon. xoxo

masterlist, main masterlist, AO3

~~~

From that fateful night on, Feyre spent all of her free time in the art building’s studio not even returning to her dorm until long after dark. Quite frankly, she was a little embarrassed. She showed up outside of Mor’s door fully prepared to ask her to please quiet down only to be reminded of how ridiculously dressed she was and then to top it all off after that all she did was stare at Rhysand until she ran off stuttering like a fool which was so unlike her.

She had a close call one afternoon in the dining hall but was able to make a speedy escape.

Of course, the one time she decided she should work and study somewhere that wasn’t the art studio she ended up in the library. It had been fine until they strutted in, strolling down the center of the library as if it it was a catwalk. A group of girls next to her looked up at them, giggling and blushing, and quickly averted their gazes when Cassian shot them a swift wink.

Feyre just kept her head down, trying to concentrate on the book of art history in front of her but just knowing he was in the same room as her, that she was in his vicinity had her mind unable to comprehend anything but that fact. Should she just stand up and leave? Would that draw more attention to herself?

She quickly deduced she could not wiggle her way out of this one.

Feyre propped up her textbook in hopes it would shield most of her face while she finished up the chapter and then she promised herself she could make her leave.

The scraping of a chair across the tile floor informed her she was not going to be so lucky. She zoned in on the words in front of her, she was not going to look up.

“Art history,” a voice read aloud.

Feyre looked up and arched an eyebrow at the man in front of her. “Congrats, you can read.”

“Are you an art major?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I could be or maybe I just enjoy a little art history. What are you majoring in making obvious observations?”

“Is that a new major? Because I’ll admit I’d love to take it up,” Cassian commented, crossing his arms and tucking his fist underneath his chin.

Feyre didn’t deign to respond instead she leaned further back in her chair once again focusing on the textbook.

That was until the remaining members of the trio wandered up to Feyre’s table as well.

Cassian turned around a little and gestured to Feyre, “Hey guys, I’m just hanging with my girl, Fey. You know, the one who came to yell at us last week and then drooled over Rhys.”

Feyre slammed her book flat on the table, “I did not drool!”

Cassian shrugged, “I don’t know I think I had to whip up a few drops after you left.”

Feyre just knew her bright red face betrayed her.

Rhys only laughed, a deep, sultry laugh that sounded the way expensive velvet felt. “It’s alright Feyre, darling, I’m used to it obviously.”

“Oh, don’t call me darling,” Feyre sighed, burying her face in her hands. Rhysand only smirked in response, drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk.

Azriel and Cassian were hunched over, studying something on Cassian’s phone while Feyre desperately tried to pretend they weren’t there. Rhys kept on drumming his fingers, completely disrupting Feyre, to be fair she was dyslexic and she required quiet in order to sit and read.

Feyre reached out her hand, holding a pencil, and wacked Rhysand’s fingers. “Stop it!” She whisper-yelled at him.

“Feyre, darling, you wound me,” he purred, leaning back to slip his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. On almost anyone else Feyre would’ve thought the leather jacket looked stupid but it just worked on Rhysand.

Rhysand was quiet for a moment when he spoke back up, “What does one do with an art degree?”

Feyre lifted her eyes from the page in front of her, “Gods, you sound like my sister.”

Rhys cracked a smile at that, “I don’t mean it in a negative way, of course, just curious.”

“I just want to spend the rest of my life doing something I love and I happen to love painting. I know it's not the standard but I wouldn’t be happy in a 9 to 5 desk job,” Feyre explained.

Rhys nodded, he looked as though that statement had resonated with him.

At that moment both Cassian and Azriel stood up, “Hey, Rhys, Mor is texting us that she wants to meet at Rita’s for lunch. You coming?”

Feyre glanced up, making direct eye contact with Rhys, “No,” he says in a husky voice, still looking into her eyes, “I think I’ll stay.” Feyre concentrates on her book again, a small, secret smile poised on her lips. Cassian and Azriel make their exit with knowing glances passed between them.

Cassian and Azriel had only been gone for around five minutes, Feyre was trying her hardest to appear unruffled by Rhysand’s presence, her eyes glued to her book though they weren’t reading a thing. Rhys then broke the silence, “Are you hungry?”

Feyre raised an eyebrow, “Are you?”

“Famished.”

“Strange, pretty sure I saw you turn down an invite to lunch a few minutes ago,” she replied simply.

“I go to lunch everyday with Az, Mor, and Cas, but I don’t go to lunch with you, Feyre, darling. I thought I might switch it up.”

Feyre gave him her best unimpressed expression even though her heart was pumping in her chest. “You’re a shameless flirt.”

“Well, what do you say?”

Despite Feyre finding Rhysand annoyingly attractive she was hesitant to accept his invitation. She had just transferred schools, she was in the market for some friends, but the haunting memory of her failed relationship crept in like a spider knitting a web of doubt.

Feyre banished that spider, “Fine.”

+++

Rhys had taken Feyre to a cute little coffee shop that served the best sandwiches in Prythian as Rhysand had claimed. Feyre didn’t have any room to disagree. Their conversation came easy, it felt natural, not stiff like the beginning of most budding friendships. They argued, joked, and even poked fun at each other the entire time.

Rhysand continued with his brazen, flirty attitude and persistent usage of the endearment ‘darling’ much to Feyre’s dismay. It was irritating but charming, it just seemed to be wholly Rhys.

Now, Rhys and Feyre were walking side by side back towards the dorm buildings. The conversation proceeded to flow easily. When they were about to enter the courtyard adjoining the separate dorm buildings, Rhys flopped onto a bench just a little ways off the sideway. Feyre raised her eyebrow at him.

“Sit, darling. All this walking after eating and I’ll get a cramp,” he reasoned.

Feyre rolled her eyes, it certainly wasn’t that but she entertained him. She took a spot a little bit down the bench from him and leaned her head back, staring up at the tree overhead and the afternoon sun beaming through its leaves.

A question popped into Feyre’s mind and she pivoted towards Rhys, “What are you majoring in?”

Rhys’s beautiful face turned into a grimace as he turned his attention from the same tree back to her.

“Business,” he finally supplied.

“You seem disappointed by that,” Feyre commented. Rhysand looked away as his head bobbed in a noncommittal yes.

“I wanted to major in English, really. I love books, stories, even poetry as mind boggling as it may be sometimes,” Rhys let out a small chuckle, mostly to himself. “I love language too, the way you can manipulate and articulate it, it’s remarkable. I would be more than content to pour over books the rest of my life or share my passion for stories and language with others.”

“Then why do business?” Feyre knew she was probably prying but her curious nature always got the best of her.

“My father,” Rhys admitted. “He’s a businessman you know, convinced it's always the way to go whether you truly enjoy it or not. Doesn’t matter if you’re happy if you have a stable job and are making good money in his eyes. Not to mention, he demands I work with him at his company after school. I lost the will to fight him on it, just easier to appease him at this point. Books will still be there.”

Feyre let the words hang in the air between them. She knew, of course, the feeling of being unsupported but still her family hadn’t forced her hand. Feyre reached out, resting her hand lightly over Rhysand’s in silent support while still giving him the option to pull away.

He didn’t. He wrapped her small hand in his own and turned his head toward her.

The wind tousled his black hair back and forth with each turn of its direction. In the sun’s light his eyes were bright, framed by thick lashes. Feyre wished she could freeze time and pull out her paints to capture the image. The overwhelming desire to do so took Feyre by surprise. Since leaving for Velaris that deep yearning to paint a particular scene, a moment of inspiration so strong it paralyzed her, hadn’t been prominent. Truly, it hadn’t been there for a while. She usually had to force out a drawing or painting for an assignment.

Then Rhys gave her a gentle smile, it looked how Feyre imagined touching clouds would feel. It brought a funny feeling to her stomach.

“Do what makes you happy, Rhys, always,” she added so quietly she thought her words might’ve been blown away by the breeze before they even reached his ears.

Yet, Rhys squeezed her hand the smallest bit.

~~~

well this is for you @maybekindasortaace

let me know if you wanted to be added to my feysand taglist or my rowaelin taglist or both, ya know

#feysand au #feyre x rhysand #feyre and rhysand #feysand fanfic #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar au #acotar #rhysand #cassian #azriel #morrigan #feysand #feysand fluff #feyre x rhys #i never got to say i love you

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inkedstarlight · 4 years ago

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Living of Love

Summary: Sirius Black owns a punk rock flower shop. When Remus moves in across the street and opens up a bookstore, the two men meet and discover what it feels like to love once more. A Valentine's Day story. Lots of fluff.

Note: Just reposting a Wolfstar fic I published on AO3 a long time ago! For all who don’t know, I used to write a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction about three years ago. All of my HP fanfiction is posted on Archive of Our Own, and I’ve added it to my Masterlist. Nowadays, I’m writing a shit ton of ACOTAR and TOG fics (more to come very soon)! If you ever have prompts/requests, send them in my ask box! I will write: Nessian, Elriel, Feysand, Elorcan, Wolfstar, Jily, and Linny. Thank you to all those who read my fics, I can’t express how much it means to me!

“James!” Sirius cursed as he opened the door.

His best friend poked his head from behind the corner. “Yes, my lover?”

“Cut the crap. What the bloody hell have you done to my shop?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” He exclaimed with a sheepish grin.

Sirius stared wide eyed at his flower shop. Only it wasn’t. It was bedazzled in pink. Paper hearts linked their way across the walls. Red and pink stickers were plastered on the front windows. A jar of heart candies was placed on the counter. Every bouquet had a card with some absurd declaration of love resting in the flowers. Sirius sighed.

“What am I looking at, Prongs?”

“Well, my truly amazing friend, you’re looking at the new and improved Guns ’n Roses!” James raised his arms. “Lily helped me a bit last night. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy.”

“It’s a masterpiece.”

“It’s not punk rock at all. I asked you to help prep for the holiday – not to let Cupid come in and throw up on my flowers!”

“Embrace the holiday, Pads. It’s a wonderful thing – love.” James looked off with doe eyes.

Sirius snorted. “Still in your honeymoon phase, I see.”

“You’ll find someone too, you know.”

“Doubtful. The amount of eligible gay men in Hampshire is equivalent to the dignity I have left.” Sirius turned the sign on the front door that stated they were open before shutting it and walking into his shop.

Though it was a minimalist interior, it showcased his best floral arrangements. The black and white framed photographs of old bands rested on the rustic, brick walls. On the left and right walls were white shelves of flowers from peonies, to dahlias, to flower crowns. In the middle sat two maroon loveseats, angled toward each other. There was a round table in between them with Sirius’s favorite flowers in an intricate vase; cosmos atrosanguineus. And towards the back of the store was an L shaped counter with his bouquets of the month placed on it. He walked swiftly behind the counter to the registry, and placed his things on the floor. He surveyed his precious store with another look of disbelief.

“What about that guy you told me about a few weeks ago, the one who recently opened up a bookstore just across the street?” James waggled his eyebrows and followed him around the counter.

Sirius blushed as he remembered the man.

“Are you, Sirius Orion Black, the man who claims to have a ‘heart of steel’, blushing?”

Sirius sacked him in the shoulder in hopes of ending his utter embarrassment. “Sod off, Potter.”

But as James rubbed his shoulder and howled with laughter, Sirius allowed himself to remember the man whom he couldn’t stop thinking about…

Sirius flipped the ‘open’ sign as the first drops of rain began to come down. It was a cloudy day on Belmore Street, but beautiful just the same. The local shops’ lights glowed in the downcast morning. The cobbled road was glistening with the rainfall. The storm was welcoming as it was refreshing.

He looked out his window to see the no longer vacant store directly across the street from his. The sign above the door said, Secondhand Prose. He gave a small smile. There hadn’t been a bookstore here in a long time.

Just as he was about to walk away from the front window, a lean figure in the rain caught his eye. It looked as though the man was trying to carry tons of boxes from a truck into his store. In the rain. With only a t-shirt on. He shook his head incredulously. But he looked upward again at the now downpour. He shifted his gaze back to the struggling man carrying what seemed to be a heavy box. Sirius muttered hateful words to himself as he put up his hood and stepped out into the storm.

He walked quickly across the uneven street. As the man walked out of the store, Sirius approached the truck. The man looked up at him, and Sirius’s steps faltered.

With hair dark with dripping water, a soaked through shirt, and glasses that weren’t helping him at this point, the man was a handsome mess. His warm gaze penetrated Sirius’s.

With the realization that he was staring at the stranger, Sirius cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck.

“I couldn’t help but watch your helpless attempt at moving all this shit,” he pointed over his shoulder at the numerous boxes sitting in the back of the truck. “Do you need any help?”

Surprise overcame his face, but looked at his feet and smiled shyly. “That would be great.”

Sirius tore his gaze from him and moved to the truck. It was piled to the brim with cardboard boxes. As leaned over to pick one up, he looked inside to see worn books. He noticed one of his favorites and picked it up.

“The Fountainhead. A brilliant book.” Sirius turned around to see the man standing just a few feet away. His gaze quickly snapped up and his cheeks flushed. Sirius couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that the man had been checking him out.

He gulped. “It’s groundbreaking.”

Sirius was about to agree when another box caught his eye, this one filled to the brim with CD’s. A familiar album cover was at the top of the pile, and he picked it up.

“Emotionalism? This album is incredible. Do you listen to them?”

Remus’s eyes brightened with passion and he grinned. “Track 10.”

They launched into a discussion about the album and the other music they listen to, somehow ending up discussing where they came from and where they longed to go. At some point, Sirius sat on the edge of the truck, Remus joining him, legs swinging back and forth, all the while the rain continuing to beat down on them as they continued to talk for what felt like hours, never once hitting an uncomfortable silence or an awkward topic. A tether seemed to form between the two men as they connected through words.

“We should probably finish up with these boxes,” Sirius nodded to the books behind him, reluctant to end their conversation.

After that, the two men danced around each other as they efficiently moved all the books into the new store. The rain conveniently stopped just as Sirius brought in the last box. He walked back outside where the man was sitting on the rear of the truck, reading a book. Sirius used this moment to look at him. His hair was nearly dry, and had a glorious golden hue in the curls. He was beautiful.

He looked up as Sirius approached and stood up.

“Thank you so much… I really appreciate your help. It would have taken me twice the amount of time to do all of that,” he waved his hand toward his store and chuckled.

“A handsome man in need of a white knight? My pleasure,” he shamelessly flirted.

The stranger blushed all the way down to his toes. “Er…thanks. Have – have a good day.” He abruptly turned his heel and practically ran into his shop.

Sirius swore at himself. He was so damn forward. He groaned and began walking back to Guns ’n Roses, sans a cute guy’s number.

It wasn’t until Sirius was inside his shop that he realized he never got his name.

He came back to the present to find James shaking his head at him.

“What happened to the Sirius Black I knew, the one who went after anything he wanted?”

“You know what happened to him.”

James tsked at him. “You can’t let one man ruin any chance for others. He was a complete asshole who treated you like scum. You’re better than him, mate. You’re better than what your family believes you to be; better than what you see yourself as.”

Sirius spared a glance at James, who was looking down at him with love.

“Is this the part where we hug?”

James scrunched up his nose and shoved Sirius back on the shoulder. They laughed together and Sirius retreated back to the counter. He picked out a peony from the vase and let out a deep breath. James grinned at his unusually nervous friend.

“Now go get some, my man!” James spanked his butt on the way out.

Needless to say, Sirius bruised his shoulder. Again.

* * *

A bell jingled as Sirius opened the door to the bookstore. Before he opened the door, however, he noticed a few Valentine’s themed books in the front window. Laughter bubbled up at the sight of erotic romances, and he continued into the shop.

Peering inside, a vintage looking shop with what looked like hundreds upon hundreds of bound words resting on wooden shelves stretching across the majority of the room met his eyes. Toward the back, he could make out a few overstuffed armchairs. He stepped inside and inhaled the scent of old paperbacks and freshly brewed coffee. Not having noticed before, he realized the small bar to the right. It was a bookstore café.

He walked in further, finding no one in sight. He bit his lip in anxiousness.

Was he even here?

Sirius strolled past the bookshelves, glancing into each aisle, but the man from a few weeks ago was nowhere to be found.

Finally, he got to the last shelf of classic novels. He looked down the narrow aisle between the books.

There he was.

Standing on a stool librarians often use, he was leafing through a gently used book. His untidy curls stuck up every which way, and his thickly framed glasses were on the verge of falling off his nose. And they weren’t covered with raindrops this time. Angled toward him, Sirius noticed his sweater. It was pink with a few sewn hearts on it for the holiday, he presumed. He was even more adorable than Sirius remembered.

The man shelved the book with satisfaction. He then stepped down to the box beside the stepping stool to pick up another book. As he grabbed the book and straightened, his gaze caught Sirius standing in the middle of the aisle. His eyes widened with surprise.

“Oh, hullo,” he said, self consciously running his hand through his golden hair, making it stick up even more.

“Hi, I don’t know if you remember, but I helped you move in a few days ago. I’m –”

“Sirius.” As soon as the man said it, he blushed furiously. “Er, your friend came in the other day and mentioned you owned the floral shop across the street.” The only coherent thought in Sirius’s head was, James went into a bookstore? Remus continued. “I figured it was you, seeing as you came in and out of the shop when you helped me that day, so I asked for your name. Did I thank you, by the way? It was really kind…” Sirius watched him with intrigue as he stumbled over his words.

When he finished his rambling, he simply stood there with bright eyes and tousled hair.

“I’m Remus Lupin, by the way. A bit of a late introduction, but …er –”

“Better late than never, Remus,” Sirius finished for him, grinning. Remus loved the way his velvet voice wrapped along the two syllables of his name.

They stood there for a few moments, looking at each other with anticipation.

“This is for you,” Sirius blurted out, reaching out and handing him the flower. Remus’s eyes softened and gladly took the peony.

“It’s beautiful, thank you. I, erm… I was actually just going to bring you something once I finished shelving,” he waved his arm at the pile of books behind him.

“You’re in luck. I’m quite a fan of surprises.”

Remus led him down the aisle, past the dozens of bookshelves, and to the café. Sirius followed him like a lost puppy.

Once they reached the café, Remus picked up a lone mug on the countertop. He turned around and held it out to Sirius. He looked at the cappuccino to see a dog paw designed with milk on the top.

“I saw you walking your dog past my store on Saturday, and well, I thought you’d like it.”

Sirius’s heart squeezed.

“I love it, it’s amazing … I actually came over here to ask you out.”

Not believing his ears, Remus tripped over his own feet as he took a clumsy step forward to hand the coffee to Sirius. Although he steadied himself from falling forward, the contents flew out of the mug and onto Sirius. And as if it were happening in slow motion, the hot liquid splattered Sirius’s white shirt, staining it a muddy brown color.

Remus’s eyes widened in horror.

Sirius looked down at his wet shirt, and back up at Remus’s horrified expression.

“Shit on a fucking stick! Bloody hell, I’m such a fucking wanker.” A long list of expletives shot out of Remus’s mouth.

And Sirius began laughing.

To his chagrin, Remus decided it was a good idea to grab a towel and begin dabbing at Sirius’s shirt with it. He began wiping at his stomach, not-so-subtly feeling his impressively hard muscles, then got to his knees and cleaned the coffee off of Sirius’s shoes and the floor.

“As much as I like the sight of you kneeling before me, I don’t think it’s doing much.”

Remus tilted his head up. Sirius was looking down at him with amusement and heat in his eyes.

Sirius bent down and got eye level with Remus. He grabbed his chin gently with two fingers.

“You’re the clumsiest, most adorable man I’ve ever met,” he whispered, leaning in until their lips almost met.

Before Sirius could move an inch further, Remus shot up on his feet.

“Er, we should… I-I have customers.”

Sirius stood up and looked around at the vacant bookstore and to the lone worker at the coffee bar who was on her phone.

“I think you could manage a five minute break.”

And with that, Sirius grabbed Remus’s pale hand in his warm one and led him out the door to the floral shop across the street.

Sirius held open the front door, extending his hand out to let Remus walk in first. “Gentlemen first.”

Remus walked into the store with Sirius behind him, and before Sirius could open his mouth to welcome and give him a tour, a flash of light blinded their eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Sirius blinked a few times to regain his vision, only to find James standing in front of them, camera poised in front his grinning face. Remus was looking at him, confusion written all over his face as he too readjusted his eyes.

“Aw, look at your faces.” He bought down the camera to look at the picture he just shot. He keenly resembled a proud parent on the night of prom. “You guys are such a cute couple.”

Sirius’s mouth hung wide open, disbelief and embarrassment written over his face. He crossed an arm around himself and hid his head in his heads, face palming his forehead very audibly, shaking his head in defeat.

Remus, on the other hand was smiling, amusement in his eyes. He gave James a small wave. “Nice to see you again, James. But, er, we aren’t exactly dating. We’ve really just been properly introduced.”

James waved him off. “Not yet you aren’t,” he winked suggestively.

Sirius lifted his head abruptly. “James,” he seethed, trying to remain pleasant. “Don’t you have to go do that thing?”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully and frowned. “I don’t think so, mate –”

But one look from Sirius had him running to the back.

Sirius was furious. James was a wonderful friend, no doubt. But he knew what Sirius had gone through with his previous relationship – the pain he had experienced after the man he loved cheated on him. Coming home from the jewelers, a newly bought engagement ring in his pocket. Calling out his name, his heart pounding in anticipation. Hearing sounds from their bedroom, and opening the door to see him fucking another man. Screaming and screaming and screaming until his voice was hoarse and his tears were nearly drowning him. Throwing the ring in his face. The betrayal. The heartbreak.

James knew. He witnessed it all – the breaking, the burning, the healing. He knew that Sirius thought he would never let someone in like that again; that he would never know what intimacy and love would feel like.

Three years gone. He had never been in a relationship since – never found a person that he could open himself up to. And now, with Remus, he felt like he could have that chance of happiness and love.

If James didn’t fuck it all up.

He turned around to face Remus, a long winded apology already on the tip of his tongue, but before he could get out a word, Remus took a long stride forward, wrapped Sirius in his arms, and kissed him, his lips soft and plush and fumbling.

Sirius, completely taken aback, had only one thought running through his mind. Remus is gay. I owe James ten bucks.

But that instantly vanished when he realized, Remus is kissing me.

Once his brain properly functioned, his lips curled into a warm smile and he began to properly kiss Remus back. His slightly shaky hand tentatively slid up to wrap around Remus’s neck, deepening the kiss. The other went around the man’s narrow waist, fingers tightening around his soft and oversized jumper, curling around the material to pull Remus closer to him.

They continued to kiss for what felt like hours. With their bodies pressed tight against one another, they were in their own cocoon of blissful heat. When Sirius pulled back slightly, his stormy eyes met Remus’s, whose were bright and warm like melted chocolate. He brought his hand up to cup Remus’s cheek tenderly, drinking in the flushed face, shy smile, and tousled hair.

“Can I just say something?” Sirius asked, breathless. A nod. “I am a fucked up man. I haven’t had a relationship in three years.” He shook his head, laughing a little. “You make me feel, Remus. I don’t know what it is about you. And I know we’ve only just met, and fucking hell this is cliché, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. Maybe it’s your taste in literature or your adorably crooked glasses, or maybe it’s the fact we connect in this way that I’ve never experienced. But I want to take this chance with you and risk being completely destroyed instead of wondering what could have been. So please take that chance with me because you are like no one I have ever met.” He exhaled a breath and quickly added, “It’s also a bonus that you’re incredibly handsome and witty.”

Remus laughed incredulously and merely nodded, whispering, “Yes.”

Sirius held up a finger, and ran over to the display case, picking up a single rose, and rushed back to Remus, holding it out to him.

He smiled, accepting the flower and pulled Sirius into him, kissing the life out of him.

From a passerby’s view in the cobbled streets, they would simply see two men in a tight embrace, their gazes never wavering.

Two lovers on Valentine’s Day.

#harry potter #hp #wolfstar #fic #my writing #marauders #modern au

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drjackandmissjo · 4 years ago

Text

float among the stars and fly to Mars and back

The Universe was infinite and limitless for some, and Feyre wanted to unfold all of its secrets. And if there were live beings outside of the Earth’s atmosphere, that would be even better than taking the journey into the unknown alone.

OR The Men In Black AU no one asked for

Feysand Masterlist --- Ao3

Feyre Archeron had, since she had been a little girl, always believed that there must’ve been more to the Universe than their little Solar System.

Granted that there was nothing ‘little’ about a star and the nine planets (Viva la Pluto!) and the many other cosmic rocks that rotated around it, quite the opposite if you looked at it from the perspective of a tiny 7 years old, yet for Feyre, after her school had taken them to the city’s planetarium for a field trip, their Solar System had become undoubtedly small compared to the greatness of the unknown sky above. She had got home that day with stars in her eyes, literally because they had been given stickers of stars and planets, and she and her friends thought it was a good idea to stick them on their faces and eyelids, and had begun to constantly look up.

And she had not stopped since.

Many of her classmates laughed at her interest for the sky, thinking she only thought aliens were real because of movies and the TV, but the truth was that Feyre didn’t even want to acknowledge life outside of the Earth unless she had all the cold facts and hard proves laid out in front of her. To her, the Universe was a big adventure waiting to be explored, full of different atmospheres and gravities and temperatures, and it was simply wonderful. And yes, it was statistically impossible for such a vastity to have only one liveable planet, considering how well creatures could adapt to different environments, but that was not the point.

Which was why at 25 years of age, fresh off the most prestigious university in Prythian with a bachelor’s in aerospace engineering and a PhD in astrophysics, she had sent her curriculum all over the continent, to the best space programs and some. She had graduated valedictorian of her class, scored the highest marks with her thesis and just genuinely worked her ass off to maintain the full scholarship that had landed her at the Day Court University. She was gonna get what she deserved!

Or at least she thought. Weeks passed and she got no answer at all. She was not expecting to be submerged by requests but, by the Mother, at least some acknowledgement!

“No news is good news” wasn’t part of her vocabulary and she was growing impatient by the hour.

In the meantime, she still kept her job at a local library in her university town, not particularly wanting to go back home to her sisters who had never shown her any support in her academic career. Besides, it was not like they would provide for her anyway: she had learnt since a young age to take care of herself, knowing that if she didn’t nobody else would.

It was on the third week of no reply, that someone walked in the shop during her shift. A tall man in an impeccable black suit strutted in like a model on the runway. As soon as he opened the door, the bell rang, signalling a customer and letting Feyre slip on her Retail Smile, which she had practised for years to make it impeccable.

Coincidentally, it was also the same condescending smile she reserved to people who thought they knew more than her in her own field before she crushed them with stone cold facts without breaking a sweat. “Oh, you believe that astrology and astrophysics are the same thing? Sit your ass down, Tamlin, you’re in for a lecture,” had been one of her best moments, followed by a quick “Nothing’s in retrograde, Ianthe, you’re just a plain basic bitch.”

The customer was her dictionary definition of ‘hot’: elegant, tall, with deep russet brown skin and dark unruly curls that framed his forehead nicely. The stranger also knew how to wear a suit, which was a rarer and rarer phenomenon, that didn’t hurt a bit.

It was such a shame that he was clearly a douche, given that he wore dark sunglasses inside her little bookshop after the sun had already set down.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked politely, watching as the customer scanned through the files of books mindlessly. He lazily reached up her counter with an entitled smile that almost made her punch him the face. “Could you point me to the sci-fi section, Darling?”

The fact that he looked like a thirty-something made the term somehow less creepy, or perhaps it was the fact that he was attractive. But Feyre could not, for the life of her, let that slide down. “I’m not your Darling” she said in her most saccharine voice while throwing daggers at the customer. She was completely out of fucks to give, stressed and anxious, half an hour away from closing time and with her manager on a vacation far away.

Besides, she doubted Alis would give her hell for mouthing an entitled but attractive customer who was patronizing her. If anything, she’d probably push Feyre to flirt with said attractive customer. Cauldron knew that woman wanted her to have a relationship more than anything!

“I apologize for my poor choice of words, I am truly sorry. Didn’t mean to sound rude nor impolite.”

Feyre was quickly taken aback. He truly did sound apologetic and not condescending at all. But he also could just be a great actor. She crossed her arms over her chest and pointedly looked at him, signalling that she was still not convinced by his behaviour.

She would usually be not this bold with customers, but there was something about the stranger that seemed to put her at ease and to let her nature pass through her nurture.

He scratched his neck, probably uncomfortable with the energy Feyre was radiating, and finally took off his sunglasses, revealing the most gorgeous pair of violet eyes she had ever seen.

Immediately, Feyre went from thinking he was a douchebag to understanding that his pretty eyes didn’t work. Which was probably why he didn’t take off the sunglasses at night.

But then why in the Hell would he take them under the store light and not outside, where it was already dark?

She was on the fence, too many contrasting details that sent her rational side derailing, looking for answers that she knew she wasn’t gonna get. Unless she played her cards right.

“Apology accepted” she claimed, truly smiling as she saw the hot stranger visibly relax.

“If his eyes are purple, that means that he’s basically blind, so where are his prescription glasses?” she wondered, eyeing him up and down as she would with any specimen to analyse for a lab. She was a scientist, after all, and Cauldron Damn Her, she needed answers to each and every puzzle that came in front of her.

“I am looking for the sci-fi section. Would it be possible for you to show it to me?” His voice was sensual and low, a rich baritone that seemed to be able to get to her very bones, if she wasn’t careful enough.

“Would you rather me show you our audible or kindle selection for the genre?” she quietly asked, trying to be as tactful as possible. She was only making assumptions with the tiniest bit of information by her side, after all, so she had to be careful not to make an ass out of herself.

“No, what for?”

There went it. The ease with the customer had said it made it completely clear that she was utterly mistaken. She quickly tallied her notions of genetics, trying to understand how such a colour could be created without a damaging mutation.

Realizing she still hadn’t answered and was actively zooming out, staring into the space between the stranger’s brows without really realizing it, Feyre shook her head, saying a quick “Never mind,” before leaning over the counter to point to her left.

Counterintuitively, that had not been the greatest of ideas. There she was, already on a rollercoaster with a rather pretty stranger in an empty store, leaning towards him without thought or restraint. “It’s down that row, you can’t miss it,” she quickly said, moving fast into her original position to avoid any more embarrassment, “There’s a sticker of a Martian next to the tag.”

The customer raised one of his brows in a RDJ-esque way, sparking even more interest in Feyre’s stomach. “How do you know what a Martian looks like?”

“I’ve been scarred by the Tim Burton movie, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to forget them anytime soon!”

He nodded along, “Ah, yes. Apparently there had been a revolt after that film was released due to its controversial portrayal of the Martian Race, by making them look like a green oversized Arquillians. Such a bad political move, if you ask me, considering we’re right in their direct laser trajectory!” The stranger then laughed, a crystalline sound that resonated throughout the store as he began to walk away towards the direction Feyre had indicated.

She had been so entrapped by his laugh that it took a minute to register his words. He had already disappeared between the rows and all she could do was dumbly stare at the spot he had been as her eyes widened in shock.

“No fucking way in Hell!” her mind screamt as she stumbled to find a different solution to the situation at hand. He was clearly pranking her, saying words that didn’t really make sense. He had asked for the sci-fi section, after all! So he must’ve been a nerd, albeit a really hot one, that was just referencing some sort of obscure specie from an equally obscure piece of media.

The only problem was that she was a nerd that knew all of the obscure sci-fi knowledge. She had spent most of her life looking up at the stars and wishing to know more about them, and what better way to start than by watching and reading everything that had to do with her favourite topic. She was used to be on forums, to talk with people that had her same interest and to explore all her crazy theories.

And never once in her entire career as a proud nerd had she heard the term ‘Arquillians’. Vulcans and Krill and every single type of alien that made the Star Wars universe, sure. ‘Arquillians’, never once by mistake in the deepest bottom of reddit.

Feyre was about to debate with herself whether or not she should’ve run to the stranger to demand explanations, when he appeared in front of her, holding a copy of ‘The War of the Worlds’ by H. G. Wells, one of the most iconic books ever written and one of her personal favourites.

“He’s definitely messing with me” she reasoned as she grabbed the book and scanned it, ready to place it in a bag, when she noticed an envelope laying on her counter. It was a non-descriptive, black envelope with some sort of a six electron configuration in minimalistic drawn atomic orbitals. The image was wrong, depicting the electrons in a specific spot on the ellipse rather than in a general area in which they were thought to be empirically.

She raised her head up, looking expectantly into the stranger’s eyes and telling him as such. One of her hands also crept under the counter, towards the baseball bat Alis kept down there just in case.

“Wow. Took you less to realize it than most people!” he cheerfully said, his violet eyes shining with some unknown feeling behind them.

“Realize what?”

“That those are not electrons.”

She snorted at that, unable to keep her sarcasm in. “And what should they be? Wasps?” she asked, amused by their exchange as she grabbed his credit card to pay for the book. It was pitch black too, apparently like everything that revolved around the pretty stranger who was going to get his head open like a melon if he kept up with his antics.

“Why don’t you tell me, Miss Degree in Astrophysics.”

Feyre froze with her hand mid-air as she was giving him back his card. Her expression shifted in cold distance as she sobered up. They were getting on dangerous territory

She was far from powerless: she had a weapon at hand and several years of martial arts by her side, but she doubted she could take down someone the side of her customer in her skinny jeans and Avatar: The Last Airbender shirt. But there was also the counter separating them, which seemed protective enough for Feyre to answer his question.

“First of all, it’s only theorized and not proven, that planets could share an orbit around a star, but I fail to believe that three pairs would form this symbol without colliding against each other and disrupting the harmony of the system. Second, who the fuck told you that?”

“Well, you did, when you sent your exquisite curriculum around” he replied smoothly, without missing a beat.

That was the last straw of weirdness she was willing to witness. “This is getting very creepy and I’m gonna ask you to leave” she said coldly, grabbing the bat with both hands and leaning it over her shoulder, ready to attack if the necessity arose.

The stranger blinked twice and then took a step back, raising his hands in a placative motion. “Pardon me, I still have not grasped human social skills to the full extent, despite my long stay.”

“You are human” she retorted back, unable to keep her voice from shaking. This was absurd, ridiculous, impossible. This was everything she had ever hoped for since she was a child. This was a walking nightmare.

The smile he gave her didn’t look human, nor the way his violet eyes reflected the light, seeming to sparkle with amusement. His lips opened as his tongue wetted them, revealing sharp canines. Feyre had never seen a scene more captivating than when the stranger moved a strand of curly hair behind his ear with deliberate slowness, showing off the pointed tip of his ear. “Correction, I look humanlike.”

“You’re messing with me” she rationalized, refusing to believe that it was possible. Anyone could buy fake vampire teeth and elf ears at any Halloween store or online. But they usually didn’t look this real. Perhaps it was make-up: she had seen so many videos on YouTube and Instagram of artists literally transforming in different things with make-up.

He just shrugged, unaware of Feyre’s rocked existence. She both wanted to believe him and not. She didn’t know what she truly wanted.

“Why would I? I was just sent here by my agency to give you personally the invitation for a job interview, which I think you’ll find fascinating.”

She was speechless. Couldn’t even begin to think about where to start speaking.

This had to be the cruellest prank someone had ever pulled on her.

The stranger cleared his throat and moved once closer to the counter, resuming his initial position. Since Feyre didn’t seem to be hitting him anytime soon, he took the liberty to lean on the counter with his hands splayed out. He had long and lean fingers, like the ones of someone who played an instrument, a piano or a violin, and Feyre ignored the twist her stomach did at the sight.

If he wasn’t messing with her and if he was in actuality a fucking alien, would that be even allowed? Moral? Ethical?

“Look, I know you have an analytical mind, so I’ll be quick,” he began, his smooth voice washing over Feyre in an equally calming and disruptive way, “In case you have wondered why you still haven’t gotten a single reply for your applications, it’s because something big in Velaris is calling out to you. And my agency believes in dibs.”

“What’s there for me in Velaris?”

He smirked at her, a cocky gesture that made her want to strangle him quickly. “Don’t you wanna find out?”

Damn him, damn his perfect face, damn everything. Feyre had many strengths: she was patient, passionate, artistic, kind. But her downfall would always be her curiosity, her desperate want to know.

“I don’t particularly want to get murdered, so no” she tried to play it cool, but inside she was burning alive. Every muscle was taut, every nerve active. She hoped he couldn’t see through her bluff, she prayed the Mother he didn’t think her to be a pathetic little girl.

The Alien, it was impossible in her mind to call him that even if he had confessed it in the most subtle way possible, regarded her with shiny eyes and a grin that promised trouble.

Feyre had always been terrible at staying away from trouble.

“Pity. We could’ve used someone with your talents. If you change your mind…” he motioned to the black envelope, that still laid on the counter untouched. Too many Mission Impossible movies told her that the message was most likely to destroy itself after it opened.

Slipping his sunglasses back on, the alien turned around to leave and suddenly Feyre realized she didn’t want him too. She had too many questions.

“Wait!” she called as he had his hands on the handle. He slowly turned around and looked at her expectantly. Or at least she thought he was: there was no way of seeing his violet eyes behind the black lenses. Suddenly, all of the questions that had filled her mind a moment prior escaped her grasp. Except one.

“Let’s pretend I believe you. What are you?”

The smile he gave her was genuine, blinding and warm. “I am an Illyrian, but I doubt you know of us.” Then, as if in an afterthought, he added. “I’m Rhys, by the way.” She couldn’t understand why he looked sheepish out of the blue, it was almost as if he was a teenager revealing a secret crush.

“Feyre.”

“Well, in that case. I hope to see you soon, Feyre Darling.” And with that, he left her utterly alone, with a black envelope and stars in her eyes.

Part Two: The Letter

Feyre had waited until she had gotten home to even think about the black envelope, least of all to open it where someone could immediately walk in with their prying eyes.

Not that she would have had any, after all she was just about to close shop for the weekend and the only people she was in speaking terms with were Alis, who would never call her at such a late hour, and the stray tabby cat that lived near her building and for whom she always left some milk and some food whenever she went out to work. She had playfully began to call him Lucien, after a former college friend she had fallen out with that shared the same ginger hair with the cat, and constantly damned her landlord for his ‘no pets allowed’ policy, but alas, she couldn’t do more.

She had always appreciated her privacy, but lately it had become very close to loneliness, with her being too engrossed with her work to maintain a social group of friends. Not like she missed the assholes she used to hand out with in college anyway. They could all rot in their expensive clothes and expensive cars and expensive degrees, cause Daddy Dearest is a powerful donor and alumni.

Yet it wouldn’t have been so bad to have someone to hang out with when her mind became too loud.

Not too bad, if the alien, “Rhys” she reminded herself, was to be believed. The Night Court was adjacent to Day, but she had left nothing there worth justifying the trip back in case she did move to Velaris.

Velaris. The city of starlight, they called it. Feyre had always wanted to visit, but never could afford it with her tight budget and her focused plan to graduate valedictorian. In the end, she only got that, her impeccable career, which was truly the only thing she cared about. Loneliness was feeble compared to her fear of failure in what she believed was her destiny. It is a funny thing, destiny, it smacks you in the face when you least expect it, and smack Feyre in the face in the form of a very attractive stranger with possibly the best news ever it did.

She had almost expected him to appear out of the blue as she walked back home. Thankfully, he didn’t, but that didn’t mean she slowed her pace before being inside her complex doors and that didn’t mean she didn’t have her keys at hand throughout the entire journey.

It almost felt like she couldn’t breathe properly before she got inside, door locked twice behind her as she leaned against it to help her mind to stop spinning.

Too many things had happened in a too short time for her to cope properly. She needed answers, but she equally needed a strong drink.

It wasn’t until she had managed to calm down her beating heart, that Feyre sat down at her desk and placed the black envelope on her closed laptop.

“This better not be a sick joke” she thought as she ran a paper cutter through the edges. She had wasted too much time on this already for it to be fake or, worst, disappointing.

The paper inside was, predictably, black. She could start to see a theme, linking everything that had happened to her that evening.

The silver writing was subtle and not to bright, perfect to not cause her an headache reflecting the light from her reading lamp.

Feyre almost expected to see alien signs and letters, to not be able to understand what was written as some sort of challenge to test her knowledge. Luckily for her and her dyslexia, it was in English. Still a struggle, but very doable.

“Doctor Archeron,

We have been sent a copy of your resumé from one of our affiliates. We apologise if this letter comes out as brusque due to the circumstances of your possible recruitment.

We are more than pleased to inform you that we have envisioned your request. Our Agency specializes in your field and your accomplishments are remarkable. We are particularly interested in your research in the attrite of different materials against the atmosphere, which you created a masterful thesis around, we were mostly drawn by your detailed research with the Martian atmosphere.

We know that was not part of your resumé, but we have read it and it is very insightful.

We would appreciate if you were willing to come to Velaris for an Interview with our Head of the Research Department. We think you would be interested in a position and we are open to discuss a fortuitous partnership.

In case the way you received this letter was not direct enough, Our Agency values privacy and secrecy above all, and therefore we would request for you to not discuss of this with anyone.

Attached you will find your scheduled meeting time with the address, plus a train ticket to reach Velaris and the booking of an already paid room.

We are truly hoping to be able to work with you.

Our Best Regards,

MIB”

Feyre had to read the letter three times, for the meaning to stick in her head.

Any thought of it being a joke flew out of the window. No one in their right mind would ever read what her supervisor had claimed to be a ‘monstrosity of twenty pages without pictures about materials and Star Trek’ simply for a joke. No matter how well thought the joke could be, the Mars piece was the penultimate point of her research, before the conclusion and not even featured in the syllabus.

Her mind became crowded with a thousand different thoughts. Her emotions were all over the place, running around and doing flips and diving into her subconscious.

She leaned back on her chair, letter momentarily forgotten on her desk as she covered her eyes with her hands and just focused on her breath.

In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

She could rationalize this, just like she did everything else in her life. She had jumped to conclusions with her emotions only once in the past 10 years since she had started college, following her loneliness and the pressure to date the guy that screamt red flags for many reasons, yet she had ignored them all because he was gentle at first, filthy rich and nice looking.

Never again, she swore to the mirror after she had managed to end the toxic relationship that had developed.

Feyre did what any rational person would in her situation: grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and wrote down a list of pros and cons.

PROS:

Job opportunity in my field

ALIENS?

Secret Organization

Area 51?!

Already estranged from family

Secrets!

Velaris!

Best food

The Rainbow

Seaside

Best Library in Prythian

Snow in the winter

Fresh Start

CONS:

Moving

Finding a place

Totally new city

Know literally no one

Have to quit job with Alis

Already told her I was waiting for replies

She has a replacement ready

Could still be a prank

Too complicated to be a prank

Definitely an opportunity

Am I really thinking about saying no?

It took her longer to come up with cons. Besides, her gut told her to do it, and so far it had never lead her astray.

Worst case scenario: she comes back and waits around for another reply to her resumé.

Best case scenario: the job of the literal dreams, that can possibly exceed expectations, in her favourite city in the entire world.

Besides, she already had a paid train ticket to and from Velaris and an already paid room in what, if the website was to be believed and it was, was a 5 stars hotel in the creative centre of the city.

Before she could doubt herself even further, she grabbed her phone and shoot a quick text to Alis. The older woman didn’t believe in phone calls past 8 pm, considering her nephews would be already asleep by then, or at least she hoped they would.

Her thumb ran over the keyboard as she frantically wrote, in the most cryptical wording known to womankind, that she would have a job interview in the Winter Court on Monday and that she needed the day off. It didn’t matter that she was going to the Night Court and that her meeting was scheduled for Sunday at 11 am, she figured that, if she had to be secretive, better start as soon as possible!

Feyre didn’t move from her position with her phone pressed tightly in her hands until, ten minutes later, Alis replied with a thumbs up emoji, followed by ‘you’re wasted at retail’.”

Feeling lighter than she had in months, she rushed into her room to begin to pack for the upcoming weekend. The train would leave the next afternoon and would get her back Monday after lunchtime. She had to prepare, in case she could go out on Sunday night for a ‘I JUST GOT THE JOB OF MY DREAMS!’ celebration and shenanigans.

Perhaps with a very cute and nice alien with violet eyes, she thought as butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the idea.

Part Three: The Agent

Her old pencil skirt clashed with the aesthetic of the entire building.

At first she had thought that the whole black attire Rhys was wearing when they met was only due to personal preference, and that the black letter was used to be more secretive or something along those lines. Yet when she hopped, literally hopped on the pavement out of excitement, off the taxi she had taken from the hotel, she immediately realized her error.

To say that they were peculiarly attached to their aesthetic was an understatement: floors, walls, dresses, desks. Everything stuck to the black and white palette, making Feyre extremely aware that she had underdressed as she stuck out like a sore thumb.

In her defence, that was her lucky outfit: hair tight in a professional bun, glasses because she couldn’t be bothered with contacts on important mornings, white blouse and beige skirt she had bought for her graduation in high school and that she had worn to every job interview since then.

Of course, she had brought a full professional black outfit from home, but she had decided that morning not to take a chance. So far, that combo had never failed her, and it wasn’t going to betray her now, by the looks of it.

Upon arriving to Velaris the night before, she had spent the entire time daydreaming about what would happen that morning. Countless of scenarios had created and resolved themselves in her mind. But nothing could have prepared her for what she saw as soon as she walked into the address the letter had given her.

It was a perfectly non-descriptive building, something akin a factory that had been converted in offices or lofts, inconspicuous amongst the other nearly identical buildings. Perfect if you didn’t want to be found. But while the outside looked like it hadn’t been renovated in over a century, inside it was completely different.

It was modern, sharp and very Tardis like. And it apparently had several levels underground, so it was ‘bigger in the inside’!

She couldn’t keep her awe in, because not even a few steps in and a short and scary looking woman came approaching her, her silver eyes blazing. “Every human has the same impression” she said in lieu of a greeting, and Feyre could only stand there and nod dumbly.

The woman, if she was human at all, reached to shake her hand, “My name is Amren, I am the chief of MiB. I assume you are not familiar with our Agency, correct?” her voice was cold and dangerous and Feyre had no doubt in believing that she might not be from Earth at all, if her ancient like eyes didn’t give her away.

“No, ma’am, I’m not” she replied curtly, unsure of what to say. No, she had not heard of their Agency. Stars, that was the first time someone had referred to it with its proper name! But she had also dug as deep as she could, trying to find information about all that crazy situation, conscious that her every move must’ve been tracked.

Amren gave her an appraising nod, as if she knew every single detail of Feyre’s life, “As you should” she said calmly, before beginning to walk away, motioning for Feyre to follow her through a maze of bodies and beings and desks. She was kind enough to point a race there, a post here, but refused to get too much into detail. “You’ll find someone else to ask” had been her curt reply before resuming her random naming game.

She only stopped leading her around when they reached a black shiny door that was open, revealing on the inside the only colour in the entire building, or at least that was what Feyre thought. Inside, there was one of the most gorgeous females Feyre had ever seen, long golden hair in contrast with her tan skin, a red dress that hugged her like a second skin, and a smile that could blind and that could counter as a weapon, if needed. When she saw them approach, she immediately jumped to her feet with agility and elegance. “Hello! I am Mor!” she chirped with enthusiasm, avoiding Feyre’s outstretched hand and going straight for a hug. Amren loudly scoffed, “Be professional, Morrigan,” she reprimanded the blonde, who simply winked at her before returning to her side of the desk, motioning for Feyre to seat.

She awkwardly looked at Amren, trying to convey her disorientation through her eyes alone. There wasn’t a name tag at the door, not any indication of what was going to happen. For all Feyre knew, they could be about to wipe her memory clean and dispatch of her in the garbage.

“I hope I will see you around, Dr Archeron” was her only reply, before leaving her alone with Morrigan, who still hadn’t diminished her smile.

“If they made me come all the way up here just to kill me, I’ll be pissed.”

“Dr Archeron, please have a seat, we have quite a lot to discuss.” Morrigan then proceeded open an enormous folder and began to pull out all sort of wavers, undoubtedly that Feyre would need to sign to give her life away. Mother Help Her, what had she gotten herself into?

“So,” she began, her energy still up and running as she maintained a kind and comforting expression, “Feyre, can I call you Feyre? Am I pronouncing it correctly?”

She could only nod quickly, before she was once more submerged by the blonde’s voice.

“Marvellous! I’m sure you want to know what in the Cauldron is happening, right? I mean, you get a letter that basically tells you to uproot your entire family and that you’ll have a job, but it’s described as vaguely as heck and you get here blindly and possibly terrified. Trust me, I know the feeling, it sucks. But it does get away pretty quickly. Now, you’ve got questions, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,”

“Please, call me Mor.” Her eyes were kind, a deep brown that harmonized perfectly with the rest of her, and Feyre didn’t have it in her heart to disagree. After all, if things went well, as they seemed to be going, they’d be on first name basis. Stars, maybe they’d even be friends!

“Mor. Very well,” she gave her a quick smile, trying to keep her nerves down, “Will you be the head of my department?” “Cauldron no!” she laughed, so crystalline and contagious that Feyre almost followed suit, or at least she would have, if her heart wasn’t practically beating out of her chest. “That’s Azriel, you’ll meet him soon. I’m just HR and well, I’ll walk you through this major life change. Is it okay?” “Oh, yes, of course. Truth to be told, I don’t even know what I’m here for.”

How pathetic it was of her, to go to a foreign Court without even knowing what she could be facing. But, no matter how much she thought about it, her brain couldn’t wrap around what a secret agency could want for little old her. Sure, she was brilliant and hardworking, but she was also young. And employers didn’t like young.

Mor gave her a sympathetic smile, slightly nodding her head as she moved some papers around, looking for something. “I know, I hate having to be so secretive whenever we recruit, it only leads to confusion. The number of people that refused to be interviewed just because they thought it was a prank it’s concerning.” “I did believe it to be a cruel joke in the beginning…” she trailed off, still not 100% positive that it wasn’t. “I’m so sorry about that. That’s the downside of being in a Secret Agency that deals with Aliens! But let’s get down to business!”

Feyre couldn’t resist: in the quietest voice possible, she filled the space Mor’s voice had left, uttering the most indiscernible ever “To defeat the Huns!”

She knew she had made a mistake when Mor stopped with a sheet of paper mid-air to look at her expectantly. ‘SHIT’ was her only thought as she stumbled to apologize in the least embarrassing way possible: “Sorry, I don’t know what came to me, it’s just a silly song from…” But Mor cut her off enthusiastically. “Mulan, yeah! One of my favourites. I’m pretty sure we’re on the way to become best friends, Feyre!”

Her smile was blinding, and for the first time since she had stepped foot out of the Velaris train station, Feyre felt herself relax. It had been quite a while since someone didn’t mock her for still knowing all the words to Disney Songs and it had been quite a while since someone seemed to truly want a friendship with her. She wasn’t used to this anymore.

Her throat constricted and all she could do was nod, suddenly filled to the brim with emotions. “I just have a couple of questions that you have to fill out for me, before we can move on to what you’ll do and, most importantly, how much’ll be. Spoiler alert, high secrecy means high cash!”

“That should be your slogan!” She accepted the pen that was given her, ready to start and finish this. Nerves wore out into excitement and she was about to combust. “I’ve been trying to have them change it for ages.”

She chuckled lightly, before giving her entire razor sharp focus to the piece of paper. She could already imagine the questions: was she able to do this mathematical equation? Could she resolve that chemistry problem? Did she know this and that Law Of Physics?

But nothing, truly nothing, could have prepared her for the little array in front of her.

For on the paper, there were written five questions, with adjacent a ‘YES’ or ‘NO’ to be crossed.

Feyre could just raise her puzzled eyes up at Mor, who gave her a shrug and went back to re-apply her blush and highlighter.

She expected to do calculations, to waste time. She didn’t expect to be done in less than three minutes.

‘Do you have living relatives?’ YES

‘Are you in contact with any of them?’ NO

‘Do you have a relationship or partnership?’ NO

‘Are you able to keep calm under pressure?’ YES

‘Are you able to swim?’ YES

“That’s it?” Feyre asked, unable to put together the pieces in front of her. To be honest, the thing that was bugging her the most was the last question. That was the most out of it.

Mor simply smiled at her, giggling a little, “Yeah, we wouldn’t have sent you that letter if we weren’t sure you could take it,” she happily said before taking the paper and scrutinizing with analytical eye. “You’d be surprised by the number of people who can’t swim” she stated, answering her unspoken question with a disbelieving look and a shake of her head.

“Excellent, by the way.”

“Thank you, it was a pretty hard test!” Feyre joked, momentarily terrified of having said the worst thing, before Mor followed her suit with her laugh.

“I know! But it’s mostly to check finally what we already knew.”

Feyre snorted at that, “Good to know I was being watched.” It wasn’t that big of a problem anyway: every single social media used their private information to get money, so of course a secret agency about freaking aliens would keep a possible employee in check! “If it’s any comfort, you won’t be from now on. It’ll be like you never existed or…” “Died?” “Yeah. Morbid, I know, but it’s the price of the job,” Mor claimed, sliding a folder with her name on it over the glass desk. “Not really a problem, I’ve got no one that would miss me too much,” she quickly said, opening it up and almost falling off her chair. The first page was a detailed list of what she would earn and it was a lot. Probably more than her entire tuition would have costed if she hadn’t managed to get a scholarship, and all of that for one year?

“You weren’t kidding about the slogan, uh?”

On the next few pages there was written down a non-disclosure contract, which was understandable, and the secrecy policy she would have to follow. Bye-bye Instagram! Not like she used it much anyway, there were too many pictures of marriages and babies for her liking, and she didn’t like already to share every minute of her private life over social media.

And, finally, on the last page was the thing she was most scared and excited of: the inscription told her that she would work on the research department, studying what she loved the most and finally getting all the answers she needed. She could be able to explore the stars from her desk and also in person, with trips to adjourn her curriculum and work! A tiny little clause on the bottom also read that she could be assigned intergalactic! field! work! alongside of an agent, if the situation arose.

She couldn’t help herself when tears started to swell her eyes and fell down her cheeks in two streaks, nor she cared if she was ruining her make up.

She had never been happier.

“What do you thing, Feyre?” Mor was suddenly nervous, as if doubting that her answer would be anything other than a big fat yes. Probably seeing her cry didn’t seem like a good sign and all Feyre could do was nod enthusiastically as she gladly accepted the box of tissues the blonde woman was handing her. She knew she must’ve looked awful and batshit crazy.

“Where do I sign?” she asked finally, after having managed to regain her composure, wiping the rundown mascara from her cheeks, trying not to smudge it all over her face.

What followed was a quick work on the paperwork, the proper signature and stamp and boom! “Welcome to MiB, Dr Archeron!” declared Mor, jumping to her feet to cross the desk and to bend down and hug.

Feyre held her just as tight, trying to keep all the emotions away. Later, after getting back to her hotel room, she’d have all the time in the world to cry as much as she wanted, but now there were more pressing matters. “Ready?” asked Mor, dragging her away from her office and into a maze of halls that Feyre didn’t even bother to try and memorize. She’d have all the time in the world to do so, after all.

Their first stop was on the wardrobe and armoury, where she got her measurements taken and was fitted in the most exquisite looking black suit she had ever seen in real life, the materials soft and luxurious under her fingers.

“This feels like a 007 movie,” she joked, marvelling at the figure she cut in the mirror, immediately finding Mor grinning at her.

“Our gadgets actually work,” Mor fired back, causing Feyre to go into a fit of giggles that had the blonde join almost immediately.

It was a wondrous feeling, being able to connect instantly with someone. She had rarely had meaningful friendships and relationships in her life, some of them were entirely faked from the other side and she was just used for someone else’s gain, but she hoped that what was beginning with Mor could fall into one of those categories.

Truth to be told, she didn’t think having any romantic relationship would be the best thing when just moving into a new city and a new job, but she was a sucker for Friends To Lovers trope and who knew? Maybe the future could be bright for her, and not only in her work life.

There was also the topic of a certain pair of violet eyes that had occupied her mind for the previous two days, but she was pretty sure that was a hopeless route: no one in their right mind could take a liking of her, especially when they looked like that.

She was so lost in her own mind, trying to scratch away the way Rhys’ smile had made her insides turn into gelatine, that she didn’t realize Mor had taken her in front of a slightly ajar black door. Without seeing the label on it, she could understand where she was by Mor’s little excited squeal as she pushed the door open with a flare.

If it was possible, Feyre’s eyes would turn into anime hearts and stars, in a typical Sailor Moon fashion. Inside, after a set of stairs, there were rows of desks, surrounded each by microscopes and spectrometers. Humans, or humanoids, and aliens alike wore black lab coats, contrasting with the white of the walls and the equipment, working alongside each other in harmony. There were several grand doors, religiously black, on the back of the room, which she assumed lead to the bigger equipment.

She had never seen anything more beautiful. At university their laboratory had been severely restricted and she would have to rely on other’s data, but here the possibilities seemed to be endless.

“Pretty, right?” asked Mor, a smile on her face. Pretty didn’t even begin to cover.

“For a specialist, pretty would be an understatement” a quiet voice chimed in, seemingly out of the shadows and making Feyre jump to her feet and hold to the rail for dear life. The voice belonged to a man wearing a white lab coat with black accents, politely extending his right hand at Feyre to shake it. “Dr Archeron, I am Agent A.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” came her trepid reply. She didn’t know why, but she immediately was washed over by the impression that this man, if he was human, was more dangerous than he might let on. Be it the fact that he looked like he blended in the shadows and belonged alongside of them or be the act that he had freaking wings? Holy Cauldron how had Feyre not realized that he had wings, proper angel-like feathery wings that grew from his skin and seemed to ruffle under her gaze and, Dear Mother, she was about to faint.

She knew her eyes must’ve reached a comical stance as she took them in, when Mor gently pushed her with her shoulder. “You can call him Azriel. After all, you’re the one with a PhD!” the blonde cheerily said, winking at her and bringing her back to the reality at hand.

Feyre gave him an apologetic look, trying to make amends for the staring, but he didn’t seem bothered at all. He gave them a soft smile and nodded his head gravely alongside Mor’s words: “Unfortunately, that is true. I did not attend Earth university. In Illyria we have a different education” he explained, beginning to walk towards the door at his back and motioning for them to follow.

“You’re Illyrian?” Feyre asked, suddenly remembering her first alien encounter as her cheeks heated up. She wondered if she might be able to see him again, even only to thank him for bringing her the envelope. She knew that he must have been only following orders, but he didn’t have to stay and make sure she didn’t freak out too much.

She was met back by a puzzled stare from Azriel and a shrug from Mor, who momentarily looked at each other as to confirm that that was probably an information she wasn’t allowed to know yet. “And you are familiar with our specie because...?” began to ask Azriel, a suspicious tone in his voice that made Feyre froze from the inside. It wasn’t even her first day and she had already fucked up big time, that was a new record!

She was about to reply, to defend herself, when a deep voice came from the door, which opened from the inside and revealed two figures standing there: one had matching wings as Azriel’s and the other was someone she didn’t think she’d meet again so soon.

“Because I introduced her to our existence, dear brother” Rhys said, violet eyes sparkling as a wide smile appeared on his lips.

“Hello, Feyre Darling.”

She couldn’t fight the stupid smile that took up her face at his sight, nor she could control the way her cheeks flared up, the redness there for anyone to see.

The man that stood next to him eyed her up and down with a puzzled expression, his brown eyes twinkling with understanding as he, not so lightly and not so subtly, elbowed Rhys on the side, causing him to wince. “First of all: Hi, I’m Cassian,” he started, holding his hand out for Feyre to shake, “Second: You’ve met?” he asked, gaze running back and forth between them as his eyebrows shot up comically and emphatically.

If the ground decided to open up at that specific moment in space and time and swallow her whole down, Feyre would be okay with it. Extremely okay with it. Actually, she’d bring a shovel to sink down lower if necessary. “He brought me the envelope…” she whispered, trying to draw the least attention to herself and justifying the entire thing in the least embarrassing way possible. “Of course, cause mailing it would’ve been too mainstream, right, Agent R?” Azriel chuckled, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe casually, wings folding behind him.

Rhys fretted nonchalance with a wave of his hand and a bored expression: “I was going to be in the city anyway, I thought, why waste money on stamps?”

Out of all the things that had happened to Feyre in that weekend, that must’ve been the weirdest. “You were going to mail it? So much for secrecy!” she exclaimed in disbelief, eyes darting to Mor as if asking confirmation about it all and at the same time trying to understand if they were secretly pranking her.

“You’d be surprised about how many postal offices rely on aliens to work” came her curt reply, followed by a solemn nod from the three males.

She’d have all the time to understand if they were pulling her legs or not, and all the time for an eventual payback, she reasoned, dropping the subject without too much fuzz. “Alright,” she croaked, shrugging her shoulders and turning expectantly to Azriel, waiting for her superior to say something.

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands together, ushering both Rhys and Cassian away from what Feyre assumed was his office. “All of you, that’s enough! I have to finalize my work with Dr Archeron before we’re ready to properly start.”

“Not so fast, brother!” Cassian yelled, chest puffed out as he languidly strolled over to where Feyre stood, towering over her. She had to resist the urge to clutch to Mor’s arm for dear life.

“Do you know how to fight?” “Ten years of Karate when I was a child and 4 of Krav Maga between high school and college,” she replied without missing a beat, raising a brow in a silent question as she held his stare.

After a couple of heartbeats, Cassian’s face broke into a wide grin: “Impressive! I’ll hold you to that one of those days,” he said, leaning almost conspiratorially and blocking Azriel’s face from her view, who yelled in outrage a very shocked “Agent C!”. He was pointedly ignored by Cassian, or Agent C, ‘What’s up with that?’ she wondered as she looked up at him, who kept on talking.

“I’ve got only one more question: do you know anyone in the city?”

She didn’t know how to reply nor why it was suddenly their topic of discussion? Was this guy hitting on her in the most random, yet not the most uncalled, way ever? She should mention that long hair was a turn off, no matter how manly and in style the man-bun was supposed to be. “I can give you two replies,” she cockily stood her ground, crossing her arms at her chest and assuming a defensive stance, just in case she had to headbutt him in the chin, “no and technically I shouldn’t be supposed to so…”

He took one look at her before clasping his hand on her shoulder with raw force, giving her what seemed to be the most platonic expression of affection ever: “Okay, I officially like you! But you’ve just got a new job, you ought to celebrate!”

Feyre considered it. On one hand, she had brought an outfit specifically in the case she got the job, which she clearly had just gotten and had to work out only the minimal details. And partying alone in a city she didn’t know at all was not an option. On the other, she really didn’t know these people.

But one look into Mor’s direction and instantaneously she knew that she’d love to hang out with them all.

Her only reply was a quick yes in affirmation, but she was soon overpowered by Mor’s cheers. “YES! We can go out together! We’ll show you Velaris’ night life!” she cried out in happiness, hand up to high five Feyre as Cassian held her closer to his side and fist-bumped the air.

She was having quite a bit of trouble, not liking small spaces and Cassian’s side hug was definitely a tight fit. She wanted to remove herself from the position, to try and regain the control of her breathing that was starting, so very subtly, to accelerate alongside her discomfort.

These people seemed nice and wanted to include her, her rational brain knew that, but old wounds didn’t always manage to mend right and panic was rising. Feyre tried to speak, but her throat felt constricted, and her eyes darted around the two, hoping one of them would stand down a little.

Luckily for her, her knight in black armour arrived just in the nick of time before she erupted like a volcano. “Let her breathe! Mor, Cassian, back off from poor Feyre,” Rhys intervened, helping her untangle from Cassian’s limb and letting her have her space. He quickly let her regain her breathing as the pair moved to Azriel, their next prey. The man was shaking his head as they both raised valid arguments and Cassian ‘Triple Dared’ him not to be a killjoy.

That scene alone served to strengthen her resolve to hang out with them, only to be able to witness the pure and unadulterated chaos that would come out undoubtedly.

All of the sudden, it felt like she and Rhys were in a different plane, the others to engrossed in their planning of the night to pay them attention. “Thanks. But, yeah. I have no idea where to go and I suppose I deserve it” she joked, laughing lightly while cringing internally at her own awkwardness. She had always been able to flirt her way through any situation, be it with men or women or anything in between, yet with him she felt like an high school girl with a crush. Perhaps it was because he was a literal alien that looked like an ancient Greek god and had a smile that managed to lit up Feyre from the inside.

Smile he was now giving her freely and without restraints. She could feel the butterflies in her stomach, count each one of them.

“How are you finding out agency so far?” he asked, as a hint of colour appeared on his cheeks out of the blue. A blink and it was gone, so quickly that Feyre thought she might have imagined it.

She was about to reply that she hadn’t done much sight-seeing, self-doubting whether or not she should push herself to ask for a tour or if it was too forward too soon, when a loud voice interrupted her train of thought.

“Shut up!” Azriel bellowed from behind her, causing both hers and Rhys’ attention to turn to him expectantly. “All of you have more important things to do other than bother me and Dr Archeron. And no, Agent C, while we’re at work we use our titles so stop talking! We’ll tune in the details later, Agent M, but I assume you have other more pressing business to attend.”

“Actually…!” Cassian had begun to disagree, but Rhys had been quicker and had planted his hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up.

He quickly nodded to Azriel as he struggled to maintain his hold as Cassian put on a childish fight, that culminated with him licking Rhys’ hand like he was some sort of overgrown five year old on the school ground. Feyre couldn’t help the laugh that got out of her at Rhys’ affronted face.

“That’s enough!” he yelled, moving to shoo away both Cassian and Mor, who pulled Feyre in a tight hug before leaving and whispered in her ear ‘I’m so glad you’re part of us now!’. She could only respond back with a squeeze, her throat constricting with sudden emotion.

“Agent A, we’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Thank you, Agent R, I appreciate that!” came the exasperated reply from Azriel, who immediately disappeared inside his office, undoubtedly to avoid any more anarchy, motioning for Feyre to follow. She turned around to salute and wave goodbye at the improbable trio leaving, only to find Rhys standing in the doorway, looking at her.

He winked, causing Feyre’s cheeks to heat up, and bowed gracefully. “Welcome on board, Feyre Darling,” he said, before disappearing into the labyrinth of hallways and glass that made up the MiB headquarters.

Feyre pinched herself, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. One more step and she was done, she would finally have her dreams answered.

She’s have her answers, her opportunities, what she worked her entire life for. And if she could manage to have the life she had always wanted, with people that cared about her, that would be the icing on a perfect cake.

A part of her brain whispered that she didn’t deserve it, that she was an imposter and that everyone would realize it. But Feyre had had several years of experience in dealing with her own negativity, considering herself a pessimist as a coping mechanism because it was easier to expect the worse in every situation, and immediately shut that voice down, focusing her breathing to steady her beating heart.

Sending up a prayer to the Mother, she closed the door at her back and took a seat in front of Azriel, slipping on her glasses and putting her hands flat on the table.

“Shall we begin?”

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thebluemartini · 5 years ago

Text

Far From the Shallow - Chapter 11 [Nessian Fic]

TITLE: Far From the Shallow SYNOPSIS: Post-ACOFAS. As part of a deal with Feyre, Nesta has agreed to live with Cassian in the Illyrian Mountains. However, shortly after her arrival, she receives the startling news that she’s pregnant from one of her one-night stands. While she tries to quickly get a grip on her life, Cassian’s determined to make her see that she’s not facing this alone.

FIC LENGTH: Multi-chapter (Total Chapter Estimate: 14)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10

TAGGING: @bohemiandreams27 @queenofillea1 @trash-for-nessian @nestaarcheronwillkillme @my-fan-side @strangeenemy @maastrash @cageddovepoetry @bybooksanddreams @lilbat90 @ritamordio19 @mastercommandercaptain @feysand-dot-acotar @archeron-queen @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @empress-ofbloodshed @there-is-warmth-in-winter @mybbyfeyre @saltydreamcollector @justlikethecheshirecat @mis-lil-red @supebowlere @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @everything-that-i-love @sezkins79 @hashtolanashoba @lord-douglas-the-third @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @hikari274 @acotar-and-tog-for-life @ellenoftroy @ink-nibs @highlordofthenightcourttrash @sesquipedalian-aficionado

*This chapter is also posted on AO3 and FF.

A/N: I present to you...THE LONGEST CHAPTER YET.

Enjoy! :)

________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 11: April

“Another package has arrived for you,” Feyre said upon entering Nesta’s room.

As she sat on her bed, Nesta didn’t even lift up her eyes up from the book she was reading about childbirth and raising a baby. It was unsettling to learn that giving birth would be an even more painful experience than a fae menstruation, but Nesta read on.

“And as usual, I don’t want it,” she remarked sternly before turning a page.

Feyre sighed. “But this one - ”

“I don’t care, Feyre,” she said. “Throw it away.”

Over the past few weeks - ever since Cassian had left Velaris and returned to Illyria - he had been sending her different packages. They’d come in various shapes and sizes, but Nesta never dared to open any of them to find out what they were. At first, the packages had been delivered sparingly, but now it felt like there was at least one package every other day. Feyre would always retrieve the package and inform Nesta about it, and each time Nesta instructed her to throw it away.

She didn’t care what that bastard had to say or what he wanted to give her. Silly gifts couldn’t make up for that fact that he kept the mating bond a secret and couldn’t prove to her that their feelings for each other were real.

On the day he left to go back to Illyria, he was winnowed there by Rhys. He had made no attempt to say goodbye to her. In fact, Nesta didn’t even know he had left until after the fact. He did, apparently, leave her a note before going, but she never deigned to open it.

She had to detach herself from him, which meant no contact with him. No reading his letters. No acceptance of his packages. She had to get over him.

Yet..despite all this, she still thought of him everyday. It had been over three weeks since she last saw him, and yet her mind always drifted to him.

Whether it was eating pancakes for breakfast or even simply feeling her baby kick, she couldn’t help but be reminded of the time she had spent with Cassian in the Illyrian Mountains.

But each time such memories surfaced, she would curse herself for thinking of him and focus on preparing herself for the baby’s arrival, which included reading childbirth books and preparing the room for the baby. Feyre’s spacious estate had plenty of rooms available, so her and her sisters had begun decorating the room across the hall from Nesta’s over the past few weeks.

But there was still more clothes, toys, and other materials to buy.

Including a crib.

Feyre had turned to leave her room, but Nesta called out to her. “Do you want to go shopping for the baby today?”

Feyre gave her a soft smile. “I’d love to,” she said quietly.

________________________________________________________________

That afternoon, Nesta, Feyre, and Elain had set out to go shopping in Velaris, with Feyre winnowing them to the center of Velaris’ shopping area. Once they arrived, Feyre led the way, considering Nesta wasn’t aware where stores for baby items were located.

However, when they were walking along the sidewalk of the strips of stores in Velaris, Nesta realized exactly where they were heading as they passed storefronts that were familiar to her.

It was the baby store she had gone to with Cassian a few months ago.

Nesta couldn’t help but groan over the fact that once again everything was reminding her of Cassian. And she knew once she stepped in that store, she would be overcome with the memories of that day.

“What is it?” Feyre asked as they all stopped in front of the store. Evidently, she had heard Nesta’s groan.

“Is there another store we can go to?” Nesta wondered, choosing not to delve into the reasons why. She’d never revealed to her sisters what had gone on between her and Cassian, and she didn’t know if Cassian had said anything about it at all.

“This is the only store in the city that solely has baby items,” Feyre explained. “It’ll have the widest selection. Other stores might not have everything you need.”

Nesta fought back the urge to groan again. Of course Cassian had taken her to the only baby store in Velaris.

But she could do this. She was stronger than this. She could go in there with and not spend a single moment thinking about him.

“Fine,” Nesta stated as she boldly yanked open the store’s door and led her sisters inside the store.

And of course she failed to meet her goal immediately upon stepping inside because the first item her eyes found was the outfit that Cassian held in his hands as he asked her if there was a chance the child could have wings.

Nesta huffed as she rushed past the rack where the outfit hung and went strolling down another aisle. Elain and Feyre followed after her.

Over the course of the next hour, Nesta rather grumpily picked out clothing, bedding, and blankets with her sisters, who thankfully seemed to ignore her unpleasant mood.

Or maybe to them, it was just her usual demeanor.

But she was happy to be shopping for her baby. Thinking about her little one had always brought a smile to her face.

It’s just that Cassian was this dark cloud that lingered over her and her plans for her baby, after having visualized for so long that he would be there for her and the baby.

When she and her sisters left their current aisle with filled baskets, Nesta came upon the crib section.

She strode toward the various cribs on display. She inspected some of them, determining if it was the proper color and shape. She rubbed her hands along their railings to see if it was smooth enough and would attempt to shake the cribs to figure out if they were sturdy enough.

Cassian had finished making the crib before everything turned upside down. It had been painted a spring shade of green as Nesta had wished to give her child a colorful room. It was well-constructed and felt smooth against her fingertips.

These cribs weren’t nearly as good as that one.

Cassian’s crib was perfect.

Was it all the bond’s doing? The way she admired him and his thoughtfulness? The reason she couldn’t seem to get him out of her brain?

But the way she felt when he told her he made the crib after they had gone shopping that day in January…she had felt tremendously touched. That was real, wasn’t it? If he was telling the truth when he said the bond didn’t snap until the baby first kicked, then perhaps...everything up to that point had been real?

She detested him when she first moved to Illyria, and he still made her food and bought her books then. By the time the baby first kicked, she had already been falling for him. So had it all been real?

“Nesta, is everything okay?” Elain asked from behind her.

Alarmed by the sudden interruption to her thoughts, Nesta realized she had been gripping a crib railing so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

“Elain,” Nesta began softly. “How do you feel about Lucien?”

Elain seemed taken aback by the question. “Well, he seems...nice.”

“But...how do you feel toward him?”

Elain tilted her head to the side as she thought about her question. “I don’t particularly feel anything toward him. I don’t truly know him. When he starts trying to come around often, I feel rather annoyed with him actually.”

“So...you don’t love him?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Not at all.”

Feyre came over to them. “You should ask her how she feels about Azriel,” Feyre piped in with a smile on her face.

Elain instantly blushed.

Nesta took Feyre’s advice. “How do you feel about Azriel?” she asked seriously.

“He’s...very sweet,” Elain answered hesitantly as her face reddened even more. She couldn’t fight the grin that spread across her face. “I...miss him when he’s not around.”

“Even though...he’s not your mate?”

Elain nodded as Feyre gave Nesta a warm smile.

It was too knowing of a smile, Nesta felt. She eyed her sister suspiciously, wondering if she knew of the mating bond between her and Cassian.

“Whatever you feel for Cassian, Nesta...it’s not because of the bond,” Feyre whispered.

So Feyre did know. And based on the fact that Elain didn’t seem shocked at all, she knew too. Now they assumed she felt something other than disdain toward Cassian.

“So, he told you about the bond?” she asked sternly as she crossed her arms against her chest.

“He told Rhys,” Feyre answered. “Rhys told me.”

Nesta took a deep breath. “And your bond...how do you know that you truly fell in love each other?”

“Because I despised him for a while after the bond snapped, and my love for him wasn’t instantaneous. It grew over time as I got to know him.”

“Hmm.” Nesta looked down at the ground.

“You don’t need to buy a crib, by the way,” she added.

Nesta popped her head back up to look at her. “Why not?”

“Because Cassian already made you one, and Rhys was able to winnow it here this morning.”

Nesta sighed as grabbed hold of the crib’s railing once more, trying not to let herself become overwhelmed with emotion.

Could his love for her truly be real?

Despite hearing her sisters’ experiences with the bond, she still found it unbelievable that someone like Cassian could love someone like her.

________________________________________________________________

It had been weeks since he’d last seen Nesta, and yet it had felt like an eternity.

Sure, his days had been loaded with constant visits to the Illyrian camps, issuing punishments and ensuring they were followed, and training with the Illyrians which made the days seem to go by quickly.

But each night, he’d return to his home. He hated what his home in the Illyrian Mountains had become.

Over the past several months, it had been his sanctuary. A place where, despite feeling like an outsider among the various camps that surrounded it, he found belonging and comfort and discovered he wasn’t alone.

It had been the site of where he had fallen in love with Nesta and where he was given the dream of being a part of a family with her.

Now it was just an empty cabin that only served as a reminder of his loneliness and his crushed hopes. He dreaded returning to it each day.

But it didn’t remind him of Nesta. No, nothing was needed to even remind him of her because she never left his thoughts.

Over the past several weeks, he hoped and prayed to whatever gods were listening that she would answer his letters that he sent along with his gifts for her.

So far, no reply had come. But he was still determined. So nearly every night, he would take a seat at his desk - which had been situated in his bedroom ever since he cleaned out his study to be turned into the baby’s room - and pull out a piece of parchment and write to her.

When he’d left Velaris, he only left her a note to explain that he had gone to punish the camp that hurt her and her baby.

He figured she would want some space, and so he had left to give her a chance to clear her head and hopefully come to her senses. But he couldn’t give her too much space. He learned that after having left her alone for too long after the war. He still had to let her know how much he loved her and that he was there for her.

And so, a week after he had first left Velaris, he returned to the city for one day. He spent the entire day shopping for different items for Nesta’s baby and arranged it so the shops would stagger the delivery of each item to Rhys and Feyre’s estate.

With the letters, he would be able to send through magical parchment.

But this current letter would be different. This one would come with a special item. Because there was a promise he had broken and another promise that he would deliberately break by writing this letter.

But he felt it was necessary in this case in an effort to prove he loved her.

When he had finished writing the letter, he had sent over a quick note to Rhys, asking him if he could come help him with something when he had a chance.

He didn’t expect that moment to be right now, but the sooner the better.

“What do you need my help with?” Rhys asked as he stepped inside Cassian’s bedroom.

Cassian picked up one of his bright red siphons that had been resting on his desk and held it out to Rhys. “I need you to unlink this siphon from me,” he announced.

Rhys’ eyes widened. “Why would you want me to do a thing like that? To unlink it would put you through a great deal of pain, plus you’d lose some of your power. Once it’s disconnected from you, I won’t be able to link this siphon back.”

“I am well aware of that,” Cassian calmly stated. “But I need you to do this for me. I need to give it to Nesta.”

Rhys looked flabbergasted and shook his head in disbelief. “You spent years acquiring your siphons! Why would Nesta need one?”

“It’s a long story,” he said. “But I broke a promise and now I need to make it up to her by giving her one of my siphons.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t need you to understand. I just need you to unlink it.”

Rhys shook his head. “Is she really worth all this?”

“Yes,” Cassian instantly replied, standing up at his desk with palms flat against the top of it. “She is worth everything to me, and if there is anything I can do to try to win her back, I will do it.”

Rhys sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “If this is what you really want…”

“It is.”

“Maybe you should take a day to think about it?”

“I already have, and I need to do this now.”

Rhys sighed again as he grabbed the siphon from Cassian’s hands. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Rhys hesitantly encased the siphon within his hands. “You’ll feel like your whole body is on fire. Are you ready?”

Cassian went over and stood at the end of his bed. He tightly grabbed onto the bedposts as he prepared for the pain.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Rhys took a deep breath before letting his power surround the crimson item.

Cassian’s skin immediately felt like it was burning. Like hot coals were being pressed against his entire body. He fought back from screaming out, only releasing grunts and moans of pain instead as the siphon was detached from the power within him.

But he welcomed the pain. If doing so could help Nesta or bring Nesta back to him, it was worth it.

________________________________________________________________

Nesta had been settling into a couch in Feyre and Rhys’ library that evening, cradling a book within her hands when she felt a sudden ache throughout her body.

Was it the way she had nestled in the couch? Pregnancy cramps?

But this dull pain flowed all throughout her body…

The bond.

Was Cassian hurt?

Her heart started racing in fear at the possibility. She sat up in her seat as she closed her book and put it to the side. Reading to her baby would just have to wait a moment.

Putting her arms around her stomach, she couldn’t help but recall the moment where she had discovered Cassian bleeding in the kitchen a few months ago. It was after a fight they had had, and of course she had been lured into speaking to him again because he was wounded.

No matter how much they fought or bickered, whenever she was faced with the possibility of losing him, she’d always been drawn back in. The same thing happened when they were on the battlefield together.

Did it make her weak? The fact that she would so easily go to him whenever she feared losing him?

Now her mind raced over where he could be, what he could be doing, whether he was alright or not.

As she hugged her stomach tighter, her baby started kicking.

What could she even do at this point? She didn’t know where he was or what his condition was. If they didn’t even have this ridiculous bond, she would’ve been blissfully unaware.

But now she knew something was wrong.

With a frustrated sigh, she stood up and exited the room.

Making her way to a room down the hall, she found Feyre busily painting a scenic landscape on a canvas.

“I feel...pain,” Nesta announced.

Feyre halted her brushstroke and turned her head abruptly back at her sister. “Is it the baby?”

“No. Through the bond,” Nesta whispered seriously.

Feyre’s eyes widened a bit. “Rhys just went to visit him, and I haven’t felt anything. Let me ask him.”

As Feyre closed her eyes, Nesta knew her sister was going to use her own mind to communicate across the bond to her mate.

This mate business still seemed so foreign and strange to her.

Minutes ticked by as Nesta waited. It felt like it was taking a ridiculous amount of time to find out the answer to a simple question.

Nesta’s heartbeat seemed to increase its speed.

“Cassian’s fine,” Feyre suddenly stated, and a wave of relief came over Nesta. “Rhys is with him. Cassian’s pain is nothing to worry about.”

“Who said I was worried?” she asked defensively.

“Your face,” Feyre answered gently with a knowing smile. Nesta scowled as her. “If you’d like me to winnow you to him and see for yourself, I’d be happy to.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Nesta was quick to say.

But naturally, she still wondered what could have possibly been causing him this pain.

But she shouldn’t, she insisted to herself as she wandered out of the room. She shouldn’t care anymore. Despite what her sisters had told her about the bond, she still couldn’t fully believe that the bond didn’t play a role in how they felt about each other.

Plus, there was still the fact that he kept that information from her, choosing to only reveal it after she had figured it out.

She’d been deceived before by those she cared about.

By her father. By Tomas.

Her father hid the fact that he’d inherited his father’s and his grandfather’s debts. And when he lost all of their family’s wealth, it wasn’t until the creditors came to ransack their house that he finally revealed the truth.

With Tomas, she’d been led to believe that he honestly loved her. It wasn’t until she openly critiqued his pitiful proposal that he revealed his true feelings...that he only wanted to use her body and would even dare to attempt to take it without her consent.

Did Cassian understand how he had disrespected her by not telling her? Didn’t she have a right to know she was his mate as soon as he found out?

She sighed as she settled back down into the couch in the library. She couldn’t be stressing herself out by these things. Not when she only had one month left to go of the pregnancy. Picking up the book she had left on the cushion, she started reading aloud in the hopes that the baby would hear her voice and grow accustomed to it.

The aches in her body still lingered as she read.

What the hell could possibly be happening to him?

But she read on for a little while, forcing herself to focus on the storyline and envisioning the other types of books she could read to her child when he or she was born.

A child who she still had to figure out possible names for.

As she read, she would pause to consider the characters’ names, trying to see how well it rolled off the tongue or what she would envision the child to look like if they had such a name. However, none of the names really stuck out to her.

For over an hour, she continued reading as the aches subsided. Eventually, she began dozing off before falling asleep on the couch.

Some time later, she was startled awake by the sound of something being dropped on the small table in front of the couch. Her eyes shot open to find Rhysand standing in front of her and immediately narrowed. Her and Rhysand still had trouble getting along.

“I’ve brought a gift from Cassian,” he said emotionlessly.

Nesta shifted her gaze to the item that had been dropped on the table. It appeared to be a small wooden box that had different designs carved in it.

“I don’t…” she hesitantly began to say.

“I demand you open this,” he interrupted angrily. “It was a sacrifice for him to give you this, and I will not let it go to waste. You must open it.”

Normally, she would be infuriated that Rhysand was demanding her to do something, but this time, curiosity got the best of her. “What kind of sacrifice?”

“A physically painful one,” he answered.

Nesta kept staring at the box, debating if she should listen to Rhysand. Perhaps that sacrifice was the pain she felt through the bond.

“He misses you terribly, you know,” Rhysand continued, his voice more gentler now. “He hasn’t been the same since he left Velaris last month. He’s miserable without you.”

Nesta didn’t say anything to him, unsure of what to say. She kept her eyes on the box as a thought floated through her mind.

I miss him too.

“I think it’s pretty clear that I don’t exactly...like you,” Rhysand stated.

“The feeling is mutual,” she replied as her eyes flicked up back to his face, wondering what he was about to say.

“And despite the fact that I feel that way, I wish you would talk to him,” he pleaded. “For what it’s worth, the bond doesn’t determine how you feel about your mate. If I truly didn’t think you’d make him happy, I would’ve been thrilled that you were avoiding him. But after spending much of the last month with him...you should at least talk to him again and know that you weren’t forced to have whatever feelings you have for him.”

She didn’t show it, but Nesta was stunned that Rhysand would say such a thing. The two of them never hid their disdain for the other. Yet here he was, encouraging her to be with the man he considered to be his brother.

Left speechless, her hands seemed to move of their own accord and reached for the wooden box. As she held it, she ran her hand over the wood, feeling the texture of the different engravings. On the top of the box was the letter “D” in the middle of a sun design carved into it.

Slowly, she lifted open the lid and found a folded-up piece of parchment with her name scrawled on it resting on top of something wrapped in gray cloth.

Once Rhysand noticed she opened the box, he silently left the room.

She placed the box back down on the table, then with a slightly trembling hand, she picked up the parchment and unfolded it to read it.

Dear Nesta,

I owe you two items that I consider important to me. One for a promise I’ve broken. The other for a promise I’m about to break.

It feels like a lifetime ago when you were human and I first promised to protect you. I’ve failed so much in keeping this promise, but I failed again last month and nearly lost both you and the baby. I still feel haunted by this. If only I could’ve found a way out of the Blood Rite or had eased tensions with the Illyrians...I know you said it wasn’t my fault, but I still blame myself.

So as we had agreed several months ago that I would need to give you something I value if I broke a promise, I’m giving you this box, which belonged to my mother. It’s one of the very few things I have of hers. I want you to have it, and I probably would have given it to you even if I hadn’t broken a promise. I know you’ll be a fierce and loving mother as she was.

I once tried to give you something similar to hers before, during that Winter Solstice when I followed you and tried to give you a present that you refused to accept. It was a ruby that belonged to her that I had made into a necklace. The very same jewel that had been on the hilt of my Illyrian blade that you used to distract the king of Hybern away from me. After the war, it seemed that sword had gone missing but after months of searching for it, I found it with the intention of giving you this jewel to remind you of your loving heart, your courage, your strength, and your devotion. Of the impact you’ve made. You were and are a warrior who can accomplish anything, even getting past the horrors of that war. (Unfortunately, I was stupid and threw that gift into the Sidra.)

By speaking of that day, I realize I am breaking another promise to you. But Nesta, you nearly died with me on the battlefield in the fight against Hybern, and I need you to know what that meant to me. You didn’t leave me after I told you to go, and then you shielded me against him, knowing you’d likely die. For the first time in my 538 years of life, I felt worthy. Here was someone who seemed to despise me, but grown to care for me enough that they would want to go with me into death. After centuries of feeling like a worthless bastard, you proved to me that wasn’t true. Of course I knew my friends cared for me, but I never truly believed I was worthy of love and happiness until that moment. You made me see that I wasn’t alone. You didn’t leave my side, and I am forever grateful.

That day occurred long before the bond snapped into place. And all our encounters from when you were living in the Mortal Lands and when you first lived in Velaris...those feelings between us were all real. And of course, everything between us while in Illyria was real... just as it’s real between us now.

For breaking that second promise, I’m giving you one of my siphons as you had requested months ago. It didn’t occur to me before, but maybe the siphon can help amplify your powers? Amren can show you how to use it and maybe she could help you figure out how to use your powers before the baby comes.

To update you on the matters from my other letters, there is still tension with the Illyrians. Nothing new to report.

I love you, Nesta.

-Cassian

Nesta couldn’t stop the tears that welled in her eyes as she put the letter down on the couch. Leaning forward, she lifted what she knew must be the siphon wrapped in cloth. Pulling back the cloth, she indeed found the gleaming crimson siphon. Cradling it in her hands, she stared at the stone that was nearly as big as her palm.

If she remembered correctly, the jewel she rejected looked pretty similar to the siphon, having been the same color and shape, just a bit smaller.

Gods, he threw something of his mother’s into the Sidra. What kind of a monster was she to drive him to do such a thing? Was his love for her even healthy?

She had no idea when she forced him to make that silly vow all those months ago that it would be a physical sacrifice to give her this siphon. She wanted it to be something important, but she didn’t think it’d require physical pain to give it to her. How awful was she to cause him to do such things?

Covering her hands around it, she held it against her large belly. She prayed she wouldn’t be a horrible mother.

And the first step to ensuring that would be to try to figure out her powers before the baby was born.

Once again, Cassian knew what she needed to do before she realized it herself. She sighed.

Doing so required visiting Amren. Amren had been visiting the Summer Court when Nesta first returned to Velaris. But she’d come back the other week.

They hadn’t spoken since she was told she was being sent to the Illyrian Mountains, which felt like decades ago.

My, how much has changed since then…

Nesta carefully wrapped the siphon back in the cloth and placed it back in the box. She picked up the letter and read through it once more.

He just had to remind her of that damned day where she refused to let him die alone. That she cared enough to try to save him, then tried to cover him with her own body.

Maybe it was true. Maybe what they felt for each other was real and had nothing to do with the bond. But...he still kept it from her.

And what he felt for her was no good for him if it drove him to throw away precious possessions or to torture himself. It was for the best that she stay out of his life.

Folding up the letter, she put it back in the box.

________________________________________________________________

The following week, Nesta snuck away one afternoon from the estate to visit Amren at her apartment without her sisters’ knowledge.

She didn’t want to deal with their questions that she surely would’ve been interrogated with if she told them she needed to visit Amren. They already knew about the siphon since Rhysand knew. But they didn’t know why Cassian had given her one of his siphons or what she would be able to even do with it. Nesta was thankful he at least didn’t share that information with them.

If they all knew, they would all be pestering her to figure out her powers. But there were simply some things she wanted to be in control of. It already overwhelmed her not knowing how to handle them. She didn’t need anymore pressure or influence.

Or maybe she really enjoyed the fact that there was still a secret that only her and Cassian shared, she regrettably realized. But after moving to Illyria, their relationship had essentially been built on secrets. Not telling her sisters or the Inner Circle about her pregnancy, not speaking of the first instance her new power appeared, not revealing how much their relationship had changed over the last few months at first…

There was something that seemed to make their relationship all the more precious by being united with a secret that they only knew about.

But why did she even care about this? They weren’t together anymore.

And Amren was about to learn of the secret of her powers anyway.

Her feet were so tired. While Nesta enjoyed going for walks, they’d gotten harder to do over the last month and a half. Her feet would easily tire, and she would quickly feel worn out. Going to Amren’s was quite a trek, but she had to do it for the baby and find out what this was.

After she knocked on the door, a minute passed before Amren slowly opened the door. Her eyes swept over Nesta’s body.

“So, you really did get yourself knocked up,” she remarked. “And you probably don’t even know who the father is.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. She chose to neither confirm nor deny Amren’s words, instead pushing on with the intention of getting to the point of her visit. “May I come in?” she asked.

Amren simply shrugged before turning around to walk away, leaving the door open. “Do what you want, girl.”

Nesta followed after her, closing the door behind her. Amren walked swiftly to her living room area where a puzzle and a glass of wine sat on the table before her. She sat down and stared intently at the puzzle pieces laying out.

“I need your help,” Nesta stated stiffly as she joined Amren at the table.

“Oh, now you need my help?” Amren wondered irritably before taking a swig of her glass of wine.

For a while, Amren was the only member of the Inner Circle she would willingly talk to and visit after the war. Amren had never questioned her behavior for many months, but the one night that she did led to an explosive row between them. Nesta ended up never talking to her again until the day she was ordered to go to the Illyrian Mountains.

“Yes.”

“I’m not interested in babysitting,” she remarked as she put some puzzle pieces together.

“I’m not asking you to be a babysitter,” she replied. “I need your help in figuring out my new powers.”

Amren tilted her head toward Nesta in curiosity but said nothing.

“You may have heard about me and Cassian’s visit to the Dunclare camp for Winter Solstice?”

“Possibly,” she said as she took another sip of wine. This time, as Amren did so, Nesta realized her own focus lingered on the alcoholic beverage for longer than a glance.

After all her heartache with Cassian lately, that slight desire to escape lingered.

But thankfully, the baby kept that desire at bay.

“During the attack,” Nesta continued, suddenly feeling stronger in her silent rejection of the alcohol as she felt the baby kick within her. “I could hear the Illyrians’ heartbeats slow down as my hands started to feel like they were burning with power when I grabbed their arms. They started to choke and passed out. I couldn’t control it. I didn’t even know how I was wielding it.”

Amren said nothing, so Nesta continued. “Then last month, when I was attacked in Cassian’s cabin, the same thing happened...except the Illyrian died when we fell down the stairs.”

“What were these Illyrians doing exactly at the moment you grabbed their hands?” Amren asked.

“At Dunclare, the one man was about to stick a dagger in Cassian’s chest. The other nearly went to stab me. The one at Cassian’s cabin had been getting ready to push me down the stairs.”

“Hmm,” was all Amren had to say to that.

“I want to know how this power works and how to control it,” she said. “Will you help me?”

“Hmm,” Amren once again said.

“I also have this to help with trying to get my powers to work,” she revealed as she slid her hand into her bag and pulled out the siphon wrapped in gray cloth. Peeling back the cloth, she laid the siphon on the table in the midst of the puzzle pieces in front of Amren.

Amren’s eyes seemed to slightly widen at the sight of the siphon. “The bat gave you one of his siphons?”

Nesta nodded.

“That’s...surprising,” she remarked as she leaned closer to peer at the siphon.

“Why?”

Amren readjusted herself to sit cross legged in her chair. “Because only specific stones can be turned into siphons, and Cassian and Azriel went on searches for years to find them. It took them centuries to find all seven. Then their power has to be linked to it. But this one isn’t glowing which means, he must have unlinked it,” Amren finished slowly, as if she fell deeply into her thoughts.

As Amren spoke, Nesta could feel the guilt sink for asking for such a thing. “Is unlinking it...bad?”

“It means he would’ve been in severe pain for many hours and gave up ever having that siphon again. Once it’s unlinked, it can’t be relinked to his power,” she explained.

“What?” Nesta couldn’t help but let the shock show in her voice. Usually, she was so guarded and careful with her emotions, but even far away, Cassian had a way of showing another side of her.

Why would he do such a thing?

“You heard me, girl,” Amren replied.

“Does it have to be linked to me in order to use it?”

“No,” she noted. “Only if you want the siphon to be used by you and no one else.”

Nesta picked up the siphon in her bare hand and began rubbing it with her thumb as she studied it. How could he have given her such a thing? Why did he listen to her?

But she had to remember the task at hand. She was here to ask Amren to help figure out her powers. Not dwell on Cassian’s seemingly never ending list of things he’s done for her.

“So will you help me?”

“I’ll think about it,” she stated as she resumed her search for specific puzzle pieces.

Taking that as her cue to leave, Nesta rewrapped the stone and placed it back in her bag.

“I’ll show myself out,” she said as stood up and made her way out of the apartment.

On her walk home, all she could think about was the siphon.

The more she walked, the more infuriated she felt over such a gift. She wished he would just stop sacrificing so much for her. Because she did not deserve it.

What had she ever done for him that made him want to do such things for her?

He was too loyal, too self-sacrificing, too...loving.

But she couldn’t dwell on this. She couldn’t bear to think of him anymore. All it did was make her upset.

And made her miss him.

Instead, she chose to think about what remaining items she needed for the baby. Was there anything else? She could buy more books to read to her baby. She could always use more books. How many toys would be sufficient? Did she underestimate the amount of blankets she’d need? She would have to take another look around the baby’s room when she got back to Feyre and Rhys’ estate.

Which meant she’d see the crib that Cassian had made.

She sighed as she tried to walk faster, but it was hard to do when feeling like an elephant. Her feet were already starting to hurt.

If only Cassian were here, he could fly her back...

Nesta sighed. It had been over a month since she last saw him, and she was still failing at keeping him out of her mind.

With a few tears slowly falling down her cheeks, Nesta made her way back to the estate.

________________________________________________________________

Once she arrived back at Rhys and Feyre’s home, she went upstairs to put her bag in her room then headed to the baby’s room in order to see if there was anything more she needed to buy.

Luckily, no one in the house noticed her arrival. And perhaps they never even discovered she was absent to begin with.

When she stepped in the room, her eyebrow rose in curiosity as she spotted objects she’d never seen in the room before. Did her sisters do more shopping without her?

The first item she noticed was a mobile hung above the crib, with wooden carvings of snowflakes dangling from it.

Nesta strode up to it, grabbing one of the snowflakes to inspect it closely. She had no idea where it came from.

Letting go of it to let it swing through the air, she moved on to the next new object she saw: a baby carriage.

The interior of the carriage was overflowing with a plethora of items, including stuffed toys, blankets, cloth diapers, and bottles. Nesta eyed it curiously, wondering where it all came from. These items weren’t the ones she had picked out, and she hadn’t bought a carriage.

Turning around, she gasped when she saw a rocking chair in the corner of the room. Sitting on the seat was a stack of paper.

When Nesta wandered over to the chair, she picked up the bundled stack and discovered they were all letters with her name of them.

Written in Cassian’s scrawl.

The letters she had spent so long ignoring.

But maybe...maybe she could just read one...

Taking a seat in the rocking chair, she removed the first letter from the top of the stack. Opening it up, she only found a brief message:

I wanted to kiss you that day at the fair. I should’ve done it.

I love you.

-Cassian

Memories of that day in January flooded back to her as she recalled how he had looked at her and made her feel that day...

Before she knew what she was doing, she broke open the seal of the next letter.

Nesta,

When I saw this mobile, I thought of you.

When you told me you were pregnant, we were out in the snow.

When you saved my life at Dunclare, you walked with me through the snow, determined that we get to safety.

It was on our sleigh ride through the snow when you started opening up yourself to me.

It was while we were out in the snow when you kissed me and I first told you I loved you. And it was the first moment where I felt like the three of us were a family.

I love you both.

-Cassian

Tears filled her eyes as she was reminded of when he kissed her stomach before the Blood Rite. She’d had visions of being a family with moments like that.

If the mobile was one of the packages he sent...did that mean he sent everything else too? Did Feyre and Elain open the packages and put the items in the room? Did they leave the letters here?

She put the letter down on what would be the changing table beside her before grabbing the next letter.

Nesta,

As I said in my last letter, I went to visit Camp Erwood with Rhys and

Nesta abruptly stopped reading the note. Last letter? Which one was the last letter? When she looked up at the date of the message, she realized that it was only two days after the day he left.

Which probably meant the last letter he was referring to was the one he slid under her door right before he left for Illyria.

Getting up from the chair and taking the stack of letters with her, she made her way across the hall to her bedroom.

Going to the side table next to her bed, she opened the drawer and found his letter.

Hesitantly, she picked it up and sat down on the edge of her bed, placing the stack of the other letters on the bed.

Nesta,

I know this is all confusing for you, but I know, without a doubt, that I am truly and honestly in love with you.

I didn’t want to tell you about the bond at first in case it scared you away. I didn’t want the idea of it to influence or sway you in any way. I didn’t want you to misunderstand it and think that you lost control in the choice of a partner. You haven’t.

And I didn’t want you to have false expectations of what a mating bond does for a couple. Rhys and Feyre are an exception. Nearly all the fae in all the other bonds I’ve seen were poorly matched. They didn’t love each other.

I didn’t want the idea of Rhys and Feyre’s bond to scare you away either, with their strong and all-consuming love. I didn’t want you to be overwhelmed by that possibility and run away from it.

So I waited. I wanted to be sure you at least cared for me, maybe even told me you loved me. I wanted to make sure you were ready to hear it. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but I hope you can understand. I am so sorry.

I’m going back to Illyria now to deal with camp Erwood for what did to you and the baby. Rhys says they claim the Illyrian acted alone, but I don’t believe that. I don’t intend to show them any mercy.

It kills me to be without you, but I know you need some time...but I also know that I am going to make sure you know that you are not alone this time. I never want to lose you again. I’ll give you space to think things through for yourself, and hopefully you’ll realize that our feelings are true. And once you do, I’ll be ready and waiting for you and the baby.

I love you, sweetheart. I want to raise a family with you. All you have to do is let me know that you’re ready.

-Cassian

As she read his words, Nesta’s heart raced. She supposed the baby sensed her feelings, considering how it began kicking when she finished reading the letter. Rubbing circles on her stomach with one hand, she put the letter to the side and picked up the other letter she had started to read earlier.

Nesta,

As I said in my last letter, I went to visit Camp Erwood with Rhys and we are still here. We’ve been interrogating them, and they finally cracked, admitting that some of them were part of the plan to kill you and the baby.

Because they thought the child was mine, they feared the child would be my heir that would take over as General Commander (if the baby is male) since the camp leaders are usually determined by family bloodlines. They were worried about this since they were confident they would kill me during the Blood Rite.

But they didn’t, and that’s because of you sweetheart. It was the thought of being with you and raising the baby with you that made me want to survive.

They wanted to make your death look like you had fallen down the stairs by accident. The attacker hoped to get away, but thank the gods for your powers.

We’re in the process of determining if the camp leader was involved, and if he was, there will be a trial among all the camps to determine his punishment and his replacement.

For now, training will be made more rigorous for those involved, including having their wings pinned back for a while. They will also have at least one of their siphons removed from them if they have one. They’ve also suffered severe burns from my power. I was unable to control my temper…

There is also reason to suspect other camps may have been involved too. We’ll be checking in with each of them over the next few weeks. I’ll send you updates.

I love you.

-Cassian

Rhys had never mentioned the details of what occurred during his visits with the camps when he returned from his trips to Illyria. But then again, her and Rhys typically tried to avoid each other. But Feyre likely knew what was happening, and never said anything...

Eagerly, Nesta started ripping open all the other letters, putting them in the order they were sent before she started reading them.

In the numerous letters, Cassian described his tense visits with all the camps over the next few weeks as he and Rhys made sure they were all well aware of the punishments the Erwood camp suffered for betraying him. He reminded them of his victory in the Blood Rite and the promise they made to not start a war over his rule over the camps. He also started a rigorous schedule of regularly visiting each of the camps and training with them, slowly trying to convince them to implement reforms.

He’d also discovered that another camp was involved in poisoning Emerie because she had come over to the cabin the day of the attack, which led to her deep sleep that night. It explained why she didn’t immediately hear her fall.

Interspersed throughout the updates, there were some messages where he told her how much he missed her, wondered how her health was and how the baby was, expressed things that made him think of her and the baby, explained some of the gifts he sent, and how he hoped she would write back to him.

Nearly every letter, he told her he loved her.

But there was one letter that really struck her that had been sent within the past week:

Nesta,

Last night I had a dream about you, me, and the baby. The baby was already born and a few months old. It was a boy. I had come home to the cabin one day to find you reading a book aloud to him while sitting in a rocking chair. I kissed you both, just as he was falling asleep. Together, we laid him in his crib, but he started getting fussy. I picked him up and rocked him in my arms a little bit, but then that seemed to make him cry a little bit more. You laughed at me, blaming me for making him cry harder. Then I had the wild suggestion of flying with you and the baby around the camp to make him fall asleep. You were appalled at first, wondering how the baby would possibly fall asleep while flying, but I convinced you to give it a try.

You tightly wrapped your arms around him and I held on to you as we soared through the evening sky. And when we landed, he was in a deep sleep. We took him to bed and gave him goodnight kisses. I teased you, gloating that I was right, while you insisted with a smile that he fell asleep because he was wrapped so tightly in your arms. But I told you it was because of both of us that he fell asleep.

It was heartbreaking to wake up and realize the dream wasn’t real. That you weren’t beside me.

This dream...this is the life I want with you, Nesta. I want to see you bond with your child. I want to be with you and say goodnight to the baby. I want us to figure out how to best raise the child together. Do you want this too?

I miss and love you both.

-Cassian

P.S. I think this is proof that the baby will be a boy.

His dream brought her tears simply because it was what she had wanted too. It was what she used to daydream about. The description of his dream easily came alive in her mind, feeling so vivid, so close to being real. It was something she had been so accustomed to envisioning.

But now… now she felt she was mourning the fact that that dream was out of her reach.

Because she - a female who has difficulty showing kindness, acts coldly, fires back angrily at others, and shuts others out - did not deserve a male like him. One who treated her as the center of his life, made her needs his priorities, was tremendously loyal, and was willing to raise a child that wasn’t his as his own.

She rubbed her stomach again as she looked down at it. “I still think you’re a girl,” she whispered with a sad smile.

Gathering each of the letters to fold them and stack them, she got up and brought them to her dresser, where the wooden box that belonged to Cassian’s mother sat. Lifting open the lid, she placed the letters inside. Then she reached for her bag that was sitting beside the box and pulled out the wrapped siphon and added it to the box.

When she closed the lid, she stared at the patterns of the sun design and traced the letter “D” with her finger.

After staring at it for a minute, she left the room and headed straight for the study, where she was certain she would find Rhys and Feyre.

When she got there, that theory proved to be partially correct, as she found Rhys there. When she stepped inside, Rhys glanced up from his desk and gave her a curious look.

With Rhys, she never felt it was necessary to dance around a subject. She was always straight to the point with him. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on in Illyria?” she asked.

“Because Cassian told you about it in his letters,” Rhys explained as he continued his task of whatever he was writing at his desk. “He was constantly writing to you whenever he wasn’t moodily going about his day.”

“But Feyre knew I wasn’t reading his letters, and since you two seem to share one mind...” she trailed off, knowing he would understand what she was saying.

“Well if you weren’t going to even bother reading any of his numerous letters, I didn’t think you deserved to know,” he sternly answered.

Nesta couldn’t fight back to that comment. After all Cassian had done for her, the least she could’ve done was read his letters. At least she finally read them and finally knew what had happened.

Now for her other matter of business…

“The box you gave to me that was from him...” she began. “He said it used to belong to his mother. It has a ‘D’ engraved in it. Do you know what it stands for?”

“His mother’s name,” Rhys answered before pausing his writing to look up at her. “Dahlia.”

Dahlia.

“Thank you,” Nesta said before turning away to leave the room. But Rhys called out to her.

“Are you finally going to talk to him? Or at least write to him?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she replied. The truth was she wasn’t sure what to do next with her mixed up feelings and emotions.

“Well I hope you will. If you do, here’s a piece of that parchment where he’ll instantly receive the note on his desk,” Rhys said as he handed her a large sheet.

Nesta nodded as she accepted it, then left the room as she tried to figure out what she should do.

________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t long before Nesta heard from Amren again, and Nesta wasn’t surprised. Despite their previous falling out, she knew Amren would be intrigued by a challenge that needed to be solved.

So for the next few days, Nesta went to Amren’s, where Amren demanded to know every single detail about all the instances of when her power showed itself and what she had already tried in an attempt to get her powers to show. They poured over the vast number of books Amren had in her collection about various fae powers, searching for anything that was remotely similar.

At one point in the midst of their reading in her living room, Amren looked up from her book at her as she sat on the floor. “Was there ever a moment after the war and before the first instance when you discovered your powers that you were attacked in any way?”

Nesta, sitting on the couch, thought for a moment about the insanity of her life after the war that only consisted of males and alcohol. She shook her head. “No.”

“Hmm.”

Nesta shot her head up from her book. “What?”

“Perhaps your beheading of the king of Hybern has something to do with it.”

“How could that have something to do with it?”

“You murdered a powerful High Fae, girl,” she remarked as if it was obvious. “That doesn’t happen everyday. Who knows what that can cause.”

“But you’re sure it’s not the baby?”

“If you didn’t feel anything in your stomach when it happened, then I highly doubt it.”

“But the king of Hybern…” she trailed off.

“Maybe some element of his power went to you.”

“Even though Elain was the one who stabbed him?”

“You’re the one who finished him off.”

Nesta still hated thinking of that day. The visuals of his severed head within her hands as the blood dripped onto her dress and shoes still haunted her. Nesta’s body began to tremble. She refused to think anymore of it. She closed her eyes and attempted to block her brain from thinking anymore of that day.

“You nearly died with Cassian that day, didn’t you?”

Nesta’s eyes shot open. How was she supposed to avoid thinking of that day with Amren prodding her about it?

“Yes,” she stiffly answered.

“Tell me everything that happened when you and Cassian went to attempt to kill the king,” Amren demanded.

Nesta shuddered. “I...I can’t,” she whispered as she turned her face away.

“Don’t let that bastard win in death, girl,” Amren challenged her. “You have power over this. You have found happiness with the child within you. He did not scar you forever.”

“But he killed my father in front of me, and then I...I murdered him,” Nesta stated with tears falling down her cheeks. With the pregnancy, it had become difficult to hide her emotions from anyone.

“You did what you had to do to protect all of Prythian and the Mortal Lands,” Amren yelled back. “Don’t forget that.”

“I…,” she helplessly said, but didn’t know what else she could say.

“Didn’t you tell me you wanted to figure out your powers so you could protect your child?” Amren asked in a calmer tone, standing up as she stared at Nesta and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Yes,” Nesta sniffed as she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

“Then keep protecting, girl,” Amren harshly commanded.

Nesta took a deep breath, and the memories of the dead birds she had seen during the first month of living with Cassian came to mind. At that time, she’d been terrified of reliving the day she killed the king. Doing so had taken so much from her. Her life became listless and empty.

But now...the pregnancy and her time she spent with Cassian brought her strength. It brought her life again. It brought her the hope of a beautiful life she never thought she could have as a fae.

So Nesta told her everything about that day as she rubbed her stomach. Tears still fell as she visualized that day’s events, and her heart still ached as she recalled her father’s death and Cassian’s near-death. She supposed it would never been easy to think about that day, but at least she made progress in being able to talk about it now.

“Hmm,” Amren said when she finished.

“Stop doing that and just tell me what you’re thinking,” she demanded.

“Considering you were protecting Cassian, Elain and yourself that day...perhaps it’s no surprise that your powers seem to only show when you’re trying to protect someone you care about,” she noted.

She supposed it was a valid possibility. So far her powers had only surfaced when trying to protect her baby and Cassian.

But she didn’t particularly like the glint of amusement she saw in Amren’s eyes when she said, “We’ll have to test my theory.” ________________________________________________________________

When Nesta returned to the estate, she had just walked through the door when Elain suddenly appeared and startled her.

“Nesta! Where have you been?” she exclaimed, sporting a wide grin and looking as if she could hardly contain her excitement. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“I was...just out walking,” Nesta awkwardly replied.

“This late in the pregnancy?” Elain wondered, a bit perplexed, but she didn’t seem to dwell on it because she quickly continued. “You won’t believe it! I’ve had a vision of the baby!”

Nesta’s eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You...what?”

“I’ve had a vision of the baby. I’ve seen what she looks like!” Elain exclaimed before letting out a gasp and covering her mouth. “Oops.”

She.

The baby’s going to be a girl. Her senses were correct.

Tears started welling up in here eyes. She was going to have a little girl.

“Are you...are you sure?”

Elain nodded eagerly. “I saw you cuddling with her!”

Nesta felt as if she could hardly breathe. After nearly losing her baby and still worrying if the birth would go well, this news was a complete relief to her.

Nesta looked down at her stomach. “My baby girl,” she whispered as she rubbed her hands on her belly.

Elain walked up to Nesta’s side to place her hand along Nesta’s back and her other hand on Nesta’s stomach. The two of them felt the baby kick.

Elain leaned her head on Nesta’s shoulder. “Would you like to know if...anyone else was also in the vision?” she asked.

Nesta’s bright smile faltered a bit at Elain’s question. “I… I don’t think so,” she whispered.

She wasn’t sure which idea would’ve been worse: that Cassian was in the vision or that he wasn’t. Elain could’ve been referring to anyone when she asked that question. But she didn’t want to know what her fate would be. She wanted to make her own choices and not be influenced by a vision of the future.

She was having a girl though...a girl! As she closed her eyes, her mind immediately raced through the future possible moments she could have with her daughter, such as tying ribbons in her hair, reading books to her, wandering through the park with her, taking her to fairs…

She blinked her eyes open at the last thought because she couldn’t help but picture her walking to the fair with her young daughter sitting upon the shoulders...of Cassian.

Nesta sighed. She still had no idea what to do about Cassian, but she felt a desire to share this news with him.

Maybe she could...at least write to him.

________________________________________________________________

Cassian grumpily scrubbed the plate he had just eaten his dinner off of with soap and rinsed it in water before grabbing a towel to dry it.

It was only one plate he needed to wash. Not two, as he had been accustomed to doing from October to February. In the first few weeks since he’d left Nesta in Velaris, the chore left him feeling glum. But now...now that a month and a half had passed, he was left feeling infuriated.

Once he dried the plate, he placed it on the counter a bit too roughly, causing part of it to chip.

He hadn’t heard from Nesta at all. Last he heard from Rhys, she hadn’t even opened any of his letters or his gifts. He knew he needed to give her her space, but he had assumed she would’ve seen reason by now and would have understood that his love for her and whatever she felt for him wasn’t because of the stupid bond. He thought she would have reached out by this point. Did he misunderstand what she felt for him?

No, he couldn’t have. Not with the way she came after him when he left for the Blood Rite. Not with the way she kissed him. Not the way she fell into his embrace when he returned from the Rite.

She admitted she tried to detach herself from him when it was established he would go through with the Rite. Was she trying to detach herself from him now?

He had fallen in love with a ridiculously stubborn woman. He chastised himself for assuming Nesta would have talked to him by now when this same woman refused to talk to him for ten days after taking her shopping near Feyre’s art studio. How could he forget that she knew how to hold a grudge?

Was it time for him to attempt to talk to her in person, or would that further anger her?

He grabbed his cup from the kitchen table to take a sip of water, then slammed it back down, causing it to crack. He couldn’t take this anymore. They both had said they didn’t want to waste anymore time...yet, here they were, wasting time that could’ve been spent together. He could’ve been helping her decorate the baby’s room, could’ve been cooking her foods to satisfy her wild cravings, could’ve been soothing any concerns she had about the baby being born, could’ve been kissing her senselessly and letting her know how loved she was.

He picked up the cup again to take the last sip, then brought it over to the sink to start scrubbing it. And as he did so, a piece of parchment suddenly appeared out of thin air on the counter. A perplexed look crossed his face as he dropped the cup and shook his hands to let the water fly off before picking up the piece of paper.

It felt as if his heart stopped when he realized it was Nesta’s handwriting. After all the letters she’d helped him write when she lived with him, he’d recognize her handwriting anywhere.

I was right.

Those three words was all the message said, leaving him extremely confused. What was she referring to? He didn’t remember writing her any kind of note that would elicit such a response. What kind of tone was she using when she wrote this? Was it filled with anger and arrogance, or was it more of a jest?

It couldn’t have been about the mating bond, could it? Because she certainly was not right about that.

Desperately, he searched for a pen around the kitchen, not wanting to lose this moment to talk to Nesta. Once he found one, he penned his reply and let it disappear, not giving himself a moment to second guess his words.

And what exactly are you right about, sweetheart?

Cassian leaned his hands against the counter, anxiously awaiting her reply. It was only a minute before the paper returned.

The baby is a girl.

Cassian’s eyes widened. How did she know? She couldn’t have possibly had the baby yet, could she? The baby was due in May. Surely, he would have felt something through the bond that she was in labor.

How do you know?

Cassian’s heart started pumping fast until the paper appeared again.

Elain had a vision.

Cassian sighed with relief. She hadn’t had the baby yet. He didn’t miss the birth. But...now they knew for sure the baby would be born. He smiled as he picked up the pen again.

That’s great news. I can’t wait for little Cassandra’s arrival.

The next reply came faster than all the others.

I am not naming her Cassandra.

Cassian smirked.

I don’t see how there could be a better name than that.

I have better ideas.

Care to share?

No.

Cassian tapped his pen against the counter, wondering what he should say next.

But the suspense may kill me.

Don’t be so overdramatic.

Ok, go ahead and keep your secrets, sweetheart. I look forward to the baby’s birth and learning her name then.

Many minutes passed by, leaving Cassian feeling very worried that that was the end of their conversation. Was it his implication that he’d be at the baby’s birth that ended the conversation?

But she didn’t say anything about him needing to stay away, so perhaps that was a good sign?

Either way, he finally heard from her and it didn’t sound like she was angry with him either.

Progress was being made.

That night, he went to sleep feeling happier than he had in weeks. ________________________________________________________________

A/N: Nesta is SO FREAKIN' STUBBORN, YOU GUYS. She just can't let go of her fears, can she? But I think Cassian is oh so slowly getting her to crack ;) (Also, I hope their conversation over parchment at the end there wasn't confusing to figure out who was speaking!)

I don't really recall if the books say there's any kind of significance with getting a siphon or how you get one...so I decided to make up my own ideas for that. :)

Also a heads up: so I've been updating every other weekend, but I'll be out of town 2 weeks from now, so I am toying with the idea of updating next weekend instead, but I'm not sure yet...so no promises, but it's definitely a possibility! (Plus, everyone's probably dying for Cassian and Nesta to be in the same room again, right? Leaving you guys with this chapter of them broken up for 3 weeks would just seem cruel...and OMG THE BABY IS COMING NEXT CHAPTER, YOU GUYS!)

Thank you so much for all the love!

----> CHAPTER 12

#nessian #nesta cassian #nesta #cassian #nesta archeron #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #a court of mist and fury #acomaf #a court of wings and rui #acowar #a court of frost and starlight #acofas #fanfiction #wings and embers #far from the shallow

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pinecone5678 · 5 years ago

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Finals- Feysand One Shot

“Oh, balls!” Feyre muttered under her breath, scurrying to wipe up the spilled tea on her canvas. She’d been working on this piece for hours before Mor had finally convinced her to get up and go to the local coffee shop with her.

Her once shining knight was now a dull stain against her last work for the semester. And her new white sweater.

She continued patting a paper towel against her shirt, hoping someone knew how to get stains out. “Balls, balls, balls, balls!”

A dark head popped up over her canvas.

“You rang?” Her boyfriend, Rhysand, was staring down at her from atop her latest work. “I’m still willing to go nude if you need it.” He came around the side of her easel and saw the mess. “Oh no Feyre darling, that’s not good at all.”

Feyre, who was finished trying to clean it all up merely glared at her boyfriend. “Thank you for stating the obvious; but, what in the cauldron can I do about this stain! The party’s tonight and my final is due in an hour.”

Rhysand pulled the paper towels from her hands and held them in his much larger ones. “Why are you stressed Feyre darling? You know it’s perfect, you finished this weeks ago. Why pull it back out?”

Feyre avoided his eye contact and merely stared at her work behind Rhys’ head.

The assignment had merely been to create something that reminded her of herself. Her classmates had all found snippets of favorite tv shows, other works, flowers, pictures of their loved ones, or really interesting abstract pieces meant to symbolize themselves in a small, private way.

Feyre’s was a monster. It was dark with shadows and teeth and had scared her professor when she had first shown it to him. But she loved it.

Yet, she hated it.

“What if it’s not good enough?” Feyre finally looked up into soft violet eyes. “What if, I’m not?

Not good enough I mean.” Tears were threatening to spill down her face. Cauldron she was so stressed after this past week. She’d had three tests in her general education classes that were over one hundred multiple choice questions a piece, this assignment, and two other creative assignments from her art classes that had drained her creativity. And her confidence.

Rhys took his hands from Feyre’s and held her face in them before leaning forward to press his lips oh so softly to her forehead.

“You are more than anyone could ask for. You, my paint-splattered goddess, are a brilliant artist and this piece is only one example of your talent. I know I can never truly fight that voice in your head that tells you differently.”

I open my mouth to protest but he stops me.

“But,” he says, “I will do my best to remind you every day that you are talented,” a kiss on her forehead again. “Worthy,” a kiss on her nose. “Beautiful and Powerful,” kisses on each of her cheeks. “And, without a doubt, absolutely capable of doing anything you set your mind to.” A full, lingering kiss on her lips that had her almost thinking about that nude portrait before he pulled away again. “Also, I love you. Did I mention that?”

Her breath caught in her throat. He hadn’t mentioned that yet actually. They hadn’t said I love you yet and of course he had managed to do it in the perfect way. He also managed to say it first.

“Rhys, I-”

“You don’t have to say it back or anything. I just- I thought you should know.” He was holding her hands again, his face soft in that way that first drew her to him at her ex’s party.

She leaned over and dipped her finger in black paint. “Rhys-Rhysand, you should know that I, without a doubt,” she drew on one of his hands, “love you more than I could ever possibly describe.” She finished her drawing and he merely glanced at it before kissing her hard on the lips again.

As Rhys continued to kiss her, tea on her sweater and all, Feyre could only think about the drawing on his hand.

Of two messy stars circled by a heart.

#feysand #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #acotar #finalsweek #fluff

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your-high-lady · 5 years ago

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Realisation

Summary: This story is about Feyre. She has a couple of small dreams she wants to achieve but turns out it isn't as easy as she imagined it would. Trust me, the story is better than the summary. Modern AU. Feysand.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Chapter 11: Well done, Rhys

Rhys's POV

"Seriously?" Mor's eyes bulged as she stared at me, excitement and shock mingling in her eyes.

I had told the whole group plus Varian, Amren's boyfriend and Feyre, to come to the library so that I could tell them something.

"You're seriously taking us to Disneyland? In LA? In two days, during the two-week holiday, we have coming up?" I nodded my head wryly at Mor, before glancing at Feyre, wanting to catch her reaction. She was quiet, a small smile lighting her face, but I could see her eyes glowing with much more expression. She was excited. I was willing to bet she'd never been to any of the Disneyland parks, which meant this would be a first for her. I gave her small smirk before turning to the others and telling them the whole plan.

We would be living in a hotel, within driving distance of the park. I'd already bought 5-day passes for all of them and also paid for three rooms. Cassian, Azriel and I would be in one, Amren and Varian in another and Feyre and Mor in the last. We'd be there for seven days which meant we could spend at least one day doing something other than enjoying the rides and another resting while the rest of our trip would be spent going through all the things they offered at Disneyland.

Mor squealed before running off, dragging Feyre along with her, presumably to do some last-minute shopping or maybe some other things here and there.

Soon the others left too, and I was left alone to think about Feyre's reaction. She was happy and excited, that much was clear, even though she didn't let it show.

It was enough.

—

Feyre's POV

Disneyland. I'd never been before and the smirk Rhys had given me made me suspect this trip was just a part of some great scheme he was thinking. But I couldn't deny the excitement I was feeling. I'd always wanted to go to Disneyland, and I knew that going with Mor's friends would just make the trip a hundred times better. That's just the type of people they were. They managed to find the fun in everything. It was one of the reasons I loved hanging out with them. They just made me laugh so much. They helped me forget everything bad in my life, even if it was only for a second, and I was able to have fun. I was able to laugh and be happy. I wanted that. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to laugh. Which is why I didn't make too much of a fuss when Rhys told us he'd already paid for everything. Who am I to turn down a whole week of endless fun with such lively people, or I guess, lively in their own unique ways.

—

Two days later, I found myself loading bags into Rhys's car. It was going to be a tight fit, sitting in such close proximity to so many men for about seven hours, but I could make it. At least I hoped I could.

Thankfully seven hours later, I found myself sighing in relief. I'd made it. The multiple stops we'd taken for food and bathrooms had helped quite a lot.

As Rhys parked the car, I looked around. There were a lot of trees and the place actually looked quite welcoming. As we took our bags inside, I noticed beautiful wallpapers of different Disney characters such as Micky and Cinderella. It was actually quite nice. Once we had our keys, Rhys led us towards our rooms. He dropped Amren and Varian first before taking Mor and I to our room. It wasn't very big but not to small either. It was perfect really, The wall the beds were against had been painted a sea blue with the rest of the walls being white. The bedsheets and some few things here and there matched the blue, but otherwise, everything else was a plain white. Rhys gave me the keys, and before leaving told us that dinner was in about 4-5 hours but if we wanted to we could come to the pool before then. The others would also be coming in another couple hours or so.

And so a couple of hours later, I find myself swimming in the hotel pool with the rest of Mor's friends as well as other families/couples who had chosen to use their holidays to come to LA too.

For most of our time in the pool, I just sit off to the side, watching as Mor and Cassian interacted loudly with practically everyone in the pool, sometimes involving the kids in a game of water-tag, and sometimes everyone in a game of water polo. She did force me to play them later with a threat that if I didn't play at least one game she'd burn all my luggage. I believed her.

We had moved to the spa when he came towards me. I looked into Rhys's eyes. I'd drawn them so many times now, I knew them like I knew the back of my hand. They truly were beautiful and impossible to recreate perfectly.

I quickly blinked my thoughts away before focusing again on Rhys. He had taken a seat beside me. "I'm sorry." He started off with.

"Why?" I frowned, though I knew why.

"For being an ass." I looked away from him. I hadn't really meant to be so straightforward or mean with my words but I just couldn't have held it in any longer. I'd had to tell him. And honestly, I was proud of myself for being brave enough to actually open my mouth for once. "It was totally uncalled for, but I want you to know that it's nothing personal. I've just been having a hard time lately and being arrogant and sassy is just the way I handle it, I guess. I didn't mean to upset you or anything." He finished.

I looked up at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Why are you having a bad time?"

'Hmm?" He asked though I knew he had heard my question.

"What's bothering you?"

"I don't really want to talk about right now." He blocked me out.

I sighed. I felt pity for him. Something told me that whatever was going on in his mind right now was the reason for the lines and stress I saw often across his face. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" It had sounded a lot better in my head but once it was out, I couldn't take it back, no matter how cringe I thought my words were. But then he looked up at me, gratitude in his eyes, "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Rhys's POV

My nightmares had stopped. Well, not stopped, really. I guess you could say they had lost their consistency. Before I met Feyre I had usually gotten them at least twice or thrice a week but in the last couple months, they'd only been bad enough to waken me thrice in the middle of the night. I'd say that was progress. And something told me that Feyre was the reason for the decreasing number of my nightmares. And something also told me that the closer we got to each, the fewer nightmares I'd have. It only gave me another reason to want her close by me so much. Because there were many reasons. Yes, she was beautiful and smart and charming. But she was also ambitious and artistic. Her mind was so different as if she saw the world in a totally different way as opposed to the way normal people like me saw it. Sometimes I'd catch her just staring at something, her eyes glazed over as if she were cataloguing the view in front of her, in her mind, and deciding which colours she'd use or mix together to paint that tree there and the river here. It astonished and intrigued me so much, that mind of hers.

"For what?" She asked me.

"For,"—being there, comforting me, taking my many sleepless nights away—"being friends with Mor. I knew she was lonely in New Zealand but I also know that when you two met, she was a lot happier person."

She stared at me, eyes narrowed as if trying to figure out whether I was lying or not, but only said, "You're welcome," before turning her eyes away from me to look at Mor who, it looked like, was flirting with another woman with dark brown hair and colourful tattoos running up and down her arms. Looking back at Feyre, I could tell she wasn't surprised. She obviously knew about Mor's sexual orientation. I was glad that Mor was able to be comfortable enough with her sexuality to not hide it. Suddenly Feyre turned back to me. "What do your tattoos mean?"

Feyre's POV

Today was the first time I'd seen his tattoos in their full glory, including the ones on his knees. Mountains with three stars above the peaks. That's what they were, but what did they mean?

"The ones on my chest are just a representation of our friendship hence the reason they have them, too." He paused, glancing at his friends and then looking at me as if deciding whether or not it was worth telling me about the ones on his knees. Or maybe he was thinking about whether or not I'd understand the meaning. In any case, he carried on, "The ones on my knees mean I will bow for nothing and no one but myself, and what I hold dearest in my heart." I tilted my head, partly in surprise but also in interest. It was such a strange reason to tattoo your knees with mountains, but I understood why he did what he did. It was a reminder to himself and to the rest of the world.

"Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it." I finally said, and he nodded back at me. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall, and he said to me, "We should be getting out soon, it's nearly time for dinner." It was then that I realised that more than half the people had already gotten out of the pool. There were only us and one couple, and just as I thought that they started getting out too. I nodded at Rhys before floating through the water to the steps and he went to tell the others to get out too.

Twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting in between Amren and Mor at a table in the hotel dining room. It was quite flash with its red walls and gold embroidery running up and down them. The high ceiling was a series of images ranging from different cultures and mythology shown in different panels of stained glass. It was actually really cool to look at it. We ordered our food and drinks and soon dug into our food which ranged from pastas(Cassian) to salads(Amren). The whole time Cassian and Mor were being goofballs making the rest of us laugh. At one point Cassian made a comment to Mor about the woman she'd been talking to in the spa, but Mor was quick to shut him up with a glare. But then two seconds later she added, "She's straight and wanted to have sex with you. I told her you'd castrated yourself for religious reasons. You can never have sex." Cassian choked on his food, coughing furiously as Mor looked up at him, an evil smile on her face that clearly meant she didn't regret what she'd done and was thoroughly satisfied by Cassian's reaction. That got everyone at the table laughing.

It was during dessert that Rhys got everyone quiet and told us the plan for the next week we were spending in LA.

Basically each day there would be three groups with two having two people each and the last team having three people in their group. Each day everyone would get a few areas in the park and we could spend the day hanging around those areas. Our last day, at Disneyland, we would all stay together and go over everyone's favourites over the whole park. Hopefully, by the end of our five-day pass, everyone would've done everything Disneyland offered at least once if not more than once. Rhys told us that he'd made it this way to avoid all the fuss and arguments they would've definitely happened if we'd all stuck together the whole time. And then on the sixth day before we left, us girls would be able to go shopping or do whatever we wanted while the boys would be going for a Lakers game which was also happening on that day, and then later in the night we'd all go to local bar and just end the trip by getting drunk.

I was really excited.

AN: Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think of it. Tell me everything.

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mmvalentine · 4 years ago

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Home is Where You Are pt 4 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. CW: domestic and family violence. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Rhys pulled up outside Feyre's apartment block, and killed the engine. But for a moment, he didn't look at her. He wanted to draw out this moment, because spending the day with her was never enough time.

They had walked slowly around the house, Feyre wanting to touch every wall and surface to say goodbye. Most of the stuff they had just dropped off at the local op-shop, since it had been there for ten years and obviously wasn't needed now. A few times Feyre had packed into a box and taken with her, found treasures of their childhood. There was even a photo album, full of Feyre's family before they had fallen apart. Her father had always shied away from those early memories. In one particular photo, Rhys and Feyre stood in the garden with their arms around each other's shoulders, best-buddy style. Feyre had laughed at them, the same height and missing teeth and in ill-fitting hand-me-downs. It had been such a lovely time, and now Rhys had brought her back to her own apartment. To Tamlin.

He had to say something, didn't he? Rhys wrestled with the dilemma. He wanted to respect her life choices. He wanted her to know someone noticed. He wanted her to be safe.

"Thanks for driving," Feyre said. "I had a great time with you." She grinned. "And you do drive like a maniac." "I always have a great time with you," Rhys said. Feyre smiled, and went to get out of the car. Rhys put his hand on her arm, and she stopped.

"Just... take care of you, okay?" Feyre smiled again. "I always do," she said. "If you ever need.. anything. If you want some company, or some hot food, or a spare room. You're welcome to come to mine, okay?" Feyre tilted her head. "Why would I need a spare room, Rhys?" "No reason," Rhys said. "I'm thinking Tamlin snores, or something." Feyre rolled her eyes. "This again." "No!" Rhys said quickly. "I just... maybe everyone needs some place where no one can find them. Maybe your house used to be that for me and I'm feeling nostalgic because you've sold it."

Feyre looked at him for a long time. "Okay, Rhys," she said eventually. They sat for a moment longer.

"Well, I guess I've got fat cheques to write to my sisters," she said. "Goodnight, Feyre." "Goodnight Rhys."

And then she was gone.

Rhys didn't see Feyre for a while after that. He still texted her every now and again, but he figured if he talked to her too much it would be kind of weird. After all, she was engaged, and he was pretty sure the stupid, bubbly feeling he got when her name flashed up on his phone was not the response you were supposed to have to platonic texts.

So he gave himself boundaries- tried to wait for her to initiate most contact, tried hard not to flirt, and even tried to sound interested when she told him Tamlin's latest health craze.

The work project she was working on wrapped up and was a roaring success. The company hosted a small event to launch the campaign, but Feyre didn't end up being able to make it. She sent him an apology, saying she was too sick to come. He told her to feel better soon, and to let him know if she wanted anything brought over.

She wasn't missing out on much, actually. Rhys found these corporate events dreadfully boring, and they all blended into one after a while. He worked for a political magazine and he truly believed in its ideals- but every so often they had to peddle to people with money, and it made him feel dirty. He stayed as long as was polite, drinking white wine he did not enjoy, and then slipped away when he thought no one would notice.

Back in his apartment, Rhys hung his jacket on the back of a chair, and undid the first few buttons of his shirt. He poured himself a glass of brandy, and sat on the couch, trying to overwrite the taste of small talk and champagne. On his coffee table, early sketches Feyre had made were still scattered about. Although he despised the events, it had been a shame that Feyre had not been able to attend, if just to get the recognition for her work. He sat up, and picked up one of the drawings.

Feyre really was an incredible artist. There was something so soft, and tender in the strokes of her brush, even in these rudimentary impressions. If he stared long enough, he could almost imagine the way her fingers smudged the page, the crinkle in her brow as she concentrated on some of the finer details. The movement in the design somehow had him imagining the sound of her laugh...

Rhys put the drawing down, and rubbed his eyes with his palm. This line of thinking was entirely unproductive. He needed to go to bed.

And then there was a knock at his door.

Rhys looked up, then looked at his watch. It was a little past midnight, who was looking for him at this hour? He set his glass down, and padded to the door. And there stood Feyre.

"Don't say anything," she said, before Rhys could open his mouth. He leaned against the door frame, and took in the woman standing there. At her feet, was a stuffed duffel bag. Her eyes were red, and she was too thin. Across one cheek bone, an angry bruise had bloomed purple and red. Rhys' heart dropped into his feet, but as she asked, he didn't say anything.

"You still got that spare room?" she asked.

Rhys picked up her bag and moved it inside. Feyre stepped in, Rhys closed the door behind her, and then very gently, wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, as her arms came up to his back and she leaned into him. "I'm so sorry."

****

Th angst is reeeaallll but seriously my dudes we made it and I am about to get REAL fluffy on your asses. That's right, it's an angst-fluff-smut parade.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @asteria-of-mars@booksmusicandgoodvibes @burritowithfeels

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #acosf #rhysand #mine #angst

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darling-cas · 7 years ago

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All Is Well: Feysand

TOG/ACOTAR Christmas Fic Co-written with @aelin-and-feyre

Summary: It’s a special time in the Night Court, being the Winter Solstice and the High lady’s birthday. Too bad Rhys is nowhere to be found. CANON.

Note: How about something fluffy and little hearted after all the heartbreak from yesterdays chapter XD This girl is a total gem, such a little sweetheart! It was such a pleasure to get to work with her and I had soooo much fun! Also, the fact that we got to write Feysand together made it that much more amazing, LOL! Thank you again, darling, for agreeing to do this with me. I’d work with you again in a heartbeat!

All Is Well Masterlist

——————–

Waking up without Rhys’ arms wrapped tightly around her was definitely not Feyre’s ideal way of starting her day.

The moment her eyes fluttered opened and she didn’t feel his warmth, panic took hold. She sent a message down the bond, and though she did relax when she felt his reply, letting her know he was okay, confusion lingered. She expected an exclamation, anything telling her what he was up to, but she got nothing. Even when she bombarded him with questions as she got ready for the day, Rhys would simply stroke the bond but offered nothing else.

She didn’t expect this. Sure, maybe he had some Winter Solstice plans to take care of before this evening. But she still didn’t expect Rhys to be gone so early on today of all days.

Not that Feyre put much thought into her birthday anymore. What was the point when you were an immortal fae? But given the fact it was her first official birthday with Rhys, she would have liked him to be here.

After one last failed attempt to get Rhys to talk—she sent him an image of her as she changed into her simple yet ravishing deep purple gown and all she got in return was deep chuckle and loving stroke on the bond—Feyre made her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs of the townhouse.

“Happy birthday!” Elain all but jumped out of her chair the moment Feyre entered the kitchen area. She almost fell backward as Elain engulfed her in a hug, unable to stop a smile from forming.

“Thank you, Elain.” She said, returning the hug before they pulled apart.

Feyre took a moment to glance around the kitchen. But aside from Elain, Nesta was the only other person in the room. She was sat at the table, breakfast before her, legs and arms crossed. When her eye caught Feyre’s, she offered her the smallest smile and a nod.

“Happy birthday, Feyre.”

“Thank you.” Feyre returned the smile, joining Nesta at the table covered in food. “Where is everyone?”

Nesta and Elain shared a quick look before the former shrugged.

“The boys left early this morning, I believe,” was all she said on the matter, which simply confused Feyre even more.

But before she could ask any further questions, Elain clapped her hands together.

“We’ll talk later.” She smiled brightly. “For now let’s eat, it is your birthday breakfast after all.”

Feyre’s gaze turned towards Elain. “You made all this for me?”

“Of course,” she gestured to the food in front of Feyre. “Now eat.”

The most gracious smile appeared on Feyre’s face, one that Elain returned. And there was no further room for discussion as the two oldest Archeron sisters dug in, Feyre not far behind them.

It was delicious breakfast. The cooking skills Elain had been working on had clearly improved since the last time she cooked. And between the talks and laughter, Ferye almost forgot about her disappointment from this morning, about Rhys being gone.

Almost.

“Feyre!” Mor came barging through the front door just as the sisters finished eating, her smile blinding. Feyre stood up from her chair just in time for the blonde beauty to crush her in a hug. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you.” Feyre couldn’t help but laugh before Mor pulled back, deep brown eyes sparkling.

“Are you ready?”

Feyre tilted her head to the side in confusion. “For the Solstice? Mor, I don’t need to start getting ready–”

Mor’s musical laugh cut her off, ringing throughout the room. “No silly. I’m taking you out for the afternoon. For your birthday.”

“You are?”

“Yes! Now come on!” Mor grabbed her hand, all but dragging her out the door. Feyre had just enough time to thank her sisters for breakfast before she was out in the blinding mid-morning sun.

Mor led her through the town streets, their arms linked as they went. They ventured passed townsfolk getting ready for the Solstice: stringing up decorations and lights, setting up tables and music, chatting and laughter, so relaxed, so carefree, amongst one another. And Feyre smiled a genuine smile at each and every one she passed. Some of them even stopped the wish their High Lady a happy birthday, which warmed Feyre’s heart as she thanked them.

It was a beautiful day, the perfect day for the Winter Solstice and to be out shopping. Mor dragged her from store to store, took her out to lunch, laughing and talking without a care in the world. It was refreshing to see, especially after the everything they had been through with the war.

The only thing that would have made it better was if she got to see Rhys.

Throughout her day with Mor, she kept sending him messages and images—she thought she had him when she sent a picture of her in some lingerie she tried on, but no luck. He still wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t tell her what exactly he was up to. And as she and Mor walked back to the townhouse to get ready for the celebrations, Feyre couldn’t help but let the realization set in.

Rhys forgot her birthday.

She tried not to let the hurt and frustration settle in too deep as she hugged Mor goodbye, thanking her for such a lovely day.

“It was no trouble, Feyre.” Mor smiled. “You deserved a day out. Besides, it is your birthday.”

The smile on her own face became just the slightest bit forced as Mor gave her a kiss on the cheek before turning on her heel and walking out the door.

With a sigh, Feyre glanced around the empty townhouse before she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom, where she knew Nuala and Cerridwen were waiting to help her get ready for the celebrations today.

She didn’t even bother to call down the bond as she pushed open the door, giving Nuala and Cerridwen a strained smile.

They dressed her in a gown of shimmering dark blue fabric, the neckline a plummeting deep v-neck while the sleeves flared out at her wrists. It was a breathtaking gown, one fit for a queen. But Feyre couldn’t truly admire its beauty, not when her heart felt so heavy.

Nevertheless, she held her head high, making light conversation as Nuala and Cerridwen put the finishing touches on her hair and makeup. She was High Lady after all, she didn’t want to show how deeply Rhys forgetting her birthday truly affected her.

‘And it is affecting me… much more than I would care to admit’, she couldn’t help but think once Nuala and Cerridwen were gone and she was fully dressed, standing in front of the full-length mirror.

“You look ravishing, Feyre, darling.”

Whirling around, Feyre almost couldn’t believe her eyes. She had been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn’t even felt Rhys show up. But there he was, a smug smile on his lips, hands in his pockets, dressed to match her gown.

He looked as handsome as ever.

“Where have you been?” Feyre demanded, eyes narrowed as she took a step towards him. She wanted nothing more than to run in his arms, but her irritation halted her.

“That’s not important right now.” Rhys waved her off, his eyes running up and down her body before his gaze met hers. “What is important is how striking my queen looks tonight.”

The intensity in his eyes, the way his tongue licked his bottom lip slightly, caused her to shiver. The bond between them grew more intense, Rhys sending waves of pleasure her way. But Feyre held her ground, stopping in front of Rhys and raising an eyebrow.

“Rhys–”

“All in good time, darling.” It was the mischief in his eyes, the twitch of a smile, that caused all frustration to melt away as Rhys leaned forward, placing the most cherished kiss on her lips. “For right now, it’s time to celebrate your first Winter Solstice as High Lady.”

Rhys offered his arm to her and Feyre couldn’t help but roll her eyes, even as she looped her arm through his.

“You shut me out. For the whole day.” She remarked as they made their way down the stairs. She may not be as frustrated anymore, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

Still, she didn’t dare bring up her birthday.

“I’m sorry, love.”

“Don’t apologize.” A sensual smile pulled on Feyre lips as she met Rhys’ gaze, caressing the bond between them. “You’ll just have to make it up to me later.”

They came to a stop in front of the door. Rhys turning towards Feyre, violent eyes darkening.

“And how exactly would you like me to make it up to you, Feyre?” He purred, closing the distance between them so their chests were touching.

Feyre could feel her heart start to race, blood turning to fire as Rhys brought his lips to her jaw. He kissed his way down her neck, leaving a trail of flames in his wake. As he nipped at the sensitive skin right under her ear, Feyre couldn’t help but moan, already wanting more -

Rhys chuckled at her thoughts as she arched her throat to him.

“Later, love,” he teased, breath hot on her neck. Feyre couldn’t help but groan in disapproval as Rhys pulled away, eyes sparkling like a starry night. “For now, we celebrate.”

Feyre took in a deep breath before taking the smallest step backwards. She straightened out her dress, trying to calm her thoughts, as Rhys reached for the door. But he didn’t open it. Instead, he turned his gaze to her, the mischief in them greater than ever.

Feyre tilted her head to the side, hair falling over her shoulder as she raised an eyebrow.

“Whats going on?”

But Rhys didn’t answer. His smile simply grew, eyes shining brighter than the night sky as Feyre stood by his side. And with one last longing look, Rhys pulled opened the doors.

Feyre took one step out the door before she froze, eyes wide.

Screams and shouts of HAPPY BIRTHDAY drifted towards them as all of Velars gathered on the street outside the townhouse. There were cheers and whistles—mostly from Cassian who was standing off to the side to stand along with the rest of the Inner Circle. Balloons were released into the air, confetti rained down on them from high above. The sight was unlike anything Feyre had beheld in her life.

She was completely and utterly speechless.

“Our High Lady’s birthday is on the longest night of the year.” Rhy’s breath tickled her neck as he came up behind her. “If that doesn’t call for a grand celebration, I don’t know what does.”

With her heart in her throat and tears in her eyes, Feyre turned towards Rhys to see an expression that held only love and adoration.

Rhys placed a lingering kiss on her lips, returning the love as he mumbled into her lips,

“Happy birthday, Feyre darling.”

Everything was going exactly as he had planned, a perfect party for his most perfect wife on her first birthday while they are together. It had been painful to walk away from her this morning—sleeping so peacefully with her hair splayed out along the pillows, a small snore coming from her lips. Rhys had wanted to crawl back under the covers and hold her all day, to celebrate her birthday with just the two of them and worship her as she deserves to be worshipped. He had been planning this party for months now though, and knew that his family and probably the rest of Velaris would riot if they didn’t get a chance to celebrate with their High Lady on the most special day of the year.

So, Rhysand had left his sleeping mate with no more than a soft kiss on her forehead and silent promises for worshipping that night. He spent all day coordinating, making sure Elain was set with her breakfast and that Mor knew exactly where to take her to avoid the places where the party was being set up. He enlisted the help of his brothers to each take a section of the party grounds to prepare, and the citizens of Velaris were more than willing to help out in any way they could. Feyre had already been helping to plan the Solstice party, Rhys just made a few tweaks in the decorations.

When he had come to collect her, seeing her in the shining gown with its sinfully low neckline, and after a whole day worth of dirty—and appreciated—images that told him exactly what awaited him under the dress, Rhys’ resolve had nearly crumbled. He almost took her right then and there, the party be damned, if it weren’t for Mor’s incessant pounding along his shields, reminding him that the whole city was waiting and wouldn’t accept whatever excuse that was beginning to form in his mind.

Now, with his arms around her waist and seeing that shining smile on her face, Rhys knew he made the right choice. She looked so happy. He could see relief and wonder blazing in her eyes and he felt minorly guilty that he had ever made her think he would forget this most important day.

“Never in a million years would I forget the day the Cauldron blessed the world with your presence.” Rhysand assured lowly in her ear as the music began and their family started to make their way through the crowd towards them. “Tonight is the longest night of the year, and we have until the sun rises to dance, drink, eat, and revel. This celebration is as much about you as it is about the Solstice, so let’s go have some fun.”

Feyre’s smile widened impossibly at his words. She placed a chaste kiss on his lips—one that promised less chaste kisses to come—and pulled him towards the throng of High and lesser Fae alike, all joining the festivities.

They met the rest of the Circle a little farther in, both Cassian and Azriel enveloping Feyre in bear hugs as they wished her a happy birthday.

“What do you think High Lady?” Cassian puffed out his chest proudly. “The Rainbow was the section I got to coordinate. Did you see the strings of Iridescent Nightshade?”

Feyre glanced up to admire the rows upon rows of purple flowers that seemed to glitter and shine against the darkening sky.

“They will provide a soft violet glow later on in the night,” Rhys explained when confusion crossed her face. “Their pollen also has the tendency to drift down and coat the people dancing under them, allowing them a dusting of shine as well—not that you need any help in that department.” The High Lord honestly didn’t think he would ever get tired of Feyre’s blush, at least not in this millennia.

“Thank you, Cassian, they’re beautiful,” Feyre turned around slowly, taking in the banners, streamers, artwork, and costumes. “It all is.”

Cassian beamed. Amren shoved past him and gave Feyre her friendliest smile. “Another year of life, congratulations, I suppose.”

Mor nudged her with an elbow and Amren shot her a dirty look.

“What? I’ve had more than five thousand birthdays, she’s not all that special,” she muttered, but she did hand Feyre a gift nonetheless—a pearl and diamond bracelet that had spots for charms to clip onto. Rhys grimaced, hoping Feyre didn’t question how there were no charms that came with it, at least not until he could give her his present.

Feyre thanked Amren profusely and the tiny Fae waved her off with another rare smile and disappeared from view, but not before pressing a small, square box into Rhys’ hand behind his back. He slipped it into his pocket while Feyre talked to Mor and her sisters, praising them for hiding the secret so well.

Rhys kept a hand on the small of Feyre’s back as they walked through the rejoicing crowd toward the main square. Friends from around the city wished Feyre many happy returns as she passed them and his mate took them in stride, smiling and hugging and shaking hands where appropriate. Rhys couldn’t help but stroke the bond with pride at how far she had come since she became his High Lady only half a year ago.

The main square was the new home of an enormous Yulemas tree which towered over the surrounding buildings. Feyre gazed at the huge pine in disbelief, eyes widening as she saw that the light coming from it was not a reflection for the thousands of ornaments hanging from it’s branches, but from the thick shining trunk deep within, giving the entire display a feeling of surrealness.

“The square was Azriel’s job to prepare,” Rhys explained. “He loves Yulemas and got a little too excited about the decorations. He hauled this Lumetto Pine all the way from the Illyrian Steppes. He’s very proud of it.”

“He should be,” Feyre agreed, “It’s absolutely astounding.”

For a moment, Rhys wished that his brother had been there to see the amazed expression on her face.

“Are the stars different on the Solstice?” Feyre wondered idly, her face tilted up to the sky. Her hair was already starting to collect dust from the NightShade, casting her face in a violet glow—Rhys honestly didn’t know she could get more beautiful, especially after he had seen her on Starfall.

He turned to gaze at the sky with her, their hands still intertwined. “They change throughout the year. With each passing season, a new set of constellations appear.” He pointed to a cluster of stars. “See the circle and then below it the rough shape of wings?” Feyre nodded. “That constellation is called Amren.”

“You’re kidding,” Feyre accused.

Rhysand laughed. “I am not, the ancients thought that Amren was some kind of angel at first, a creator of the Cauldron come down to smite them—they weren’t far off.” Feyre jabbed him with her elbow and he pointed to another grouping. “That’s the Bogge.”

“It doesn’t even look like anything.”

“Exactly.” He felt Feyre shudder against him and remembered her story from the Spring Court. He cringed and tried to find another constellation to distract her.

Feyre pointed to two closely linked stars, both much brighter than the others. “What are those?”

Rhys racked his brain. “I’m—not sure what those are.” He squeezed her hand. “Do you want to name them?”

Feyre shifted her gaze to him, her eyes full of love and warmth and gratitude. “They are the High Lord and High Lady of the sky,” she proclaimed finally but did not remove her gaze from his.

He smiled softly. “Sounds perfect.”

With a content sigh, Feyre looked around the gathering, smiling at different faeries. “It really is breathtaking. I think I want to paint this later.” Her eyes caught on the huge Yulemas tree in the distance. “Do you think we could get a better look? I need to see it closer if I’m going to get the texture just right.”

Rhys gestured for her to lead the way. “You’re twenty-one now,” he commented as they walked through the crowd. Their joined hands swung between them, Rhys’ thumb stroking the ring on her finger absently. “How do you feel?”

Feyre thought about it for a couple moments, then picked up a wine glass from a passing caterer. She took a sip.

“Wine doesn’t taste any different,” she observed, then grabbed a hors d'oeuvres from another tray, eating it thoughtfully. “Neither does food.”

Rhys watched her, amused, when she turned to look up and him and gestures him to lean forward. He obliged and she kissed him chastely.

“Hmmm, yeah that’s pretty similar to yesterday as well.”

“Sure you don’t want to try again?” Rhys asked, already leaning towards her again, just the little taste of her on his lips leaving him wanting.

Feyre shook her head and leaned away, resulting in a pouting mate. She laughed.

“Overall, I feel pretty much the same, although there’s one other thing I need to test—but it’ll have to wait until we’re alone,” she trailed off and slipped her hand from Rhys, leaving him speechless and immobile as she twists through the crowd to the tree, her mate staring after her and trying to put together a coherent sentence.

She’s only twenty-one. They have hundreds, thousands more years together. More birthdays and Yulemases and Solstices. More nights beneath the stars with their family—a family that will hopefully grow. The High Lord’s grin was blinding as he makes his way to where his wife stands, examining the ornaments and lights on the tree.

Feyre smirked up at him when he got to her and he had half a mind to winnow them back to their room and show her something to smirk about. But he doesn’t because there is still a heavy weight in his pocket.

“I haven’t given you my present yet.”

The High Lady looked around at the magnificent dance party. “Isn’t this my present?”

“This is Velaris’ present,” Rhys corrected, “This is from me.”

He pulled the square box from his coat pocket, the one Amren had retrieved from the jeweler this morning, and placed it gently in his wife’s hand.

She opened it carefully, the sounds of the party fading into the background as the two of them stood there under the endless night.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she murmured at last.

With great care, she lifted the small crystal heart from the box. Its delicate fractured shape glittered in the glow of the Iridescent Nightshade, casting small, dim rainbows along the surrounding surfaces.

“It’s a charm for your new bracelet,” Rhys explained, taking the box and slipping it back into his pocket. He proceeded to help her fasten the bauble to a vacant link on the circlet. “I vow to get you a new one for every year we are together.”

Feyre glanced from the bracelet to Rhys with a playfully concerned look. “I don’t know if this bracelet is big enough for all those charms.”

The High Lord shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “I guess we’ll just have to make it work. Together.”

“Together,” Feyre agreed, linking her arms around his neck with a happy sigh.

Rhysand leaned in, his eyes flicking between his mate’s eyes and her mouth. “Happy Birthday, darling.” He whispered.

“Happy Solstice, Rhys.”

“And Merry Yulemas to all.” And as his lips finally met hers, Rhysand knew that this would undoubtedly be his favorite time of the year, for the rest of their many, many more years together.

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illyrianwingspans · 8 years ago

Text

The House of Beasts, Part 3

Another update. I felt inspired today, and it actually came out really well! Here’s part 3. Happy Easter to all those who celebrate it, and happy sunday to those who don’t! Have a lovely day, nonetheless ;-)

Summary: Prythian University, the grounds where frat houses wage wars and throw the best parties yet. Feyre, an art student and girlfriend to the Head of House of the Spring House, discovers secrets everyone’s been keeping from her for the last year and a half. An ACOTAR/ACOMAF AU, which begins as Feylin then evolves into Feysand. Begins as ACOTAR, includes AU of Under the Mountain, but will focus more on Acomaf.

Word Count: 2555 words

Once again, thank you all for withholding any hate and supplying only constructive criticism (I really need it!) and sending any requests, suggestions, etc. Disclaimer: All characters and some direct and or modified quotes belong to Sarah J Maas, as well as some of the plot points. I take no credit for them whatsoever

Part 3: Secrets

Once the weekend had blown over, a quiet Sunday spent with my music and my paints in the study room, school came back full swing on Monday. I’d planned my schedule so I had all my harder courses packed early in the week, so Thursday and Friday were much more relaxed and spaced out. Sometimes it was a blessing: lazy Friday mornings when all I wanted to do was get out of school and spend the night with Tamlin, and some days, like today, it was hell, and I had no motivation whatsoever to step foot into a single classroom. I stopped by the Good Bean, ordered a double shot of espresso, and hurried my way over to psych, planting myself in the back of the room with my laptop and my coffee, my fingers hovering over the overpriced keyboard of my Mac Book that Tamlin had bought me at the beginning of the year. A good start to the year, he’d called it.

Today we were discussing Stockholm syndrome. How it was named Stockholm syndrome, in 1973 when two gun men in Stockholm held two hostages as prisoner for almost a week, and by the end of it, the hostages were in complete agreement with their captors, approving of the choice they’d made to hold them captive. The syndrome affects people with any kind of abusive relationship, whether it be child abuse, abusive relationships or even some prisoners of war have fallen in love with their captors. I found it fascinating, really, and kind of disheveling.

Nevertheless, the day went on, and I stopped to have my weekly lunch with Lucien, seeing as though for some reason our schedules seemed to coordinate on Mondays. We were sitting near the window, looking over the quad, seeing everyone passing by.

“I want to know, Lucien,” I said lowly, somehow paranoid that people were listening in. “I need to know who she is. If she’s really harmless, then you shouldn’t be afraid to talk about her.”

Lucien shot me a helpless look, then breathed a sigh of submission. “Amarantha is the owner of a club on the outskirts of campus. The building looks small from above, but it’s underground. They call it Under the Mountain.”

It was fitting, the name. Prythian University was built on a hill, I guess, the highest building pretty far up, yet it was an easily walkable incline. The view from the top was glorious, though, spreading across the whole city. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was a mountain, but dramatics, I suppose.

“She’s ruthless. A lot of underground dealings go on, whether it be drugs or any of the sort. But she’s cruel. And horrible. And she’s done many, many bad things to many people. Including all the Heads of Houses.” His tone was filled with disgust.

“Has she done anything to Tamlin?” now all I felt was concern, concern for the people of this campus, for the other Heads of Houses. I hadn’t met any of them yet, but nevertheless, a life was a life, and it should not be dimmed of happiness due to the doings of one messed up person.

“I…” he trailed off. “That’s for Tamlin to say. When he’s ready.”

I rolled my eyes, and balled the wrapping of my lunch with my fists, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “You know, I’m not an idiot. I can tell something’s wrong, and the more you assholes are going to be cryptic about it, the more I’m going to push to find out.” I stormed away, leaving him there on his own, and blasted the angriest song I could find on my phone as I stomped to art class.

Today, my fingers itched to paint flames. Destruction. Something dark and gruelling and awful, anything to rid myself of the anger that consumed me. But, instead, when I walked into class, a model was standing there, his back to me as he discussed quietly with Ms. Smith. He was dressed in dark, casual clothes, and his black—more navy blue in the sunlight—hair was familiar for some reason. I sighed. No flames today.

I set up shop with my regular spot near the side of the wide, beautifully lit classroom (thanks to the almost floor to ceiling windows) and readied my palette and my brushes. By the time class started, my sketch book was ready on my lap, my slender fingers wrapped around my favourite pencil. I’d been doodling on one of the pages, waiting for the model to step onto the tiny elevated surface, when the teacher addressed the class. I snapped the book shut and tucked it away.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Today we have a model, and though I know some of you were hoping to work on your own personal creations, I thought it’d be a nice change to have someone come in as inspiration. Some of you may be asking yourselves: is it going to be another nude?” the class chuckled along with her, and I gave a small smile. “Not today, folks. Today we’re concentrating on portraits…” she trailed off, and I scanned the room, looking for where the model had gone, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I flinched in my stool and turned around—to see Rhysand leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face, his arms crossed and looking absolutely smug. I couldn’t help but fight a grin.

“I didn’t know that you painted, darling” he murmured, a caress to my ears. My toes curled within my slip-on vans. This man. I should not be having these reactions for anyone who wasn’t my boyfriend, but I guess Rhysand Orpheus was the glorious exception.

“I’m here on an art scholarship,” I supplied lowly, trying to focus (yet failing miserably) on Ms. Smith’s words. “You’re the intruder in this classroom.”

“Yes, well, Ms. Smith is an old friend of mine and she happens to love my face,” he gave me a wink, and I rolled my eyes. “But you see, darling, my best feature is really my body. Especially one part of it, right below—”

“Oh, keep your mouth shut before I barf all over my canvas, you prick,” I said it with good humour, but I was truly embarrassed when my cheeks heated.

“Feyre? Are you alright?” demanded Ms. Smith from the front of the classroom, a displeased frown upon her face.

“Yes, fine,” I squeaked the reply. Shooting Rhysand a look that could kill, I kept my focus at the front.

“Well now, Feyre,” the way my name rolled off his tongue had my toes curling all over again. it hadn’t even occurred to me that he had no clue what my name was. He’d been calling me darling all this time. “I wish you luck. Not many can capture all this beauty onto a canvas.” With another wink, he walked away to the front of the classroom, sat upon the lip of the upraised surface, and forced his features into neutrality. Before I even realized, my fingers were already at work.

The first things that showed up on the canvas were his eyes. Only a brief outline, of course, but out of all the features that danced across his face, those were the ones that demanded attention. Then came his nose, his lips, eyebrows and jaw. And finally, that gorgeous sweep of hair, perfectly tousled yet somehow, every strand was exactly where it was supposed to be.

I ditched my pencil once I was satisfied with all the outlines, then brought out the paints.

I wasn’t even thinking straight. All I could see was his face and his features and his damn eyes, those beautiful eyes, and he may or may not have stared at me every once in a while. I didn’t notice. I was too caught up in my work, in the colours and the features, I was too caught up in him. My blood rushed and my heart soared, and I thought to myself how long it’d been since I felt like this. Like everything in my life could be accomplished if I gave myself to it.

Even once the class was over and people began to file out, I was still painting. Finishing his features, adding touch ups or shading here and there. Filling out the background, though, that was key. Finally, when I stepped away, there he was. Rhysand Orpheus, against the backdrop of a dark night sky.

I don’t know why the night was just so fascinating and comforting for me, but it was. It was infinitely dark and that may scare people, but I somehow felt…comfort. Amongst the darkness.

“It’s extraordinary,” the whisper was breathy against my ear and I jumped, dropping my paintbrush.

“Jesus Christ,” I swore, picking up the brush and dousing it in water. “Can you not?”

But Rhysand just stood there, chuckling to his heart’s content, leaning back against the wall as he was moments? No, almost two hours ago. I hadn’t even realized we were the only ones left in the classroom. This happened often, though, me being the last straggler. Ms. Smith found it charming, actually, that I poured that much time into my work, and she trusted me to lock the place up after I left.

“But it’s just so fun to see you jump in your skin,” he teased. “But of course, Feyre, in all honesty, I believe this is the best depiction I’ve ever seen of myself. And there have been many, believe me.”

I rolled my eyes. “My God, if you love yourself that much, you can keep the damned thing if you like. You probably wouldn’t be able to stop staring at it.”

“Well, of course! How could anyone take their eyes of this?” he gestured to his face.

“I can quite easily, thank you very much. Now leave. I’ve had enough of you for one day.” I shooed him away but he stayed put. Even while I boringly packed my things and put the canvas on a drying rack, carrying it as gently as I would carry a child. Once I was done, I slung my canvas bag over my shoulder, and stared at him.

“Well?” I said. “You going to walk me home?”

This time, a true smile, I think the first time he’d given me one, lit up his face. “Of course darling.”

+ + +

“As you said so many times, a handsome man like you must have a girlfriend, right?” I raised my eyebrows at him, and he shook his head, laughing.

“Not quite, darling. Women may be attracted to me, but they don’t stick around.”

“What does that mean?”

His eyes had a far off look to them, and he frowned a little when he said, “I’m not a good person, Feyre. Unfortunate as it is.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” I scoffed. “From what I’ve seen so far, Rhysand, you’re very kind. A goddamn prick,” we both chuckled, “But you’re kind.”

“Thank you,” he stared at his shoes for a moment while we walked, “That means a lot, Feyre. For what it’s worth, you’re extraordinary.”

I blushed, and before I even knew it, we were at the Spring House.

“I’m afraid this is about as far as I can go,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, staring up at the white brick of the House.

“What are you saying? Come in. They won’t kill you.”

“Well…” he trailed off, but feeling bold, I grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs.

“Come on. Just a few minutes. I want to show you something.” He sighed dramatically and I rolled my eyes.

Many heads turned once we entered, and I ignored them all, heading straight to the stairs that lead to my room, up on the third floor. And we were almost there, stumbling and laughing, when we ran into someone.

That someone being Tamlin.

The three of us paused on the landing of the second floor, each looking to the other, and I spotted Lucien in the background, whose eyes widened as he quickly approached us. The tension was fathomable in the air, and it seemed as though Tamlin was about to burst at the seams with rage.

“Tamlin Atwell,” Rhysand said with ease, ever so graceful, hands in his pockets. “It’s been a while. Amarantha sends her regards. And reminds you that time’s almost up.”

My head whipped to Rhys. Amarantha. This woman seemed to be intertwined with all their lives, and I was getting to the limit of being in the dark on all this information. And what did he mean that time’s almost up? What the fuck was going on? I stayed quiet though, knowing if I snapped at them, I would only make things worse.

“Rhysand. What are you doing with my girlfriend?” distaste dripped from every syllable that Tamlin uttered, and I winced.

“Girlfriend?” Rhys laughed, looking between the two of us. “The beast finally found someone to love him.” He laughed again, looking incredulous. This wasn’t the person I knew. This wasn’t the kind, albeit cocky prick that’d gotten past my walls of adamant within the past few days.

“Yes, girlfriend,” Tamlin growled. “Tell Amarantha that I haven’t forgotten. I will be there.”

Rhys chuckled, then suddenly turned and gripped both of my shoulders. Not enough to hurt, but just enough that I couldn’t move. This person, who I’d been laughing with only moments ago, now set fear chilling through my bones. Would he hurt me? I had no clue. Maybe that whole nice act had been a façade to keep me from seeing this side of him. His true side.

“Let her go,” Tamlini barked, striding quickly towards Rhysand to tear him off, but he didn’t move an inch. He only stared into my frightened eyes and said, “I wish you the best of luck, Feyre, because once Amarantha is done with you and your boyfriend…” Rhysand shook his head and loosened his grip, true sadness filling his features.

He stepped away, wiped invisible dust off his clothes, and faced Tamlin. “Always a pleasure, Tamlin. Lucien.” He gave them each a nod, held my gaze one last time, then vanished down the stairs without another word.

Instantly, Tamlin was by my side, an arm around my shoulder, and I could feel my hands shaking. Why would he do that? Why would he ever hurt me? He’d been so sweet and kind…I shook my head.

“I’m so sorry Feyre,” he pressed a kiss to my forehead, leading me to my room, but all I could do was stare straight ahead, still shell-shocked. “Rhysand Orpheus is a dangerous man. He’s Head of the Night House. It’s a sick place. Taunting people is a sport for him.” He spat each word. “You should’ve told me about him, Feyre. I would’ve dealt with it.”

I nodded, and he extracted my bag off my shoulder, then led me to the bed, where we both curled into the sheets. I couldn’t speak. I knew that I was overdoing it a little, but I really did like Rhysand. He’d been so kind. Why…? I couldn’t even form a single thought.

So I welcomed the aching darkness when sleep greeted me, and prayed that I could erase any thoughts of him from memory. He was gone.

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