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slytherhys · 5 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

In the spirit of the Holidays, I will be writing & posting short stories about the ACOTAR characters for the next 12 days. Please note that some will be shorter than others and that this is simply meant to be a fun time for everyone that loves these characters as much as I do!

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

4th day of Christmas - Ice Skating

Better Safe than Sorry (Elriel Drabble)

Velaris in the Winter was like a fairytale come to life. Small wooden stalls dotted the bank of the Sidra, vendors selling everything from hot beverages, to books, to trinkets from every other court. Fairy lights hung between lampposts, giving the city an ethereal glow even in the soft light of the Winter sun. Just to the side of the river, a rink of ice welcomed everyone for a spin, the laughter of children filling the air alongside the cheery music that so often played the streets.

It was truly a Winter Wonderland, and Feyre couldn’t be gladder she had dragged Rhys and everyone else to enjoy the festivities alongside the Velarians.

Even if her attention now lied elsewhere.

Feyre took a sip of her hot cocoa, frowning as her eyes followed Elain struggling to stand straight on her skates for longer than 3 seconds. Elain leaned against the barrier surrounding the ring, her cheeks rosy as she let out an embarrassed chuckle, eyes rising to whoever stood to her side.

She felt, rather than saw, Nesta approach her, shivering and cursing the cold under her breath. “Care to tell me why you’ve been standing here for the past ten minutes?” She asked. “It’s fucking freezing.”

It was – Feyre had lost feeling in her toes about 5 minutes ago, but she was just too enthralled to do anything about it. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to actually reply. Not when she spotted the male effortlessly skating towards Elain, a gentle smile on his face as he reached out a hand to help her.

“Feyre?” Nesta called again, huffing indignantly when she got no answer in return.

Feyre kept her eyes on the rink.

Elain, her hand in Azriel’s, tried to skate again, yelping as she stumbled against Azriel’s body the second she tried to move. Feyre tilted her head, watching as Azriel pulled her closer, head bent as he asked her something that earned him a blush and a nod.

“What are you looking at?” Nesta grumbled, eyes following Feyre’s line of sight. Feyre could feel the second Nesta spotted them, head tilting as well. “Oh.”

They watched as Elain and Azriel started to skate again, Elain much more at ease now that she was holding his hand, clinging to him - watching him - as if she feared she’d fall if she even dared step away. Azriel, for his turn, was watching her right back.

Neither seemed to notice the ease Elain now seemed to skate with.

Feyre hummed. “Didn’t Elain have skating lessons when she was younger?” She asked, watching as Elain “slipped” again; as Azriel immediately reached for her, hands going around her waist. Even from where she stood, Feyre could see the blush darkening his cheeks.

She finally turned to Nesta, as if trying to check if she was seeing what she was seeing.

Nesta smiled, a pleased look on her face. “Yes.” She smirked. “Yes, She did.”

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acotardaily · 4 years

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What better way is there to celebrate this season of joy than by rejoicing in ships we love? starting December 12th and ending Christmas day, acotardaily will be posting edits for your favorite acotar ships. In order to find out exactly which ships are your favorites, we’ve started a poll, which can be found below. vote for your favorites to see them in the final lineup!

It's the 12 days of shipmas babey!!!

to enter:

must be following @acotardaily

reblog this post to spread the word (optional)

vote for your favorite acotar ships here

#acotar #12days*#network announcement #kate

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slytherhys · 5 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

1st day of Christmas - Christmas Decorating

New Traditions (Modern Elriel AU)

Living with Elain Archeron, Azriel had found, implied a great many things. For starters, there wasn’t a windowsill that wasn’t peppered with colourful vases, the leaves green and luscious all year around. The kitchen, now covered in all kinds of baking supplies he couldn’t even begin to name, was constantly in such a state of disarray that the simple task of getting a glass of water easily turned into a hefty task. He couldn’t complain – not when every day he was greeted by a different kind of pastry his girlfriend was eagerly trying for the first time.

These, however, were details Azriel had been expecting when he first asked Elain to move in with him. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the sight of the enormous garland covered in berries, orange slices and small pinecones, hanging on their front door. Nor did he expect the tiny, chubby snowman sitting on it, staring at him with unwarranted joy. Azriel scowled.

It was the first day of December.

He opened the door, briefly wondering if Bing Crosby’s voice was crooning from their neighbour’s living room and not theirs. If the sweet voice singing along wasn’t his girlfriend’s – who couldn’t possibly be decorating on the 1st day of December – and belonged to Mrs. Allis instead.

Such wishful thinking was short-lived.

The house, Azriel noticed, smelled distinctively of ginger and cinnamon, and the wooden table in the foyer, usually covered in random knickknacks and their house keys, now sported entirely too many candles and a knitted reindeer wearing a Christmas sweater, welcoming him home with an innocent smile. Azriel settled his keys next to it, feeling oddly disturbed.

Azriel eyed the kitchen with concern. He wouldn’t go in – not yet at least – but he could glimpse Elain’s baking supplies on the counter, as well as a plate filled with red velvet brownies. Azriel swallowed a groan, fighting the urge to eat one – Elain knew how much he loved red velvet, but this felt premeditated. It felt like a bribery.

He kept walking, following the sound of Elain’s voice as he pointedly ignored the gingerbread house kit on the kitchen table (and the fact it remained unopened). Apprehension coursed through his body as he eyed the mistletoe hanging in the archway leading to the living room. As it was, Azriel usually decorated on the week before Christmas, and that was if Cassian nagged him enough that he’d just give up and put up whatever crappy decorations he had gotten throughout the years (read an old, plastic Christmas tree and a few random Christmas ball that didn’t really look good together). Azriel rarely spent Christmas in his own house, so it had never made much sense to decorate in the first place.

Elain, however, clearly had different plans.

Sure, this was their first Christmas together, but he couldn’t say he had expected this much…dedication on her part.

Azriel stopped in his tracks just as he reached the living room, eyes widening as he took in every single detail. Their once cosy living room was no longer. Their couch, a beige, dull thing by default, was covered in a fuzzy, checkered blanket, white pillows dotting its cushions. The usually empty mantelpiece was now covered by a green garland, dotted with fairy lights. Hanging from it, two stockings – one with an A stitched into it, the other with an E (if he seemed to smile at the sight of it, it was purely a muscle spasm).

He fought the urge to groan, side-eyeing the checkered blanket with horror once again. At least, he thought, there were no knitted animals in the living room.

Needless to say, he wasn’t entirely convinced on the Christmas decorations.

His girlfriend, however, was a sight to behold. He crossed his arms, fighting to not let his amusement show as he watched her. Even in her pyjamas and frowning at the tangled Christmas lights in her hands, Elain was lovely. Her cheeks were slightly pink, lips pursed in concentration as she appeared to fight the knotted mess in front of her (it seemed to Azriel she was losing, but he refrained from commenting on it). There was an old Christmas hat on her head, one Azriel faintly recalled taking home from one of Cassian’s holiday parties. It was entirely too big on her head, but it only made her all the more charming.

She was sitting on the floor, right next to a very tall, very bare Christmas tree. More boxes littered the floor around her, but Elain remained humming, unconcerned and completely unaware of Azriel’s presence in front of her.

Azriel hated to ruin her peace, but the checkered blanket seemed to mock him from the couch. He cleared his throat, face stoic ever as Elain yelped and looked up, eyes widening as she blushed.

“You’re home!” She greeted, standing up as she unceremoniously dropped the Christmas lights on the floor. Azriel raised an eyebrow, watching her as she turned down the volume of the music.

“What are you doing?” He asked, briefly wondering if this was one of those times Nesta had accused him of taking himself too seriously. Whatever that meant.

Elain, however, wasn’t deterred by his seriousness. She smiled prettily. “Decorating.”

Azriel made a show of raising both eyebrows. “It’s the 1st of December.”

“Yes.” She simply said, as if that explained everything.

“It’s the first of December.” He said again, not sure she had heard him correctly the first time.

“I’m aware.” She said, pushing the beanie away from her eyes. She did look adorable. “I’m in a festive mood. I wanted to do some light decorating.”

“Light?” He was vaguely aware he sounded like a crabby old man. Elain was too if the twitch in her lips was any indication. “Isn’t this all too much?” He still asked, eyeing the blanket.

He truly didn’t like that thing.

Elain blinked. Then she blinked again, taking in their living room. The couch, the tree, the mantle garland. Then she frowned. “Are you messing with me?”

Azriel scoffed. “Why would I be messing with you?” He took a step in her direction and Elain eyed him suspiciously. “There’s a gingerbread house in our kitchen.”

“No, there’s a gingerbread house kit in our kitchen.” She explained very slowly. “We’re going to build it together.”

“No, we’re not.” He chuckled, but his smile quickly fell away at her raised eyebrows. “We are?” He asked, frowning even as she walked towards him, a pretty smile on her lips.

“We are.” Elain said, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down as she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “But I made you red velvet brownies as a reward.” She whispered.

Azriel groaned, pressing his head against her neck, making her squeal as his beard tickled her skin. “You can’t distract me with brownies.”

“Are you sure?”

Azriel chuckled, wrapping his arm around her waist as he pushed the Christmas hat away from her eyes. “I am.”

“Well, can I distract you with something else?” She asked, her fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck. Azriel hummed, pressing his nose against her neck, taking her in for the first time in hours. He was almost distracted. Almost.

“Can we at least get rid of that blanket?”

Elain frowned, eyeing the couch. “What’s wrong with the blanket?”

Well, its very existence was wrong, in his opinion, and he opened his mouth to say just that.

“Nesta gave it to me.”

He promptly closed his mouth. The blanket was staying, then. Mother’s tits.

He cleared his throat. “And the tree?” He asked instead, trying to swiftly change the subject. Elain eyed with him a cheeky smirk, making it clear she was fully aware she had won the fight before it even begun.

Gods, he loved her.

“Were you going to start decorating it now?”

“Oh, well. No.” Elain turned shy, chuckling nervously. “I actually wanted to decorate it with you.”

“Right.” He nodded. “On the 1st of December?” He asked. Just to be sure. Elain chuckled, playfully pushing him away even as he tightened his hold around her.

She looked at the tree, avoiding his eyes. “I just wanted to give you a new tradition.” She shrugged. “Our own tradition.”

Oh. Oh.

He was an absolute fool.

Azriel looked at her, his heart beating wildly inside his chest. “You did, love?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “If you want to, that is.”

It was all he could do not to drop to his knees and show her exactly how much he did.

He kissed her instead, his tongue seeking hers, his hands roaming around her body. He groaned at the taste of her, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. Elain smiled against his lips.

“Is that a yes?” She asked, gasping as his hands found her ass.

“How could I ever say no to you?” And little did she know how much he really meant it.

Which would explain why, merely hours later, Azriel could be found wearing a stupid Christmas hat, ignoring the stupid checkered blanket, and helping Elain put up the last of the ornaments on the too big Christmas tree. And if he had a smile on his face…

Well, that had everything to do with the girl in his arms.

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slytherhys · 4 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

PS. I'm open to requests.

You can also find this series on AO3 - as well as all my other stories.

8th day of christmas - gingerbread house

CW: Explicit Sexual Content

No Crying Over Spilled Icing (Elriel NSFW)

Elain eyed the gingerbread house in front of her with something akin to misery. Only twenty minutes ago, when she had first taken the dough out of the oven, she had been immensely proud of herself – it had been baked to perfection, neither too dry nor too moist, with a beautiful golden-brown colouring and a smell so sweet Elain had fought herself not to eat the whole thing in one go.

Buttercream had been used to make intricate, delicate patterns on what would be the walls, as well as cute little tiles for the rooftop. Candies, too, had been used aplenty. It had looked promising. Beautiful even.

But that had been before she had realised one of the walls was cut too short – something Elain hadn’t noticed until she started setting everything together – giving the house a sort of crooked, haunted look that made it resemble more a Halloween decoration than a Solstice treat. The icing, of course, hadn’t helped either. The walls barely stuck together, and the rooftop was slowly falling to its demise. Elain watched it all unfold, unblinking.

A great architect Elain did not make.

When she had first told Feyre she’d be bringing her own gingerbread house – and not one of those sets the bakery sold every Solstice – she hadn’t been expecting a building made of dessert to be so damn infuriating. She was set to leave in an hour and a half, and she doubted she had the needed time to try it all over again. She doubted she could find the will to do it in the first place.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice startled her, her eyes finally turning away from the baked mess in front of her.

“A gingerbread house.” If it could be called that. It definitely didn’t look like one.

Azriel tilted his head, eyeing the house with a stoical expression. “Are those the ones from the bakery downtown?” His eyes flickered to hers. “Cassian had mentioned how he wanted to try and build one.”

Elain huffed, suddenly affronted. “Of course not.” Maybe she should have though.

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Right. Dumb question.” He narrowed his eyes, eyeing the eyesore with curiosity. “Why is it…slanted, though?”

“Well, first the icing melted,” She explained, hating the way her voice wavered. “And then the wall on the left was too short.” Azriel nodded along as if she was making perfect sense. “And it smelled really good, so I might’ve eaten one of the windows and now it looks weird.” She dropped her eyes again. “By the cauldron, it’s barely salvageable.”

“Why not just take the side of the roof that’s slipping away? It could probably stand, even if it’d be a little crooked.”

She bristled. “Then it’ll be a gingerbread box.” He gave no indication whatsoever that this information alarmed him. “Az, no one wants to eat a gingerbread box.”

Azriel smirked. As if it were funny. “Calm down, princess.” He looked at the mess in front of them, going around the counter so he could stand by her side. “We can fix this.” He said, and Elain watched from the corner of her eyes as he came to stand right behind her instead, his arms going around her as he reached for the gingerbread in front of her.

“What are you doing?” She gasped.

“Why, helping you, of course.”

She highly doubted he was that innocent. His scent surrounded her, the heat from his body resting upon her skin as a gentle caress. It was all Elain could do to keep her eyes open, to follow his hands as he gently studied her creation. She could hear his steady breathing, quickly realising just how close he was to her. His lips were by her ear, his front pressing against her back every so often.

“Maybe we could do a tent instead?”

Elain frowned at the suggestion. It could work, even if it felt lazy to do so. She felt his hands on her hips, caressing her as she mumbled, “I suppose so.”

He seemed pleased by her quick acceptance, the feeling of his lips so faint against her skin, it was nearly unnoticeable. “Or just accept the defeat and do something else instead.”

Elain hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes, but at the sound of his lewd proposal, she snapped them open, promptly stepping closer to the counter and stepping away from him. “You’re distracting me.”

“Am I?” He stepped closer once again, pressing his nose against her neck, his lips a breath away from touching her fevered skin. “You smell good.”

Elain nearly whimpered “That’s just the gingerbread.”

He pressed his mouth against her shoulder, nibbling softly as if he couldn’t help but taste her. “I’m pretty sure it’s you.”

She turned around, ignoring her erratic breathing. “I still need to bake another batch-” She gasped as she felt his hands on her waist, raising her so she was sitting on the counter before she could finish her sentence. “Azriel, we don’t have enough time for that.” Truth be told, she was doing very little to push him away.

Azriel, of course, noticed that as well.

“I think we have more than enough time, princess.” He said, voice raspy as he stepped even closer. Elain wasn’t sure where her body ended and where his began, but as he kissed her jaw, the corner of her mouth, it felt like the most urgent thing that he stepped even closer.

Elain nearly whimpered as he pulled away, panting as he grabbed the hem of her skirts, pulling them up at an agonising speed.

Elain, however, wasn’t to be deterred. “Someone’s cocky.” She said, far too breathy for it to mean much.

He raised an eyebrow, scarred hands trailing up her legs. “Is that a challenge princess?”

Elain ignored the goosebumps raising all over her skin, ignored the craving that seemed to throb with her every heartbeat. “If you’re up for it.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” A smirk was all the warning she got before Azriel pressed his face between her legs. Elain cried out, mindless with want. Her legs quickly wrapped around his shoulders, pressing him closer to her at the first touch of his tongue against her center. She was vaguely aware of leaning back on her hands, accidentally spilling what remained of the icing on the counter.

She couldn’t bring herself to care – she reached for his hair with her other hand, moaning as he devoured her. He moaned her name against her core as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He was a man starved, licking her, and fucking her with his tongue as if this was both the first and the last time he ever got to do this. The feeling of his large, scarred hands pulling her thighs apart, the scratch of his beard against her sensitive skin, it was all too much. Azriel had barely pushed a finger inside her before Elain was tumbling over the edge, his name on her lips as she bucked against his mouth over and over and over again.

“Sweetest fucking thing in the world.” He growled, more to himself than to her. He was panting, eyes dark as he took her in. She probably looked like a mess, panting, hands covered in icing, legs opened in a lewd display of her arousal. Elain felt herself blush under his scrutiny, but any embarrassment quickly faded as he took her mouth, his tongue seeking hers. “Turn around, princess.” He mumbled against her lips, helping her get down from the counter before lightly slapping her ass. “We’re on a schedule.”

Funnily enough, that was the furthest thing from her mind. Nothing mattered – not the party, not the spilled icing, not even the gingerbread house that had somehow ended up splattered on the kitchen floor. There was nothing but him. Not as he pushed inside her, his length stretching her as if it were their very first time together. Her every nerve-ending was on fire, her body craving him even as he filled her again and again. There were only the sounds he made as he rutted into her, the gentleness in his hands as he pulled her by her hair, the wantonness in the way he kissed her.

“You’re making such a mess, princess.” He panted against her ear, pulling down her corset, his hands quickly grabbing into her bare tits.

“Please.”

“Are you close?” Elain could do nothing but nod. He had barely pulled out of her when she was being turned around, her eyes quickly finding his as he pushed back inside in one swift move, as if he had never left. “I need to see you when you come.” And then he was wrapping her leg over his hip, filling her even deeper.

He wrapped his lips around her nipple, nibbling on the sensitive skin as his cock kept pounding into her. The feel of his mouth, of his cock… All Elain could do was scream out his name as she crashed, coming around his cock just as he spilled into her.

“Fuck.” He panted, hips still bucking against her.

Elain giggled, high on his touch. “Think I still have time to bake something?” She asked, shamelessly pressing her lips to his chest, his throat, his lips, taking them between her teeth and pulling gently. He hissed.

“Not if you keep doing that.” His gaze roved over her before finally settling on her eyes with a mischievous glint. “And I don’t think that gingerbread cake is salvageable anymore.”

Elain supposed not, but she wasn’t a quitter.

In no time – and with a lot of effort – Elain was kicking Azriel out of the kitchen, scrubbing every nook and cranny of the counter and busying herself with something else. Something quick that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

Or so she had hoped.

“Where’s the gingerbread house?” Feyre asked only a few minutes later, eyeing the plain gingerbread cookies Elain had managed to bake in the measly thirty minutes she had been left with. Azriel, at Feyre’s question, gave Elain a heated stare, a smirk blooming on his lips as he casually strolled into the living room without a care in the world. Elain felt her cheeks heat up, pointedly ignoring her sister’s knowing smile. “Had a change of heart?”

Elain cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders as she made her way to the kitchen. “Sure,” she said. “let’s call it that.”

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #pro elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #christmas fic #gingerbread house #feyre archeron #12 days of christmas acotar edition #christmas stories #christmas #happy solstice #christmas prompts #my writing

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slytherhys · 4 months

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12 days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

You can find all the stories I wrote for this series down below.

Enjoy and happy holidays!

1st day of christmas: christmas decorating - New Traditions (Modern Elriel AU)

2nd day of christmas: hot chocolate - Sweet & Spice (Nessian Drabble)

3rd day of christmas: mistletoe - Unsuspected Kissing (Feysand)

4th day of christmas: ice skating - Better Safe than Sorry (Elriel Drabble)

5th day of christmas: cookie decorating - It's just cookies (Archeron Sisters)

6th day of christmas: ugly christmas sweater - Proof of Love (Nessian AU)

7th day of christmas: christmas shopping - Frozen Fingers (Feysand Drabble)

8th day of christmas: gingerbread house - No Crying Over Spilled Icing (Elriel NSFW)

9th day of christmas: solstice - A life by your side (A Feyre Archeron Celebration)

10th day of christmas: gift giving - Nyxmas (Drabble)

11th day of christmas: secret santa - On pretty daggers & ambigous flowers (Elriel)

12th day of christmas: christmas dinner - A Blessing. All of it. (Rhys Drabble)

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slytherhys · 4 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

This is officially the last chapter of the 12 Days of Christmas series! I want to thank everyone who took a little of their time to read these stories. You guys mean the world to me and I'm so lucky to be able to write to such an amazing fandom. Every comment, every like, every reblog means everything to me and I take your appreciation with me every time I'm writing a new story.

You can also find this series on AO3

12th day of christmas - Christmas Dinner

A Blessing. All of it - Rhysand Drabble

The High Lord of the Night Court wasn’t known to be a very emotional male. He had a reputation all across Prythian, and it certainly wasn’t one that spoke of his sensitivities. He had a role to fill, and he had filled it gladly in order to protect his family. To protect Feyre.

That High Lord, however, was nowhere to be found tonight.

As his inner circle gathered around the dining table, chatting, and eating, Rhysand couldn’t help but feel unfiltered joy settle deep into his bones. Wherever he looked, love and happiness shone as bright as the candles flickering on the table, sending a warm haze all around the living room. The scent of holly and pine was as strong as scent of the meal Elain, Nuala and Cerridwen had so carefully prepared - and not nearly as mouthwatering.

By his side, Feyre sipped her wine as she chatted with Morrigan about her studio, his cousin offering her own advice every once in a while. Azriel, on the other side of the table, seemed too enthralled by whatever Elain was telling him to even notice the smile blooming on his face - a rare sight to see. For her part, Elain seemed just as enchanted. Across from Rhys, Nesta and Amren were engaged in a heated debate about books, Cassian chewing his food and nervously looking on as if prepared to intervene if necessary.

Rhys looked down at the babe drooling all over his shirt, a smile tugging up at his lips. Nyx had crashed only minutes after they had all sat down for dinner, the excitement of his first Solstice too draining for his tiny body. His little first was wrapped around Rhysand's sweater, his covered, little feet kicking him in the stomach every so often, as if Nyx was trying to take flight in his own dreams. Rhys was completely enraptured. Incredulous, too, seemed appropriate, for the truth was that he had lived many, many lives – had known loss, and heartbreak, and pain. But never had he known happiness like this; love like this. He’d never imagined he'd be deserving of it in the first place.

Now, he couldn’t imagine it being any different. Every tortuous road had led him to this table, surrounded by the people he had loved the most. As hard as it had been, they had all found each other – broken and lost – and against all odds they had made a family. A bickering, messy, but true family.

As he rubbed his son’s back, as he felt Feyre’s hand reach out for his under the table, he could feel no regrets - what had made him cold and lethal to the world had been what allowed them all to be here tonight. For that alone, he would not - could not - have changed a thing. No, he simply looked up at the stars and thanked them - tonight, there was no war, no duels, no political scheming. For at least tonight, it was their turn to just be.

And what a blessing that was.

#rhysand #pro rhysand #drabble #12 days of christmas acotar edition #elain archeron #azriel #elriel #feyre archeron #feysand #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #morrigan #amren #nyx #nyx x feyre x rhys #christmas fic #acotar fic

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slytherhys · 4 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

You can also find this series on AO3

11th day of christmas - Secret Santa

On pretty daggers & ambigous flowers - Elriel

When Feyre had first announced they’d be doing a Secret Santa, Azriel had been less than pleased. He was a busy man, not to mention his skills for gift-giving left much to be desired. It wasn’t that he was terrible at it, but he wasn’t good at it either. In fact, the very thought of having to give something to someone nearly sent him spiralling.

He loved his sister-in-law to bits, but truth be told, her ideas rarely did him any good.

His apprehension only seemed to grow as Feyre went on to explain how Secret Santa worked and when it would take place (entirely too soon). Azriel, for his part, could only pray to the mother in hopes that he’d get Cassian. To his brother, at least, he would know what to give. There was some kind of sugary almond treats from Adriata he often moaned about and rarely ate – mainly because he had gotten himself banned from the Summer Court. Azriel could easily drop by Adriata before his next assignment. It’d be easy enough.

Fate, naturally, had other plans.

Azriel blinked down at the piece of parchment he had retrieved from Feyre’s knitted beanie. Then he blinked at his sister-in-law, who was looking at him with entirely too much curiosity on her face. Azriel nodded once, not letting a thing show on his face as he leaned against the wall. He said nothing, did nothing, knowing too well everyone around the room was watching him, waiting for a single clue of who he’d gotten. Azriel just stared ahead blankly, trying not to smirk as both Feyre and Mor grumbled things under their breaths he wasn’t supposed to hear.

He tucked his hand inside the pocket of his leather pants, clenching it around the parchment as if it had personally wounded him. Inside his chest, his heart galloped, sending waves of fire through his body at every unsteady beat. His hearing, too, seemed to grow muted as he looked around the living room, watching his family share secret smiles and an excitement he couldn’t feel.

His past haunted him as loudly as the name tucked away inside his pocket. Only one year ago, a measly gift had nearly undone them before his eyes. What else could he do now but to give it his all? He’d travel across the courts. He’d search every shop, every market, every fair. He wasn’t to be deterred.

One thing was for certain: there was nothing easy about this gift.

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

When Azriel walked into the River House exactly two weeks later, he wasn’t feeling more confident in his gift than he had at first. The package weighed close to nothing in his hand, but the concern in his chest seemed to drag him down as he me made his way towards the living room, where everyone was already chatting, eating, and drinking. Azriel silently made his towards the table, serving himself a cup of mead.

His presence, however, didn’t go unnoticed for long. Soon, Feyre was wrapping her arms around him, wishing him a Happy Solstice. Her rosy cheeks and wine-stained lips told him enough, as did Cassian’s slurry greeting. Those two had been drinking for hours already – as had Mor, if the way she announced Amren was her Secret Santa was any indication. Feyre, for one, wasn’t impressed, but there was little she could do when everyone took the hint and started handing out their gifts.

Azriel was grateful for the temporary chaos, his eyes scanning the room for-

“Happy Solstice, Az.” An all-too familiar voice sounded from his left, and Azriel smiled softly as he turned to find Elain staring up at him, her hands behind her back. His name on her lips was a taunt, a flurry of secrets in two syllables alone.

“Happy Solstice, Elain.” He made sure to say her name, entranced by the way her cheeks seemed to darken under his stare. Before he could do something he definitely shouldn’t do – like kiss her or throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to the Town House – Azriel handed her the package in his hand. Elain stared at the plain brown wrapping paper, blinking as her pretty lips rounded into a surprised O.

She smiled sheepishly. “You got me?” She asked, leaning a bit closer. “Or is this a repeat-”

Azriel cleared his voice, embarrassment rushing to his face. “I got you.”

He thought he saw her fight a smirk. “Right.” She said under her breath, gently opening up the gift in her hands. She eyed the leather box, her eyes flickering to Azriel as something secret seemed to charge between them. Azriel glanced at the room beyond them, happy to see everyone to drunk or too distracted to pay them any mind. “Oh.” Elain’s gasp quickly grabbed his attention again, and when he turned to look at her she was holding a dagger in her hands.

The hilt was compact emerald glass, its quillon decorated with flowers made of colourful stones. A gold, damascened inscribed blade made of the strongest yet lightest metal he could find, slightly curved to the left as if to sustain more damaged if she learned how to use it. And he’d make sure she learned. The scabbard set was leather decorated in fine, silvery thread that depicted flower after flower - the very same ones that dotted her garden in the Town House. And then, so tiny you could barely notice it, one pair of bat wings. A secret message just for her - one she quickly recognised, widening her eyes and smiling widely.

It was beautiful as it was practical – something he thought she could come to appreciate, even if she had never asked for another blade after stabbing the King of Hybern in the neck.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.” He muttered, watching her closely for a glimpse of a reaction. There was nothing on her pretty face as she stared at the dagger in her hands. “I thought maybe I could give you some lessons on how to use it.” Elain’s eyes flickered to him at that. “You can use it for gardening if you prefer to do so, of course. I just thought you’d like to learn how to yield it.”

Her lips tugged up. “Did I do so badly the last time around?”

Not in the slightest. That moment alone had saved his brother’s life, and for that alone, Azriel would always be in awe of the woman in front of him. Still, uncapable of not challenging her, he said, “There’s room for improvement.”

Elain hummed, smirking softly as she tilted her head to the side.

“You hated it.” He said indifferently, even if he felt everything but. His chest was close to collapsing on itself. He was glad there were people around them; gladder still that they paid them no mind.

Elain chuckled softly, her soft hand wrapping around the hilt of the dagger. Trying it. Assessing it. Feeling it. “I love it.” She said in disbelief, eyes flickering up to him. “I’d appreciate your lessons.” She glanced at the living room, clearing her throat, and standing a bit straighter as her gaze turned to his. “To improve, of course.”

Azriel smirked, not bothering to see who watched them. His bet was on Feyre. “Of course.”

“Well,” She reached for the table behind her, handing him a perfectly wrapped package – decorated with a sprig of mistletoe and a pretty, rope bow. “This is for you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re my Secret Santa?”

Elain shrugged, hiding her hands behind her back once again. “Maybe there’s someone looking out for us.”

“Did you ask Feyre to pair us together?” Azriel tilted his head every so slightly. In front of everyone else, is what he didn’t need to add.

“I hardly think Feyre needs further motivation on that end.” She smiled serenely, shaking her head. "But I surely don't mind it."

Azriel shook his head, fighting off the smirk that threatened to break free. He opened the bag in his hands, reaching inside with entirely too much caution, only to pull back a small, cotton sack. Inside, unfamiliar seeds stared back at him. Azriel looked at the woman in front of him, raising his eyebrows in question.

Elain merely smiled. “You seem to enjoy spending time in the garden,” Her eyes glinted under the candlelight surrounding them. “It must be tedious to spend so much time doing so little.” The teasing in her voice would be obvious to no one other than him, something that thrilled him entirely too much.

Azriel didn’t dare say anything, not as he kept staring at the seeds in his hand. The tag read gardenia jasminoides. Gardenias – the very same flowers that had surrounded Elain and Azriel when he last had his head between her legs. He turned to her, unable to keep the smile off his face. The room in front of them was but a mirage, far from something they should be worried about.

She smiled expectantly. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re fucking amazing at this Secret Santa thing.”

“Yeah?” She grinned. “You should see the gift I have for you at the Town House.”

Azriel couldn't help but groan this time around, his imagination running wild. He quickly glanced at the living room before asking, “Tonight?”

Elain simply smirked, starting to step away when she turned around, a saucy smile on her lips. “Bring the mistletoe.” And then she was sauntering off to the desert table without another word. Azriel smiled, his eyes never leaving her form as she reached Nesta, looking at whatever book Rhysand had begrudgingly offered her. He looked down at the gardenia seeds, just as Elain felt for the sheathed dagger in her hand, eyeing her gift with awe.

Neither seemed to notice their High Lady watching them with a pleased smile on her face.

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

A/N: I don't think I ever mentioned this, but every single flower I include in my fics has a meaning of some kind 😉 (You can easily find it on google!)

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slytherhys · 5 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

3rd day of Christmas - Mistletoe

Unsuspected Kissing

Rhys eyed his family, noting the happiness on their faces, the ease that seemed so familiar now, when years ago, it had felt so foreign. Sitting by the fire, Nesta and Elain chatted about whatever book they’d both been reading lately, Amren intervening with her own thoughts ever once in a while. Morrigan was sitting across from them, sprawled on the couch as she drained yet another glass of wine, cackling loudly at whatever Feyre said that made Azriel blush in his seat. They were all so content, so relaxed. It was exactly what he had wanted for the Solstice.

And yet, Rhys couldn’t help but feel…extremely fucking grumpy.

Not that anyone could tell, of course – leaning against the door frame, Rhysand stood with his arms crossed as he watched his wife with a scowl on his face. Really, he was the epitome of grace and joy.

When he had first asked Elain to bring him some mistletoe, he had assumed kissing his mate under the unsuspected green branch would be easy enough.

Everything had been going exactly according to plan. Rhys, a man-prepared if there ever was one, had gotten out of bed while Feyre still dozed, sneaking away from their bedroom to hang the damned mistletoe and make her breakfast. He had been extremely pleased with the idea of spending his day kissing his mate senseless whenever they oh so accidentally crossed paths under the wooden beam of the door frame.

So, when he first spotted her coming down the stairs, his sweater covering her body, hair still messy from sleep, Rhysand had smirked.

“Good morning, darling.” He had drawled. Feyre had rubbed the sleep away from her eyes, smiling as Rhys handed her a mug filled with freshly pressed coffee.

“Good morning,” she had said, standing on her tiptoes as she reached for his lips.

And then the doorbell had rung, signalling Elain’s arrival with boughs of holly under her arms, Azriel right behind her carrying what appeared to be a small pine tree.

Rhysand had stared at them blankly, his well-thought-out plans crashing down right in front of him. Elain, clearly misunderstanding his confused look, had simply smiled.

“It’s a human tradition.” She had offered as an explanation, breezily walking past them as if nothing was wrong. Feyre had followed after Azriel, excitedly pointing to where exactly she wanted the greenery to go.

From then on, it was chaos. Soon, Nesta and Cassian arrived, quickly followed by Amren and Varian, all bringing food, presents and entirely too much cheer. Still, he persevered, trailing after Feyre in what he hoped to be a charming, helpful manner (sure, she had cursed him inside his mind more than enough times, but such was their bond).

Needless to say, Feyre hadn’t noticed the mistletoe, let alone his intentions of kissing her for approximately two hours. Give or take. And as it was, all hope had gone down the drain when Morrigan announced her arrival, carrying too many bottles of wine. Rhys had merely sat down on the couch, slumping away in his defeat and disappointment.

A solstice without a single kiss from Feyre. It made him sick even thinking about it.

Hours had passed and he now stood under the wooden beam once again, glaring at the shrub. Rhysand had never noticed how accusing a plant could look. What had promised to be a delightful tradition, was now a perverse reminder he hadn’t kissed Feyre all day.

An obnoxiously loud sigh sounded from his side. Rhysand didn’t have to look to know Cassian was standing there with was probably a shit-eating grin.

“You know,” He lowered his voice, standing too close for comfort. “they say it’s bad luck if you don’t kiss under the mistletoe.” He whispered seductively. Or at least trying to sound it.

Rhysand gave him a dull look. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Party pooper.” Cassian grumbled, taking a sip of his mulled wine and, unfortunately, making absolutely no move to leave.

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you with anything?”

“You’re looking extra jolly this evening, brother.” Cassian smirked. “Trouble in paradise?”

Rhys stared at him, making a show of exactly how unimpressed he was.

Cassian sighed loudly. “It’s starting to get pathetic how needy you are.” He threw an arm around his shoulders. “You could just ask her, you know?” He suggested. “Communication is key.”

“Aren’t you the little relationship expert?” Rhys drawled. Cassian preened at that, grinning as he stared at Nesta.

“I don’t know brother,” He could hear the pride in his voice. “I’m actually very good at it.” He said, just as Nesta turned around, a not so happy look on her face as she stared at her mate, signalling him to go to her. “Mother’s tits.” He grumbled.

“Clearly very good at it.”

“That’s just love.” He shrugged, making his way towards Nesta as he said too loudly, “Just talk to her.” And then he was off, kissing Nesta before she even had the opportunity to scold him for whatever he had done this time around.

Rhys turned to Feyre. Asking her would take away the surprise element he was going for, but it was better than to not kiss her at all. Just as he was about to make his way towards his mate, Feyre tried to get up, losing her balance just as she stood. Falling down on the couch, she looked up at Rhysand, a sheepish smile on her lips. He couldn’t help but smile back.

Darling, are you drunk? He asked down their bond.

“That’s not a very appropriate question.” Feyre answered out loud, earning confused looks from everyone in the room.

“That’s a yes.” He smirked, watching her as she got up once again – this time successfully - making her way towards him.

“I’m having fun.” She shrugged, throwing her arms around his neck. Rhysand’s heart started to beat wildly inside his chest, as it tended to do whenever she was around.

He raised his hand, pushing a lock of her hair away from her face. “I know, my love.”

She frowned. “But you are not.”

“Of course I am.” He smiled softly. “How could I not?”

“You’ve been brooding all night long-”

“I’m not brooding.” He grumbled.

“And you haven’t kissed me once.” She said indignantly. That shut him up.

“I’m sorry,” Rhysand whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead before looking into her eyes. “I never meant to deprive you from such a gift.” He teased – like the hypocrite he was - yelping when he felt her punch his arm.

“I sure hope not.” She huffed.

“Is…” He gulped, looking around. “Is this what you wanted? What you wished for today?”

“This is everything I ever wanted.” She said, honesty shining in her eyes as she stared up at him. “You?”

Rhys didn’t even need to think about it. “I couldn’t imagine a better Solstice.” He kissed her nose. “A better life than this one, where I get to spend my days with you.”

Feyre smiled brightly at his words, her eyes flickering up as her cheeks pinked further. “Look,” She gasped. “mistletoe.” Mischief alighted her gaze.

“How convenient.” He heard Cassian’s grumble from across the room.

Rhys felt himself smile, pulling Feyre’s body closer to his, his left hand gently tilting her jaw just right. He felt his heart settle, felt as Feyre, too, settled against him. There was nothing else that mattered. Nothing else that he could think of saying other than, “Finally” as he pressed his lips against hers.

Just like he was supposed to.

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slytherhys · 5 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

2nd day of Christmas - Hot Chocolate

Sweet & Spice (Short Nessian Fluff)

Nesta blinked. Then she blinked again, eyes flickering to the male towering over her. Cassian stared at her in bewilderment, his arm still hovering between them, a mug in his hand.

“You made hot chocolate for me?” She asked, voice incredulous as she eyed the mug again. Cassian tried not to yelp as his fingers burned against the ceramic.

“You like it, don’t you?” He frowned. “I wanted to surprise you.” But maybe eggnog would’ve been a better idea. Or just tea – you couldn’t really go wrong with tea, could you? Cassian stepped back, regret coursing through his body at an alarming speed. How could he not know if his mate liked hot chocolate or not? What kind of-

“Cassian,” Nesta called softly, standing on her knees as she took the mug from his hand – thank god – and took a sip. “Sit down.”

Cassian did, albeit warily as he watched her set the mug down on the coffee table. “Why?”

Nesta smiled, his heart fluttering in his chest at the sight of it. hot cocoa long forgotten as her cold hands reached for his shirt, sending shivers down his body. Specially as she whispered, “Because now it’s my turn to surprise you.”

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #12 days of christmas acotar edition #holiday fic #christmas fic #my fics #my work #acotar #acomaf #acowar #winter solstice #happy solstice

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slytherhys · 4 months

Text

12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

5th day of Christmas - Cookie Decorating

I'm dedicating this to Elisa for giving me so many good ideas for this challenge. I love you and you're the best and I hope this story does your idea justice.

It's just cookies! (Archeron Sisters Bonding)

If anyone happened to enter the kitchen of the townhouse, they would probably be extremely confused at the sight before them. Alarmed even.

Feyre stood hunched over a tray of cookies, a look of pure concentration on her face as she gently drew different patterns with the pipping bag in her hands. Stars, and snowmen, and Solstice trees appeared under her sister’s talented hands, each one looking more mouthwatering than the other.

On the other end of the counter, Nesta stared at the tray in front of her with disdain, holding the pipping bag in her hands with what could only be described as a death grip. There were already two cookies decorated, though Elain couldn’t be quite sure of what they were supposed to be. She wasn’t sure Nesta knew either if the frustrated look on her face was any indication.

When Elain had first suggested to her sisters that they all bake cookies for their family it had been a fiddle attempt at spending more time with them. Sure, she had only vaguely mentioned the fact they’d be baking them from scratch, but Elain had been confident enough in her skills that she had expected things to go smoothly. Looking around her, she couldn’t help but grimace, very much regretting the suggestion that any of her sisters step foot in the kitchen in the first place.

There wasn’t an inch of the kitchen counter that wasn’t covered in either burnt parchment paper or whatever ingredients had been used to bake gingerbread cookies (Elain couldn’t quite recall why cheese was one of them, but she tried not to think about it). Solstice-themed cookie cutters were pilled precariously by the sink, where every single baking tool Elain ever owned now seemed to be.

Out of the four batches Elain had originally planned to bake, only two remained. One had ended up in the trash, burnt and possibly toxic, while the other had been eaten by both Feyre and Nesta. Stress-eating, Feyre had offered as an explanation at Elain’s affronted glare.

Now, Elain couldn’t help but crave something to nibble on too. The baking should’ve been the hardest part of it, but Elain was close to tears as she watched both her sisters decorate the cookies. Between Feyre’s perfectionism and Nesta’s utter lack of talent, it was all Elain could do not to kick them out of her kitchen. Out of her house. Mainly as Nesta cursed rather colourfully for what was probably the tenth time in the past thirty seconds.

“Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” Nesta muttered under her breath as she tried to draw a smiley face on the snowman in front of her. At least that’s what Elain assumed she was going for.

“We’re bonding.” Elain said exasperatedly, hovering behind her older sister. “Stop squeezing the bag like that or else you won’t have any icing left for the other cookies.”

“I’d like to squeeze your neck, instead.” Nesta grumbled.

Feyre snorted. “I don’t think we’re very good at bonding, Elain.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re very good at baking, either.” Elain mumbled, biting her nails as she fought the urge to help Nesta. Her fingers were tingling with the need to reach for the pipping bag and just show her how easy it was to handle it. Or how unnecessary it was to completely strangle it.

Nesta eyed her cookies with a tilted head, then eyed Feyre’s cookies with envy. “How is it fair that I’m competing against Feyre? She’s a cauldron-damned painter.”

“This is not a competition.” Elain said, eyeing Feyre’s cookies. They did look beautiful, but Nesta didn’t need to hear that. Not when she was trying so hard. “This is a friendly, innocent activity. It’s just cookies!” She tried to be cheerful, but she feared she was edging lunacy. By the look her sisters gave her, she probably looked it as well.

“And if it were a competition, you’d at the very least get a participation medal.” Feyre smirked, ducking down just as a gingerbread cookie flew in her direction. She narrowed her eyes at her older sister. “That’s not very friendly of you.”

“Please, don’t waste anymore cookies.” Elain whined. At this rate, their friends would be lucky if they could get one each. “We don’t have the time to bake another batch and I refuse to bother Nuala and Cerridwen on Solstice.” Was she hyperventilating? It certainly felt like she was.

“Ladies,” A familiar voice sounded from behind Elain, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around and watch as Rhysand strolled inside the kitchen. Not when it looked as if it had felt victim to one of Cassian’s drunken pranks. “Why is Elain having a meltdown?”

Feyre smiled, leaning against her mate as he reached her side. “We’re very bad at bonding.”

“And baking. Very bad at baking.” Elain added, mildly terrified as Azriel and Cassian too appeared in the doorway.

“Can’t be that bad, can it?” Cassian grinned, peering into both trays. He shrugged. “They look edible.”

Azriel grabbed a cookie, eyebrows rising as he tried to understand exactly what he was looking at. He didn’t seem to entirely agree with Cassian’s statement. “I’m guessing Nesta decorated these?” He asked, a smirk on his lips.

“Don’t be a dick.” Cassian said, chewing the head of a snowman. “They’re…” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he eyed the plate in front of him. “abstract. Right, Nes?”

Nesta gave him a blank stare. “Sure.”

Azriel shook his head, trying to hide a smile as he eyed Elain. “Did you bake anything?” Was it her or had that felt more like an accusation than an innocent question?

Bastard.

She felt her face heat as everyone’s attention turned to her. “N-no.”

Azriel narrowed his eyes, knowing smile on his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Why would she bake anything?” Feyre objected before Elain could say anything. “She asked us to do it with her.”

“And she trusts us.” Nesta added. Then paused, turning to her sister as if suddenly unsure. “Right?”

Elain nodded quickly, ignoring Azriel’s taunting smile as she focused on her sisters instead. “Of course I do!” She assured them, because she truly did.

Even if she had gotten up at dawn to bake a few batches as precaution.

#archeron sisters #feyre archeron #elain archeron #nesta archeron #rhysand #azriel #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #12 days of christmas acotar edition #christmas stories #12 days of christmas #christmas writing

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slytherhys · 4 months

Text

12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

6th day of christmas - ugly christmas sweater

this oneshot is dedicated to Candice. Thank you for helping me whenever I'm writing about Nessian. love you frenchie

Proof of Love (Nessian AU)

If there was one thing Cassian knew about his girlfriend, it was that she loved receiving gifts. Books, clothes, a pretty flower he picked up from the street on his way home… Nothing could quite compare to the smile that took over Nesta’s lips whenever he surprised her with a new present.

Which didn’t really explain why she was now sitting on their couch, her book long discarded, staring at his latest gift with a blank face. Cassian felt his grin falter, eyeing the sweater in her hands.

“What is this.” She asked, eyes never straying away from the garment in front of her.

Yeah, Cassian was mildly suspicious she hadn’t like it all that much.

“An ugly Christmas sweater.” He said nonetheless, eyeing the red sweater. He had thought it was hilarious when he had first seen it: the upside-down bat and his cheeky grin, the little Christmas hat that was adorned with a real, tiny bell that jingled whenever Nesta moved.

He ignored the way the frown on Nesta’s face seemed to deepen whenever it rang.

“I can see that.” Her eyes flickered to him once before returning to the sweater, as if still not quite believing what was in front of her. Whether that was a good or a bad sign, Cassian wasn’t entirely sure. “Why?”

Now it was his turn to frown. “What do you mean why? So you wear it.”

“Where exactly would I wear this?”

“Feyre and Rhysand’s party.” Cassian said, since it seemed pretty obvious to him. “The invitation specifically indicated Ugly Christmas Sweater as the preferred attire.”

“My preferred attire is my normal clothes.” She raised an eyebrow at his wounded expression. “I’m not wearing this, Cassian.” She said, folding the sweater and reaching for the shopping bag once again. As if it was decided.

“And why not?”

She gave him a blank stare. “It’s hideous.”

“That’s the whole point of it.” At least he thought it was. When Feyre had explained him the concept, it had seemed a bit confusing. Could a sweater be too ugly to be an ugly Christmas sweater? Maybe he should’ve checked with Feyre before buying them-

Nesta went still. “Cassian.” She looked up at him, a flush in her cheeks. “Why is there two of them?”

Oh, right. Cassian grinned, taking the bag from her hands, and pulling out another sweater. His sweater. “So we could match.” He said, draping the sweater in front of his torso.

“Why would we want to match.”

He shrugged. “Because it’s Christmas.”

Nesta shook her head. “Doesn’t seem like a good enough reason.”

He stepped closer to her, making her tip her head back so she could meet his eyes. “Because it’s fun?”

She glared at him, crossing her arms in defiance. “To whom?”

He hummed, leaning down as he gently pulled her up to her feet. Nesta seemed unfazed, but Cassian knew better. The dilated pupils, the flushed neck, her heaving chest. He smirked, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Because you love me?” He murmured, smiling.

Nesta cleared her throat, pushing him away and walking to the other side of the couch. “Even love has its limits.”

Cassian stopped, turning with a grin on his face. He raised his eyebrows, watching her as she tried to keep her distance. “Is this yours?”

Nesta eyed the sweaters. He could almost see how much she wanted to say yes. How much she stubbornly wanted to stomp her foot, refusing to wear what was truly a hideous sweater to a party, of all things.

But she didn’t – not even when, hours later, Rhysand opened his front door and eyed them with humour in his eyes. At his growing smirk, Nesta stood a little straighter.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She growled, walking past him without a glance back.

And no matter how hard he tried, Cassian couldn’t suppress the sheepish grin that took over his features as he watched her stomp through the foyer, jingling with her every step. Mother’s tits, he loved that woman.

He was suddenly extremely glad Feyre had explained to him what, exactly, an ugly Christmas sweater was. He was especially glad she had accepted his suggestion to make them the party’s dress code.

He found his brother studying him, a smile on his face as he let him inside the house. “I’m guessing she doesn’t know this was all your great idea?” He said, looking down at his own sweater. It was dark blue with silver-threaded stars and big, bold letters saying, If lost, take to wife. Feyre most definitely wore its counterpart.

“That woman is wearing a stupid fucking sweater for me, brother.” Cassian grinned. “It was absolutely worth it.”