#I’m thinking of Cassian calling him a coward
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If SJM wants us to hate Eris she’s doing a terrible job of making him into a believable villain, cuz at this point he’s one of my favorite characters 🙂↕️
#I’m thinking of Cassian calling him a coward#like were we supposed to agree with that??#nah fam#eris vanserra#eris acotar#pro eris vanserra#Eris#pro Eris#vanserra brothers#sarah j maas#sjm#acowar#acomaf#acotar#a court of wings and ruin#a court of mist and fury#a court of frost and starlight#a court of thorns and roses#a court of silver flames#acosf#acofas#lol
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Wishing On Dandelions
I see forever in your eyes
Summary: When Elain is gifted a castle from her late Uncle, she expects it to come with bats in the attic and ghosts in the halls.
Not a grouchy English Lord hell bent on pushing her out.
Note: A final thank you to @the-lonelybarricade for both validating all my worst impulses AND being my UK consultant.
Part 2/2 | Read on AO3 | Part 1
Everything fell apart faster than Elain could manage. One moment she was arranging her sister to meet a literal Duke and the next Feyre’s soon-to-be husband was just gone. Elain had left Nesta to guard Feyre, wanting to check both that Tomas was behaving himself, that their father was absolutely in their assigned seat, and that the groom looked appropriate awed and misty-eyed.
And found a smiling Cassian and his too-serious friend Azriel waiting for her just outside the doors.
“Don’t panic,” Cassian drawled in that heavy Scottish burr, “But I cannae find Rhys.”
“Don’t panic?” she breathed, looking from the pair of men who might have been brothers. “But you can’t find…the man…who is supposed to be marrying my sister.”
“Yes, exactly,” Azriel murmured, clearly amused.
“Oh, god,” Elain breathed. “Come with me.”
Elain took them down the renovated halls of Feyre’s castle, her throat dry. Feyre looked so radiant, was practically glowing. Surely it was all a misunderstanding—some mistake easily rectified. No one could be so cruel. It was Elain’s mantra, even when she realized Cassian was the man Nesta was always going on about.
Even when Cassian ignored her instructions to find his friend and trailed after her older sister, his want so obvious and plain it made her heart ache. Azriel had glanced in her direction, perhaps thinking he, too, would join her.
“Find him,” Elain had ordered, gripping her cellphone in her hand so tightly there was danger she might shatter the screen. “You go up, I’ll go down.”
And before he could protest, Elain took off. Her feet ached from standing in tall heels on the unforgiving stone and all she wanted was to go home. Distracting herself with Feyre’s wedding was almost working, but the moment Elain ran out of things to think about, she found herself back in the foyer, Lucien’s mouth almost on her own, his fingers curled around her arm.
Leaving felt like a monumental mistake.
Elain shook her head, clipping down the hall praying Rhys was just around the corner weeping over how beautiful her sister was and how stupid and lucky he was. Elain flung open every door she could find, her blood pressure rising until Elain was on the verge of a panic attack.
She looked down at her phone.
He doesn’t want to hear from you.
Elain wanted to hear his voice, though. She dialed, thinking she’d just hang up once he said hello. Bracing her back against the cool wall, Elain’s eyes fluttered shut when Lucien’s voice answered.
“Elain?”
And just like a coward, Elain hung up.
Of course, Lucien called back immediately. She didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her that he might. Elain answered silently, glass to her ear.
“What’s wrong?”
You’re not here, she nearly said. Instead, Elain took a breath. “Rhys is missing.”
“Fuck,” Lucien replied. Like he cared. Elain took another breath, imagining that he was right there, that he was speaking directly to her. “Are you okay?”
“I—” Elain hesitated. She’d expected him to tell her to stop worrying, that everything would be fine. Everyone did that—no one had ever asked how she was doing. “I’m so afraid he’s standing her up and it’ll break her heart.”
“That’s on him, not you.”
The sound of echoing steps drew Elain from the bubble Lucien had created. “I should keep looking. Thank you for answering.”
He hesitated. She nearly hung up when he all but whispered. “Of course. Just…erm…Elain?”
“Yes?”
It was her father walking toward her, brown eyes alight when he realized he’d found her.
“Just come back home. To me. Come back home to me.”
Elain’s heart died in her chest. All her usual eloquence failed her. The silence drew a soft sigh from Lucien’s lips before he ended the call. It was easier to pretend she hadn’t heard him say that.
Elain’s whole body screamed, begging her to just walk away. To do exactly what he’d asked and go back home, even if it meant more squabbling and arguing and sniping.
“Daddy,” Elain said instead, plastering a smile on her face.
“There you are,” he said, reaching for the tops of her arms. “You look radiant. Your sisters are nearly ready?”
“Yes,” Elain lied. She didn’t have the heart to tell him all his dreams of becoming father-in-law to a very important duke might be dead. “Just last minute jitters I suspect.”
He hummed his agreement. “I heard a rather unsavory rumor.”
Elain looked up at him. They shared so many of the same features. Same brown eyes, that same golden brown hair. He had the same shaped mouth, the same arching cheekbones—all of it weathered from time, lined and worn as he’d aged.
“Oh?”
“That you and Graysen have ended your engagement.”
“Oh,” she breathed, nodding her head. “Yes, that’s true.”
Her father offered her a plaintive look that set Elain’s heart galloping again. Her stomach splattered at her feet, weighing his obvious disappointment. “You two were such a smart match.”
“We barely knew each other,” she tried, though Elain could feel herself wavering. She loved her father and had spent her entire life trying so hard to make him proud. He’d always doted on her, but never moreso than when her mother had become sick.
It was like Elain had merely replaced her. She’d been only ten, but she understood that he would fall apart if someone didn’t take care of him. Nesta was too lost to grief over their mother and Ferye too young, which left Elain.
“Extend your engagement,” he suggested, as if all she needed was time. “Give him another chance. He’s such a lovely man. He came round the other night just miserable over the thought of losing you.”
Elain opened her mouth to tell her father what Gray had done before closing it again. Would it even matter? “I—”
“I’m hosting a ball for you sister once she’s done with her honeymoon. Invite Graysen,” her father pressed, eyes bright and hopeful. “Let me announce another marriage in my family. Elain, I’m just—I want you to be happy.”
Elain looked into those familiar brown eyes before smiling. “I—I’ll talk to him,” she promised.
“And the ball?”
“Of course I’ll be there. If you want help—”
“Oh, absolutely. In fact, if you want to think about returning to London for a spell, that would be so helpful.”
Oh god oh god oh god— “I can’t return,” she said carefully, hating how crestfallen her father seemed. “But I could likely come early to help?”
“But…but you do intend to return, right?” he hedged. “You don’t want to live in the country forever…”
Elain couldn’t stand it. She wanted to tell him how she felt and couldn’t bring herself to disappoint him.
“Of course not.”
He smiled, pulling her into a hug that didn’t at all feel comforting. Elain was too rigid even as she tried to return the gesture. To find solace in his embrace like she once had. Elain only felt misery, which lessened at the sound of Feyre’s exuberant voice.
Rhys had been found—and judging from the lipstick smeared around his mouth, wherever he’d been and whatever he’d been doing had hardly been the sinister act they’d all been imagining. Feyre’s hair was ruined, and when Elain rushed forward to try and fix it, Ferye only said, “Relax. It’s not a big deal.”
Elain couldn’t relax. She was on edge, nervous and jittery through the entire ceremony. She watched how Cassian stared at Nesta—the obvious yearning and longing hidden beneath a careful, easy smirk. And it was impossible not to notice how utterly enamored Rhys was. Elain had to force herself not to call Lucien again after Rhys’s long, thoughtful speech about how meeting Feyre changed his whole life.
Graysen thought she was mediocre.
What would he even say, standing up before their family and friends. When I met Elain, I knew I could do better. I did her a favor, marrying her. Nothing about her fascinates me, but for some reason I can’t let her go.
Come back home to me.
Elain didn’t sleep that night. She’d planned to stay a few days and mingle with other guests. Instead, Elain very carefully packed her things and crept into the hall at the crack of first light. She thought she could sneak away without anyone noticing.
Nesta was, of course, awake. It set Elain back by hours and yet when Nesta looked at her and asked to go to the train station, Elain heard herself saying, “I can take you the whole way, if you like?”
Nesta, thankfully, said no. It took Elain a whole two hours to get her there, and then two hours to turn around and end up nearly where she’d started—and another two before she saw the familiar shoreline. Lush, rolling hills and thatched rooftops, all winding toward a castle rising toward a gloomy, cloud-filled sky.
Elain parked at the bottom of the hill and all but ran up. She just wanted to see him, even if he was grumpy. She burst through the back, pushing open glass, french doors as a soft drizzle began behind her.
“Lucien?” she called, dropping her back to the tile floor.
No response.
Elain kicked off her shoes, knowing how it would make him insane to see her tramping through the pristine halls, dragging in the mud. He wasn’t in the study, nor was he in the drawing room. Not his bedroom, which she lingered in only for a moment, if only to drink in his heady, masculine scent and to appreciate how neat his room was.
Elain stopped, hands on her hips. “Lucien?”
She heard his voice—though he clearly hadn’t heard her. Against the soft rumble of a summer thunderstorm, Lucien shouted, “You think you can’t be a meal, but I assure you, you absolutely can. Get in the fucking pen!”
Henrietta was giving him grief and still he was trying to contain her chicken so she wouldn’t be hurt. Elain felt lighter than air as she made her way through the courtyard, ignoring the rain splattering over her skin, plastering her purple dress to her body. She picked up speed, walking, and then jogging, until she was running through the gardens, following the sound of his irritation. Henrietta spotted her first, abandoning her assault on Lucien’s ankles in favor of trotting toward Elain. Lucien’s head snapped forward, his red hair stuck against the golden brown of his face.
“Elai—”
She crashed against him before he could finish what he was saying, kissing him like she should have done before she left.
When she first met him, though, that thought was comical. Lucien, with his sneering lip and his disdain—undone by a kiss as a greeting.
Undone now, if the arms wrapped around her back were anything to go by. The trick, Elain found, to getting Henrietta to leave Lucien alone was covering his body with her own.
“You’re back,” he said, kissing her again before she could respond. She’d almost forgotten where they were, standing unprotected in a rainshower and Lucien certainly didn’t seem to care.
She wanted to drag him to the ground, to peel those clothes from him until he was soaked with mud.
“You’re wet,” she said instead, pulling back to look at him. Lucien’s cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen. The hunter green shirt he wore was stuck to his chest, outlining his every contour in maddening detail.
“I couldn’t…Henrietta…” he bit his bottom lip. “When did you get in?”
“Just now,” she replied, scooping the errant chicken into her arms. It took Elain a few easy steps to lock her up in the pen for the evening before she reached for Lucien’s hand. “Did she give you any trouble?”
“Endless,” he replied, hand tucked into the crook of her elbow. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until Tuesday.”
“Changed my mind,” she said blithely, noting the creeping smile on his face.
“Oh?”
“Don’t gloat,” she said, pulling him out of the rain. Lucien was quick, pressing her against the door she’d just closed so he could kiss her again.
“Why?” he whispered against her mouth, tongue tracing her bottom lip.
“You asked me to come home to you,” she replied, hooking her fingers in his belt loops to pull him closer. “So here I am.”
He moaned softly, gripping her face in his sturdy, strong hands. “You could have stayed.”
“Why? Everything I want is right here.”
The next kiss was the one she’d spent the night thinking about—rough and a little messy. All passion instead of elegance and skill. Elain thought she had total control right until his teeth nipped her bottom lip, drawing a sharp gasp.
“Lucien,” she whispered, not needing anything but more.
“Out,” he groaned, tongue sliding against her own. “Your clothes—they—you need to get out—”
“Smooth.” Elain tried to laugh, but she could feel his erection straining against her hip, practically scorching between their rapidly cooling clothes.
“Let me take you out of them,” Lucien said, doing nothing that would free her from his body and the door. Elain swore she meant to tell him so, but he was kissing her like a man on the brink and Elain wanted him so badly that she didn’t care how he had her that first time.
He cared, it seemed. Grinding his pelvis against her, he breathed, “To my bedroom.”
Pressing her fingertips into the soaked fabric of his shirt, Elain pushed just enough that there was breathing room between them again. They clasped hands, breathing hard as they made their way through the renovated halls. Lucien didn’t say a word about the puddles left in their wake, clearly unconcerned about the mess if it meant he could have her.
Elain pounced the second she was locked tight in his spacious, open bedroom. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Elain very carefully stepped them back to the edge of his bed, all the while kissing him. She didn’t notice his own hands until cool air teased over her skin and her dress plopped the floor around her.
“Did you–” Lucien’s tongue was back in her mouth, fingers tangling in her damp hair. He was still fully clothed, while Elain stood before him in nothing but a comfortable bra and a pair of unmatching panties.
It was her turn to fumble through his buttons, untucking his shirt before shoving it off his broad shoulders. Lucien was magnificent, so beautiful it made her heart ache.
“That first night you brought Graysen home,” Lucien growled against her neck, teeth scraping delicate skin as Elain tugged at his belt, “I could hear what he was doing to you.”
It was like Lucien had thrown a bucket of cold water over her. “What?”
“Upstairs,” he continued, holding her in place. Elain’s hands had stilled on the button. She remembered that night, too. Graysen had been embarrassingly loud while Elain had just laid there, unsure if Graysen wanted to fuck her or fuck Lucien. “Putting on his show.”
Her eyes found his. “And?”
“I’ve never been so jealous in my entire life,” he told her, his own eyes burning with heat. “I wanted to be him.”
“You hated me,” she disagreed, returning to the button of his pants even as Lucien shook his head back and forth.
“I’ve never hated you, Elain.”
“But—”
“Never,” he breathed against her mouth. “Only myself. But never you.”
“This whole time I thought—”
Lucien silenced her with a blistering kiss, pulling her wrists from the waistband of his boxer briefs to caress his chest. “I’m sorry.” The words ghosted over her lips, sweet like sugar. “I thought it must be so obvious to you—and you disliked me for it.”
Elain wrapped an arm around her neck, bringing them both to the bed. “I suppose we’re both stupid, then.”
He smiled, thumbs sweeping over her cheeks. “You’re glowing,” he said, kissing down the column of her neck. “You’re always glowing.”
She was smiling and kissing, so happy she’d forgotten everything else. Rain tapped at the glass panes of his windows, drowning the soft sounds of his breathing. Elain was a drift in a warm sea, pressed into the mattress by the pleasant, solid weight of his body. Lucien seemed content to just kiss despite the solid, thick length of him pressed against her stomach.
Elain wasn’t. Hooking her leg around his waist, Elain ground herself into him, arching her hips so her breasts were all but in his face.
Lucien groaned. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
“Well, stop,” she ordered, dragging her nails down his back. “Give me the rake.”
He choked, pulling up on his arms just enough to look at her. “Rake?”
“Yeah,” she murmured, pulling his hair from the messy ponytail it currently resided in. With your long hair and the slutty way you dress.”
Lucien grinned. “Slutty?”
“I know what you were up to in London, too,” she added, though in truth all Elain knew was rumor.
“Heard about that, did you?”
“Yes,” she breathed, eyes on his mouth. “So imagine my surprise when all you want to do is kiss.”
“Oh, I want much, much more,” Lucien all but growled as his fingers wrapped around her throat. With only the softest pressure, he inclined her head until he had his mouth on her ear. “What do you want, Elain?”
Elain rolled his hips and Lucien hissed, eyes fluttering shut. “I want you, Lucien.”
He groaned, pulling her face toward him. This time, when Lucien kissed, Elain kept her wits about her. Even with his tongue in her mouth, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip, Elain had enough wherewithal to press the heel of her hand against his straining erection. It was meant to be motivation.
She was delighted when he hissed, bucking into her palm.
“Is this what you want?” she taunted softly.
Lucien swallowed. “Yes,” he admitted, grinding into her touch. It followed a flurry of movement—Elain arching her back so he could unclasp her bra while she shoved his pants and underwear over his hips. They managed to get the offending clothes to the floor, leaving Elain in nothing but a thin pair of underwear and Lucien in nothing at all. She might have complained had Lucien not rubbed his cock against her—he would have slid right in without the barrier.
She wasn’t ready to be done. After all the terrible, short sex she’d had with Graysen, Elain wanted something fun—something that was more than just her allowing a man to use her for pleasure.
“Elain,” he whispered, licking the column of her throat. His hands were everywhere all at once, teasing and touching as his lips and tongue began to map out her skin. “Good thing you came home early.”
“Why’s that?” she managed, moaning when his tongue traced a slow circle around her nipple.
“I cleared my calendar for the weekend, thinking I’d need it for Henrietta. I have nothing I need to do…just you.”
Lucien sucked softly, pulling a ragged moan from Elain’s lips. Pleasure pooled in her chest, sliding toward her aching pussy with each teasing flick of Lucien’s mouth.
“What are you doing?” Elain asked, fingers replacing his mouth as he began to kiss lower.
“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” he said, kissing against her hip. Elain couldn’t take her eyes off him, her breath stuttering in her chest when he reached the seam of her thigh.
Lucien’s fingers slid beneath the soft fabric of her underwear, pulling a mere inch. Just enough that Elain could have stopped him if she wanted.
Elain lifted herself off the bed, making it easier to remove them entirely.
“Fucking hell,” he whispered, speaking the words against her bare thigh. The fingers that had once toyed with her nipples moved to touch her pussy. Lucien groaned, the sound louder than the rumbling thunder around them, when he felt how wet she was. Elain whined, jerking as he rubbed a slow circle over her clit.
“Do you taste as good as you smell?”
Words failed her. She wanted to tell him he ought to find out—but Lucien was one step ahead of her. His tongue replaced his fingers, sliding up the wet center of her. It was something Graysen wouldn’t do—he didn’t like the taste and found it too tiring if he had to be there longer than a few minutes. Elain hadn’t protested, though she had been resentful everytime he begged her to get on her knees and suck him off.
Lucien was unhurried, slow in his exploration. He’d drag his tongue down her pussy, tasting and touching before returning to her clit. His movements were deliberate, building pleasure layer upon layer until Elain had begun to writhe from need.
Lucien hooked his arms around her, spreading her further apart. There was a greediness to his actions that made her feel as if eating her out was a selfish act—he, too, was deriving pleasure from what he was doing. Driving her to madness with his mouth, pulling the exact reactions he wanted with a teasing touch of his fingers or the rough suck of his lips. Elain ground against him, chasing the building orgasm until she’d dragged the bottom sheet from its corners, desperate to feel something beneath her hands.
Lucien’s teeth grazed the sensitive nub of flesh just as his finger slid into her body. Elain clamped against him tightly, causing a rumbling groan to vibrate through her. It was too much. She came with a gasping scream, hips arching off the bed. Lucien rode her through it, his own body thrusting into the mattress.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered, crawling back up her body for a searing, messy kiss. Elain pulled at his shoulder, lining them up so she could wrap her legs around his waist.
“More,” she said against his mouth. “I want more.”
“You can have whatever you want from me,” Lucien replied, pushing himself an inch into her body.
Lucien groaned, throwing his head back as his eyes rolled up into his head. Elain shivered, unable to contain a smile.
“Is it good?”
Lucien thrust himself the rest of the way into her body in response. It was Elain’s turn to gasp, unprepared for the stretch required in order to accommodate the sheer size of him. Lucien held himself still, head buried in the crook of her neck while Elain focused on deep, gulping breaths.
Pain gave way to pleasure faster than she’d expected.
He pulled himself out nearly to the tip, kissing the underside of her jaw as he thrust back into her. They both moaned. Elain dug her nails into his ass, meeting him thrust for thrust with wild, hungry abandon.
“Louder,” he ordered, hand closing around her throat again. “Is this what you want, Elain? What you came all the way home for?”
“Yes, yes, Lucien—” Elain was rapidly unspooling, losing herself to the golden haze of pleasure. Lucien squeezed just enough that the breathlessness she already felt was heightened,
“Are you going to come for me?”
“Yes,” she moaned. Elain was close, a fact he must surely have been aware of given his own erratic thrusts.
“Come for me, Elain,” he whined, dragging the blunt head of his cock through her silken heat. “Baby, please, come—”
Elain fell apart, her scream of pleasure swallowed by Lucien’s greedy mouth. Lucien came right behind her, his moan of pleasure edged with the most delicious whimper—like he was twice as wrecked.
“Fuck,” he breathed. Elain could feel the pounding pulse of his heart through the skin of his cock. “Holy shit, Elain.”
A small laugh escaping her. She was still clenched tight around him, her body practically shaking from the aftershocks. “Was it how you imagined?”
“Better,” Lucien murmured, kissing her mouth. The taste of Elain’s pussy clung to his lips, exciting her all over again. “Get on your hands and knees.”
“Already?” she asked, dragging her nails against his scalp.
“I have you all weekend, don’t I?” Was Lucien’s smug reply. “I have to take what I can get.”
“Spoken like a true romantic,” she teased. Her laughter turned to a whine when he withdrew, rising on his knees to wait.
Elain would have done anything he asked.
-*-
Elain was avoiding her phone. In truth, she was avoiding everything but her immediate world. Preparing for a restaurant took an immense amount of time, not counting her regular responsibilities. Her father was planning a masquerade party, in part to impress his new in-laws… and, she suspected, to bring her and Gray back together.
Elain hadn’t told Lucien about that. Even when Gray began texting her again, sweet like he’d been back when she’d first met him. \
I miss you.
Tell me about your day pretty girl.
Thinking about you.
Elain didn’t respond. None of those things were true for her. Elain had never been happier than she was with Lucien and with each passing day, began to feel resentment toward her father and his unfair expectations. Was it not enough? While Feyre and Nesta were allowed to carve their own paths, he still wanted to dictate Elain’s—and she was too cowardly to tell him no.
Lucien’s fingers snapped in front of Elain’s face. “Are you listening, or are you thinking about my cock?”
Neither, though she couldn’t admit that. “Just tired,” she said instead, catching the self-satisfied smile that spread over his lips. “I could use some uninterrupted sleep.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” he replied crisply, turning back to the documents spread before them. “I need you to sign off on our application here…and here…and I need you to sign payment as well.”
“Yeah, alright,” she grumbled, snatching up a pen. She made her way around the table, leaning over him as she signed. Lucien exhaled in satisfaction, running his nose over her neck.
“You smell good,” he murmured, snaking an arm around her waist. “I’ll bet you taste even better.”
“This is why we’re so behind,” Elain reminded him even as he pulled her into his lap.
“I like being alone with you,” he admitted, kissing her cheek. “I don’t want to share.”
Elain wound her arms around his neck. “Father wants me to return to London in a month.”
Lucien’s expression flattened. “Oh?”
“I thought…I thought maybe you’d come with me?”
She saw the warring urges on his face. If Lucien came with her, the son of a duke—bastard or not—it might convince her father to drop Graysen.
“Elain, I…” he trailed off, biting his bottom lip. Lucien didn’t want to return to London.
Ever.
“Of course. It’s fine,” she lied, grateful he couldn’t see her disappointment. “Just a few days and then I’m all yours again.”
He relaxed. “Or you could stay,” he murmured, lips back against her skin. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“He would be terribly disappointed,” Elain replied, her heart pounding at just the mere thought of staying behind. She’d already told Nesta she had to be there—Nesta would kill her if she went but Elain stayed.
“Why does it matter? What about what you want?”
“It’s such a small thing,” Elain replied, though guilt gnawed at her. It was hardly small—Elain wasn’t willing to give up Lucien, and certainly didn’t want to go back to Graysen. What happened when her father pleaded? When she danced with Gray to smooth things over, to appease him because she couldn’t just be honest about what she wanted?
She risked losing Lucien. He would never forgive the betrayal if it ever got back to him. She’d be just another woman picking the wrong man over him.
“Then why are you so tense?” he asked, lips trailing over her collarbone.
Honest—be honest.
“He wants me to work things out with Gray.”
Lucien went taut, pulling his mouth from her skin. “Oh.”
Elain tried to stand but Lucien held firm, unwilling to let her escape. “Do you want him back?”
Elain scoffed. “No. I want—”
Lucien’s breathing sped up, his fear etched over his features. “What do you want?”
“You.”
The fingers digging against her hip relaxed. “You have me.”
“I don’t,” she whispered, staring at the wood floor beneath them. “Because the thought of telling father I don’t want to go…that I’m never coming back…it makes me so nervous and I find myself agreeing to things I don’t want to do to placate him.”
“Ah,” he murmured, lips back on her. “What’s the worst thing that would happen if you told him you wanted to stay with me, a bastard born Vanserra?”
“He’d be disappointed,” she admitted.
Lucien waited for her to finish, but that was it. And it was, she supposed, a little pathetic. She was a grown woman—disappointing her parents came with the territory. Elain had gone her whole life avoiding it, and wasn’t sure she wanted to start.
But the alternative was going back to how she and Lucien had been before. Strangers but worse, because now she knew what it was like to have his undivided attention.
“Is…is that all?”
“Yes,” she said, heart pounding in her chest.
“Well, as someone who has been disappointing his parents from the moment he was born, let me assure you it’s not that bad.”
He reached for her face, holding it gently in his hands. “Stay with me,” he whispered when she didn’t respond. “He’ll understand you’ve merely fallen under the spell of my cock—”
“Oh, stop it,” Elain murmured, though she nuzzled closer all the same.
Lucien or pleasing her father? It should have been an easy choice.
But Elain felt miserable all the same.
-*-
“Dad,” Elain said patiently, well aware Lucien was hanging on her every word. He was pretending he wasn’t, face buried in a book on that ugly pink sofa. Elain had her legs stretched over his lap, head resting against a cushion. “About Gray—”
“He’s looking forward to seeing you,” her father interrupted with excitement. “When do you think you’ll be in?”
“I…” Elain looked over at Lucien. His expression was scrunched, eyebrows pulled together with clear and obvious worry. “I’m not sure.”
Lucien exhaled softly.
“I can’t wait to see you married like Feyre. This is what your mother wanted for you.”
And with that last little guilt trip, Elain hung up the phone feeling stupid. Worse than stupid—like a traitor. Lucien set his book down, turning entirely to face her.
“I know,” she said before he could. “I know.”
“That was rough,” he murmured, gripping her bare shin. “Just—just promise me you won’t dance with him.”
“You’re no better than I am,” Elain complained, tossing her phone to the coffee table before them. “ Be a little angry, Lucien.”
“If we’re fighting, we’re not kissing,” Lucien reminded her. “Prioritize, Elain.”
“So you’ll let me go, knowing my father is playing matchmaker with the ex you punched, so long as I come back to you?”
“I mean…I suppose I’d prefer if you stayed,” Lucien murmured, his grip on her leg tightening. “And I’d like it more if you told your father you were with me. That you—” he took a gulping breath. “Are you ashamed?”
Elain’s stomach dropped. “No,” she said, reaching for his hand. “No, never.”
He nodded. “Okay. Then I’ll live if you go, so long as you come back home to me.”
But she didn’t believe he’d truly made peace with her decision to go. Lucien left her on that couch not too long after, citing some piece of work he’d forgotten. Elain suspected he didn’t want her to see just how hurt his feelings were.
She called Nesta, and then Feyre, just to make sure her sisters were at least still going. And it was on the phone with Feyre that Elain learned something interesting.
“I’m surprised Nesta didn’t ask Cassian,” Feyre said, her voice weirdly breathless.
“Oh? How is that going?”
A muffled voice in the background called, “They’re in love!”
“Hello, Rhys,” Elain said before asking, “wait. Did Nesta say that?”
“No. She never would, but Cassian calls Rhys to talk about her all the time. If they’re spending so much time together and he’s in love with her…surely she is, too.”
“Surely,” Elain murmured, an idea percolating in her mind. “Do you happen to have Cassian’s phone number?”
“Why?” Feyre asked, but she sounded too distracted by whatever Rhys was doing to truly pay attention.
“Just…want to introduce myself,” Elain lied. Rhys called out the number before Feyre ended the call quickly, leaving Elain to make a rash, selfish decision. Her father would be so disappointed in her. Elain vowed to turn her phone off, to convince Lucien to keep her in bed where she wouldn’t be tempted to check her messages.
The phone rang, and a man with a cheerful voice responded, “Hello?”
“Hi. Is this Cassian?”
“Aye. Who asks?”
“Elain Archeron. We met at my sister's wedding?”
“Oh, Nes’s sister. What can I do for ye?”
“Nes—nevermind. I wanted to know if you’d like to come to a party my father is throwing at the end of the month.”
There was a pause. “Yeah, I would.”
Elain grinned. “Perfect.”
-*-
Lucien’s fingers drummed against the arm of the couch, his expression blank. She ought to have left and they both knew it. If she didn’t, Elain was going to be late. Maybe it was cruel not to have told him she wasn’t going—that she’d given her spot to Cassian and instead Elain was trying to get Lucien outside where she fully intended to have him.
In the grass, if she could manage it.
“I should check on Henrietta,” Elain said again.
“Elain—”
“Want to join me?” she interrupted, sliding her hand over his knee. Lucien went taut, sucking in a soft breath.
“Shouldn’t you…pack…?”
“No,” she replied lightly, inching her hand up his leg. “The weather is so nice, it seems a shame to waste it indoors.”
Lucien blinked, so clearly trying to figure out what was happening. Elain crept further still, hoping he was at least a little hard.
“You’ll be late,” he breathed.
Piece it together, Lucien.
“I was thinking the grass is probably soft on my knees,” she said, reaching his cock. Lucien angled his hips toward her just enough to communicate he wanted her to touch without saying a word.
Elain stood instead, tugging at his hand. “Join me?”
“Are you staying?”
“Yes.”
He sucked in another breath. “Elain—”
“If I have to choose between a night of dancing with Graysen or performing an indecent act on you in the garden, well…that's an easy choice, Lucien.”
“And your father—”
Elain ignored how tight her stomach felt. “He’ll have to live with the disappointment, too. I’m not a dress-up doll…and I don’t believe my mother wanted a loveless marriage for me.”
His face was so, so pale. “Loveless?”
“Yes, Lucien. Marriage to Graysen would be loveless…and I want to be loved. So I’m going to stay with you, and trust that in time, father will accept that my heart no longer resides in London.”
"Where ah…where does it live, then?”
Elain crept forward, placing the palm he wasn’t holding against his chest. “Here. With you.”
“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out, as if it had taken great effort to keep those words locked away. “Too, I mean. I love you, too.”
“How am I supposed to leave, knowing that?” she breathed. Lucien pulled her against him, burying his face into her hair.
“I suppose you’ll have to stay. I could sabotage the wallpaper again though, if you like.”
“Is that what you were doing before?” she demanded. Lucien’s smile was unrepentant.
“Yes. I was afraid you’d go back to London and plan your wedding if I ever made things easy and I was so jealous of him.”
“So your solution was to make me hate you?” she asked. Lucien grinned.
“My solution was to keep you with me until you realized you were madly in love with me. Which worked, I might add.”
“What a gamble,” Elain teased, even as she kissed the exposed column of his throat. “You should write a book.”
“I should. I’ll call it, Twenty Steps To Make Her Yours: Does She Hate You, or Are You Misreading the Signs?”
“A bestseller,” Elain murmured, leaning up to kiss his mouth. “I’d buy a hundred copies.”
“You’re sweet,” he replied, a smile stretching over his lips. “And I think, if you’re offering to get on your knees, I’d rather you did so where no one could see.”
“Oh?”
“I’m terribly possessive,” he replied, his expression sharpening as Elain began tugging at his belt. “Someone might see and try to steal you away.”
Elain laughed. “They could try.”
She sank to the ground, pulling his rigid cock free while Lucien gathered up Elain’s hair. “My beautiful, sweet Elain.”
“How do you know I’m beautiful?” she retorted, kissing the underside of his erection.
“I told you,” he rasped. “You glow.”
Ignoring the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, Elain asked, “So all those times you were informing me I glowed with that angry scowl—”
“I was telling you how lovely I think you are,” he replied.
“Did it ever occur to you that you ought to just say so?”
“Nope!” he replied cheerfully. “I have no regrets.”
“Just wasted time,” Elain grumbled, licking the head of his cock if only to punctuate her point. Lucien exhaled a shaky breath, his grip in her hair tightening. He stopped talking the moment she took him into her mouth. The clean taste of his skin mingled with the cinnamon and leather that seemed to cling to him. Elain drank him in, wondering if this would be the time he let her finish without pulling her off him.
Lucien’s personal record was a whole two minutes. Elain had begun counting each pass of her mouth in her head, trying to get to one hundred. Swirling her tongue over the tip of Lucien’s cock drew a ragged moan from him.
“Elain,” he panted, unaware she was only on stroke ten. “Elain, I’m going to fuck you on this couch.”
Elain might have laughed had Lucien not tugged her off him. He pushed her toward the sofa, flipped up the back of her dress, and thrust himself into her just as quickly as he’d pushed aside her underwear.
“Lucien—”
“Hold the back of the couch,” he growled, snapping his hips roughly. Elain did as she was told, practically vibrating with need. Lucien’s hand tangled in her hair, pulling until her back was arched.
“Guests are supposed to sit here someday—”
“On our couch?” he panted. Each new drag of his cock made Elain breathless, made her wish she’d never started talking at all. “This is coming with us when we leave.”
“Lucien—”
“That’s it. Whose fucking your pretty pussy so well? Tell me—loudly.”
“Lucien!”
“That’s my good girl,” he praised, lips brushing her ear.
Elain broke apart without meaning to, clenched so hard around him that Lucien followed just behind. It was quick and messy—no amount of steaming their couch would ever make it appropriate for guests. Not when Lucien pressed her into the cushions, feverishly kissing his way down her body.
And certainly not after, when he buried himself back inside her, making an utter mess of them both.
That suited Elain just fine.
-*-
“Elain Elizabeth Archeron!” Nesta’s voice cut through the silence, drawing both Elain and Lucien’s attention toward the courtyard. Elain’s chickens wove themselves around open grass, chasing after bugs and, in Henrietta’s case, keeping a very close watch on Lucien, who had his head in Elain’s lap so she could better braid his long hair.
“Elizabeth?” Lucien asked, trailing a lazy finger over her thigh.
“It’s not,” she replied, wondering where Nesta had pulled that from. “It’s Marie.”
It hardly mattered. Nesta stomped into view not a second later, trailed by a very apologetic looking Feyre. Rhys was just behind, studying the grounds with interest, while Cassian trampled over a row of daffodils.
“After all the fuss you made about the dance—”
“Did you have fun?” Elain interrupted, noting the wide smile on Cassian’s face.
“That’s hardly the point,” Nesta hissed, eyes narrowed on Lucien. “Who is this?”
“Told you,” Rhys murmured to a silent Feyre.
“This is Lucien Vanserra. I’ve told you about him,” Elain said, disappointed when Lucien sat himself up. He was squinting against the brightness though he’d extended a hand all the same.
“Pleasure—”
“This is Lucien?” Nesta demanded. “He’s so…”
No one spoke, waiting for Nesta to decide what Lucien was.
“Young.”
“Did you imagine something else?” Lucien asked her, a smile gracing his features.
“Older, I suppose,” Nesta admitted.
“Is this why you didn’t come?” Feyre asked, coming forward to shake his hand. “You could have brought him.”
“I don’t want to go back to London,” Elain told them with a shrug of her shoulders. “I’m glad you two had fun.”
“Fun is not the word—”
“We had a great time,” Cassian assured Elain. His smile told her that whatever he and Nesta had done made the entire affair worth it. Certainly, from the creeping flush on Nesta’s neck, she felt the same. “Thank ye for inviting me.”
“Of course,” Elain said warmly. “Are you planning to stay?”
Feyre’s eyes swept around the grounds. “It would be nice to be together again. Would we be putting you out?”
It was Lucien who responded. “Not at all. You’ll be our first guests.”
“Come,” Elain added, patting the ground beside her. Henrietta scuttled forward, nipping at Lucien when he tried to settle himself back in her lap. “Tell me the gossip.”
Feyre was the first to plop beside her, blue eyes alight with mischief. Nesta came next, smoothing out her long dress—ever the lady. Elain smiled.
She’d never been happier.
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I'm this close to finishing the first draft of my rebelcaptain fencing AU... yes, I know I've been saying that since NaNoWriMo 2020. My new year's resolution for 2023 is to finish and post it!
In the meantime, here's a brief summary, a link to the snippet from chapter one, and a snippet from chapter two.
Description: A rising star in youth fencing, Jyn Erso was once on track to become an Olympic-level athlete. But then, age 16, she quit unexpectedly. Her break from fencing unraveled her life. Three years later, she still refuses to discuss the subject, even with her father, a former Olympic medalist, and her best friend, Bodhi, who’s just returned from competing in the Olympics. It’s fine, it’s working – until she meets Cassian Andor, the kindest, most interesting person she’s ever met. Except for one problem: he’s also an Olympic-level fencer.
Excerpt from chapter two:
Jyn crosses her arms and waits. She’s elbow to elbow with strangers in the crowded cafe she and Bodhi chose for their weekly lunch. It’s not normally this popular, but it seems the dreary weather has convinced everyone and their mother that a cup of soup sounds quite nice.
Sighing, she glances over her shoulder, towards the filled seating where Bodhi has aggressively commandeered a table. He waves when she catches his eyes. She smiles back, but then looks past him, at the gray sky and gathering water droplets on the windows.
The days trudge along, minutes dragging like hours. It’s been two weeks since she scampered like a coward from Cassian’s home, from a well-cooked meal, from hope and possibility. Sometimes, she thinks she sees him passing on the street or in the hallway, and she ducks into an alcove or a classroom. Saw would be ashamed. That thought does nothing to help, merely reminds her why she’s in this mess in the first place.
“Order for Erso!”
She jolts back to the present, sees an employee place their order on the counter: a tray for Jyn’s meal, a tray for Bodhi’s, and two drinks. If only Bodhi hadn’t needed to stake out a table; now she’s stuck trying to balance it all.
“You seem like you’re carrying a lot.”
Turning, she sees her English professor. “Hi, Professor Malbus. My friend went to save a seat.”
He nods. “Chirrut’s doing the same.”
“Well, it’s good to see you.” Jyn moves towards the seating area, but her professor keeps talking.
“While you’re here,” he starts. It sounds ominous, and it occurs to Jyn that had her food been called just twenty seconds earlier, perhaps she could have avoided this conversation entirely. “I wanted to talk to you about your last paper.”
“Oh.” Yeah, bad feeling justified.
“I appreciate you handing it in early,” he says. The writing takes her mind off things. “But it seems a little rushed. You still have time before the deadline, if you want to take another stab at it.”
His phrasing pierces her a little more pointedly than he probably realizes. Am I really this sensitive to it after all this time? What doesn’t help is that she’d actually spent quite a bit of time mulling over that assignment.
“Of course, professor.”
He frowns. “I’m sorry — you’re busy. Let’s talk it over in my office hours next week.”
“Thanks.”
Her steps might be a little heavier as she leaves the counter area and winds her way through the seating, but at least she’s pretty sure they wouldn’t qualify as outright stomping.
At least this day couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Midway through the seating, she realizes she has no idea where she’s going, and she looks around again for Bodhi.
And instead, she finds Cassian.
Never think it can’t get worse, she reminds herself.
In fact, Cassian is, for some reason, talking to Bodhi, so at least she’s succeeded in locating her final destination.
She stands there staring for far too long, other customers bumping past her, until Cassian glances away from Bodhi just for a second, just long enough to accidentally meet her gaze.
She wonders if she looks as caught off guard as he does.
Bodhi follows Cassian’s gaze. “Oh, finally!”
His words jumpstart her mind, and she covers the remaining distance between them.
During that time, her mind screams, “How the hell do you two know each other!”
But instead, she says, “Sorry for the wait.”
“It’s fine,” they both answer her, although Cassian’s sounds a little less sincere.
All three of them frown. Bodhi and Cassian glance back and forth between each other and her in confusion.
Slightly faster on the uptake — she did have a split second advantage — Jyn places Bodhi’s food in front of him, all the while avoiding the intensity of Cassian’s gaze. “So,” she says, staring at her seat but not getting into it, “how do you two know each other?”
“I — we — what?” Bodhi says. He shakes his head as if to shake his thoughts loose. “He’s our bronze medalist in epee.”
Jyn’s eyes widen, but it shouldn’t be that shocking. She had remembered he’d taken gold at that Junior Olympics all those years ago. Just because she left fencing behind didn’t mean everyone did. Bodhi, after all, had stuck with it.
Before she can respond, Cassian says, “Wait, how do you two know each other?”
Both Jyn and Bodhi hesitate. And then Bodhi sends Jyn a look that somehow manages to be both apologetic and defiant, and says, “We used to train together under Saw Gerrera.”
Cassian meets her wide-eyed gaze with his own. “You’re… Jyn Erso?”
Sighing, she settles into the seat next to Bodhi. “Yeah.”
“Fuck.”
“Wrong f-word.”
His gaze bores into hers, like he’s trying to figure her out. She thinks — she hopes — that maybe he has enough information to understand why she ran, since she hasn’t been able to find the words to explain it.
“Well…” he finally says. “I should go.”
“No one’s going anywhere,” Bodhi says, and they both jerk guiltily toward him, “until we get to the bottom of this.”
That wasn’t the line, Jyn thinks inanely. But Bodhi thinks as fast as either of them, maybe faster, and apparently has no need to ask the same question a third time.
When he doesn’t continue, Jyn says warily, “There’s no … bottom… Bodhi…”
“Yes, there is, and you both are stuck in it.”
She looks down at her food, pokes her salad with her fork.
“It’s fine,” Cassian says. “You don’t need to—”
“Sit!”
Startled into compliance, Cassian sits. Despite everything, Jyn smirks. Cassian, it would seem, is less familiar with Bodhi’s determined “I will aggressively logic you into happiness” routine. It really only works because disappointing him is literally the worst feeling in the world, worse even than losing a fencing bout had been, once upon a time. And that’s really saying something because she wasn’t the most gracious loser.
“You’re miserable,” he starts, pointing at Jyn with his own fork, “because you haven’t seen that photographer chef since that date two weeks ago. You know, the one where you were all, ‘this is the best date I’ve ever been on’…”
“Whoa.” Jyn’s eyes dart nervously between Bodhi and Cassian. “I didn’t say it like —”
“And you’re miserable,” Bodhi says, turning to Cassian, “because the last date you went on, two weeks ago, the awesome writer undergrad you met left early and hasn’t returned your calls.”
“If she’s not interested,” Cassian says, without looking up from the table, “that’s not her fault.”
Jyn winces like he just thrust his sword into her heart.
Of course, it would seem that she’d struck him first.
#rebelcaptain#jyn x cassian#rogue one#jyn erso#cassian andor#my writing#rebelcaptain fencing au#wip#work in progress
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One Last Time [Chapter 6]
Summary - Elain and Azriel have known each other since they were 11 and had never been separated. But when their view for their future no longer matches, things break apart between them, causing a rift which had never been fixed. Elain goes on to become a neurosurgeon, while Azriel works for the deadlier part of the community. Ten years later, their lives get entangled as they cross paths, this time stakes much greater than just their hearts.
An: All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas
Warnings: Mature language, violence, alcohol consumption, smoking, drugs
Hope you all enjoy!
Masterlist
Songs:
Tornado Warnings - Sabrina Carpenter
Forget Forever - Selena Gomez
Blood // Water - grandson
It had been an entire week since Elain had called him out for cheating.
It had been so long since he thought about that day that he had actually forgotten the specifics. All he remembered were Elain’s tears as she ran out of the room, him not even trying to explain.
He knew he deserved all the hate she was spewing, but he wished it were different. He wished he could tell her what had truly happened that day, but he was a coward.
Rhysand’s birthday and Thanksgiving both passed quietly, with no suspicious activity that indicated any harm to Elain or Daemon. He found it funny that he was now protecting the two people he was meant to kidnap.
Azriel had been spending his early mornings with Daemon, getting to know more about him, telling him his own childhood stories. It felt surreal, to have a son. It disheartened Azriel whenever he heard a fun anecdote from Daemon’s initial years and Azriel realized he missed out on them because of his own mistakes.
He was proud of how mature and smart Daemon was. He knew it had to do with the fact that Elain was too young when she had him. He was also proud of Elain, for being able to handle a child while managing college, all on her own. Azriel knew though, if he ever told that to her, she would backhand him with as much force as she could.
Azriel had thought things would manage out when, out of nowhere, Daemon asked why he didn’t have a sibling. He didn’t even know if a ten-year-old knew where babies came from, and he didn’t want to give an answer that Elain wouldn’t agree with. So he just said, “Your mom might know.”
Daemon easily accepted the answer and continued eating his chocolate chip pancakes. Azriel wondered if Daemon was aware of the situation going on between him and Elain. Or did he think they were a perfectly happy family, all back together now?
Azriel snapped back to reality when his phone started ringing through his car system. He picked it up without looking.
“What?”
“Hello to you too Az.” Nesta’s cool voice came through the speakers.
He rolled his eyes. “Is this a reminder for Sunday? Cause that’s 3 days away and yes, I will just get her a gift card.”
“No Azhole.” Nesta snapped and Azriel smiled at the road. “I want you to bring Elain and Daemon.” Azriel instantly pushed the brakes, causing the cars behind him to honk at him.
“Elain and Daemon? You want me - the guy she wants to kill - to tell her that I’m taking her to a birthday party when she’s supposed to be kidnapped?”
Azriel let out a laugh as he started driving again. “Nesta, with all due respect, that is the worst idea you’ve ever had, and that’s saying a lot, considering you’re married to Cassian. Shouldn’t you be the one to invite her?”
“I can’t. I fought with her a few days ago.” Nesta said with a sigh.
Azriel ran a hand through his hair, releasing an aggravated sigh as he considered her request. “Fine, I’ll tell her, but no promises.”
“Good.” Azriel thought she had disconnected but suddenly her voice came through the speakers, soft and timid. “And Az, maybe you should talk to her. About that night.” He didn’t respond and eventually, the click sound came, indicating that she cut the line.
He huffed out a breath as he thought about Nesta’s words. Maybe she was right and he should finally tell Elain the truth about what had happened ten years ago.
~~~~~
Azriel had finally reached his destination. It had taken him an hour and a half from his office to get there.
He had managed to hack into the iPhones he had grabbed from the dead bodies of the men that had attacked the ball. There wasn’t much information available on it but he tracked a number common on both phones, which led him to an abandoned warehouse on the docks. Azriel scoffed at the cliche location. He sent his live location to both Rhys and Cassian as a fail-safe.
He parked his car hidden behind the large building. He checked his gun and blade before getting out of the car. He didn’t see any cars nearby and took his bag along with him. He reached inside to find it empty, a bunch of empty containers loitering the area. His phone beeped with a message from Lucien.
All is good here. Elain wants to talk. Daemon and I will be upstairs.
Elain wanted to talk. Good. Because so did he. He closed my eyes and promise himself that he would tell Elain everything once he went back home.
Azriel took out the surveillance equipment he had brought and started hiding them all around the warehouse. It took him quite a while to install the audio recorders as well as the cameras, placing multiple, covering the whole area.
As he was just about finished, he heard the sound of tires on gravel. He cursed and quickly wrapped up, ducking behind a container.
He saw multiple men enter the warehouse and took his gun out of his pocket, to be prepared. He slightly faltered when he saw Graysen along with the men. Azriel had not even considered Graysen could be related to the attack.
“You promised that you would give me the girl as well as a kid. Where are they Graysen?” Said a muffled male voice. Azriel looked at the group of men that had convened in the middle and saw Graysen had his phone out. The voice was most likely coming from there.
Azriel concurred that the girl and kid the man had mentioned were probably Elain and Daemon. What he didn’t understand was why them. And why Graysen would orchestrate an attack at his own father’s ball to get his fiancee?
“I’m really sorry, but I don’t know where they are,” Graysen muttered. “They’ve been gone since that night. I guess someone else took them.”
The other man clicked his tongue. “It really is a pity that people like you have power.” Azriel couldn’t help but wonder how the voice sounded eerily familiar.
“I suspect Rhysand took her. He’s married to his sister.” Another man spoke up.
Graysen let out a laugh. “What’s he gonna do? Torture his sister-in-law? He’s weak. They’re all on a deadline anyway.”
Azriel frowned at the confidence in Graysen’s voice. He had to figure out what Graysen thought he knew. Suddenly, a cat came out of nowhere and crashed into a pile of bottles behind Azriel. He jumped back and held back a groan as something pierced the skin of his back.
“Hey! Who’s there?” Someone called out.
Damn it.
With no time to think Azriel started off in a sprint, running towards the exit when gunshot sounds started.
Azriel moved quickly, trying to cover himself from any bullets with the help of the containers. He took his own gun and cocked it, taking a deep breath right before he straightened and fired shots in the direction of the voice.
He hit one man, which gave him time to get out of the warehouse. He darted towards the exit when suddenly, there was blinding hot, searing pain running through his shoulder, causing him to stop. He touched his arm and found his hand red with blood.
Motherfucking shit.
He didn’t stop running until he reached his car. Suspiciously, no one came out of the warehouse. He didn’t take any chances, and started the car quickly, flooring the gas pedal and driving away from there as fast as he could. He felt his breath get shallower and cursed knowing that by the time he reached Headquarters, he would bleed out. He couldn’t even go to a hospital.
He could only think of one thing.
Elain.
She was a doctor. She could help. Hopefully not kill him in anger. He decided to take his chances and swerved his car, heading towards his home.
For the first time in his life, he wondered what would happen if he didn’t make it. He might not be able to tell Elain the truth about everything. He might not be able to be an actual father to Daemon.
He groaned as his shoulder hurt while driving. He was glad he didn’t bring his manual. He stopped the car for a moment, tore a piece of cloth, and wrapped it around his wound to stop the bleeding. He could feel excruciating pain in his back as well but ignored it, choosing to reach home as quickly as possible.
He inhaled and exhaled deeply, each breath more difficult than the previous.
Maybe he was going to die.
~~~~~
She didn’t actually mean putting a bullet in him when she thought about talking to him.
Although if this was a sign, it was a pretty massive one. A bedridden Azriel would have no choice but to listen to her. If he survived.
Shit.
She somehow managed to drag Azriel’s semi-conscious body towards the dining table where she laid him down, pushing away all the objects present.
“First-aid-kit” He breathed out shallowly. “Kitchen.”
Elain ran quickly and opened various drawers and cabinets until she found the first aid kit in the cabinet under the sink. It was as big as a medic kit, which she was grateful for.
She ran back to Azriel’s side and took out a large pair of scissors, cutting open his t-shirt to get access to the wound. She removed the piece of cloth wrapped around his shoulder and slightly winced when she saw the bullet wound. She took a deep breath. You’ve seen worse than this. This is just a small wound. You can do this. She tried to reassure herself.
She searched the bag for anything to help with the pain and groaned when she came up empty. She once again ran to the kitchen looking for alcohol. She found an unopened bottle of Absolut in a cabinet and decided that it was the best option she had.
She unscrewed the bottle and poured it into a glass. She brought Azriel’s head upwards and poured it down his throat. “I’m sorry, but this is the only anesthesia I could get in a short time.” She took another glass of vodka and frowned. “And this is going to hurt like hell.” Without another word, she poured the glass over his wound.
He let out a disgruntled scream causing Elain to flinch. “I’m so sorry, but you don’t have hydrogen peroxide to clean it and this was a better option than using actual sanitizer.”
“It’s in my bathroom cabinet.” He groaned out, glaring at Elain.
Elain narrowed her eyes at him. “How was I supposed to know that?”
Azriel ignored her and tried to get up. “I need to call Rhysand. He’ll know what to do and get me to a doctor.” He doubled over in pain and that’s when Elain noticed the gaping wound in his back, gushing more blood than the gunshot wound. She gasped in surprise and pushed him down.
“By the time that happens you’ll have bled to death. Let me fix you.” She started rummaging through the kit to find a Rampley and cotton. When she didn’t hear anything in return, she turned around to find Azriel passed out on the table. She quickly checked his pulse to find it slow, but there.
She decided to not go searching for Hydrogen Peroxide and doused the pieces of cotton in alcohol hoping it would not cause sepsis. She decided to pay attention to the wound in his back first as it was still bleeding.
She managed to stitch the wound and bandage it before moving on his arm. She wiped it clean and used a pair of travers to keep the wound open, checking if there was a bullet still present inside, as there was no exit wound. Luckily, it wasn’t embedded deeply and she easily removed it. However, she found it to be slightly purplish in color, causing her to frown. She glanced at the bullet and found it laced with some substance. Her eyes widened and she quickly took an injection and extracted as much as she could from his blood.
Elain cleaned the wound properly, knowing he would need to visit an actual hospital soon. She stitched close the wound and cleaned away all the excess blood, placing a bandage over it.
She checked Azriel’s pulse once again and found it returning to normal. She finally felt as if she could breathe properly.
Elain grabbed Azriel’s phone from his pocket and took a swig from the bottle of Absolut kept beside her. She used his face ID to unlock it and called Rhys.
When he picked up after a while, she slumped down against the table. “Get here quickly, and get me a proper surgical kit. With blood bags.”
She cut the call and glanced at her hands, covered in blood. She ignored them as she covered her face with them and started sobbing.
~~~~~
Elain stayed on the floor until she heard the doorbell ring. She quickly wiped her face and rushed to the door, opening it to find Rhysand standing there, worry etched into his face.
He rushed inside, motioning to someone outside to come inside. Then a group of men came along with multiple iceboxes and cardboard boxes. “Everything you need to set up a surgical station.” He pointed to each box that was labeled.
She moved around looking inside the icebox to find multiple blood bags, each box holding a different blood group. “Did you raid a hospital or a vampire den?”
Rhys scoffed. “Had this in storage in case we needed to set up in a remote place. Usually, our resident doctor handles these kinds of things.”
Elain shook her head and asked the men to help her set up important equipment like an ECG machine and IV stand. “Should we set him up in the room?” She inquired.
Rhys just shrugged in response. “You’re the boss.”
“What’s going on?” Lucien’s voice came from the stairway.
Elain turned towards him and rushed to him quickly, once again breaking down. Lucien quickly hugged her, glancing at the table, and understood. He patted her back and shushed her. He grasped her shoulders tightly and shook her. “You see this every day at work. Go into Doctor mode, okay? You can do this.” She glanced at him and nodded, knowing she had to control her emotions.
She set her shoulders firmly and instructed the men to help her set up everything in Azriel’s room.
She could cry after she was sure Azriel was fine.
~~~~~
AN: I have a feeling I overdid the surgical process. Well. Hope you liked it!
Next Chapter on 10th Feb.
#elriel#elriel fic#one last time#elain archeron#azriel#elain x azriel#azriel x elain#gangster au#acotar au#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#feyre archeron#rhysand#nesta archeron#cassian
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The Golden Trio
The “Golden Trio” is the Harry Potter fandom’s nickname for the series’ three central heroes: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. You’ll notice a particular dynamic there: two guys and one girl. You may or may not know that what I’ll call the “Golden Trio trope” is hardly limited to Harry Potter. Here are just a few other examples of movies featuring a central guy-guy-girl relationship*…
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (Ferris, Cameron, and Sloane)
Pirates of the Caribbean (Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, and Elizabeth Swann)
Jurassic Park (Sam Neill, Jeff Goldblum, and Laura Dern)
Iron Man (Tony Stark, James Rhodes, and Pepper Potts)
Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice (Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman)
The Perks of Being a Wallflower (Charlie, Patrick, and Sam)
Smokey & the Bandit (Burt Reynolds, Jerry Reed, and Sally Field)
A Few Good Men (Tom Cruise, Kevin Pollack, and Demi Moore)
Shaun of the Dead (Shaun, Ed, and Liz)
Weird Science (Anthony Michael Hall, Ilan Mitchell-Smith, and Kelly LeBrock)
Lethal Weapon 3 (Martin Riggs, Roger Murtaugh, and Lorna Cole)
Me & Earl & the Dying Girl (Thomas Mann, RJ Cyler, and Olivia Cooke)
Garden State (Zach Braff, Peter Sarsgaard, and Natalie Portman)
Sahara (Matthew McConaughey, Steve Zahn, and Penelope Cruz)
License to Drive (Corey Haim, Corey Feldman, and Heather Graham)
Shallow Grave (Kerry Fox, Christopher Eccleston, Ewan McGregor)
And, of course, Star Wars, which features this dynamic in nearly every one of its iterations:
The Original Trilogy (Luke, Han, and Leia)
The Prequel Trilogy (Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Padme)
The Sequel Trilogy (Rey, Finn, and Poe)
The Clone Wars (Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan or Rex, depending on the episode)
Rogue One (Jyn, Cassian, and K-2SO—debatable, since K is a droid, but he is voiced by a male actor and is present with the two humans long before the rest of the crew enters the picture)
I could go on for longer, but we’d be here all day. The point is, this happens a lot, and the list above is limited to the live-action films I could come up with off the top of my head. There are many more live-action instances of this trope and, as I understand it, a near-infinite supply within anime/manga stories.
I have written thirteen short stories over the last few years, but the only existing “thru-line” was a particular duology featuring this exact trope. Because I spent a decent amount of time with the three characters in question (Brad, Cory, and Leah are their names), I’m particularly interested in this trope. I cannot recall when their story began to reveal itself to me, but one thing was never in question: these three characters are the endgame. Their friendship is the heart and soul of the piece. This might have come from the source material that inspired the story; I’ve not been shy about admitting how willing I was to rip off my favorite movies in my early years of writing, and there isn’t much difference between Brad/Cory/Leah and Corey/Corey/Heather or Ferris/Cameron/Sloane. But that’s sort of the key here: this trope felt so natural to write because, apparently, it felt natural for a bazillion other writers before me.
To begin interrogating this trope, I considered what my golden trio is “like.” Brad is the hero of the story: we see everything through his eyes and there’s a Richie Cunningham-like demeanor about him in that he has boyish good looks, is a bit of a nerd, and will bravely stand up for his friends if the situation calls for it. Cory, on the other hand, is almost a coward, certainly insecure, is constantly acting like a jackass to hide his insecurity, and is desperately in love with Leah. Leah, for her part, is very clearly the creation of the nineteen-year-old loner I used to be: she’s beautiful, something of a sister figure to Brad, and is secretly just as horny for Cory as he is for her.
Maybe it’s a bit of writer’s guilt for creating such a one-dimensional female character, but in sitting here thinking about this, I have convinced myself that the secret to interrogating this trope really comes down to interrogating the female character’s role within the trope.
Brad, Cory, and Leah’s dynamic is not too different from what one finds in mainstream entertainment instances of the trope. Sometimes the girl is related to one of the guys (Luke and Leia are siblings, as are Patrick and Sam in Perks). Oftentimes she is romantically involved with one of them (Ferris and Sloane, Anakin and Padme, Sam Neill and Laura Dern in Jurassic, etc.). Most crucially of all, she is not romantically involved with the other of the two guys, and even if she’s unrelated to both, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. When watching Sahara, there is no question in the characters’ nor the audience’s minds that Penelope Cruz is going to kiss Matthew McConaughey at the end of the movie. Steve Zahn is there to make us laugh; Cruz has no sexual interest in him and, in fact, says maybe ten words to him over the course of the entire story.
Leah talks to Brad more often in that within my stories, but while she is very affectionate, it’s clear she only has eyes for Cory (maybe something about his jackassery turns her on, or maybe Cory just looks and talks a lot like me). Aside from her romantic feelings for the “sidekick” of the two boys, her role as a friend to both of them is something of a mediator; being the girl, she is of course more mature and therefore more likely not to engage in any immature activity that the two boys might instigate. One sees this sort of behavior in Iron Man 2, for example: a drunken Tony Stark and an angry Rhodey duke it out in their super-suits while an irate Pepper Potts stands on the sidelines rolling her eyes.
But why is the golden trio such a common trope? A couple interesting theories I found online…
From Rocketman on superherohype.com: “You’ll see this trope mostly in fantasy and sci-fi because these genres aren’t as accessible and relatable to people since you’re dealing with far-out, abstract concepts, so you need a trinity of characters to bring things to a human level. And with fantasy and sci-fi, more often than not, more guys will be drawn to these genres than girls. Or, two-thirds of guys will be. In simpler terms, two guys and a girl. For every two guys in the theater, there will probably be one girl (one girl was dragged along with her boyfriend, while another guy is seeing it by himself).”
A concurrence from Gray_Walker on Reddit: “Marketing concerns. Three characters is a common number of focal characters for a story because it keeps the cast small and easy to keep track of. Male/Male/Female keeps the cast male-dominated, since the target demographic for these series is almost always male, but they don’t want to totally miss out on the female market, so the idea is to make one of the leads female so that demographic has something to identify with. When a group becomes female-dominated, it tends to indicate the series is targeted at women.”
This theory sounds plausible up until one realizes that Harry Potter, for example, appears to have a lot more female fans than male, despite the Male/Male/Female dynamic. If guys (supposedly) respond to this trope because there is one more male character to identify with than female, maybe girls respond to it (if they do) because it provides the one female character with two potential love interests? Ladies, tell me if I’m talking out of my ass here.
At any rate, the hole in the above marketing theory is maybe the only reason I let this mystical explanation catch and hold my attention…
From Brandon Bennett on Quora: “This dynamic is actually a secret symbolism of the Trinity of Consciousness. The older male = Thought Expression, the older female = Emotional Expression, and the young male = Action Expression. This character triad goes back much further than mainstream movies. It’s even in ancient religious scriptures from thousands of years ago.”
A couple interesting things to note here. One, there is a very limited number of plot and character types in the world. Even if Bennett’s explanation isn’t completely accurate (it might be), it stands to reason that every plot and character trope we can name has its roots in ancient literature. Two, the Trinity as he describes it here can easily be fit into, to use one ancient example, the Christian Trinity: God the Father (older male), Jesus Christ the Son (younger male), and the Holy Spirit (generally understood by Christians to be what nonbelievers would simply call one’s conscious or guilt, or, if you will, emotions, or at least the expression of certain emotions/feelings).
I guess what strikes me as funny about all this, the thing that set me off to write this entry in the first place, is that my three characters fit (more or less) into these categories, but I did not intend it to happen that way. I decided that Brad was a relatively calm, smart, reserved person (Thought Expression) but did not consciously decide that, as a result of this, Cory would need to be an energetic, foolish, outgoing person (Action Expression). This happened of its own accord.
Well, is this interesting only to me? Do you have a favorite character trope, specifically a favorite three-person character trope?
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*Note that I am not including romance-centric movies in which this relationship is a love triangle. I am interested only in this dynamic insofar as it represents three friends; maybe two of them are lovers, but there is no central rivalry between the two guys over the one girl a la Twilight.
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I want to talk about Elain today and her role in future books. I will also be talking about other ships at the end of this including: Lucien x Vassa, Lucien x Elain, and Azriel x Gwyn. These are merely my opinions and thoughts, this is not me trying to bash anyone else's opinions. I am open to having discussions as long as you are kind and respectful.
This is going to be long as a warning. Let's begin.
Quiet Strength
My friend recently start reading ACOTAR and she came to me one day and said that she had found a quote that she really liked. That quote was:
"She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger" ~ ACOTAR, pg. 259
I know that a lot of antis like to bring up the fact that Elain didn't do anything but plant flowers and such while Feyre was out risking her life to put food on the table. Why hadn't Elain planted food instead? As someone who tried to garden vegetables with her dad one year I can tell you it's not as easy as flowers.
Maybe Elain was trying to bring some color into their drab little existence like Feyre had done with the paints. Maybe she wanted one thing to make her happy.
When Feyre comes to see them in ACOMAF, to ask for their help, it was Elain who said that they should help.
"If... if we do not help Feyre, there won't be a wedding." ~ ACOMAF pg. 247
"Feyre gave and gave - for years. Let us help her. Help... others." ~ ACOMAF pg. 248
Elain was risking a lot by saying they should now help their Fae sister. She was going to be married to someone who's family hated the Fae. If they found out what Elain and Nesta were doing it would probably be the end of her engagement to Graysen. They would become Fae sympathizers and like the Children of the Blessed we see mentioned throughout the books.
Would a coward risk all of this? Not to me they wouldn't.
When Rhys, Az, and Cassian arrive once Elain had cleared out the servants. Elain, while scared, still tries to be a good host to the four of them. I want to come back to this scene when I discuss Elriel because this was the moment that I first started thinking that they would make a good pair.
But while Nesta and Feyre are more bold with their actions like wielding swords, bow and arrows, knives, etc., Elain doesn't necessarily back down from a challenge. When given Truth-Teller she simply states that she doesn't know how to use it. She does not shove it back at Azriel and refuse it, she simply informs him she doesn't know how to use it.
Also when they had been captured by Hybern and all that mess was going down. Tamlin had been gunning for Feyre and it was Elain who did this:
"But Elain's cry - a warning. A warning to- To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last." ACOMAF pg. 602
Elain, despite being scared in this highly stressful situation, saw her sister in danger and tried her hardest to warn her. If it had not been for Elain, Tamlin might have been able to grab Feyre at that moment in all the confusion and chaos. Despite being in her nightgown and terrified she still tried to protect her younger sister.
Once again when people are in danger once the Wall had been taken down it was Elain who spoke up. She knew that Graysen's family's estate could help protect those closest to the Wall and from any Fae that may come to do them harm.
"Glamour me," Elain said - to Rhys. "Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary." ~ ACOWAR pg. 471
"It's already ended badly. Now it's just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences." ~ ACOWAR pg. 471
She's Fae now. If Graysen or any of his family or those working for them knew this (which we see that they did) then they might kill her on sight. She risked her life to make sure defenseless humans remained as safe as they could with the oncoming war.
When Azriel and Feyre go to Hybern's camp to save Elain they also save another human. They are being pursued and clearly, the human girl is terrified of them, but it is Elain that says this:
"Grab onto him!" Elain ordered to the wide-eyed human girl as Azriel thundered toward her. *skipped ahead* "Elain screamed at her, "If you want to live, do it now!" ~ ACOWAR pg. 577
She also does this when the King of Hybern's beasts are upon them:
"Elain moved. As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast's face. Its eye. *Skipped ahead* "Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home." ACOWAR pg. 577
Knowing that their lives are in danger and that if this beast does anything to Azriel's wings they are all going to die. She does not hesitate and does not back down as she goes after the beast with her barefoot.
She slays the King of Hybern as well:
"Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the King's neck as she snarled in his ear, "Don't you touch my sister." ~ ACOWAR pg. 652
She has a protective streak in her and she will go down swinging if she has to.
And this I just found interesting. Everyone seems to shy away from Amren, but in ACOFAS this happens when they're all eating together:
"Elain, to my surprise, held Amren's gaze." ~ ACOFAS pg. 108
I just like that she held Amren's gaze.
Being Feminine Isn't Boring
I see a lot of people saying that Elain being feminine is boring, that she isn't an exciting heroine. Yes, Elain isn't one of SJM's typical heroines, but I think that makes her all the more interesting. We've never seen someone who isn't like Aelin, Bryce, Feyre, and Nesta from SJM.
"Elain stood between Nuala and Cerridwen at the long worktable. All three of them covered in flour." ~ ACOWAR pg. 386
"Elain was in the kitchen, helping Nuala and Cerridwen prepare the evening meal." ~ ACOFAS pg. 101
"She'd been toiling in the estate gardens since dawn." ~ ACOSF pg. 28
"Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie's garden." ~ ACOSF pg. 311
Do I think Elain's entire book will be based on her baking and taking care of gardens? No, I don't. I think she is capable of more than that and that is going to lead into my next point.
Elain Archeron, 007
This is not a new theory and it isn't even one that I came up with. Many lovely Elriels have pointed out comparisons to Azriel and Elain and how he may even teach her how to be a spy. I think it is a perfectly lovely idea. Let me show you some quotes from the book that make me think that this could be a possibility.
"Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, "Using me." ~ ACOSF pg. 230
They were talking about looking for the Dread Trove here and scrying. They were debating who should do it when Elain stepped up. She has done this before and with her seer abilities she is a perfect choice for the job. Obviously several characters aren't thrilled with the idea (Nesta and Azriel being two of the ones that don't like the idea).
"Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, "There is an innate darkness to the Drea Trove that Elain should not be exposed to." ~ ACOSF pg. 311
"Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why." ~ ACOSF pg. 470
"You came," Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. *skipped ahead* "Wondering if she'd been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends." ~ ACOSF pg. 595
We see that even Nesta is questioning whether or not Elain has been having lessons. She very well could have or this could be a hidden talent that Nesta has never gotten to see or never cared to see because she viewed Elain as someone who is innocent and needing protection.
Nesta mothers Elain throughout the series, we constantly see her coming to Elain's defense, stepping in front of her, talking for her. And while Elain used to let that slide we can see now that she is coming into her own and not letting Nesta walk all over her.
"Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." ~ ACOSF pg. 232
I think Elain has been denied many things in her life because she has been seen as the most beautiful. Her own mother seeing her as nothing more than a pretty face that would be easy to marry off once she was of age. What will she do now that she has more freedom than she did before? Now that she will not become some lord's wife?
I do not see Elain as a warrior who is ready for battle, but I see her being ready for a different kind of battle.
"It took hours for Elain to work her charm on the staff to swiftly pack their bags and leave, each with a purse of money to hasten the process." ~ ACOMAF pg. 250
You know who else is charming? James Bond.
Being another pretty face has something going for Elain. No one would look at her and think "Yeah she's totally a spy." She can charm people, make them feel more at ease, and get them to open up. Maybe even enough that they think nothing of divulging things in front of her that otherwise shouldn't be overheard.
Maybe she can learn to glamour herself so that she is not recognizable to others. Who knows but I'm sure we'll find out when her book happens.
Welcome To Spring
One of my least favorite theories I've seen is that Elain will leave the Night Court and her family to go to Spring. Even going as far as saying that she will wind up with Tamlin. I don't think Feyre would let her sister wind up with her abuser plain and simple. Nor do I think Elain would fall for her sister's abuser just because he lives in a land of eternal spring and has flowers.
In ACOSF Nesta has this thought:
"Elain would love this place. So many flowers, all in bloom, so much green, *skipped ahead* But Elain... The Spring Court had been made for someone like her." ~ ACOSF pg. 454
While I do believe that Elain would love the Spring Court I do not think she would ever leave her family or friends behind.
"Two half-wraiths she called friends." ~ ACOSF pg. 595
"Cassian kissing Elain's cheek in greeting. *skipped ahead* Amren came next, giving my sister a nod. *skipped ahead* The Mor, with a smacking kiss for either cheek." ~ ACOFAS pg. 105
We also know that the sisters tend to consider one of the brothers friends. Feyre with Cassian, Nesta with Azriel, and I believe Rhys and Elain will also be friends. He seems to like Elain (certainly more than he likes Nesta).
Plus now there is Nyx in the mixture and why would she leave and miss out on her nephew growing up? What about if Nesta becomes pregnant and has a child? So no I do not believe that Elain will leave the Night Court.
Shipping Time
Here is where opinions and feelings may vary and people might not like what I have to say. Just know that these are merely my feelings on a ship. Ship what you want to ship, I am not here to gatekeep. These are merely my feelings on the matter. I'm going to start with the two ships I like: Elain x Azriel and Lucien x Vassa.
Elain Archeron x Azriel
I mentioned this earlier but I've been shipping them since ACOMAF. I saw the potential for them from the moment they began to interact.
"Elain rasped, "Nice to meet you," before hustling after her, the silk skirts of her cobalt dress whispering over the parquet floor." ~ ACOMAF pg. 253
I like the symbolism in this line. Cobalt = Azriel's siphons. Whispering = Azriel's shadows. While it might not be that deep as a writer I like the small things like this in my works. Things that later when you come back to them after something important happens that is a callback to something like this you can go "ooooh that makes sense now, yeah." We also do see other mentions of Elain wearing blue, but this post is long enough and it's only a few more times so I don't think it's worth noting. This part just sticks out to me because it's the first time they're meeting and like I said I love symbolism.
"Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, "Can you truly fly?" ~ ACOMAF pg. 256
Elain who has been taught to fear the Fae is talking to him, also probably leaning around Cassian - who she is seated next to and also has wings - and asking if he can fly.
Azriel responds on the same page saying, "We're born hearing the song of the wind." And her response of, "That's very beautiful." This is the same male who famously said he wouldn't need poetry to woo a woman. Maybe he's not trying to woo her here, but he's trying to impress her.
"Elain, noticing Azriel's ease as proof that things weren't indeed about to go badly offered one (a smile) of her own as well." ~ ACOMAF pg. 258
She seems mighty comfortable with a Fae she just met. Which leads my into my two mate theory that I've had for some time now.
We know the tweet where SJM says that someone can have two mates. This was during a time when one of the TOG novels was about to come out and was probably referencing something in there, but I think it would be interesting to see play out in this situation as well.
We've seen several times people questioning Elain and Lucien's mating bond. Feyre and Azriel both do it. Feyre during ACOWAR and Azriel in his bonus chapter from ACOSF.
We also know that not all mates are happy pairings ie. Rhysand's parents and Tamlin's parents. We also know that sometimes it's based on who would have the strongest offspring. We can see this reflected in both Rhysand and Feyre's mating (he's considered the most powerful High Lord and she has abilities from all seven HLs).
But what if Elain and Lucien aren't true mates? True mates to me is a happily mated pair like Feyre and Rhys as well as Nesta and Cassian. Azriel questions why his brothers were mated to two sisters while the third was mated to another. (Pardon me for not using quotes here, I do not have the bonus chapter so I am going from memory.)
Why indeed? And I think it was because he was on the floor dying at the time. We know that the Cauldron loves Elain, so if her true mate was on the floor dying and there was no guarantee for survival it would make sense for the Cauldron to gift Elain another mating bond.
I will talk more about this in the section where I discuss them as a ship, but I wanted to briefly mention it here.
We also know the scene where Azriel hands over Truth-Teller to her, something that shocks all of them. I think of Truth-Teller like Azriel's security blanket. Something that brings him comfort and he never ever wants to part with it. But he gives it to Elain.
After she was taken by the Cauldron and held captive at Hybern's camp. After she says this:
"She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. "You came for me." The shadowsinger only inclined his head." ~ ACOWAR pg. 573
Why did she look only to Azriel? Why did she seem so surprised that he would come for her? Kind of like how a princess might not believe that her prince has come for her. (Love me some Disney princess movies)
To me these two just fit together. And to me they are more like Hades and Persephone than Feyre and Rhysand are. And hear me out: Elain as Persephone, goddess of spring. Azriel as Hades, god of death. (Feyre once calls him Death when thinking of a painting of him and Elain. Death and the lovely fawn she called it). Some might see Azriel and Elain falling in love as stealing her away from her mother (or mate in this case).
Also if you want another mythology reference. Paris (Azriel), Helen (Elain), Menelaus (Lucien). Helen was considered the most beautiful and was stolen away from her husband Menelaus (though I think she went with Paris willingly so there's that.)
I see so many parallels and signs that point toward an Elriel endgame. We know Elain's book is in the works and I'm pretty sure it's next since Sarah has talked about doing research for her book. We also know that Sarah is excited to work with Azriel as well.
Moving on.
Lucien Vanserra x Vassa
I've been shipping them since ACOWAR. So not as long as Elriel, but since a bit. I think this was the line that did it for me:
"Indeed, Vassa still remained inside, chatting with Lucien animatedly. *skipped ahead* Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened." ~ ACOWAR pg. 690
Unlike with Elain, he seems comfortable around Vassa.
"Even with Elain here, he's become close with Jurian and Vassa. He's voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary. As their friend." ~ ACOSF pg. 57
I'm a sucker for the friends to lovers trope (it only falls after the enemies to lovers trope). And while we do not have a lot on them I can see the two of them being happy. I can see Lucien trying to find a way to make her immortal if that's what she wants. And I just want the two of them finding their HEA together in the final book.
My theory is that Vassa will be the MC of the last book and will deliver the killing blow to Koschei (as she should). I would love to see their journey together and their time together in the mortal lands especially since the mating bond would be severed at this point if Elriel is the book before this one. I want Lucien to be happy and I think that he could be happy with Vassa.
Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra
We know that Elain and Lucien are mates. He announced this on page 608 a little bit after Elain had come out of the Cauldron. But these two do not seem to fit together in my opinion. Now please note I have nothing against Elucien, I even like some of the fanart and the theories I have read are wonderful. I'm just personally not a fan of these two because of how they were thrust together.
When comparing Jesiminda and Elain, Lucien says this:
"Elain had been... thrown at him." ACOWAR pg. 249
I know Lucien wants to be happy and I know mates are special, but I don't necessarily think that Elain will be his happiness. I think that the way they met ruined that for them.
"But Elain blinked slowly, "You were in Hybern." *Skipped ahead* "You betrayed us." ACOWAR pg. 250 - 251
Lucien, however willing or unwillingly, did play some part in Elain being turned Fae. He was one of the reasons she could no longer go home or marry Graysen. I don't know if that's something that could be overcome especially since Elain is still dealing with the events of that day.
We also know that Elain tends to avoid him, shrinking in on herself when he's around. Another reason why I can't ship this is because I've been in a similar situation where people were pressuring me to be with someone I had no interest in. I know what it's like to hear "you two are perfect for each other", "you should give him a chance", "just try".
Their relationship is not evolving naturally like Feyre and Rhys's did or Cassian and Nesta's. I don't think Lucien would ever push the mating bond onto Elain, but I do think since it's something special to Fae he may cling to it more than she will.
Another thing about their bond that doesn't sit with me is how it is described.
"It felt... strange," Elain breathed. "Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib." ACOWAR pg. 301
"There's a bond - it's a real thread," he said, more to himself than us." ACOWAR pg. 301
Other bonds have been described as "so much golden thread" or an "unbreakable chain". But Elain and Lucien's is described as a singular thread that feels as though it were attached to a rib. To me mating bonds are like soulmates, why would that bond be attached to a rib and not the heart or her being?
I believe that once again either the Cauldron created this bond between them or maybe they are not what's considered a "perfect match" like Elain's sisters with their mates are.
I will say this: If Elain and Lucien do wind up together I won't be mad. Sure they are not my preferred ship, but they both deserve happiness and can find it together then good for them. We will just have to wait and see where SJM takes them.
Azriel x Gwyn Berdara
I've lowkey been dreading talking about them because of how toxic this fanwar between Elriels and Gwynriels gets. Once again this is just my opinion and my theories. No hate or shade to any of the shippers. I will not be bashing theories. If you don't want to read my thoughts then please just leave now and pretend you never saw this.
I do not like Azriel and Gwyn as a ship for one very big reason: power imbalance. Azriel saved Gwyn from a highly traumatic experience. Now before I go any further let me say that I brought this up to my mom who also reads the series but isn't a shipper, she just reads them to enjoy them. I asked her what she thought of Az x Gwyn as a pairing and if she would like to see that and she said no that she also felt there would be a power imbalance.
Gwyn is a strong character, but I do not think I could get behind her and Az as a couple because of how they met.
I also do not believe that Gwyn will be the MC of any of the last books there are. We still have Elain's book, possibly a Mor book, or even Vassa. There are too many people from the original trilogy that we need to see books for. While I will not rule out a book in the future I don't see her getting one now.
I know the necklace is a hot button issue, but I also don't believe that Clotho gave it to her. We never hear it mentioned in the main portion of the book and I think Clotho knew how troubled Azriel was and thought that she should hold onto it just in case.
"You're the new ribbon, Az," ~ ACOSF pg. 623
Gwyn is a competitive person, to me this line that Nesta says is here merely telling Az that Gwyn's next challenge would be to prove him wrong about the training course. Nesta knows of Azriel's feelings for her sister by this point, so I don't see this line as her teasing Az about Gwyn possibly having a crush on him.
But again these are just how I interpret things between them.
These are all my thoughts at the moment that I'm going to share. If you would like to have a discussion my ask box is open. Hate will not be tolerated though.
#Elain Archeron#Elriel#Azriel#pro Elain Archeron#pro Azriel#pro Elriel#ACOTAR 5#ACOTAR 5 predictions#ACOTAR theories
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A Favor: Bonus Scene Two (Gwynriel)
Masterlist
a/n: this picks up right after nesta leaves gwyn’s apartment in Part 24. warning for discussions of sex, obviously.
***
As soon as the apartment door shuts after Nesta, Gwyn releases a breath and turns to Azriel with a wide gaze. “Do I really have to teach you guitar?” she says.
“Of course not.” He rolls his eyes. It was a throwaway line meant to get Nesta off his back, and even she didn’t entirely believe it. He moves toward the kitchen to get a glass of water, still shaken from Nesta storming into Gwyn’s bedroom like that. Not that she interrupted much. Gwyn still has a long way to go before she can handle anyone touching her between her legs, Azriel thinks.
He never asked Gwyn what a twenty-seven year old woman was so afraid of sex for when she first suggested her proposal to him. She looked so scared that he would question her that he couldn’t bring himself to poke even a little bit. Not that he needs to poke. He’s not a fucking idiot, and Gwyn’s thighs had been trembling in involuntary fear under his hands earlier. She’s been hurt.
For her sake, he pretends to remain ignorant and incurious, but right now his grip on the glass in his hand is so tight it might shatter. His face remains cool as he pours himself water.
“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” Gwyn hops up onto the kitchen counter and swings her freakishly long legs. “About what you get out of our deal?”
“I don’t expect you to teach me sex for free, obviously,” Gwyn blabbered the day after they got back from the ski lodge. “You can ask for something from me, too. Even money, if that’s your thing.”
Prostitution was not Azriel’s thing, though he wouldn’t knock it. The truth was that his brain had started turning as soon as Gwyn told him about her idea, and now it couldn’t stop. Oddly enough, this opportunity was perfect.
“Tell Nesta that I’m using you as a rebound?” Azriel nearly snorts on his water. “Did you miss the part where she almost cut my dick off and choked me with it?”
Gwyn hums noncommittally. “Being a distraction from your ex is better for me than it is for you. It’s insurance that you won’t get any funny ideas.” She narrows her teal eyes at him. “If you find yourself moving on from Nesta’s hot sister, you better tell me right away. I’ll end this whole thing quickly and cleanly.”
“Why?” He thought moving on from Elain was the goal, one he was unlikely to achieve.
“You know.” She crosses her arms in an X over her chest like she’s warding him off. “You might catch—feelings for me.”
This time Azriel really does snort on his water, hard. His laughter turns into coughing when it slips down the wrong pipe, and liquid dribbles onto his shirt. Gwyn just sits there and stares at him in vague disgust.
When he’s done choking, he wipes his mouth with the hem of his tee and gasps, “Even without Elain, you wouldn’t need to worry about that. Trust me.”
Gwyn wrinkles her freckled nose in distaste. “I would be offended if I wasn’t so relieved.”
He’s still chuckling when Gwyn says cautiously, “By the way…” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Did you really ghost Elain?”
Azriel is no longer amused.
“When you said you broke up with her, I thought you actually broke up with her,” Gwyn continues. “I didn’t know you were one of those guys.”
Shame tinged with embarrassment floods Azriel, and he doesn’t have the slightest idea why. Why does it matter what Gwyn of all people thinks of him, especially when she doesn’t have all the details?
He thought he was making things easier for Elain by leaving without a word. He thought she would let him slip out of her mind after a couple of weeks just like he slipped out of her life, and that it would be better than having to hear him dump his insecurities on her.
He knows now that he was only making things easier for himself. Knows that if he had stayed and talked things out with Elain, she would have convinced him to stay. If he had called her at all in the past two months, he would have gone running back to Velaris like a sailor answering a siren’s song.
She’s always been a siren—which is why he can’t regret doing what would have happened eventually anyway. Even without that Vanserra bastard or some other man, Elain could never have been a permanent fixture in Azriel’s life. Little details sprinkled throughout their time together confirm that for him now.
That doesn’t mean Elain deserved it, or deserves it now. Azriel knows that.
But all he can think of to say to Gwyn is, “Yeah, maybe I am one of those guys.” He puts his glass in the sink. “You still want me as your teacher?”
Gwyn shrugs, looking away. “It’s not like I’ve got any other choice.”
Azriel would disagree. He says what he’s been thinking since they got back from Cassian’s birthday trip. “Wouldn’t you rather do this with someone you love and trust?”
“God no,” Gwyn snorts, providing no further explanation.
Azriel can understand being hesitant to admit sexual inexperience to a crush, but it doesn’t stop him from judging Gwyn’s new man. If this coworker of hers is so great, wouldn’t she be able to trust him unabashedly with her insecurities? Wouldn’t he readily accept her for all that she is?
Ugh, he’s been dipping into Nesta’s reading collection too much lately. “Alright, then.” He leans against the counter opposite Gwyn. “Let’s talk about learning. You clammed up in bed back there after ignoring my suggestions and shoving my head between your legs.”
“I clammed up because of my best friend barging into my room and catching us together,” Gwyn defends.
“Your pussy was dry as bread before that,” he retorts. Ooh, now he wants toast.
Gwyn turns a furious shade of red while Azriel starts looking around for bread. He finds it sitting by the toaster. “Can you not say that?” she hisses at him.
“What?” He looks up from dropping bread into the toaster.
“You know…” She glances around cautiously as if someone might overhear. “Pussy.”
“Pussy,” he says again, just to be annoying. Gwyn’s shoulders turn inward in embarrassment, and he has to hold back a grin. Yeah, she’s definitely not ready for oral.
He finds a butter knife and some peanut butter. “I told you to start easy and you ignored me. You tried jumping into the deep end without learning how to tread water.”
Gwyn scoffs. “And what does ‘treading water’ entail again?”
Azriel shrugs, plucking up his finished toast. “Making out, heavy petting, freshman-year-of-high-school kind of stuff.”
“I’ve done that before,” she mutters indignantly. “Maybe not in my freshman year, but I’ve done it.”
He wonders how long ago that was, or if it was before she was—hurt.
“Besides,” Gwyn goes on before he can push the matter further, “I’m not budging on kissing. I want to save that for the man I actually like.”
“You don’t like me?” Azriel raises a brow, slathering peanut butter over his toast. “You definitely don’t act the same with me as you do with other men.” Or at least that’s what he assumes. Up until a short while ago, he never would’ve been able to imagine timid Gwyn having the guts to ask anyone for sex ed. That’s got to make him special, right?
But then Gwyn waves him off and says, “That’s ‘cause you’re not a real man. I knew you before puberty.”
Azriel nearly drops his toast. “Wow, the nerve of this woman,” he mutters with wide eyes. If she keeps this up, he’s going to start regretting ever going to the same school as her. “That’s not what you said when you were going on about how attracted you are to me.”
“I said you were attractive, not that I was attracted.” Gwyn’s blush is more from irritation than shyness now. “You do the job, but you’re no Max.” She giggles at saying his name. Actually giggles. “I’ll only kiss Max.”
“What kind of stupid ass name is Max?” Azriel grumbles through a mouthful of peanut butter.
“It’s short for Maximillian.”
He chokes. “Jesus, that’s even worse.” He’s doing all this work for some guy named Maximillian. Maybe he should just go home and let Nesta give him the beating he deserves.
Except thinking about Nesta only reminds Azriel of what a coward he is, because he fears facing her again almost as much as he fears facing Elain. “By the way, could I…” he starts hesitantly.
Gwyn gives him a judgmental sneer. “You don’t want to go back to the cabin, do you?”
He shakes his head.
“You can’t stay here,” she responds, crushing his hopes. “I have plans tonight, but even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let you be such a wimp.” She hops off the counter and comes over to him, surprising him by grabbing both of his shoulders. “Azriel,” she says somberly.
He swallows his toast roughly.
“You have to grow some balls,” she continues. “Not just for your sake, but for the sake of every poor woman in your life. Also, all this drama is personally a turn-off for me, which is detrimental to my sex education.” She wrinkles her nose. “Do better and all that, you know?”
Damn, okay.
Instead of standing there like an idiot, Azriel manages to say, “Fine, I’ll go.” He shoves the rest of his toast into his mouth and dusts off his hands, heading for the living room.
“Wait, you don’t have to leave right now—” Gwyn follows after him. Azriel is already on the couch, pulling a stray notepad and pen on the coffee table closer to himself.
He clicks the pen. “When’s that library guy planning to take you out?” he asks, starting to write.
Gwyn hovers near him, watching the notepad over his shoulder in confusion. “Um, this Saturday. Just a casual coffee shop thing.”
“Then I’ll see you on Friday.” He scribbles down some bullet points and labels the page LESSON PLAN. “Until then, think about a way to enjoy foreplay without kissing. Here are some suggestions so you can practice.” He tears the lined paper out of the notepad and hands it to Gwyn.
Her eyes skim over the page, brows rising with each point she reads. “Is all this really necessary?”
Azriel remembers how he barely brushed his lips against Gwyn’s core before having to pull away and kiss her quivering thigh instead. He can’t have sex with an unaroused woman, and he definitely can’t do it with a terrified woman. “Foreplay is absolutely necessary,” he says, getting up from the couch and stretching to his full height. Where Elain used to only reach his chest, Gwyn’s head almost reaches his nose. It amuses him for some reason.
“Do you like movies?” he adds. “I’ll take you to the movies on Friday.” Preferably something boring and played out, so the theater will be empty and she won’t be paying attention.
Gwyn’s eyes widen. “Is going on dates also part of foreplay?”
“It can be,” Azriel shrugs. It will be when he does it. He drops a hand onto Gwyn’s head and ruffles her hair. “I’d love to stay and help you study, but I have to go and grow some balls.” He mock-frowns at her as he heads for his shoes and keys. “See you later, Gwyneth.”
***
a/n: wait why do i wanna write the movie theater scene now… pls help me im just trying to finish this damn fic im getting too old for this
tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook a favor: @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99
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Am I the only one who kind of doesn’t want Eris to turn into a Rhysand 2.0? One of the things I really liked about Eris is, him being portrayed as this morally grey character in ACOWAR. He brought some nuance into the series, because so far, all of SJM’s villains have always been very one dimensional and not fleshed out enough. Now with Eris, she could give us a character whom readers are conflicted about, who does unredeemable things as well as good things, like for example be a support for Lucien. I don’t want him to turn into this guy, who all this time hid his true personality behind a mask, hence excusing his past behaviour.
Also, I realised that readers in this fandom are generally very quick to judge a character based on one scene. Apparently, it only takes Eris telling Cassian, he doesn’t know the whole story (about him and Mor) and Cassian telling Eris he isn’t a monster, for people to come to the conclusion, that Mor is the guilty party, bash on her even more and praise Eris. Don’t get me wrong, I love Eris and I know that some people have loved him before ACOSF, but I kind of wish that the fandom would sometimes look at things from a wider spectrum and not take things just as they are. This is probably because of SJM’s writing style and her habit of telling not showing, but it really bothers me.
Hope you're having a lovely sunny day!
MEEEEEE okay I'm gonna rant about how much I dislike him, and how much I hate the fandom reaction to him right now.
I know this is a popular take right now, that Eris is just Misunderstood™️ but honestly?
idgaf about Eris. He can choke.
Eris didn't have an entire court to protect. He didn't have to sleep with Amarantha against his will for 50 years to protect his reputation, thereby allowing him to act evil but actually help people under the radar (e.g. making sure Clare Beddor didn't feel anything). He didn't have to leave Mor the way that he did, without telling anyone what was happening. I hate the comparison between him and Rhys, if only for the simple fact that Rhys had way, way more responsibility on his shoulders than Eris has ever dreamed of.
Cassian was right to say that Eris is a coward. He's a bargain basement Walmart generic brand Rhysand. Lucia @aelin-godkiller made a great post about Eris here, and yeah it came out just after acofas was published, and yes we've had acosf since then, but honestly???
Eris saying "you don't know the whole story" is... not enough reason for me to give a shit about someone who makes traumatized, queer character feel fear. Him actually slut-shaming her in a circumstance that in NO WAY called for it is... not okay??? Like even if there was more to the story when they were betrothed, him saying that she "still dresses like a slut" 500 years later is not called for 😂If he does know that she is queer, which was heavily implied, then maybe making digs at her sexuality is... a complete asshole move!!!! And an intentional one!!!!
Honestly, I hate Eris, I hate how the fandom is so eager to believe the slightest word from him, but it doesn't surprise me given how eager people are to believe that Azriel is also secretly a soft boi who is just being harmed by Mor being Not Into Him. If sjm is knowingly constructing this narrative wherein a queer victim of abuse is questioned for their truthfulness when speaking about that abuse and homophobia, and wherein a queer character's queerness is most important for how it affects the straight people around them, then I will burn my books istg.
EDIT okay sorry I went off on your ask, especially since you said that you like Eris haha.
I just have very strong feelings about him. And I have very strong feelings about how the fandom reacts to him and Mor, because I think that it reveals more internalized misogyny than reactions to Elain ever have. SJM really does tell and not show, but people insist on looking for what she is showing. It’s just honestly not that deep, and the fact that she has potentially constructed this narrative of “queer hurt woman is likely lying about her trauma” just makes me ill. I hope that’s not where sjm is going with this, I really hope. But we will see.
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but i’ve had no love like your love
read it on ao3!
If there’s one thing that Jyn’s learned over the years, one thing that’s remained constant, it’s that there’s something wrong with her.
She doesn’t know what it is and doubts that she ever will. It’s something that makes her unloveable and makes people want to leave her no matter how hard she tries to get them to stay. It’s happened so many times before that it can’t be coincidental; even when someone promises to stick around, she doesn’t believe them. She knows they won’t, that they’ll leave despite what they say because there’s something about her that isn’t right.
But Cassian makes her forget.
It’s hard to remember that she’s broken when she’s with him and he makes her feel so loved. The reminder will slip through the cracks sometimes, like late at night or when she’s alone, but then Cassian will press a kiss to the top of her head or hold her closer, and she’ll stop thinking about it again. He has an effect on her that no one else has ever seemed to have, and that makes her selfish. She wants what she can’t have, could never have.
“I love you.”
If Jyn could turn back time, she would go back to that moment and keep her mouth shut. It’s not that there isn’t any truth in her statement –– stars, she loves Cassian so much –– but she’d forgotten herself. Forgotten for a few precious seconds that there’s something wrong with her and let herself pretend that she could have this one thing –– that she could love Cassian and be loved in return.
But why would he? Why would he love her back? She’s unloveable.
There had been nothing on Cassian’s face when she’d said, nothing that made her think he felt the same. He’d fallen back behind his spy mask, looking at her for too long without saying anything. She had to get away, had to leave, to run like the coward she is.
So that’s what she’d done. Ran away. Looking back, she can’t tell if Cassian had actually been calling out for her to wait, or if her mind has fabricated that entirely.
Now, she’s curled up in her bed, legs drawn up to her stomach and blankets pulled up over her head. Alone in the darkness, it’s easy to be weak and vulnerable. Hopeless.
He could never love her back.
It’s been a long time since she’s slept in her own room; she spends most of her time these days in Cassian’s, with him. It helps both of them get the rest they so desperately need but cannot get on their own; nightmares plague both of them, but when together, it’s so much easier.
But Jyn doesn’t think she’ll be getting any sleep tonight, doesn’t even think she’ll try. Instead, she stares forward, eyes blank and absent.
Force, she’s so stupid .
She’s so caught up in her own head that she doesn’t notice the banging on the door, doesn’t notice that anything is amiss until the lock flashes green and light floods her room.
But Jyn doesn’t move. She’s just so tired .
The door closes, plunging the room back into darkness, but not for long. Whoever is there flicks on the lights, then rushes to her side, kneeling in front of her.
Cassian.
“Jyn,” he says softly, raising a hand as if he wants to brush back her hair but hesitantly as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch her anymore. “Jyn, are you all right?”
No. Clearly. She shifts, flipping onto her other side so she doesn’t have to face him. “I’m fine.”
“Jyn…”
“Go away, Cassian.”
Instead of leaving, however, he sits on the edge of her bed; she can feel the mattress dip underneath his weight. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You will,” she mutters, pulling the blanket higher over her face.
There’s silence. She wishes he would leave, even though she doesn’t want him to.
He sighs, shifting slightly. “I’m sorry. For not responding. You surprised me, I…I didn’t know you felt that way. About me.”
Silence. He swallows, then adds, “I didn’t know that you feel the same way I do. I love you.”
Her shoulders tense, muscles rigid. No, that can’t be right. He’s lying –– he has to be. Her voice is hoarse when she finally speaks. “No, you don’t.”
“I don’t understand,” he says, clearly confused. She imagines the way his eyebrows crease together, the tight pull of his mouth. “Jyn, I do . I’m sorry about earlier, I’d just –– ”
“No,” she repeats, voice shaking. There are tears in her eyes, close to spilling over, down her face, and onto her pillow. “No, I don’t believe you.”
Cassian places his hand on her back, his warmth cutting through the blanket wrapped around her. “I love you,” he tells her gently. “I love you.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s not. It’s what I feel.”
“No one can love me. I…I’m unloveable. There’s something wrong with me, I don’t know what it is, but I’m broken, I can’t –– you can’t love me, no one can ever love me –– “
He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, then wraps himself around her, knees slotting behind her thighs and arms wrapping around her waist. There’s something wet on the back of her neck, dripping down from Cassian’s nose onto her skin. “Oh, Jyn,” he soothes, searching for words that can provide her some sort of comfort. “Jyn…”
“Don’t lie to me, Cassian. Don’t you dare kriffing lie!”
“I’m not lying,” he says again. “I love you –– and I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe me.”
Jyn shakes in his arms and shivers violently as he strokes her hair and tries to calm her down. She doesn’t believe him, not now. She doesn’t think she ever will, not when this is all she knows.
(But maybe, maybe she will in the future. If anyone could convince her, it would be him.)
It takes almost a year but it happens.
“I believe you.”
Cassian looks up from his meal, startled, blinking. His mouth is full of food when he asks, “What?”
Jyn shifts in her seat, clearly uncomfortable. He hasn’t said anything in the last two minutes that warranted her blatant display of trust in him. “You know,” she mutters, poking her fork in the air for emphasis. “The thing.”
“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that,” he replies, amusement tugging the corner of his lips upward.
If it’s possible, she blushes even more, her face almost entirely red. When she speaks next, it’s in a whisper; he has to strain to hear it over the din of the mess hall. “When you tell me you love me. I believe you.”
Oh. Oh.
It’s been months since they’d had that conversation curled up in her bed, Cassian comforting her silently as Jyn tried to hide her tears. He’s been nothing but a steady presence ever since, biding his time and being patient.
It’s finally paid off.
He reaches across the table and takes her hands in his own, thumb rubbing against the back of it gently. “Jyn, I’m –– “
He doesn’t know what to say. That he’s proud of her? That seems strange, almost. Luckily, Jyn cuts him off, words pouring out of her mouth as if she can’t stop them.
“I’ve known it for a while, I think,” she tells him. “Just didn’t know when to say it. It just kinda. . . spilled out.”
The happiness he feels right now –– it’s like his heart is about to burst out of his chest. He can’t do anything but squeeze her hands, hoping that his actions show her exactly what’s going on inside him.
“I don’t know why you do,” she admits after a beat. “Or how. But I believe you when you say it. That you love me.”
That’s a problem they can deal with later; they have weeks, months, and years together. It won’t be difficult for him to teach Jyn how to be loved, that she can be loved.
“Hey, Jyn.”
“Hmm?” she asks, blinking up from where she’s looking at their entwined hands, looking at him for the first time during their conversation.”
“I love you,” he tells her seriously, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Jyn returns it, the adoration in her eyes reflecting back at him. He imagines he looks the same, lovesick and giddy. “I know.”
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Traitor Pt 3 (Final)
Hello everyone!
So happy that you guys liked my little story, i am hoping to write much more in the future. So please let me know if there is anything in particular you would like to read. Here is pt3 and last part of the Traitor fic. There is a 'prequel' and it is very angsty, if you guys want that as well let me know.
Enjoy!
It had been three days, three days without seeing Azriel. He didn't show to practice, neither he looked for her in the library.
Coward, coward, coward
She was so mad, how was saying sorry so hard for him?
Or was he embarrassed that he lost to her? no, Azriel would never be embarrassed about that. He was just too afraid to face her.
Or maybe he didn't care, maybe he wanted to fix things with Elain and not her.
Yeah, that might be the answer.
That afternoon Nesta had asked her to come over to the house of wind and stay over with her while Cassian was away in a mission. She climbed the stairs of the library, while preparing to be in the same house as Azriel.
He was not talking to her, fine, she would not talk to him.
Nesta was waiting for her at the door, "please don't kill me, please, please". She said while grabbing Gwyns bags, "my sisters came over for dinner and have not left, i can kick them out but we have to wait a bit for Rhysand to leave Nyx at Amren's"
She smiled
Perfect this night has started perfectly.
"Of course, yeah no problem."
They arrived at the room, and Gwyn felt panic rising to her throat at the sight of the middle Archeron sister. She was probably pissed at Gwyn for all that had happened, she probably hated Gwyn because of it.
"Hi Gwyn!" said Feyre.
"Feyre" she bowed, "thank you for having me".
Elain looked at her, smiled, and kept talking to Feyre.
Well, that's better than the slap she had expected.
She sat besides Nesta and prayed that her High Lord would come soon.
------
An hour past, and the four women were tangled in a conversation about wine when a knock came at the door.
Gwyn felt a tug at her chest; he is here it seemed to say.
Fuck.
"Im sorry to interrupt ladies" a breathy voice said, " i am here for my high lady and her sister". She turned around and faced the male speaking, he wore rather casual clothing compared to the illyrian leathers. His black tight shirt and cargo black pants accentuated his muscles, and his hair was messier than usual.
His eyes landed on hers, and his slight smirk fell.
Oh, great. I'm not happy to see you either, she thought.
Elain stood and quickly walked towards Azriel, but he did not break Gwyns stare; not even while he grabbed the arms of both women and they said bye to Nesta and her.
He looked at Nesta, "is this... a sleep over?" he said softly.
"yes, and you are very much not invited" Nesta responded.
He smirked, "ill be back" he looked at Gwyn.
"Don't leave" he said.
She looked away.
"Please" he said to her, his voice pained and desperate.
And with that, he left.
Nesta smiled and crossed her arms. "You planned this didn't you?" Gwyn asked her sister, "mhm, he helped me get a mate i help him find the balls to talk to you" she answered.
-----------
Gwyn was not one for drinking, but waiting for Azriel to come had made her so anxious that she had considered asking the house for Cassian's oldest bottle of Whiskey to drink it all by herself. Instead, she had been served a big, fat piece of chocolate cake; accompanied by water.
Nesta was in front of her, watching with admiration as Gwyn devoured the cake.
Mother, she loved chocolate.
The tug at her heart began once more, the feeling of comfort and hurt that Azriel brought upon her growing as the seconds flew by.
"He is here" she whispered to Nesta, "I am not ready to face him".
"He is not ready to face you" she answered.
A soft knock came at the door, and the creak of the wooden door was the most terrifying thing Gwyn had ever heard.
"Shadowsinger" Nesta said, "you are just on time". Nesta stood, grabbed Gwyns hand and squeezed it softly, "i need to go fix some paperwork for Cassian, could you please stay with Gwyn while i come back?"
Really Nesta? Thanks.
"Sure, thank you" he answered.
-----------
She did not feel Nesta leaving, neither she looked up to see where Azriel stood in the room. Her hands had become the most entertaining thing in the world at that moment, and nothing would change that.
"Gwyn" he called.
She felt him getting closer, and it took all her will not to jump to his arms.
He stopped, "please, look at me".
"No" she said, "you don't get to demand for me to stay, for me to talk to you, for me to look at you".
Cauldron was he clueless, did he not have a sense of communication?
He is trying, the voice of her heart seemed to say.
"I know that, but... I need... I need to see your eyes" Azriel said. Slowly, she felt him kneel in front of her; not too close as to startle her, but close enough that she could feel the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar filling her nose.
"May i touch you?" He said, stretching his hand towards her.
Yes, please
She only nodded softly.
His hands grabbed her chin and lifted it to face him. "There you are" he smiled, "there they are". His eyes looked deeply into hers, as if he was trying to memorize each feature in them; he seemed... desperate to memorize her. As if what he was about to say would make her disappear from his side forever.
" I have a whole speech prepared" Azriel said, "but i don't think you're the type to want to hear rehearsed words, so let me give it a try..."
Quieter than she had ever heard him, Azriel began " I have always been alone, the shadows and the dark being my best friends..."
"I only knew friendship and love when Rhys opened his home to me; but even as my brothers and i grew, i still felt alone.... empty. I longed for something that would be entirely mine, something that no one else would share, something i would never have to part with." His voice breaking, Azriel inhaled and tucked his hands in his pockets.
"I met Mor when she was very young, she was such a happy girl; always teasing and playing, always happy even with the shitty family she was born into. She lightened my days, she gave me a reason to wake up in the morning; i began to love her before i expected" his voice filled with pain he said, "and i loved her for five hundred years..."
"I thought she had to be my mate, because no one else would make me as happy as her; and i waited for five hundred years for the mating bond to click. Disregarding her feelings, her insecurities and fears; i pushed my feelings down her throat, hoping she would pity me enough to give me a chance".
His confession broke her. What kind of thoughts went through the mind of this beautiful man to say anything like that?
"Meeting Elain was different, i was finally able to help someone as broken as me. I had a purpose beyond violence. I looked forward to sharing time with her, i wanted push her to be better, to forget about that undeserving human boy" He continued, "once she began to get better, i realized that i was not the only thing grounding her. Her sisters, the wraiths, gardening, and even her mate gave her courage to keep going. And i am so selfish, selfish enough to begin loving her; demanding from her what she is not ready to give".
"The winter solstice that i tried to give her the necklace, i did it out of a desire for her to be mine. My thoughts were never about how much i loved and admired her, but rather that i deserved Elain, that three brothers and three sisters made more sense than what the cauldron had chosen".
Gwyn shuttered, her heart squeezing lightly at the words coming from his mouth.
"But i realized long ago, that Elain deserves to choose her own path; neither Lucien nor me are entitled to her, she should be master of her own destiny" He said, no pain noticeable in his voice. "I had to let go, for my sake, my court's sake; but most importantly, for her".
"I could tell you more about my mistakes, and i will, but i have to explain why i gave that necklace to you." He moved closer to her, their knees touching. "That night, Gwyn, the conversation we had made my heart sing; you changed my mood so quickly, and you didn't even know it. You looked, so free, so competitive, so happy".
"Then, after i left that night, i realized that i wanted to see your smile again; so i left the necklace to Clotho and asked her to bring you some joy in that lonely solstice night. And my mind pictured your smile once you received that necklace. The selfish being that i am, has kept that memory in my heart; selfishly locked away so that no one will steal it from me" He smiled and looked into her eyes, "and then you kept showing me so many surprising sides of you. No one challenges me to better as you do, no one wants to see me bite dust as you do. No one is interested in what i think about coffee, or what my favorite mystery novel is. You have heard my voice more time than anyone before."
"You have showed me many times that you're my only match Gwyn".
He paused, as if the words weighted on his heart as much as they weighted on hers.
"You are my best friend, the person i admire the most in the world. I admire your courage, your patience, your perseverance, your happiness. I love the way you show love to your friends. I love how much of a fierce warrior you are. And even though i made a mistake by re-gifting the necklace, i could not think of anyone that deserves to be pampered and loved as much as you"
He stopped, inhaled and touched the top of her hands.
The happiest feeling crept into her heart, her feelings were not one sided.
He saw her.
She saw him.
But his eyes did not show the happiness she expected, not did they show the same desire that burned deep in her.
They showed fear, sadness, longing.
"But with all that i have said, i know i don't deserve you. I have hurt everyone I've ever loved, i have always been so selfish. I have been looking for a bond so desperately that i was blind to what i had right in front of me..."-"I have avoided confronting my fears of being alone, of facing my nightmares and acknowledging how much of a monster i can be. When i look at you, how much you have given me; i regret every moment i have not spent loving you".
He moved his hands away from hers, looked at them and shuttered.
She realized then, unlike her, his biggest fears and insecurities were visible for everyone to see. He hated his hands, he believed them to be the proof of his monstrosity.
He did not know how wrong he was.
Finally, after what felt like eternity he said, " i am sorry Gwyn, i have not been the man you deserve; and i will forever regret that i lost you before i ever had you."
Tears falling down her cheeks, Gwyn grabbed his hands and placed them in her face. How much courage had those words taken? How much courage had even touching her taken?
"Az... you're so blind" she responded with a sob. She turned her face to his hands and placed a slight kiss inside of his hands, "these hands saved me, they are so precious... you are so precious to me"
She looked into his eyes, "i was hurt because i wanted.... i wanted you to be honest with me"
"I thought the necklace had meant that you thought of me" she smiled sadly, "for the first in my life i thought someone had chosen me, someone had thought of me first".
He looked away sadly, "i know that, and i am sorry".
She interrupted him, " I lied when i said i never wore it, i wore it every day, every hour" she laughed softly and grabbed the empty space in her neck that once held her necklace, "i even bathed with it".
He smiled. And damn if she wanted to kiss him now even more than ever.
"Once i found out it had been you who had gifted it to me, i ... finally was able to confirm my feelings towards you" Gwyn confessed. "I knew i fell in love with you the moment in the training ring when you admitted you had given the necklace to me."
Was she really saying this?
Yes
She closed her eyes and talked before her courage disappeared.
"Azriel i am in love with you" she breathed, "i fell in love with the man saw the darkness in me, and did not run away. The one that taught me to fight my nightmares way. The one that listened to me ramble about the silliest things. The one that made an effort to open his heart to me, and answered every question i asked him" she laughed. "After the first night on the training ring; i knew you would be my best friend, my confidant. Once i shared more and more nights with you, i couldn't stay away... i can't stay away from you"
Placing his hands in her chest she said, "i love you, all of you; the spy, the friend, the brother, the shadowsinger"
She didn't dare to look deeply into his eyes, afraid of what feelings laid beneath them.
"You are my center, you are my hope, my ladder to keep climbing up the pit of darkness my mind is. I will never be enough for you; for the pure and innocent heart you have. But if you give me a chance, i will treasure you for eternity". Tears scrolled down her face as she spoke, "I am not you mate, nor i am what you were looking for. But i will fight beside you every step of the way, because you more than anyone deserves happiness".
There. I said it.
She took her hands away from his, looked down and waited.... Waited for him to stand and leave, to laugh and mock her.
But he didn't.
He kneeled there, in front of her.
Shocked
Happy
.... Happy
He was happy; in fact, he seemed joyous.
A grin emerged in the male's face, bigger and brighter than she had never seen before.
Grabbing her hand, he pulled them up.
There they were, facing each other; looking deeply into each other's eyes when Azriel said: "the one that does not deserve you is me". He came closer to her, grabbed her waist and pulled her body towards his "my best friend, my love. I want you to be my entire world Gwyn".
He smiled and pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. His face coming even closer to hers, "i am not worthy of your confession, your heart, much less your body". His nose touched hers, "but give me a chance, i will treasure you until the end of times".
She smiled, nodded and closed her eyes.
Warmth filled her body as Azriel's lips closed upon hers. Soft, warm and gentle. Moving in a pace that would not startle her, he grabbed her neck to pull her even closer to him. He took his time to explore her mouth, kissing every corner. "Thank you Gwyn, for choosing me" he said, "i have found my light where i never thought looking". He kissed her nose, her forehead and her lips. "Now that i have you" he said, not leaving an inch of space between their mouths, "i will never leave you".
-------
As they kissed, something golden and long appeared in Gwyns mind, her chest seemed to swollen at the sight of it. The golden string settling in front of her and pulling her to reality.
She flinched at the same time Azriel did.
Their eyes meeting once again.
And right there, she knew...
"Mate" they said.
#gwyn acotar#gwynriel#gwyneth berdara#azriel#azriel fanfic#fanfic#acotar#post acosf#nesta archeron#nesta and gwyn#acotar fanfiction
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cant wait for lethal combination chapter 5! and loved the holiday nessian fic you wrote!
then you shan’t have to wait! and thank you so much, nonnie. the fic they’re talking about and all previous chapters of lethal combo can be found here, x
“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”
Nesta kept her gaze on the wall of oak opposite her.
“Is this the part where I tell you to get on your knees for me?” She asked.
Humourless.
And she could practically feel the feral rage radiating from him. Bleeding through the grate to her left like he were trying to smoke her out.
“This is the part where you-“
“Shhh.”
A lean shadow, a head of auburn hair, muted in the darkness like the decayed verdure of autumn, barely distinguishable through the latticed window no bigger than her hand.
She’d made Eris wait almost a day.
In Nesta’s experience teenage girls understood psychological warfare better than any CIA types she’d met. And rule one in the handbook was never call him back right away.
Eris might as well have been a cute boy from home room, the advice stood fast.
She’d also chosen the time and place for their meeting, giving no concessions in authority. Picking the church as unlike her he’d inherited both the egregious wealth of his family and their faith. Irish Catholic. Meaning he’d find himself here every Sunday evening regardless, and providing not only the guise of normality, but the cosy anonymity of a confessional.
The only people who did secrecy better than assassins, were the Catholics.
It was perfect really, the perfect plan. Undistracted Nesta had been able to work it out pretty quickly after Cassian had left. Leaving her all those hours between four in the morning and her meeting the following evening with nothing to do but hate him.
Avoiding returning to the bed he’d screwed her in. Glaring at his jacket which still hung beside her front door over a bottle of vodka.
It was a blow to her pride to be sure. The closest thing to rejection she’d ever received from a man. Whatsmore, some gooey part of her she’d pushed down had been upset.
Too worked up to sleep she’d spent hours tucked into her armchair and entertaining plucking his teeth from his mouth like the petals of a rose. He loves me, he loves me not. Because worse than revealing himself to be a complete ass as most men did, Cassian had done so subsequent to fucking her better than she could have dreamed. And she’d had that dream. Multiple times.
Wet dreams that couldn’t hold a candle to the way he’d had her dripping down to her knees, begging for his cock, trembling on legs he’d thrown over his shoulder to lick out her cunt like it was the reason he got out of bed in the morning. The man had spoilt her rotten.
Nesta knew she probably shouldn’t have been thinking about sex in a church. Her mother was likely burning with a fury hotter than the flames that surrounded her down below, but she couldn’t help it. Because while she hated the sinner- ever bronze buffed, tattooed inch of him - god did she love the sin.
“The adult is going to talk,” she said quietly. “If you want to throw a tantrum you can do it on your own time because as of this moment, I’m officially off the clock.”
Eris’ silence said he knew better than to interrupt her. Perhaps he was smarter than she was about to give him credit for.
“In fact I stopped working for you as of the moment you chose to question my methods and profess concerns that I may have jeopardised our venture because I lack the professionalism to keep my legs shut,” she said.
“So if you want Helion Day neutralised, you’re going to have to find someone else to do the job. Though I seriously doubt you’ll be able to.”
Cue phase two of the plan.
Because she may have hated Cassian, but she wanted the monopoly on causing him emotional anguish.
Like hell some other pro was going to put a bullet between Helion’s eyes and devastate his bodyguard. Making that man cry was Nesta’s prerogative.
“I have made it clear to anyone in my field you might attempt to solicit that you are a impertinent, trust fund brat, who insists on micromanaging the work of other’s despite your incompetence in an attempt to feel important beyond the breeding mummy lied and told you made you special.”
“I wasn’t aware you also specialised in character assassination.”
Eris’ voice was charred with a sweetness like wealth; earthy and rich it reminded Nesta of muscovado sugar.
He was right. She was being unprofessional. But she was tired and hungover and out of a gorgeous lay so fuck him.
“My specialities are no longer any of your business, Mr Vanserra,” she replied. “My displeasure however, should be of great concern to you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“I wouldn’t do you the courtesy of warning you if I intended to kill you.”
Eris said nothing.
“You can consider it incentive if it helps you sleep at night though,” Nesta continued. “To do as you’re told.”
She gave him strict instructions. Wait five minutes then leave. Never contact me. Forget we were ever in correspondence in the first place.
“Murder is cheap, Mr Vanserra. You don’t want to learn the cost of disobeying me. It’s not the kind of thing daddy’s wallet can cover.”
She emerged from the confessional, slim shades obscuring her eyes and the deep bruises beneath. Her heels clipping against the stone floor as she made her way toward the station of votive candles at the back of the church.
Each glowing stick a prayer for a lost loved one. Matches and and a few unlit offerings still available.
She lit herself a cigarette on a flame.
And Nesta couldn’t have missed the fresco above those colossal doors of oak and rustic gold flake even through the plumes of smoke that curled upwards as she stalked lazily down the isle: a depiction of the Heavenly Father himself.
She didn’t bother flicking a glance behind her to the confessional.
Who’s your daddy, now?
-
She’d collapsed face down into already rumpled sheets.
They’d smelled like sex and heaven and she’d smelt like cigarettes and a church and that was all she knew before the exhaustion caught up with her, the world went black, and she was waking up in exactly the same position . Vex’s fluffy tail swishing against her ear. The tickling sensation plucking her from the bliss of pure nothingness.
Nesta groaned a little as she rolled over and pulled herself to sit up. Pleased to find she’d had the energy to take off her clothes. Unlike her makeup.
“Damn it,” she hissed as she saw the smudged mascara on the pillow.
Not that the sheets didn’t need washing anyway…
“Ugh,” she huffed, dropping flat onto her back again.
She’d been awake less then seven seconds and a man had already ruined her day. Just thinking about him…
“Ugh,” she said again, louder. Like she was angry with the ceiling for not acknowledging her the first time.
Vex meowed, his little head nudging at her bare arm. As though he were trying to coax her bra strap back up to a respectable position on her shoulder.
“Hi, baby,” she grumbled, picking him up for a cuddle. “You hungry?”
He meowed again.
Padding down to the kitchen she’d made them both breakfast (technically lunch, she’d slept in till almost one) and carrying her plate of fruit back upstairs to draw a bubble bath he winded between her ankles, catching her attention as he hissed at something in the living room.
“What?” she inquired, looking down at him before tilting her head to follow his own.
Cassian’s jacket.
Uhg.
Now she was thinking about him again.
Childish, dumb, insecure little prick. How he’d had the fucking nerve to call her a coward was truly a mystery.
He was so crippled by that fear of not being good enough he’d immediately presumed she wanted rid of him. Lashing out defensively- God he was infuriating.
She looked back to Vex who was now staring up at her. “If that thing somehow ends up on the floor,” she said, “you have permission to piss on it”.
He purred.
Vex truly was the only boy worth his salt. Something he proved yet again in hopping atop her bathroom counter and guarding her like a fluffy little gargoyle as she sank into the bath. Opening m the window to let out the smoke of her cigarette so as not to bother him. The sound of rain slipping something comforting through the January chill, twirls of smoke and steam visible in fatigued plumes.
Another lethal habit she’d picked up from Aunt Ripleigh.
The thought gave her an unpleasant feeling in her heart. Like a worm writhing in the rotted meat of an apple.
Ripleigh wasn’t actually her aunt. But Nesta avoided her much like she did the rest of her family and that was what really counted. Besides, spilling blood together arguably made for a closer bond than just sharing it.
Like Nesta said, not really her aunt.
Aunt Ripleigh – initials AR, an homage to the assassin’s preferred weapon the AR-47, American hybrid of the Russian Автома́т Кала́шников, A.K.A the AK-47.
Some mothers left their little girls pearls, or scrapbooks packed with baby pictures and the lingering scent of their perfume. Angelina Archeron had left her’s a Mafia assassin’s cell number.
Of course Nesta hadn’t known that.
Not until she’d found herself with her hands caked in something dark and sticky, her boyfriend’s skin stuffed beneath the lip of her nails and a taste in her mouth like hot rust.
She’d been seventeen the first time she’d killed a man.
Not a man. A boy.
A few months her senior, Thomas been a child just like her.
Her first crush. Her first boyfriend, her first love, and her first.
Nesta had known Thomas was using her for sex. Just as she’d been using him for his money, and wasn’t that what love was? Finding the gratification of your needs in someone else? In Thomas’s case he’d needed to get his dick wet. In Nesta’s…it was more than embarrassing but half the time all she’d needed was a hot meal.
She couldn’t count the number of times she’d called him in the dead of the night to hook up in his Porsche so she could sleep there instead of at home, where the windows screamed freezing air from their shattered mouths and the electricity bill was rarely paid.
But one night Nesta hadn’t felt like earning his kindness. And so he hadn’t offered it.
Instead he’d held her wrists, ripped at her shirt, forced his hands into her jeans. Pushed up against the bonnet of that Porsche by a lake in woods she’d torn through his face, her nails splitting through the waterline beneath his eyes as she’d kicked and screamed, blood pouring, his hand on her neck, throwing her head against the wing mirror. Heat spilling heavy down her jaw and neck from somewhere which had smelt like lose change.
She remembers blood in her eyes and the taste of soft, smooth skin and a kind of rubbery strength between her teeth as she’d bit down hard until something had popped or burst or split with a squirt or a tear. She remembers spitting out whatever of Thomas’s ear she’d torn off between her teeth and something swinging into her lower ribs so hard one broke. She remembers the sounds that had been both of them and then at some point just her.
Her screaming.
Her sticky, disgusting face, stinging with every horribly wet sob and shriek. The shrieks that hadn’t choked to shaky breaths until she’d pulled herself to sit back against the wheel of the car. Clutching at her ribs which had only hurt so much worse when she’d thrown up right next to her boyfriend’s body. What looked like a pint of blood glowing in the dust. His face…his head.
It’d looked like a Halloween prop. Like dark jam. Like a brutalised seventeen year old dead in the dirt.
And sometime after noticing one of his teeth in the dust, Nesta had realised how fucked she was.
It wasn’t much of an achievement when you considered Grafton, Vermont had a population short of seven-hundred: but the Mandrays had been quite possibly the most well connected and well off people in its less than seven-hundred square miles. And despite keeping Nesta’s name out of their sneering mouths through referring to her almost exclusively as “that white-trash bitch”, that population short of seven hundred didn’t give a shit about her.
Didn’t give a shit she’d been top of her class with a place at Georgetown. Because Nesta could never have afforded to accept it.
And it certainly didn’t matter she was a pageant queen when everyone knew the petty cash prizes were the only thing that paid the rent on their shitty one bedroom. Especially with things barely breaking even. In spite of Feyre’s making use of their father’s rifle and sourcing for the butcher any chance she could.
A too skinny child in the woods with a gun and blood in her braids.
Nesta’s efforts to keep food on the table had always seemed to pale in comparison to that. But she’d never felt bad about it. Wouldn’t bother hating herself when everybody else was already doing that for her.
Nesta Archeron was the cheap fuck that nice Mandray boy was messing around with. The gold digger with the dead commie mom and daddy issues.
No one would have ever believed he’d tried to rape her.
And she’d had no money for a decent lawyer- she hadn’t even had anyone to call. Not her dad, not a fourteen-year old Feyre nor Elain, sixteen and the last person she’d ever want wrapped up in something like this.
Nesta had been desperate and vulnerable and jaded for as long as she could remember but she’d never felt as terrified and broken as she had in that moment. Crying alone and hugging herself tightly, she’d just wanted her mom. As cold and neglectful and dead as the woman was.
“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь”
Her mother’s last words.
Ten numbers.
Nesta had somehow gotten to her feet, only realising Thomas had broken a few of her fingers when she’d tried opening the car door. All but collapsing inside once she’d managed as she’d fumbled for her phone.
“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь” she’d repeated to herself, voice hoarse and wet and cracking as she’d dialled.
Ten numbers. Ten numbers. Ten numbers.
Like a phone number.
No doubt concussed Nesta had deemed it logical enough. Her mother’s dying breath a kind of atonement for leaving her children with nothing in the whole word but a father that could watch his girls starve and go into the woods with his hunting rifle and whore themselves out like they meant nothing.
A life-line in the deep waters opaque with clouds of blood.
“Здравствуйте.”
Those three syllables had been like a punch to the gut.
Nesta had made a noise that might have sounded like “mom?” or the creaking of a damn as it ached under duress. She’d obviously known it wasn’t her mother, but she hadn’t heard a woman speak Russia since- hadn’t heard Russian at all in years.
“Who is this?”
Trying to pull herself together Nesta had taken a breath that had rattled, dripping wet and slightly wheezing. Everything was going to be okay. She’d been right. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Of all the phone numbers in the world what was the likelihood that the voice on the end of this one spoke her mother’s native tongue?
“I’m- I’m Angelina Archeron daughter. She gave me this number I don’t know what to do I-”
The specifics aren’t as clear after that. Like a jigsaw left out in the rain or soaked in fresh hot blood, the pieces, the details, they’d melted to mush.
A mess she’d held in her hands and wondered what the fuck to do with.
What do you do with a dead body and the knew found knowledge your mother was a boyevik for the Russian Mafia? What do you do with her retirement package which contained nothing but the contact for an assassin working for the New York arm.
Nesta had only known what she wasn’t going to do.
Go down for murder.
Aunt Ripleigh had told her what to do over the phone, instructing her on how to deal with her injuries and Thomas’ pulp of a body. How to explain the state of her face and ribs and fingers and head. What to do with his car and how to speak and sit and and react when then police came asking questions about Thomas’ disappearance. How to get away with it.
Nesta had followed each direction flawlessly. Consoled in finally having a definitive plan. Even a plan that started with “buy meat cleaver, trash bag, battery powered blender and bucket, with cash from dead boyfriend’s wallet.” Even a plan that got progressively worse from that point on.
Filleting chunks of a body that had once been inside her. Hauling a trash bag of boyfriend smoothie to the river with broken fingers. The thick slop sinking almost immediately just as Aunt Ripleigh had said it would. Before she’d told Nesta to burn the bones and roast marshmallows over them.
“If it had not been you it would have been next girl,” Ripleigh had said. “And she might not have had your fight.”
“You mean she might not have been disturbed enough to kill her boyfriend?”
“Killer instincts, Anastasia. Is not disturbed, is talent,” Aunt Ripleigh had said. “Cannot be taught but what can be taught you learn quick. No whining. Like very good puppy with very sharp teeth.”
“Woof,” Nesta had said dryly.
“Stray puppy though, no? Is why you have no manners.”
“You offering to adopt me?”
“I have pet already. And my husband is funnier than you.”
Nesta’s compromised rib had punished her for finding that funny.
“But you ever want job, you call me.”
Needless to say that was not the last time she’d called Aunt Ripleigh.
Three weeks later and four months shy of getting her high school diploma Nesta had turned eighteen and moved to New York in order to “pursue modelling”.
In reality she was doing coffee runs with a dash more arsenic than normal and luring prosecutors to hotel rooms they’d never leave. A personal assistant of sorts to Aunt Ripleigh.
She had kept the mafia, the Bratva, at an arms length whenever she’d been able. Paying off the shitty house she’d left her sisters in with one less mouth to feed and not wanting their address in any files accessible to people with skill sets like her’s.
And while working with Ripleigh had been a mortiferous riot, two gals shattering the glass ceiling in their industry and slitting throats with the shards; Nesta had developed expensive taste from the fringes of high criminal society. She’d cared less about the art of killing than she had about the art she could hang up in a penthouse apartment if she were in private practice. Her lust for comfort winning out after two years or so at which point she’d gone freelance. Assisting in a few heists before getting in with a crowd of Nazi hunters for a bit, all the while keeping in touch with her mentor.
Until Feyre had moved to the city.
Then she’d given up on the more dangerous antics, selling out for safer and even more lucrative bets like CEOs and cutting ties with Aunt Ripleigh. Terrified if not a little paranoid of something happening to her sister. Which had been shit. Because Nesta hadn’t had any other friends. Like, at all.
At eighteen Feyre was still as bitter and proud as she’d been when Nesta had left. As Nesta herself still was.
Elain had tried bridging her sisters’ relationship once she’d moved to New York but she’d had better success career-wise. Working at a florists before eventually graduating to a self employed wedding planner.
Nesta had kept her thoughts on the psychological tells of a girl jilted at the alter becoming a wedding planner to herself. Mostly because Elain was always brining her cake samples she’d stolen and Nesta wasn’t going to sabotage her supply of free cake.
Feyre on the other hand had gone about far less conventional means of making a living. The child was a force to be reckoned with if for nothing but her resourcefulness and almost objectionable will to survive. Fiercely independent and clumsily capable she’d taken a crack at everything while selling her art on the side. It was a piece she’d modelled for that had delivered her to true economic grandeur however.
Well, “modelled” maybe wasn’t the word. Her sister had essentially been used as a human stamp. Her naked body detailed with intricately painted swirls then pressed to canvas.
The work had been showcased somewhere high brow and had caught the eye of one Mr Rhysand Velaris, thirty-one and the sole inheritor of his late father’s worldly possessions. Among which were several millions of dollars.
Half of which now belonged to her sister thanks to a very reckless prenup on his part.
Though Nesta had briefly wondered if he’d spent at least that on the engagement ring. A glittering iceberg that seemed to only glare brighter next to the stark black band tattooed just beneath it, a matching tattoo on Rhysand’s own ring finger. Because of course they’d eloped in Paris and gotten tattoos instead of wedding rings.
If Nesta had been closer to her baby sister she imagined she might have felt betrayed on some level. But as things were, Nesta wasn’t entirely sure she would have received an invite even if they’d had a traditional wedding, planned to perfection by Elain.
It was probably the worst part of her job. The distance she had to put between herself and everyone she had the potential to care about. A distance she could never close even if she decided to retire right this minute because the damage had already been done. Nesta had become a liability to their safety the minute she’d moved here and started in this line of work.
She took another chocolate from the box she’d snatched from downstairs on second thought. Her supply already dwindling thanks to the rather depression freight train of thought she’d embarked on.
That and the fact they were really very good.
Cassian may have been a prick, but she couldn’t deny he had great taste.
In chocolate, and women, she thought smugly. Sinking deeper into the basin.
A heat flushed up her neck that had nothing to do with the bath as she unwillingly remembered how he’d softly coaxed one of these lovely little parcels between her full lips. The drunk hunger in his deep brown eyes and what he’d done next, snapping her lace thong between his teeth-
Her music stopped. Only to be replaced by a buzzing thrum of her phone.
Leaning forward Nesta checked the caller ID before swiping across the screen to accept the call and sinking back to her earlier position.
“I’m not in the mood,” she hummed dismissively, head tipped back against the lip of the tub and eyes closing. She’d known this was coming, better to get it over with.
“When I supply you with handsome, rich, and eligible men, I do not expect you to break them!” Feyre castigated through the phone, and anyone might guess she were the elder sibling.
Feyre indeed thought herself wiser and more worldly than both Nesta and Elain, and getting married hadn’t helped diminish her false sense of maturity. Thrusting her character into some weird sarcastic seriousness that mirrored her husband’s demeanour perfectly. It made Nesta cringe so thoroughly she was mildly concerned about getting wrinkles.
“And I thought we’d grown out of sharing toys, but it seems both our expectations were thwarted.”
“Humans aren’t toys!” Feyre reminded her. Not that Nesta didn’t already know that. No vibrator had never made her cum as hard as Cassian had.
“And if you resented me setting you up with Cassian then why did you fuck him ?” Feyre asked. And she said fuck as though it were synonymous to stab or poison.
“Was it to punish me? Because if so you did a spectacular job. He’s crazier about you than ever and won’t stop moping. The second-hand embarrassment is painful enough without the added agony of how annoying it is.”
If he likes me so much why was he so eager to assume the worst of me? Nesta thought spitefully.
It didn’t matter that she technically was lying to him. He didn’t know that.
“You told me to give him a chance.”
“And you couldn’t have decided you didn’t like him before having sex with him?”
Nesta wasn’t surprised Feyre had taken Cassian’s version of things at face value.
Her husband’s family were unimpeachably wonderful in her eyes. Meanwhile Nesta remained just another reminder of a time Feyre couldn’t have afforded the plane ticket to get to New York, let alone a town house on the upper east side. A cold bitch who hadn’t begged to join the weird cult that was the Velaris family and their innermost circle when Feyre had married Rhysand last year.
“Oh I’d already worked out he was an ass by that point but I thought he could at least make up for putting me through the date. Not much going on in that head but he quite clearly had it all going on-
“Ew ew ew!” Feyre interrupted. “One, I need this conversation to steer clear of anything anatomical, and two, do you have to be so horrible?”
“You’re the one pimping out your friends, I just took you up on the offer.”
“Ever heard of the third date rule?”
“Didn’t you marry Rhysand on the third date?”
Feyre sighed.
“Cassian’s a good guy, Nes. It takes a lot to come out the other side of what he’s been through a good man and he deserves the world so-”
“So why did you send him my way?”
Nesta knew what Feyre thought of her. And if she hadn’t then this conversation would have made it very clear.
“Because Nesta! You’re twenty-four and already a crazy cat lady! I’m sorry I tried to save you from dying alone and having Vex eat your corpse.”
Nesta rolled her eyes.
“Have you ever considered I choose to be alone because I like it?” She asked.
Feyre sighed again, but it was softer this time, sad more than exasperated.
“You’re not alone, Nesta,” she said. “You’re lonely.”
It was annoying enough that she was right, she didn’t have to be so pretentious about it aswell.
“I’m fine,” Nesta said.
“You sound just like Cassian,” Feyre grumbled.
“Well I’ve been smoking.”
“I’ll be sure to put how funny you were on your headstone when those things kill you.”
“I’m racing Rhysand to the grave, he has more cigars than I do shoes.”
“He only smokes them on special occasions.”
“And how do you know this isn’t a celebratory cigarette on account of you calling me?”
“Because instead of saying hi you said I’m not in the mood.”
“Oh so you did hear me?”
“I hear you, Nesta,” Feyre conceded, disappointment weighing on her words. “Loud and clear. Have a good week.”
She hung up.
“You too,” Nesta said into the silence.
When the silence replied she sank beneath the water. As though she hoped it might act as the cushioned walls of a padded cell meant to protect those who posed a danger to themselves.
It didn’t. And that unpleasant ache didn’t go away. It never did.
Worse than the dull pounding in her ears and tightness in her chest as she held her breath.
But it would be nothing compared to the devastation of seeing Feyre or Elain hurt. The tender ache of keeping them at arms length, knowing they were at least there to brush her fingers against, was worth avoiding spending the rest of her life reaching for someone taken from her.
Perhaps that was also why she’d wanted so fiercely to dislike Cassian.
Nesta re-emerged with a gasp, her chest on fire.
What an unpleasant notion, she thought, running her fingers through her wet hair and sinking back as she took a slower breath. That she’d been looking for a reason to dislike him even after overcoming the minor detail she was going to kill his friend and client. An excuse to throw in the towel as soon as she could. Because it was just easier.
Easier than accepting she was fundamentally terrified of keeping him around.
Easier than keeping him around and seeing him get hurt.
Fuck.
Her being mad at him had been a cop out.
Because yes he’d been a petty, insecure idiot; but hadn’t she told him she was going to fuck and chuck him? Hadn’t she been at typically fast to get in a fight with him? Substantiating his insecurities.
Nesta might have been furious at his calling her a coward, but he hadn’t actually been wrong.
She’d let some subliminal fear convince her to sabotage things.
A subliminal and blissfully irrational fear she realised because, Cassian, a monument of pure muscle, could definitely look after himself. He’d been marine corps for Christ’s sake. Not to mention she’d seen him take down Helion enough times in the ring while still working for Eris and the fact the man literally specialised in keeping people safe for a living!
Nesta felt a weird and almost unfamiliar lightness in her shoulders. It felt a little like hope. Which was also terrifying.
But she wasn’t going to the let the fear control her this time.
—
Cassian had ignored her calls.
All three.
Which was fine because she’d been stalking him for the past month. She knew exactly where he’d be that evening and doing things in person meant she could kill him if he kept up the asshole routine.
Nesta’s platform stiletto boots clipped against the laminate flooring as she emerged from the elevator. Stalking lazily through the top floor of the Illyria building.
Even if she killed Cassian he was going to die happy. She looked good enough to eat. Thick hair fastened back into a high ponytail, the details of her face were subject to full attention. Her eyes appearing almost wider and lashes lavished with a black like her jet thigh-highs and tied coat. Plump lips softly lined and shaded, she looked drop dead fucking gorgeous.
Though it was what she was wearing under her fastened coat that was the real killer.
Nesta didn’t uncross her ankles from where they’d flicked over one another as she let herself lean against the doorframe of Cassian’s office.
It was wide open. No privacy needed when everyone else had gone home around four hours ago. The night detail on Helion allowing Cassian time to catch up on work as he had every night and well into the morning for the past month.
“All work and no play?”
Cassian looked up from his desk.
“I can fix that,” she said.
He’d never looked more handsome.
Hair bundled into a dark band, his shirt cuffed at his forearms and a bit of scruff marring his chiselled jaw. A pair of slim reading glasses were pushed up his slightly imperfect nose and it was such a turn on Nesta was glad she was leaning against something.
He looked a little exhausted in a kind of brooding and adorable way.
It gave her this awful pining to massage those sculpted shoulders as he let loose a deep, tired sigh, arms folding across that powerful chest causing his white shirt to hiss as he leaned back into his chair. It was a fucking massive bit of furniture. But then it had to be to accommodate him.
“What are you doing here?”
Rude.
Nesta pushed off the doorframe and into his office.
“You ignored my calls,” she said by way of explanation. Making her way to the bookcase and running her fingers across a row of spines. It was mostly files, but she noticed a few novels as well.
“You kicked me out of your bed at three in the morning.”
She turned to find him watching her.
His words were dismissive and effortlessly confrontational as usual. But there was an edge to his voice. And it wasn’t arousal. Even if his gaze caught on her boots and lingering there for longer than he’d probably care to admit.
Nesta leaned back against the bookshelf, inspecting her manicure with an eye roll.
“You’re still upset about that?”
“Not at all,” he said with a smirk. Reclining back against the chair a little further, hips rolling and arms casually folding. Too casually. The dangerous grace of it speaking to the emotion that no doubt roiled beneath his bronze skin. Belied by that bullshit cockiness which grated her to the bone. “It seems I dodged a bullet.”
“Oh really?”
“The whole hot but mean cliché is one thing, but crazy hookup who stalks me-“
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered.
She’d seen hints of this before. The rugged and crude act meant to cover up the insecurity she’d also been treated to.
“Oh I’m sorry. I forgot you can’t ever admit what it is you want.”
“You don’t have a clue what I want.”
“I have several, Nesta.” He looked her up and down pointedly.
The way he said her name. Even like this it made her weak in the knees while her fingers itched to choke him.
It was all very conflicting.
“Oddly confident in your last performance for someone so insecure,” she quipped lazily.
Cassian rose his brows with a mean a laugh.
“What do I have to be insecure about?” He said. “I didn’t hide behind a half-ass lie to throw someone out of my bed. And I’m pretty sure even your neighbours can attest to how good of a time I gave you,” he smirked again. “You’re not a good enough liar for the way you moaned my name to have been an act.”
The white hot fist in her stomach folded in on itself as it melted to a stickiness despite the misguided insult. She certainly hadn’t been putting it on Saturday. Every sound he’d drawn from her dripping with sincerity. Every moan and whimper well deserved.
“You’re right,” she said.
Cassian blinked.
Nesta prowled toward him and hummed, “those, four, orgasms, were about as fake as my emergency.”
The sultry softness to her voice thickened to something less affected at those last words.
Cassian scoffed. Though there was something withdrawn and careful to him that hadn’t been there a second ago. Like a snake recoiling in case it needed to strike. “Your emergency, of course. Which was?”
“Nothing to do with you.”
He shook his head, laughing bitterly.
“Seriously, Nesta? You’ve had two days to come up with something now.”
“You’re not listening to me,” Nesta slipped atop the corner of the desk, perching there with her long legs crossed over one another. The blade of a stiletto heel close enough to brush up his calf if she wanted to make him shiver.
But she didn’t. She just wanted him to listen. To understand what she was saying so she didn’t have to say anything more because for fucks sake he was the one who’d acted up and yet she was here putting her pride on the line again.
“It had nothing, to do with you,” she said slowly.
A weighted silence settled like snow between them.
Until Cassian took a blow torch to it.
“Shit.”
His head fell into those large hands.
“Shiiiiiiiit,” he cursed again. “Oh god, how badly have I fucked up?” He groaned, looking up. So humbled and distraught it was almost comical.
“Irredeemably.” Her eyes flirted with the notion of a little smile even if her mouth remained unquirked as she propped her hands against the desk behind her and leaned into them to more comfortably watch him suffer.
“I’d beg you not to tease me but honestly I think it’s the least I deserve- fuck.”
“Like me teasing you isn’t the highlight of your day.” She rolled her eyes.
Cassian laughed, pained and almost sheepish, which shouldn’t have been hot but god it made her blush.
Keep your cool goddamn it. She wanted a little more bang for her buck where grovelling was concerned before she let on how eager she was for things to get back on track.
“Want to flat out abuse me and make it the highlight of my year?”
She was struggling to keep the smile off her face even as she said, “I’m not in the habit of rewarding bad behaviour. You’re a man, you get enough of that already.”
“Nesta,” he took his glasses off, setting them down on the desk beside her thigh. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I’m, really, really fucking sorry I’m an idiot.”
Nesta slid of the desk.
“Go on,” she instructed.
“A moron a fool a stupid, stupid son of a bitch.”
Taking a step forward she was stood between his thighs. Picking up his glasses and pushing them back on his nose. Missing the sight of this hulking, powerhouse of a man in spectacles.
“I’m sorry.” Cassian was looking up at her with those big brown eyes, and the bastard actually leaned into her palm.
“Oh for fucks sake how did anyone discipline you as a child with those damn puppy-dog eyes?” She growled softly, furious.
“They didn’t to be honest,” he admitted with a breathy laugh.
“I can tell.”
She slid her hands to his shoulders, fingers curling soft and possessive over the stacked muscle and palms pressed to his upper chest, stepping tighter into him.
“I guess I’ll just have to do it.”
Cassian swallowed.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he tried. Intoxicatingly deep, trying to maintain that arrogant and playful edge in a way that made his words all the hotter. The simmering ache he attempted to push down all but throbbing in his voice.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she returned, brows arched. Battling a smirk off her face.
“Can I ask you to do something for me, then?”
“If you say please.”
“Please don’t screw around with me.”
Nesta faltered.
Those warm hands came to rest on her lower back, long fingers curling slightly into the fabric and coaxing her that last bit closer so that her thighs brushed against the edge of his chair and her stomach was brushing up against his.
“I’m really into you,” he admitted. “You’re smart and you’re beautiful, and at first I thought the whole hard to get thing was an act but woman you are genuinely hard to get and it is, so sexy. But whatever it is that’s holding you back, that made you wait a week to call me, that made you claim all you wanted was a hook up; I’m clearly not cut out to compete,” he confessed. “It got in my head, and that’s on me and me lashing out at you the other night that’s on me too and I’m so, so sorry Nesta. I need to know where I stand with you though. I need to know if you’re actually interested in me. Because I like you. But I’m too old for games.”
The silence was so thick she could have cut through it with a knife.
Nesta’s hands fell from his chest slowly.
“That’s good,” she assured him at last. “Because I’m not a toy.”
She brought her fingers to the belt of her coat and pulled slow and deliberate.
Black glazed her figure with a gorgeous intimacy. The dress hugging at what little it concealed with perfection enough to make up for its lake of mercy. Long legs sheathed in those thigh-high boots, the item was short enough that a decent length of her thighs could be seen. Interrupted at the last possible moment by sleek jet as though she’d been dipped in oil of purest night.
Cassian’s eyes blew out to sticky treacle behind those glasses.
“I’m human, Cass,” she hummed, tossing her coat onto the desk behind her as she spoke. “Which means I make mistakes.” He swallowed as she sighed softly, her cleavage swelling a little with the motion. “And that I have needs. Needs you can be the one to fulfill or not.”
She slipped into his lap, straddling him, knees bent either side of his thighs. The corded strength of which pressed painfully and exhilaratingly apparent against the soft seam of her inner thighs and she was genuinely suffering from some kind of contact high. Every inch of him seizing up subtly, deliciously taught at her touch in an effort not to respond and yet it only revealed just how much she affected him.
“Nesta-“
“Shhhhhh,” she interrupted. Hands cupping that ruggedly handsome face and titling it back to tuck her’s against him slowly. “But I want it to be you,” she purred against his jaw, tracing her nose up the stubbled curve. “Let me show you how bad.”
“Someone could come back-“
“I don’t care,” Nesta murmured against his mouth. “I want you.”
His eyes fluttered shut. And she felt his cock stir in those immaculately tailored slacks.
“Nesta-”
She could feel every muscle that licked up his stomach tremble with a drawn out contraction as she said it again, her hands slipping down to his broad shoulders.
“I want you,” she purred again.
He might have tried to breath. And it might have rubbed up something uncomfortably nice in her lower tummy.
“Say it,” she whispered, tilting her face so that the tip of her nose brushed up the side of his. Her breath hot on his stubbled Cupid’s bow and hands running down the solid power of his upper body, burning up through his shirt. “Say it, Cassian.”
His brown eyes like cognac and magnolia were hooded behind his glasses as he conceded.
“You want me,” he breathed.
She grazed her mouth against his. Lips parted suggestively and an almost silent, utterly cruel noise escaping her.
The length of his thick cock pressed up against the seam of her plush sex as he grew to full, hard attention in his slacks. Warm and thrilling even through her panties and their open mouths melted into one another hot and heavy, tongues caressing as his large hands came to her knees and smoothed up her bare thighs covetously.
“Fuck,” he groaned lazily as her hips began rolling deeply into him, and her hands slid under his shirt. Fingers splayed, she snaked up the cobbled muscle of his stomach, the flesh burnished and warm beneath her touch. His shirt riding up to reveal the gutter of his hips, gruesomely toned and dusted with hair.
“This is…such a…” he breathed, between the perfect and yearning motions of their jaws, a hand smoothing up her waist in a way that made her shiver.
“Dream come true?” She hummed, kissing him wanton and unhurried. Dangerously close to becoming a brainless mess with the way his cock rubbed up her core.
His groan melted to a laugh or maybe it was the other way round.
“Yes,” he admitted breathlessly. “And a bad, bad…idea.”
“Well you’ve been a bad, bad boy, Cassian,” she whispered filthily against his ear, before capturing the lobe between her teeth softly.
She sucked and nibbled oh so gently and he expelled a breath so gravelly and masculine it twisted the hungry knot in her core tighter.
“Nesta…we-fuck you’re good at that…” he groaned lethargically . “Sweetheart, we can’t…”
“Why not,” she coed quietly, the sound airy and affectedly filthy.
“We’re…” he choked as he took in the sight of her cleavage, pushed intimately to his chest and escaping the neckline of her dress like a plume of toothpaste squeezed from the tube. “Fucking hell Nesta we’re in my office.”
“And I’m saying you could be in me.”
She rocked her hips against him with a particularly cruel slant.
The groan that escaped him made something flip in her stomach, tossing about whatever sweet, impossible to describe feeling rushed there at the same time at the way his head fell back against the chair as she worked him over. The hot friction that rubbed against her sensitive core the cherry on top of the sweet, creamy, decadent sundae.
“Besides,” she moaned, breathless and sultry. Teeth plunging softly into her plump bottom lip as she continued rolling her hips. Hands rubbing over his shoulders and providing her leverage. “You’re the boss.”
“I think we both know…that I’m not the boss…right now…” he groaned. Almost pained.
“Your cock a little much for those slacks?” She hummed, faux sympathy dripping through her mocking pout.
“I thought you liked a tight fit,” she teased, still pouting but eyes smokey. Her toes curling in her boots as her fingers began work on pulling his shirt apart.
The buttons popped undone with a sensual and pining tempo and she was moaning quietly into his mouth as she explored the panes and ripples of that powerful upper body. More than thorough in her hands-on assessment.
Cassian’s own hands were keeping just as busy, massaging and kneading her ass indulgently before smoothing over her rolling hips and eventually coming to her lower back. His thumbs pressing to the small of her back either side of her spine and it made something tight inside her swoon. The touch so hot and the memory it conjured so good. His big hands on her as he fucked her from behind.
“Nesta,” Cassian groaned deeply, as she began rocking into him tighter, hotter. The impression of his cock lined up just right with her aching core.
“Hey, baby,” She purred, drunk on the friction that made her whole body throb and hum with pleasure and the tip of her nose brushing the side of his. Hands snaking from his exposed chest to either side of his face and capturing his bruised mouth with her own. Chewing on his bottom lip obscenely, the friction beginning to push her over edge.
“Fuck you’re incredible,” he groaned huskily once she let up. Kissing back decadently. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed almost mindlessly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Nesta.”
“You wanna show me how sorry you are?” she purred, sultry and low, mouth parting, forehead still pressed to his and eyes fluttering open to hold his own.
Cassian nodded, dumb and silent and eager and Jesus it turned her on.
“Yeah? You wanna make me cum?” She hummed.
“Yes, yes, please.”
“Touch me, Cassian,” she whispered against his open mouth. “Make it up to me, make me feel good.”
Cassian’s hands slid back to her ass and she moaned into the kiss he captured her lips in as he lifted her with a sensual squeeze, wrapping her long legs tightly round the tapered cut of his waist as he stood.
The surface of the desk was beneath her before she could work out which way was up and his touch smoothed down her legs to her knees before she could take a a breath in reprieve from kissing him. Her legs splitting either side of his broad hips and his erection, tucked to the side in his slacks and thick and heavy and hard, pushed against the inner seam of her thigh as he pulled that band from her hair.
“I’m gonna make these gorgeous legs tremble for me,” he pledged against the her jaw, kissing and nipping his way down to where her pulse throbbed for him as he a hand through the loose locks.
And he began suckling at that sensitive spot just as a calloused hand slipped between her thighs.
“Mmmmm,” Nesta moaned smugly, gripping at his biceps still sheathed in the sleeves of his shirt as Cassian’s thumb ran up the seam of her dripping cunt through her panties. The lace a flimsy veil between her swollen clit and his hot touch.
“Fuck I’ve missed you,” he moaned into her neck, her head rolling back as he snapped her panties and began stroking his fingers through her soft folds possessively. “Missed those little sounds and your mouth and this pretty neck and perfect pussy.”
“Then cut out the all bark no bite bullshit and prove it,” she breathed.
“Yes ma’am,” he murmured thickly, the pad of his thumb coming to her clit and she moaned as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves expertly. Her nails pressing into his shoulders, a few through the hiss of his shirt but the others carving crescents into the bronze muscle and tattoos like the meat of an apple.
His forefinger began teasing at her tight entrance and Nesta’s breath caught.
“Tease me and you’ll fucking regret it,” she warned thickly, and he pushed the digit inside.
The intrusion was far from the thick, eight inches she craved, but when he curled his finger against a sensitive, swollen spot deep inside her Nesta keened aloud.
“You look so fucking good like this,” Cassian breathed, husky and bestial as he crooked his finger inside her over and over.
“More,” she demanded.
It probably wasn’t clear if she was demanding more dirty praise or physical attention but Cassian was a good boy and covered all his bases. A second finger pushing inside her that second.
She gasped as the snug walls of her cunt stretched to accommodate the two of them as he waxed lyrical about how hard her moaning got him. Their foreheads level and those deep brown eyes lathering her with his earnest attention.
“You’re dripping down my knuckles like a fucking peach,” Cassian told her as he thrust inside her over and over, the only thing more obscene than her facial expression and the breathless sounds she was making being the quite, wet noises his fingers illicited.
He hadn’t let up on her clit, and at the exact moment he decided to start curling those two fingers together, he increased the speed and pressure with which he rubbed at her most responsive spot with his thumb.
“Cassian,” Nesta moaned, her fingers running up the nape of his neck and delving into his hair, still pulled into that bun.
“That’s it, that’s so fucking hot, baby, I want your cum dripping down my wrist,” he growled softly. Her nails sliding down his scalp.
“You’re so fucking needy,” she got out, which only served to utterly delight him. His thumb working at her from an oh so subtly more intense angle that had a familiar buzzing low inside her threatening to pluck her apart at the seams.
“Oh my god fuck,” she moaned. “Uhhu, that’s it, just like that oh my god.”
“You gonna cum, Nesta? You gonna cum on my desk- Jesus I’m gonna be thinking about you moaning, long legs spread for me while you moan so fucking dirty for my fingers every time I’m sat at this fucking desk now, you know that?”
His words sent her over the edge.
Silently she threw her head back as her orgasm licked up every frayed nerve in her body. It was hard. And Cassian kept on working those thick fingers inside her and over her sensitive clit throughout.
Fucking her dirty and skilled. Prolonging her twitching and bone melting pleasure.
Until she was snaking her hands from where they’d wound through his fastened hair, and pushing him off her at the shoulders. Falling back on her forearms with a shaky exhale, thighs still trembling subtly.
Cassian smirked. And brought his fingers to his mouth. Licking up the length of the calloused, sticky digits. Eyes on her’s from behind those obnoxiously sexy reading glasses she had half a mind to slap off his face.
“You taste even better than I remember,” he purred.
“Then get on your knees.”
Her voice was shaky but he didn’t even throw her another of those antagonistic and gorgeous smirks, just sank down. All six foot whatever, two hundred and something ridiculous pounds of muscle. Knelt on the floor between her legs.
“Is initiative encouraged of am I to be strictly obedient?” There was that smirk.
“You can use your brain,” she permitted. Still out of it. But still dying for him to touch her again. “If only because I need to be convinced you have one.”
His chuckle felt like fucking heaven between her thighs. His stubbled jaw rubbing up against her aching cunt as he kissed her like he meant it. Open mouthed and his tongue then slipping out to lavish her dripping slit before he began playing with her clit with the tip.
Nesta moaned, chewing down on her lip once she located the dignity to quieten down so she could keep it that way.
Her previous orgasm should have taken the edge off, but it had only reminded her already whetted appetite what there was to gorge on. Leaving her pining for more and disastrously sensitive.
“Mmmm,” Cassian moaned deeply- though honestly it was closer to a growl which was hot- and brought those large hands to her thighs. Holding her open for him stoking the bruise-blue flame that writhed in her core and allowing him better access to her pussy.
“Oh god right there,” Nesta keened. His nose brushing up against her clit as he licked up her snug entrance, teasing his tongue inside.
He threw her legs over his stacked shoulders and obeyed, working his tongue inside her with shameful enthusiasm only emphasised by the noises he was making. Seriously he was putting her to shame.
In fact if she hadn’t been rapidly approaching another orgasm she might have thought he was have more fun than her.
Hands no longer occupied with gripping her black-clad thighs they came to her hips and waist. Coaxing her to slant forward at an angle that granted him an even more advantageous angle from which to eat her out.
She moaned, manicured nails almost clawing into his desk behind her. “Mhmm mhmm uh,” she gasped sharply at the sudden relocation of his tongue. Cassian capturing her clit in his mouth and sucking on the sensitive bud as he flicked his tongue up and down.
“Fuck, yes yes yes yes,” she was utterly breathless. “Oh god, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” she whined.
Cassian fucking groaned and it was like he’d pulled at the knot in her stomach with his teeth.
The muscles in her lower stomach twitching as she came, the cushiony walls of her cunt pulsing tight and the only thing grounding her to reality.
Though she was just lucid enough to know Cassian was lapping up the nectar between her legs with audible and pleased snarls of pure, masculine satisfaction.
Nesta couldn’t say how long it took her to stop seizing, just that she was completely drunk on pleasure by the time her body allowed her to at least try and think. She failed completely. Wasted on her orgasm, on Cassian.
“Come ‘ere,” she said, breathless and doped up. Eyes barely fluttering open, heavy lidded and probably glazing over with unabashed appreciation as Cassian did as he was told. Rising to stand before her, thick arms winding round her waist snuggly and pulling her to him tight.
His sheathed erection pushed to her sticky inner thigh and his powerful upper body, chiselled and broad and comforting, warm and hard and dusted with dark hair, pushed to her’s.
His sharp jaw, like her thighs, was slightly sticky, and his mouth looked even more abused than it from the attention of her teeth. But the best part- better than his mid-sex blush or the way he was breathing all deep and powerful and hungry for her, were his glasses. They were slightly fogged up at the edges.
“Apology accepted?” He asked huskily, like he was already sure of the answer. Like he didn’t care because no matter what she said he was going to have her screaming for him till they were both sick of each other.
“Apology accepted,” Nesta confirmed. Splayed hands smoothing up his broad chest as she captured his lips in a wanton kiss.
“That still leaves your punishment though,” she whispered.
Cassian’s dark brows had barely risen before she’d pushed him back and he was falling into the chair again. Breathing deep and thrumming with a desire that destabilised him as he watched her slip a stiletto heel beneath her panties on the floor and flick them up into her hand. Prowling toward him and climbing into his lap. Hoping it wasn’t obvious that her legs felt like liquid.
“Hold these,” she demanded, feeding the bundle of lace into his mouth, his groan muffled by the fabric and her hands making quick and embarrassingly eager work of removing his unfastened shirt. All but tearing it off his sculpted arms that must have been as thick as her thighs- his body was ridiculous.
She griped his wrists before he could start doing something like feeling her up and brought them behind his head. Elbows out and biceps flexed, his hands meeting in the middle at the nape of his neck.
Cassian kissed and nipped at her fingers as she plucked her panties from his mouth with one hand, holding his wrists with the other.
He licked at his lips as though chasing the taste of her lingerie, eyes on her’s from behind his glasses.
She wasn’t gentle knotting the lace round his wrists.
“Oh,” he grinned, trying to move his arms.
He couldn’t of course, the physics working against him and rendering it so his only way out would be pulling until the lace snapped for a second time this evening. Still, it was a fucking gorgeous sight watching him try. Biceps and broad chest flexing.
Tied up and at her mercy she was dripping wet for him and slipped her tongue into his mouth as a little reward for how fucking hot he looked like this. Kissing him obscene and wet.
“Safe word?” She murmured into his mouth.
“Harder,” Cassian grinned. No doubt referencing her answer to the very same question the other night.
Nesta bit his bottom lip, puncturing the bruised cushion subtly and she tasted blood on her teeth and his tongue.
“Safe word,” she insisted once more against his lips, fingers winding through his hair with a drawn out and yearning pull.
“Amren,” he groaned`. Then added, “don’t ask.”
“Yeah we’re done talking,” she informed him dismissively. Unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops of his slacks with a swift tug.
Cassian’s hips jumped beneath her and she unfastened the button slung low on his hips, pulling the zip of his fly down. Parted lips close to brushing.
“Down boy,” she purred.
“Bit late for that,” he breathed raggedly, jaw feathering as she slid her hand into his boxers.
“God you’re adorable,” Nesta pouted, freeing his thick cock. Obnoxiously engorged and a dribble of pearlescence spilling from the uncut tip.
“Now be a good boy and don’t you dare cum until I say,” she warned.
And sank down on thick inch after inch of his hot, rigid shaft.
Nesta couldn’t help the arch that slipped through her spine as he filled her up, the stretch so acute it had her eyes rolling back with a flutter of her thick lashes.
“Oh my god,” she moaned breathlessly, hands splayed against his powerful chest. Thighs straddling his, her walls hugged him vice like and- Jesus, he rubbed up that deep spot inside her perfectly.
“Nesta,” Cassian groaned beneath her. “You’re so… fucking tight.”
Nesta rolled her head to the side in tandem with her hips, growing accustomed to the sheer size of him and eliciting a raw sound from the man before she removed his reading glasses. Fitting them over the bridge of her own petite nose.
“No backseat driving now, sweetheart,” she purred a little shakily.
She rose onto her knees only to sink back down again with a filthy twist of her hips. Repeating the motion again and again. Gliding up and down his cock with a tight and slippery friction that had her stomach flexing and his gaze heavy lidded. Encouraging, low noises escaping from deep in his chest that she wanted to bottle up and get drunk on.
“Uhh,” she keened, dirty and blissful, hands on his stacked shoulders. “Uhhu.”
“Oh fuck,” Cassian breathed huskily. “Mmhhm…that’s it…fucking ride me baby”
Nesta felt a familiar heat fan at her core as she drank him up. Every perfect, delicious inch there for her to use.
“Cassian,” she moaned. The sound tasting like sex in her mouth.
She fluttered around him again on an upwards twist of her hips, his cock pushing in and out of her snug cherry with a delicious wet sound. Just audible above her filthy moans.
Riding him was like sucking on a hard candy, that intense sweetness at the centre burning ever closer. And he kept running that damn mouth. Gravelly and deep, lavishing her body with sickly sweet and dirty compliments.
“Fuck that’s it gorgeous, just like that sweet thing fucking hell you’re fucking perfect.”
Powerful and dripping with raw fucking desire his body rolled upwards into her, slick with sweat and chiselled sinew. His cock burying deeper inside her. The sounds he was making just to top it off causing a tight fuzziness to tremble in her upper thighs.
“Oh my god,” Nesta moaned, hands coming to his face and lips brushing his as so she moaned a hot, “I’m gonna cum,” into his mouth.
Cassian groaned. Kissing her hard and deep.
“Cassian,” she keened.
She began bouncing deeper in his lap. Up and down up and down. His cock thrusting inside her hard and rubbing at her g spot just right while her clit grazed the coarse hair at his rugged hips. There was a bead of sweat gliding down the chiselled muscle that carved his broad torso, washboard abs flexing as he resisted release and Nesta felt the pressure between her thighs reach a fever pitch.
Grunting he bucked violently beneath her once, twice, and she was undone.
Nesta might have made a noise this time. Airy and hot and open mouthed against his neck as she buried her hands into his hair.
He was so tense beneath her, like pure marble soaked in the heat of the sun. Trying not spill inside her as her walls flexed with every hot wave of pleasure.
And once it passed his breathing was as ragged as her own.
“You did so good,” Nesta whispered at last against his ear. Voice wrecked like she were experiencing a sugar crash. Nibbling at the lobe. Tasting salt on her lips and eyes fluttering shut at the heady scent of his aftershave.
“Does that mean I get a reward?” he managed.
“Something like that,” she hummed, repositioning herself so that her back was to his chest.
“Nesta please. Just untie me, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered against her ear. Voice trembling like he’d shot up something good.
Nesta only chuckled, head knocked back so she could hold his eyes as she rolled her hips. Teasing, tormenting.
“The second you get your hands on these,” she brought her hands to her tits, giving them a soft squeeze and biting her lip, “you’ll be cumming and out of commission.”
Cassian growled, watching her feel herself up as she rolled her hips in leisurely circles. Sensual and dirty. The length of his hard shaft, thick and velvet smooth beneath her.
“Fuck,” he moaned huskily. Nose buried at her throat and lips working against her pulse point with the assistance of his tongue and teeth. Just as slow and through as her hips.
She gasped softly, grinding deeper.
“You know how good I can make it for you,” he purred.
“Mmmm,” she moaned quietly in agreement.
“Let me take care of you.”
“Cassian.”
“You make my name sound so sexy,” he grazed his stubbled jaw against the bruise he’d worked into her throat, the sensitive skin blushing warm at the contact as he moved his mouth to another location and started kissing and nibbling there. “Untie me, baby, and I’ll give you everything you want.”
Nesta smiled.
“Or I could keep you tied up and just take it.”
Cassian growled against her neck as she tilted her hips forward allowing his cock to spring up, and sank down on him again.
She moaned, loud and keening. Hands snaking through his hair behind her as she rocked herself up and down slowly. There wasn’t a lot of friction, but for now it was enough just to revel in how good Cassian’s cock felt. That last orgasm having finally takes the edge off.
“Fuck that’s it grind for me,” he moaned. His breath was hot against her neck and she could feel his heart beat. Feel every deep sound reverberate through his chest as she moved.
His cock rubbed up against her g spot, colours and stars bleeding behind her eyes like fireworks.
“Cassian,” she whimpered lowly.
It was so good.
Hands fumbling distractedly she brought her fingers to untie him. And he deemed it all the permission he needed. Tearing himself free with a growl. Capturing her mouth in a slow and wanton kiss as those big hands came to rove her body, taking his time to pull her apart.
His touch hot and calloused, Nesta moaned into his mouth as he ran up her stomach, her hips, her thighs, her tits. Massaging and glazing every inch of her with a rough heat that made her feel like she was going to explode. Her body a champagne flute dangerously close to shattering at the frequency of his hot groans and growls.
“Right there, oh right fucking there baby,” She moaned quietly against his lips, one of his hands rubbing her hip and guiding her motions while the other palmed at her breast.
“Yeah? You like that?” He dipped his head to pull down the straps of her bra and dress down with his teeth until her cleavage spilt from the cups. Pebbled nipples tight and rosy in the dim light, peaking over the balcony of her bra.
“Mmmmm,” he murmured against her throat, exploiting the sensitive spot as he made his way back up to her face and watched her plump tits sway. A hand running from her hip down her thigh and back up again to slip between her legs to stroke her clit.
Nesta whined softly.
“Cassian…more…”
She kissed him sluggish and distracted. The two of them humming and moaning every so often until he started caressing her clit tighter and her sounds grew more frantic.
“Fuck uhhu, uhhu just like that,” she panted quietly into his mouth. “Oh god uhh, uhhh more…more…more more Cassian fuck me.”
She was on her feet before she could complain that his hands were no longer between her thighs. Pushed up against the edge of his desk, hands falling splayed against the surface to stop herself falling across the wood and legs split apart.
“Oh!”
“Good girl,” he grunted deeply. “Moan for me.”
His calloused fingers came to her clit, coaxing her closer to the edge as the other gripped her hip.
“That’s it, that’s my girl such a good girl baby.”
Mouth caught open as though on a fish hook Nesta started seeing black splodges, the puddles flaring in her vision on every one of his thrusts. Deep and dirty and filling her till she was so impossibly full she spilt over.
“Fuck fuck just like that oh my god you’re so fucking tight, cum on my cock, cum on my cock, uh, uh, uh.”
Cassian finished inside her with a guttural sound as she came. Pumping her full one last time with a brutal snap of his hips.
She was vaguely aware of his ragged breathing against her ear. Somewhat sure her forearms had fallen flat against his desk and her head hung forward. Hair falling over her face and back arched as her tight sex twitched and fluttered around him.
Coming back to her senses took longer than she’d ever admit.
“Is that cctv?” Nesta asked eventually, head tipped back and resting on his shoulder. Eyes flicking in gesture to the tiny little camera in the opposite corner of the ceiling.
“Don’t worry,” Cassian breathed. “It’s switched off.”
She turned her gaze to him.
“Shame.”
He let out an exhausted and reverent sound that might have been a laugh. And just as exhausted, once he’d pulled out, he fell back into the chair behind him. Trousers pulled back up but unbuttoned.
Nesta followed in fatigued suit, working her dress back down over her hips and sinking to the floor, back against the desk. She probably shouldn’t have worn black… but the impending bill and judgement from her dry cleaner would be worth it.
“Friday night. Pick me up at eight,” she breathed.
Cassian grinned.
“You like Italian?”
Nesta rolled her eyes from behind the reading glasses askew on her nose, but nodded none the less. She was sort of screwed if she didn’t. Cassian’s adopted family were Italian on his father’s side. The cuisine was going to be pretty commonplace if they kept seeing each other she imagined.
“What are you thinking about?” He hummed, watching her.
Nesta smiled. Then crawled toward him across the floor. “How I still have that table cloth you call a dinner jacket at my place.”
“Was that plan b?” He laughed, snaking an arm round her waist as she climbed into his lap. “Hold my jacket hostage till I agreed to go out with you again?”
“No,” she glared at him softly, nestling into the crease of his shoulder. “Though I had thought about wearing it tonight. Just your jacket and a pair of heels.”
Cassian licked his lips as though contemplating the sight and liking what he imagined very much. “Next time,” he hummed distractedly. Less promise more pleading. “This was…,” his free hand roved down her side, the black fabric glued to her figure. “And these…,” his touch made her melt as he ran down her thigh and platform boot, her legs flicked over one another.
“Lethal,” he whispered.
Nesta scoffed. “You’re telling me. My toes are killing me.”
Cassian hummed sympathetically, fitting a heel in his hand and guiding the shoe off her foot. Nesta groaned softly and he did the same with the other boot.
“That bad?” He chuckled, starting to massage her.
“Worth it though,” she sighed, nuzzling into his shoulder.
Cassian held the door open for Nesta to emerge out onto the street first. The cool night air whipping lazily at her hair.
Their second date had been incredible.
He’d taken her to Gnocco in the East Village. Proper Italian food, fairy lights, and intimate little corners perfect for flirting over too many glasses of wine and playing footsie beneath the table. Not to mention casual enough to see Nesta Archeron fitted out in heels, a snug black top, and a jaw dropping pair of jeans.
Tactically quiet and effortlessly biting as ever, she’d been armed with passionate reviews on the podcasts she’d listened to or books she’d read that week. Asking him about his own week and listening thoughtfully in a way that had probably made him blush.
If it hadn’t, then the way she’d licked at the creamy vanilla gelato on her dessert spoon definitely had.
Cassian was far too tempted to slip his hand into the back pocket of her dark skinny jeans as he emerged after her, but he felt Nesta probably wasn’t one for PDA. Or more accurately, public groping. And he was determined to be on his best behaviour this evening. Determined to make her forget all about how shit-awfully he’d handled last Saturday.
Not that he hadn’t given her a thorough apology.
Consistency was key however, and there would be no lapse in his conduct any time soon when it came to Nesta. He’d lucked out so fucking hard in getting a second chance when he hadn’t even deserved the first with a woman like her. Clever and beautiful and passionate and god he had it bad.
Had been thinking about her all week. Their date the only thing getting him through the late nights that were pretty much killing him at this point and the days spent arguing with Helion.
Cassian had worked out who’d put a hit on his friend. And why.
The contracts Helion was in the midst of signing were of a more personal nature that he’d originally let on. His will to be precise. In which it was detailed that upon his death, the pharmaceutical powerhouse that was Day Inc. should be handed over to Saoirse Vanserra.
The married woman Helion had gone and fallen in love with twenty odd years ago. The mother of his child.
Not that Helion had been aware of the that little detail until recently. Terminally ill, Saoirse hadn’t wanted the secret buried with her, and had gotten in touch with her old flame to tell him her youngest was his.
Despite being well into his fifties, Helion behaved like a twenty-something at the best of times. But learning he had a son that actually was twenty-something had thrust him into a panicked play at accountability. Saoirse was going to die, and soon, but Helion would still have a piece of her, a piece of the both of them despite the estrangement that had haunted their relationship since the start. A piece he’d do every and anything in his power to do right by.
Which meant Lucien would inherit his father’s company when the time came.
But removing Saoirse from his will…it felt like signing her death warrant. At least that’s what he’d told Cassian. That it it felt like he was giving up on her.
Cassian wished Helion could process everything in as much time as it took him. But time was a luxury not even the multi-millionaire could afford. Not with Saoirse’s eldest, Eris, trying to take him out before the will could be changed.
As things stood, Eris was set to inherit anything of his mother’s- a compromise reached between Saoirse and her cunt of a husband who’d wanted everything in his name. The Vanserra court its own savage little patriarchy of snakes and vipers, meaning as long as Beron was around, what belonged to his sons, belonged to him.
Still, Eris was the undisputed second in command and Beron wasn’t getting any younger. If he could take Helion out before any changes were made to the CEOs will, and if Saoirse’s doctors were to be believed, Day would practically be his by the end of the year.
Maybe sooner. If Beron beat his cancer ridden wife to death upon learning she’d been left Helion Day’s company and why.
He doubted anyone would put it past the bastard.
“Hey,” Nesta’s voice tugged at his attention as they turned off tenth. “Where’d you go?”
Cassian snaked his arm around her small waist, pulling her against him. “Just thinking,” he said. And as hard as he tried to push those thoughts away, something of them lingered in his voice.
She raised a neat eyebrow. That little beauty spot above the arch lifting with it and the one beneath the corner of her plump bottom lip quirking just barely.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. Tucking her tighter to his side as he looked down at her. “That’s because the only thing I ever think about is you. And when I’m with you, I don’t have to do that, do I?”
Her blush was so utterly adorable it made him want to kiss her senseless.
“How do you do that?” Those eyes like the smoke of ice narrowed in sincere curiosity. It was a little terrifying. Which off course only made him like her more.
“What? Make you blush like a-”
“No,” she interrupted him with an embarrassed and chiding laugh, pushing at his chest slightly. “Say things, just say them- like the only thing that matters is that you mean them?”
Cassian smiled. “Not everything has to be done strategically, Nesta.”
“Says the military man.”
“And wouldn’t you say that makes me qualified to- okay fine, roll your eyes at me. Jokes on you because it’s actually very sexy when you do that so.”
Nesta laughed, her head falling to rest below his chest as they walked.
“Fortunate you say something to make me roll my eyes every five seconds then,” she hummed.
“And that I know just how to make those eyes roll back,” he purred lowly in response with a roguish grin, rubbing his thumb against where her coat lay over her stomach.
“Oh and you’re telling me this whole conversation wasn’t strategically constructed so you could use that line?” Nesta looked up at him.
“Sweetheart, when are you going to accept that I’m just incredibly smooth?” He grinned. “Besides, that wasn’t a line.”
“That was so a line!”
“You’d know if I was giving you a line.”
“Go on then. Give me your best line,” she challenged. Stopping dead and turning on him with her arms folded. Cassian didn’t let his arm slip from around her waist though. Kept it right where it was as he brought his free hand to tuck a lock of chocolatey hair behind her ear. Inspiration striking him.
“Are you a box of chocolates?” he asked, gravelly and suggestive. “Because I’d love to take your top off.”
Nesta really had the loveliest laugh in the world.
“That’s awful!” She put her hands firm against his chest. “How did you ever get laid before I took pity on you?”
“Um I’m gorgeous and rich,” he reminded her, both arms now caging her in.
“What a coincidence,” Nesta purred, their noses tucked against one another just barely thanks to his date’s shoes. No doubt expensive as they were tall.
“No coincidences here, sweetheart. This is all fate.”
“I’m deliberately not rolling my eyes just to spite you for saying something so cliché and dumb,” she murmured.
“Fine then. Fate and your meddling sister,” he admitted.
“Let’s not talk about my little sister right now,” Nesta’s hands snaked up to toy with the lapels of his coat.
“What would you rather we talk about?”
“I don’t want to talk at all,” she whispered. And pulled him down lazily to meet her mouth.
Cassian moulded his lips to the perfect pressure of her own. Hard and soft, her mouth like velvet and her body pressing into his tight and loose in all the right places.
Kissing Nesta was like brushing you fingers against the glacial softness of snow like flakes of glass. Irresistible and inevitable. Burning so soft at first before the sensation grew unbearably tender and acute. It reminded you that you were alive.
The movements of their mouths grew hotter, no less lethargic, but simply heavier. Like they had all the time in the world and planned to exploit every second.
So much for not into PDA, Cassian thought, as she coaxed his mouth open further with her tongue, his own slowly swiping to meet it. And he did slip his hand into her back pocket then, giving her a fond and pining squeeze which pulled her tighter into him.
The pads of her thumbs brushed at either side of his jaw as she arched a little, those perfect tits pushed against his upper body and he dug his fingers a little more possessively into the fabric of her coat. Bunching at her waist beneath his calloused touch.
Nesta sighed sweetly into him-
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cassian swore. Tame Impala playing from his pocket.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who likes your attention,” Nesta laughed quietly, hands smoothing back to her sides politely. The little menace. Her effortless composure all the more devastating with her mouth kissed cherry-red and pupils blown wide as saucers.
He fished out his phone, and declined the call.
“Well you’re the only one getting it.”
She rose her brows as though she were impressed, winding her arms back around his neck.
“For a man who hates games you have game, Velaris.”
“Would you feel less wooed if I told it you was just Rhysand?” He admitted. Rejecting his busybody brother’s phone call a far less bold gesture than if it had been work.
Nesta’s little smile was like molten satin.
“That makes it even better,” she kissed him again.
Cassian kissed her back through his laugh, dipping her back slightly for a more indulgent angle, her arms lacing tighter around him to hold herself up. Like he’d let her fall.
Nesta was the one laughing now and it tasted like gelato and champagne and sunrises. He nipped at her lip as he pulled her back up with him snuggly, and she brought her hand to cup the side of his face, the other at his tapered waist.
“I should get going,” she hummed distractedly, hand gliding up his body like she didn’t even realise.
Her tongue caressed his slowly before he was muttering against her, “probably”, chasing the plush heat of her mouth.
They didn’t stop. Not even as Nesta was murmuring a disjointed, “heighten the…suspense…keep you…wanting and all that.”
“I’m already losing interest,” he purred gruffly, their jaws knocking intimately as the kiss became hotter and fitful, short breaths and hungry mouths. Her nails scraping softly up the nape of his neck and through his hair.
“And you’re looking for it in my back pocket, is that it?” She whispered, and Cassian gave her ass a firm squeeze as either confirmation or reprimand.
She bit his bottom lip, the nip of her pearly teeth giving way to a sensual sort of chewing that made his eyes roll back behind closed lids and his large hands wound through her hair to guid her head back so he could take charge. Kissing her slow once again but dirtier, thorough and wanton and Nesta keened almost silently.
“Found it,” Cassian said thickly into her mouth.
“Want your prize?” She whispered breathlessly.
“Yes please.”
Nesta slid her hand between them. Fingers brushing his belt, then lower-
Cassian couldn’t tell if he was relieved or devastated when she slipped her way inside his pocket and plucked free his phone.
She withdrew just barely from the kiss, switched it on and turned the screen to him. The device unlocked as both his hands tucked into her pockets and her manicured thumbs were tapping away.
Cassian brushed at the curved beam of her high cheekbone with his nose, trying to see what she was up to.
“What are you doing?”
“Callander says you’re free Friday. Or it did. Now it says you have a date.” She nestled herself back into him tightly, tucking the device back into his pocket, exploiting that teasing proximity to something else entirely and driving him crazy as she grazed his mouth with her own.
“Congratulations.”
Cassian grinned.
“Tha- wait just to be clear the date is with you, right?”
“Yes, Cassian, the date is with me,” she chuckled. “And I can’t wait,” her humming melted to something wordless and heavy as he kissed her again.
Slow and explicit he stroked his tongue inside and he swore he felt the flutter of her lashes against his cheek.
“Cassian,” she breathed almost silently and it burnt his lungs like freezing air.
“Can I take you home?” Cassian whispered.
“May I take you home,” Nesta corrected between the sinful caress of their lips.
“Please do.”
She was kissing the smirk off his face like she could taste how snug he was and wanted a piece of it for herself. Like she were working at a marshmallow or strawberry lathered with thick chocolate from a hot fountain of the stuff.
“Maybe you are smooth,” she whispered and it only inflated Cassian’s self satisfaction. “But we both know I like it rough.” Ouch. “Just like we both know you’re way too exhausted to have your way with me.”
He pulled back abruptly.
But his mouth had barely opened to argue when she gave him a definitive “don’t”. It was little bit arousing. “You said yourself how late you’ve been working. Have you slept at all this week?”
For all her icy glares and hellish attitude, at her core, Nesta was kind. She cared despite her pretences to the contrary and it meant she noticed things. Like how despite his lively grins, Cassian was out for the fucking count.
“That’s what I thought. You can screw me when I know you won’t pass out before making it to third base.”
“The only one who’d be passing out is you once I’m through fu-”
“Save that thought for a night you have the energy to see it through,” she said.
“But I-”
A quirk of her neat brows shut him up.
He growled a bitter but accepting sound. She was right, of course she was right, because she was Nesta and a Nesta was always right.
“Friday,” he promised. “I’m gonna cook for you, something fucking romantic.”
“More romantic than that sentence?”
“Look I may not be Keats but I know my way round a stove, so hold all sarcastic comments until I’ve fed you.”
“I’ll try, but I know for a fact you’re going to make that very hard.”
“How have you already failed?”
“Shut up,” Nesta laughed.
“You have the sexiest fucking laugh.”
“So you’ve said,” she blushed.
“And I’ll keep saying it if every time I do you blush like that.”
“Like I’m embarrassed for you?” she countered with an arched brow and a cruel twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“You’re so mean,” he grinned.
They made their way to the curb and hailed down a car on twelf.
“Want me to ride with you back to your apartment?” he said, opening the back door of a yellow cab that had pulled up for her.
“That’s sweet, but trust me, I can take care of myself,” she promised.
“Text me when you get home safe and sound just to spite me then,” he said from the opposite side of the door.
“I will. But you better not be awake to read it,” She gave him a lingering kiss before gracefully tucking herself inside.
“Night, gorgeous,” he winked, and shut the door.
Her ride had just turned onto fourteenth when Cassian decided against hailing his own despite the cold. It was only fifteen or so minutes on foot, and he could probably do with cooling down.
Though even if he had to trek through tundra to get home he suspected he’d still find himself burning up under a cold shower in an attempt not to jack off to the thought of Nesta like a fourteen year old.
Stuffing his already slightly numb hands into his pockets he began walking, his fingers brushing against his phone. He should probably call Rhys back.
The phone rang for a moment before his brother picked up.
“Did you decline my call?”
“Yup.”
“Bastard.”
“I’m sure Feyre will kiss your bruised ego better,” Cassian grinned as he walked. “Along with something else so long as she doesn’t hear you’ve been calling me names,” he added slyly.
“Are you threatening to tell on me to my wife?” Rhysand asked, a little wound up by the allusion to Feyre’s kissing certain places even if he hid it behind an unimpressed drawl.
“Are you pretending the thought doesn’t have you quaking in your givenchy loafers?”
“On the topic of not upsetting Feyre, she’s demanding a family dinner.”
He laughed deeply at Rhysand’s avoiding the question.
“That why you’re calling?”
“Partly,” Rhys said. “Work’s been…She wants to be around family right now,” he said with an all too familiar casualness. “You free?”
“For Feyre?” Cassian said without hesitation. “Yeah, I’m free.”
He would just have to pull an all nighter on the Monday.
“Thank you. And also fuck you for implying if it was for me you wouldn’t be,” his brother said.
“Well you called me just as Nesta was about to slip her tongue down my throat so-”
“Nesta?” Rhys interrupted. “I thought that was over?”
Shit.
In all the carnage that had been the last week he hadn’t bothered letting his family know he and Nesta were back on. The woman was a touchy subject and he hadn’t had the energy or balls to get into it.
While Rhys had been able to excuse Elain’s inactivity when the Archerons had been at their financial lowest, he’d never managed to extend that same courtesy to Nesta. Maybe it was because the first time they’d met she’d called him a cradle snatching whore. Regardless, Rhysand pretty much hated the woman’s guts, meanwhile his wife was desperately trying to lure her into the inner circle of the Velaris family.
Cassian may have been able to bench a number higher than his IQ but he wasn’t dumb. He’d clocked on to the fact his sister-in-law was using him as Nesta bait. In all honesty he was loving it. Nothing made him happier than helping out his family, and if that meant taking out an intelligent, passionate, stunning young woman, then really it was a double-win.
Taking a second to grind his jaw softly he was reminded to tread carefully. Not something he generally excelled at, but for the sake of his brother he could try.
“I know you’re not her biggest fan,” he said. “But Feyre forgave her years ago for bailing-”
“Well Feyre’s a better person than I am.”
“I’ll say. She set me up with a smoking hot model, meanwhile you’re trynna cock block me,” he tried.
“You can put your dick wherever you want, doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I guess not,” he ground out. Itching to hit something at the implication Nesta was just “somewhere to put his dick”.
“Cassian if you want to date a biblical plague in human form knock yourself out, seriously, god knows Feyre will be thrilled. And Azriel, your moping-”
“I don’t mope,” Cassian interjected.
“Fine, your stropping-”
“Fuck off.”
Rhys’ laugh was about smug as the bastard’s crooning voice.
“Mor’s gonna kill you by the way. You put a two grand dent in her wine collection over a woman you took back the next week.”
Cassian groaned, wiping a hand over his face. The only thing worse than the hangover he’d had Monday morning would be Morrigan’s laying into him on this.
“Don’t you dare tell her,” he warned.
“Fine but you’ll have to do it before next Sunday, you’re bringing Nesta.”
“Hang on a minute-”
“Feyre wants a family dinner and if you and Nesta are back on that means she’s coming,” Rhys said.
“Boy you are asking a lot of me here,” Cassian sighed dramatically. “I mean I can think of a few ways to persuade her but most of them are illegal in a lot of countries,” he grinned.
“I don’t care if you have to roofie her and strap her to the hood of your car, just make sure she’s there.”
“Alright, alright Don.”
“Don’t call me that,” Rhys growled irritably to Cassian’s delight.
“What else were you calling about then?” He smirked. “You said dinner was only part of it.”
“I wanted to ask how things were going with Helion,” his brother said. “Any update?”
Cassian sighed heavily.
“This a secure line?”
“Always”.
“The hit’s Eris,” he said. “Apparently Saoirse does pretty well for herself if Helion kicks it and it’s looking like she won’t last the year. When she goes Eris takes the lot so he’s trying to take Helion out before he can change his will.”
“That little bitch,” Rhys interrupted.
“I’m not done. Guess who Helion might be transferring that inheritance to?”
“Is Azriel going to finally have the funds to build that sex dungeon?”
“Not quite,” Cassian said. “The money’s going to Lucien.”
“Lucien?”
“Turns out the kid’s his.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Seems obvious in hindsight to be honest.”
Rhys was silent on the other end for a moment as he evidently thought through matter.
“You said might, is he waiting on a paternity test or something?”
Cassian winced. “No. No he’s dragging his feet about changing the will altogether.”
“Why the fuck is he doing that there’s a bullet with his name on it!”
“You think I don’t know that?” Cassian hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “I’m the one whose gonna have to jump in front of that bullet if he doesn’t get his ass in gear. But he…he’s losing the love of his life, Rhys. I’m trynna cut him a little slack-”
“Slack Eris is going to have someone strangle him with.”
“I’m handling it,” Cassian promised.
Rhys went silent again.
“We could always just kill Eris.”
Cassian would have laughed at the unrestrained glee in his brother’s voice if the suggestion hadn’t been so tempting.
“No you can’t,” he reminded him, ascending the steps to his front door.
“Sorry, sorry, you probably want plausible deniability and all that- which is a shitty reason to leave a family business-”
“What are you talking about? I left because I don’t like any of you.”
“Dick.”
“See it’s that kind of thing that made for a hostile work environment I really couldn’t foresee a future working under,” he grinned, unlocking the door.
“You taught me words far more creative than that growing up, monte de merda-”
“Desenmerda-te, and don’t cuss at me in Portuguese carcamano.”
“I’m fucking Persian!”
“Tell that to your pale ass like unbaked garlic bread, minchia,” Cassian retorted in Italian as he tossed his keys onto the skirting board and shrugged off his coat.
“A fanabla!”
“Love you too, tell Feyre I said hi.”
“See you and Nesta on Sunday, I’ll text you timings.”
“No shop talk okay, she still doesn’t know anything about-”
“I know, I know, it’s not me you have to worry about. Feyre keeps asking me to hire her.”
“As what? Has Cosa Nostra began dabbling in the modelling industry under your direction, baby brother?”
“If I said yes would you come back to us?”
“I’m a one woman man, Rhys.”
“Jesus, it’s been less than a month.”
“At which point you and Feyre were engaged.”
“Nesta’s no Feyre.”
Yeah, Nesta has enough wit about her to know you can’t go round offering Mafia jobs like candy, he thought to himself.
“Whatever man, I’ll see you then.”
“See you then.”
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I just saw your post of the Anon you answered and these antics are so hypocritical. They just came out of acosf which barely had Romance and was just smut. Cassian thought of Nesta more sexually than he did anything else and he complemented her body parts. In wings and Embers he called her a bitch, a coward, and selfish. He imagined her touching him and he got turned one . He tried to kiss her and she kicked him in the dick. He also wanted to kill Thomas but I don’t see one single antic calling any of this out and calling cassian toxic. They have a problem with Az calling Elain perfect when he said her lips and skin were perfect, but than you have cassian who complemented Nesta’s kitty and her boobs. They have a problem with self loathing which is honestly so wrong like where is their sympathy? Nesta had terrible self loathing but I never saw anyone say she’s toxic for feeling that way about themselves but they do it to Az. I’m genuinely wondering if anitics friends came up to them and said they have self loathing and think they are worthy, would they call their friend toxic? None of them make any sense, if they’re going to call out Az’s behavior I better see them calling out cassian and Rhys’s behavior. And I cannot believe they are trying to call Elain racist and problematic because she’s uncomfortable by Lucien. Last time I checked Lucien and Elain have no idea that he’s poc. they always have to bring up that she’s white to make her seem like she’s bad. Her love interest is literally poc(Azriel)and her sisters are in interracial relationships. Elain is very comfortable around them so it clearly has nothing to do with race. When sarah confirms Elriel their arguments will mean nothing and we will win.
The discussion in the morning was good and healthy. I think it's always good to hear different opinions and voices, and debate and argue respectfully. People coming to an agreement over Azriel and Elriel--probably is not going to happen until we know their stories and there is a book. Which is fine.
I do disagree with the notion that Elain is somehow racist, or cares about Lucien's lack of eye. She doesn't know about Lucien's paternity, so to her, he is Beron's son and hence whiter than snow, and he obviously can pass off as Beron's son, so he cannot be drastically different in skin colour than his family. And it's clear that scarring or injury doesn't faze her all that much because she is attracted to Azriel, who is extensively scarred. Per Nesta, the only two people with such visible injuries/scars that she knows are Lucien and Azriel. Elain's brothers-in-law are of different race and her best friends are wraiths, who we assume are dark, based on the description. Also, Prythian's prejudices aren't based on skin colour, but on High/Lesser Fae birth. Lucien is a High Lord's son so he is the highest in the pecking order, while Az is not only bastard-born, but also an Illyrian. Recalling Eris's sneer at Nesta and Cassian during the HL Meeting, and him noting that the Archeron sisters seem to like the winged/lesser breeds of Fae, it's pretty obvious that skin colour isn't an issue.
So that's my stance on that whole issue.
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High Lord's Heir
A/N: I'm not super in love with this, but I wanted to get it out so I could focus on other things. It's not technically Elucien, (don't worry I'm still an Elriel fan), I just needed these two to resolve some tension)
Summary: Lucien finds out he's Helion's heir and tells Elain about it. They offer some truths about themselves.
Words: 2705
Elain was in the River House’s garden - she had been hiding there for hours now. Well not hiding, she had been very productive in the weeding the flowerbeds, but at this point she was just passing time until the house was safe. Lucien had arrived after lunch and had been locked in a study with Feyre and Rhys for hours now. She knew it made her a coward, but she didn't care.
She felt unsettled and uncomfortable - attributing it to too many hours in the sun. The tea Nuala had brought out for her would kick in soon enough. But it wasn’t a normal feeling - she didn’t feel sick in a way she had ever felt before - this feeling was coming from something else.
When Elain was about ready to give up on her gardening and risk running into Lucien, Feyre spoke to her mind to mind: Lucien is coming out to the garden. He wants to speak to you. I have to feed Nyx, but shout in your head for Rhys if you want an escape.
Sure enough, Elain saw Rhys and Cassian walk onto the roof of the house, as if they were casually sunning their beautiful wings. She waved up at them and Cassian waved back.
We’ll be here if you need us. Rhys said.
What is going on? Elain asked
He’ll explain. He wanted to be the one to tell you.
Will you be listening in?
Only if you want me to.
I think I’ll be okay. Thank you. she said back to Rhys.
She heard the glass doors leading to the garden open and shut quietly. Elain found the source of her discomfort standing before her, wringing his wrists. Lucien was always extremely well dressed and put together, but from the look on his face alone, Lucien looked rough. Undone almost. Elain knew something was very deeply bothering him. It wasn’t just the mating bond - she was used to that feeling after two years of avoiding him - this was much much worse.
Elain stood from where she had kneeled next to a flower bed and turned to face Lucien. “Hello” she said, as she wiped her hands on the skirts of her dress.
“My lady.” Lucien said from a polite distance away. “I’m sorry to bother you - I wouldn’t have disturbed you if it wasn’t important.”
“Feyre warned me.” she said as she walked past him toward the table and chairs she had put out.
“Of course she did.” He chuckled half-heartedly.
“Shall we sit in the shade?” she said, as she moved toward her usual chair.
Lucien blinked in surprise before he followed her, settling in the furthest chair from hers - Azriel’s usual chair. She stiffened at that - Azriel used to sit in the garden and read his reports while Elain worked. She often missed that quiet companionship, even though she understood the distance the shadowsinger had put between them. Every time they were in a room together, the tension felt palpable.
“Are you alright?” Lucien asked quietly. He stretched out his long legs as he sat in the chair. The angle of the sun made his red hair and golden eye shimmer in the light. If Elain hadn't been so against the mating bond, she may have even found him attractive, beautiful even.
“I think I’ve probably spent too many hours in the sun, but I’ll be fine.” She answered with a half-truth. “Are you alright?” she added even though she knew the answer. Whatever conversation Lucien was having with Feyre and Rhys had caused Lucien to feel the turmoil and pain she now was experiencing. It wasn’t often she felt the tug of the bond between them, since she largely ignored that it existed. Every once in awhile, she would feel emotions that she had no reason to feel, or have dreams of events from eyes that weren’t her own.
He sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a minute. “I’m…..I’m dealing. I received some news today, which may impact… your safety. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, actually.” Even though his words were filled with discomfort, Elain was relieved he wasn’t there to talk about their bond. “Have you met Helion Spell-Cleaver?”
Elain had met the High Lord during the war, when he had broken off the enchanted chains Hybern had used when the kidnapped her. She only survived because her sister and Azriel had come to rescue her. Pushing away the painful memory, she said, “High Lord of Day? He was at the Starfall party.”
“I suppose he was.” Lucien observed her. “It's a long story, but your sister has discovered that I am his Heir. Apparently, he and my mother had an affair over the centuries. I don’t know why I didn’t see it until now.”
Elain didn’t hide her surprise. She hadn’t ever met Lucien’s family, but had heard terrible things about them. What Eris had done to Mor, how they acted during the war… part of her was glad Lucien wasn’t truly one of them.
“Why are you telling me this?” She couldn’t stop the words coming out. She realized it may have come out as callous, maybe even rude, but she had to know. She barely knew anything about the male, how would this impact her safety? Feyre had told her that Lucien had fled the Autumn Court, but she had left the other details out. She never bothered to ask more about his story either, she didn't want to her sister's hopes up.
Lucien put a weary hand over his face, covering his russet eye. “When I was young, I fell in love with what my fa- Beron would call “a lesser fae." I thought we were mates, that it was a matter of time before the bond would snap in place - we were planning on leaving the Autumn Court together. When he found out… he killed Jesminda, and made me watch. When he was done with her, he sent my brothers after me. That’s how I ended up in the Spring Court.”
All of the words went out of Elain’s mind at the revelation. She had dreamt or seen something like what Lucien was describing often - a beautiful female being killed by a brown-haired man. Red-haired sentries holding her, or Lucien she supposed, down while she pleaded for her life - Jesminda's. Occasionally, she saw her face or Vassa’s, instead of the females. Or she saw Jesminda go into the Cauldron in her place. She always thought it was a vision from the future, but she realized now she had seen one of Lucien's nightmares. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Elain murmured.
“Don’t apologize. It was long before you were even born. I’m telling you this, because being connected to a High Lord’s Heir puts a target on your back. Feyre and Nyx are safe, only because people fear them, believe Rhys is the male they knew Under the Mountain. If my fa- If Beron realizes what I am, that I'm powerful, he'll go after me and he'll likely use you to do it. He'll stop at nothing to make sure another court does not have access to his - to my mother's power. Just like how Amarantha used Feyre against Tamlin and Briallyn used Cassian against Nesta. ”
“But… we aren’t...we aren't like them.” She said quietly. It wasn't fear that made her uncomfortable, it was acknowledging the thing between them, the mating bond.
Lucien looked out onto the garden. “It doesn't matter.” He said. “Ever since I met you, my instinct has been to protect you. It may even be why I warmed up to Feyre so quickly. Even if you ended up… even if you never acted on it, the bond makes it my instinct to shield you from harm. Hurting you would hurt me.”
His throat bobbed, as if he was debating what he said next. “And the death of a mate... whether it be mine or yours… it would be… unsurvivable, even if we never... act on it at all, we'll always be linked in some way.”
The pain in his voice was something she had never heard before. Elain knew he was telling the truth - she fought hard to keep memories of Feyre’s labor at bay — Rhys’s yelling, his fighting, barely restrained by Azriel and Cassian’s fourteen siphons. It was something she would never forget.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like a pawn in all of this. I know you haven't had many choices in any of this." He added. Part of Elain wondered if Lucien’s pain and devastation was because of her, of the role he would play in her death if history repeated itself, and the risk his new role created for her.
That thought made her say, “Don’t - don’t apologize for something you have no control over and don’t worry about me being a pawn.” His eyes snapped up to meet hers in surprise. “I have been a pawn from the moment the King of Hybern broke into my father’s house and put me in the Cauldron, even before that. The fact that you’re in the Night Court shows I still am one. Adding another court to a mix doesn’t change much.”
His expression was one of pure guilt. “I’m - I- “
She cut him off before he could deny anything, “Don’t apologize for that either. I know neither you nor Tamlin knew what was happening and I know you fought against Hybern’s wards to help me.”
Lucien’s shoulders sagged. He said sighed wearily, “I should have known then. I had never used that power before - Helion’s power. I thought it was the bond's reaction, but I realize now that the fire came from my mother, not Beron. He opened up his palm and let fire dance on his fingertips. "He won't pleased to know I have Autumn and Day gifts."
She's never seen Lucien use his power before. It was mesmerizing, they way he did it so casually, as if he didn't fear getting burned. Part of Elain wondered what her power would look like if she trained, like Amren had suggested.
He let out a chuckle, extinguishing the fire on his hands and snapping Elain's attention back to his face. “For someone who has switched court allegiances and had my world turned upside down as often as I have, you would think I would be used to it.”
Elain made herself laugh at that, and looked around for way to relate or lighten the mood. “I spent my whole life thinking iron would protect me from faeries. And now, I am fae sitting in a iron chair, talking to a High Lord’s heir, while living in another High Lord's house. I know it's not the same, but...the world way of turning upside down when we least expect it, you can’t plan for things like this.”
“When Feyre told us she thought faeries couldn’t lie, Tam and I laughed ourselves hoarse.”
The shadows in his eyes shifted - a different guilt taking their place.
Elain only nodded again, deciding to offer a truth the way Lucien had offered his own. “I’m sorry” she said.
“Whatever for?” Lucien asked, surprise coloring his voice.
“You wouldn’t have left Tamlin if I wasn’t, if we weren’t -“ she trailed off. “I know it pains you to see him like this.”
Lucien looked at her as if he was disappointed, not in her, but what she had said. “I thought we weren’t apologizing for things we can’t control?”
He let out a hoarse breath. “I was blind to a lot of things, Lady. After losing Jes, Tamlin was my only friend, my protector. After he refused Amarantha for what she did to me -“ he gestured to his golden eye and scar - “I couldn’t see past that loyalty. But the male I knew, I haven’t seen him since he sent Feyre back to the Human Lands.”
Elain just looked at him, realizing they had never spoken for this long, never this openly. She didn’t know what to say, if she could say anything to make him feel better about this. She was almost as shocked that she wanted to make him feel better, as she was by his honesty.
Lucien continued. “I didn’t want to see what he was doing to Feyre. I wanted to believe that he didn’t act Under the Mountain. because it would harm more than help. I wanted to believe that the Spring Court was my home, and I need to help keep things stable, show unity. But when Feyre came back to us, and she pushed back on him - I realized how wrong I was. I let her use me to get to him and Ianthe, because I was angry with him. Angry for how he got us into the war, angry for how he hurt Feyre, angry for trusting that two-faced priestess. ” He shuddered.
“It took a lot of time to realize that. When I came here, I realized what a court could be like when people are treated like equals. For all my power, I could never question Tamlin the way your friends question Rhys and Feyre. I would try, but he never listened." A long pause. "So yes, it pains me to see my friend in pain, and it pains me that the Spring Court will suffer because of my choices, but I do not regret leaving with your sister. Even when she lies to me, and fights with me, and uses me, and pushes me, she was a better friend to me than Tamlin was in years. Jurian and Vassa are too."
Elain was speechless for the third time since Lucien had walked into the garden. She let his words wash over her, and the tightness she felt, that feeling of turmoil in her gut - it was duller now, as if saying the words had given Lucien a release he desperately needed.
She reached for his hand, laying hers on top of his momentarily, before pulling away. “I’m glad you got out.” she offered.
Lucien went still at her touch, but mastered himself enough to say, “Me too, Lady” smiling softly. “Me too.” Lucien began to stand, as if forcing himself to put space between them, “Speaking of Jurian and Vassa, I should probably head out. If I’m not back by the time Vassa shifts to her human form, I’ll have hell to pay,” he said with amusement in his tone.
Elain hadn’t realized how quickly the sun had begun to set around them.“Of course.” She said. He stood, and Elain joined him, deciding to walk with him until the anti-winnowing wards ended.
The silence was overwhelming, so she asked: “Do you like the Human Lands?”
“I do.” He said, smiling as if he was thinking about some memory. “I can’t say I fit in, but I enjoy Jurian and Vassas company. They are at each other’s neck’s constantly, but I can’t say I’m ever bored.” She couldn’t imaging Lucien fitting in particularly well in her old home. She supposed that with humans as strange as Jurian and Vassa were - a centuries old human that was resurrected by the Cauldron and a firebird cursed by a Death Lord, who had been freed by her own father - they could at least bond over how they didn’t fit in.
“I suppose you aren’t used to experiencing seasons.” She found herself saying.
“After spending most of my life in eternal autumn and spring, it’s refreshing to feel the weather change. I can’t say I loved the winter, but it’s different... It makes me appreciate time more.”
“I haven’t been to the seasonal courts, but I enjoy it too - seeing how the seasons change. I would like to see more of Prythian, more of the world some day.” She said in response. It was true. Elain loved watching the leaves turn and watching flowers bloom again in spring. She longed for a time where her greatest wish was to see the Tulip fields in the continent with her sister.
“I think you would like the Spring Court in its former glory, the gardens were almost as enchanting as yours.”
“Thank you.” She forced herself to respond to the compliment. Feyre and Nesta had both mentioned how she would love spring. Elain was content to watch the seasons change in Velaris.
Lucien nodded to her, coming to a standstill where the wards ended. “I’ll be back in a few days to meet with Helion. Thank you for speaking with me... Are you truly not scared, knowing about the risk?.”
"I'm not."
“Maybe we can… talk again soon, Lady.”
“Elain. Call me Elain. I’m not technically a Lady, and you needn’t be so formal with me. I'd like us to be friends.”
He looked surprised at that, and well - Elain was too. She had no idea what possesed her to say that. To offer up friendship, when she was still hurt from another loss, still processing her new life, her role in this Court.
Lucien just smiled at her in a way she had never seen before, and said “I'd like that too, Elain.” before disappearing.
#elain archeron#lucien vanserra#elain x lucien#lucien x elain#there's hints to elriel and vucien but they are subtle#elucien#kp writes#acotar series#mtp
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The Bet | Chapter Fourteen
Day 38
Feyre didn’t sleep well.
She tossed and turned all night, half-awake and half-dreaming, imagining Rhys’ expression when she backed away. He had looked so guilty. And she hadn’t stayed to tell him it was her fault, that Feyre was the one who stepped backward and put his hands on her hips.
She’d just left him.
And ran up the stairs crying, not even sure where she was going. She had run right into Mor, nearly mowing her over.
Mor had taken in the tears and the swirl of emotions and had grabbed her arm and dragged her into a room without saying a word.
Later she would find out this was a guest room. The room that she was being given while she stayed in the men’s house. But then all she had know was that there was an empty bed that looked like a perfect place to cry on.
Feyre had stumbled onto it, curled into a ball, and sobbed. She vaguely heard Mor close the door, vaguely heard her walk to the bed and sit. She registered hands soothingly rubbing her back and holding her tightly.
And then Feyre had confessed everything. How Rhys had told her about Amarantha, how they had cried together and then had a moment, part lust and part understanding and part grief. And how Feyre had run away. And screwed everything up.
Mor just held her and told her it was going to be okay and Feyre didn’t even mind that she was acting like a child because she just felt so fucking bad.
Then Mor had tucked her in and held her some more, until Feyre drifted off. She didn’t stay asleep for long, hounded by pent-up terror from Tamlin grabbing her and pure shame for letting Rhys look so guilty and not doing anything to fix it. Shame for ruining their relationship, whatever it had been.
Now it was morning, and Feyre was still laying in bed, light streaming through a crack in the curtains, and wondering whether she should get up.
No, Feyre decided. She was just going to lay here forever. She wouldn’t have to see Rhys or anyone. She could wallow in self-pity and misery for the rest of her life.
Her new plan was ruined when a knock sounded at the door.
“Who is it?” Please don’t be Rhys, please don’t be Rhys.
“It’s Mor,” a voice called.
Feyre hesitated. “Come in.”
Mor opened the door and closed it again behind her. “How are you feeling?”
Feyre tried for a reassuring smile. “Fine. Just tired.”
Mor winced, not buying her story for a second. “It’s almost noon.”
“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” Feyre hadn’t realized how late it was - not that it made much of a difference.
A sigh left Mor. “Azriel is off doing gods-know-what. Amren only came back briefly. And Cassian is sitting at the table eating breakfast and being clueless.”
Feyre snorted. “Okay. And, uh, Rhys?”
The humorous mood Mor had been trying to establish dissipated. “He’s taking a walk. A long one, he said. Um. He was trying to come in here earlier, but I told him it would be wiser to give you some space.”
“Shit. Gods, he thinks I hate him doesn’t he? Maybe he hates me too.” Feyre covered her face with her hands, still lying on her back under the covers.
Mor’s tone turned stern. “He does not hate you. Don’t ever let yourself believe that. And I told him I talked with you last night, and you didn’t blame him for anything.”
“Good. I don’t. I almost kissed him and then I ran off and it was all my fault.” Feyre took her hands off her face.
Mor was scowling. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this either. You had a very rough day. You’re allowed to be uncertain and you’re allowed to change your mind and shit. Or whatever it is you want. Hell, I’m not making some pretty speech for you; it’s too early for this.”
Feyre giggled despite feeling like shit. “You’re commenting on me not being up now but it’s too early for you?”
Mor sighed. “Listen. If you want to talk to Rhys and sort this out, he’ll listen. And he will never be angry with you or pressure you into anything. But if you aren’t ready to talk to him, he will keep his distance until you are.”
“I don’t... I want to avoid him because I’m a coward and I deal with my problems by pretending they don’t exist.” Feyre frowned. “But if I do that, he’ll keep feeling bad, and I don’t want that. So, later maybe, I’m going to talk to him.”
“Alright.” Mor seemed satisfied with this answer. “I mentioned that Amren stopped by. She gave me this.” Mor pulled something out of her back jeans pocket. A wad of cash.
“Holy hell,” Feyre breathed. “That’s...”
“A lot. Yeah.” Mor grinned. “That was one big-ass diamond, wasn’t it?”
Feyre reached out and grabbed the money. She didn’t even bother trying to count it.
“What are you going to do with it, Fey? Buy a mansion?”
“A mansion? I don’t think it’s quite that much, Mor,” Feyre replied with a grin.
Mor sighed. “Yeah, put it into savings, pay your rent. Stop being so mature.”
Feyre sighed as well. “For starters, this is yours.” Feyre pulled five twenties from the stack and tried to hand them to Mor.
“I didn’t mean it when I said you could pay off my rent,” Mor teased.
“No, it’s for the bet. I lost, remember?”
Mor blinked. “Now, hold on.”
“Don’t even try to give me an out. I almost kissed him, Mor.”
“Almost. That’s the keyword.”
A frown appeared on Feyre’s face. “I appreciate it, really Mor, I do. But I thought you wanted to win.” She waved the money in front of Mor’s face.
Mor just swatted it away. “Not like this! You didn’t kiss him. You may have done a teensy bit of touching, but what the fuck am I supposed to do? Take a bunch of cash from you because you were, like, assaulted and shit?”
“No, because I lost, fair and square.”
“I won’t take it. You’re not even halfway there yet. I will have plenty of chances to make you pay up in the future.” Feyre snorted. “So you keep your damn cash and buy yourself something pretty. I’m going to win anyway.”
“Mor, I don’t want to win like this. It’s cheating.”
“Feyre Archeron, what did I just tell you? You aren’t winning! But now, you didn’t break any big rules, so you’re still in the game.”
“The bet says, if I recall correctly, I must be in accordance with every single aforementioned rule. Which includes the little ones.”
Mor looked angry. “Fuck the bet. My rules go. I won’t take your fucking money like this. I want to be able to tell everyone and brag about it and hold it against you for the rest of your life, so put it the fuck away.”
A snort left Feyre’s mouth. “Fine. Whatever.” She finally sat up, located her purse, and got out of bed to shove the cash inside. Thinking back on it, she didn’t remember holding her purse when she was trying to get out of the gallery, and she certainly hadn’t brought it in this room.
“I was carrying your purse when we left. And I put it in here last night,” Mor explained to Feyre’s unanswered question.
Feyre offered a grin. “Thanks, Mor. You’re the best.”
“I know.” Mor grinned back at her and Feyre just rolled her eyes.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay. You should come down for breakfast when you finish up. Or lunch, seeing as it’s so late.”
“I will,” Feyre agreed. With that, she left the room and used the bathroom. Once she finished washing her hands, she looked at herself in the mirror.
There were bags under Feyre’s eyes. Her lips were unconsciously tilted downward. She tried for a smile, but it came out as more of a wince.
Feyre just sighed, splashed some cold water on her face to wake herself up, and left the bathroom.
Cassian was sitting at the table, just as Mor had said. Mor herself was fixing a plate of bacon and eggs.
Cassian looked up, taking in Feyre’s haggard expression. He was a bit clueless, but certainly not stupid. The man knew Feyre wasn’t doing great. “How are you, Fey?”
Feyre smiled. “Fine.”
Not true, and from the look on Cassian’s face, he wasn’t buying it. Still, he just smiled back and said, “Good. Get some food, you look hungry.”
She was hungry. Feyre turned to Mor, who was watching her. “Help yourself.” She passed Feyre a plate.
“Thank you.” Feyre scooped some eggs and bacon onto the plate just as Mor had done and seated herself. Mor was already sitting.
The silence was awkward, everyone struggling to come up with something appropriate to say.
“So...” Cassian finally started. “Hm. Any fun plans today?”
Mor snorted. “Nope.”
“No,” Feyre added.
“Cool,” Cassian replied.
They finished eating in silence.
-
Feyre was sitting in a chair in the small, homey living room, pretending to read a book, when Rhys walked through the door.
She’d finished eating only minutes ago, and sat down in an attempt to distract herself.
Rhys’ eyes shot straight to Feyre. She couldn’t have averted her gaze if she tried.
“I’m going to go... elsewhere,” Mor said, who had been flipping through a magazine.
She dragged Cassian out of the room with her. He barely even managed to get out a “What’s happen-” before they disappeared up the stairs. Neither Feyre nor Rhys was paying them any attention, though.
“Hi,” Feyre said. She hoped her voice wasn’t shaking.
Rhys closed the front door and took a few steps toward Feyre. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t even bother with a greeting.
“No, Rhys,” Feyre breathed. “Don’t be.”
“Why shouldn’t I? I almost made you-”
“Made me?” Feyre frowned. “I don’t recall anyone anyone making me do anything.”
Rhys sighed and sat down on the couch across from Feyre’s chair. He looked exhausted, even more so than her. Perhaps he hadn’t slept well either. “You had just been attacked by someone who you’d fled halfway across the country from. You didn’t know what you were doing.”
“I knew exactly what I was doing.” Feyre’s sharp tone dissipated as she added, “I just freaked out a little.”
There was genuine grief in Rhys’ eyes. “I never should have touched you.”
Feyre blinked. She knew he felt bad, and that he hadn’t meant to do anything that would scare her away, but to hear him actually say he regretted that moment... Feyre felt a pang of something like sadness.
She tried to cover her thoughts by speaking. “I touched you first. Don’t act like you forced me to do anything.” Before Rhys could say anything else, she continued, “You told me what happened to you, Rhys. I’m not the only one with a past of abuse. It hasn’t even been a year since you got away. That’s what you told me. And I know you’re not better or fine or shit. You’re messed up inside. And so am I. And we consensually touched and almost kissed, okay? It’s not like you were trying to take advantage of me or something.” Feyre paused to regain her breath after that little rant.
Rhys lips twitched. “No less spirited, are you?”
Feyre smiled. “I’m sorry, Rhys. I’m the one who should be apologizing. If it hadn’t been for me, that wouldn’t have happened. Can we just be friends?”
Rhys almost looked... disappointed? But that couldn’t be right. He didn’t actually want Feyre like that. Flirting a bunch and getting caught up in the moment didn’t equate to liking someone. Right?
He smiled, and Feyre immediately disregarded the possibility that he had ever wanted anything more from her. “Of course.”
“Great.” Feyre felt a lot less satisfied than she appeared. She clearly wasn’t ready for anything, and even if Rhys was, he had actually said he should never have touched her. There was no point in pursuing any sort of relationship that Rhys wasn’t even interested in.
This was Feyre’s moment of clarity. Mor and Amren had agreed that Rhys wanted her as more than a friend the first day the two met. And deep down, despite her refusal to accept that, Feyre had believed them. And Rhys, being a flirty person, hadn’t done much to dispel that notion.
But they were wrong. She was wrong. He truly wasn’t interested in her like that. Or perhaps he had been, but after getting to know her, seeing the panic attack, the meds, Tamlin... there was really no way Rhys actually liked her.
Feyre was broken. There was nothing to like about her.
So she smiled kindly and asked Rhys if he wanted to get some lunch in the kitchen.
And with an equally positive smile, Rhys said yes.
The friendly mood was faked on both fronts, neither happy with the outcome of that conversation.
But how was Feyre supposed to know that Rhys was in love with her? So she just kept smiling. At her new friend.
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Complicated Addictions
WORD COUNT: 1756
SUMMARY: When Nesta stands Cassian up on a date, an angry and upset Cassian decides to head over to her apartment to find out exactly why she was so intent on making him suffer.
Cassian didn't know why he hadn't just gone home. Perhaps he should have phoned Rhysand and seen if he wanted to get a drink, or maybe he could have gone to the nearest club and fucked some girl who rubbed up against him as he sat alone at the bar. But no, he had come here.
The Illyrian tried to push down the anger that boiled inside him as he banged on the door of Nesta Archeron's apartment. His hands were balled in fists at his side's as he waited for the young fae to answer the door. He had made sure she was in when he had passed her building, the lights that were on in her room said that she was. The soft pitter-patter of her bare feet against the wooden floor filled his ears as she advanced, unlatching the lock and pulling the door open. She didn't bother to even meet his eyes as she turned back on her heels, heading toward her living room.
Nesta had gotten the apartment in Velaris a few years ago when she had decided that living with her sisters and the Illyrian boys whom her sisters were friends with wasn't something she was fond of. The apartment had not been cheap and every penny Nesta had spent to purchase it had belonged to her sister's mate. Yet, she came and left as if it had cost nothing at all. The kitchen was the first room, pale brown wooden floors with white cabinets with black countertops. The apartment had two bedrooms, each on opposite sides, both with ensuite bathrooms. Nesta's living room was nothing but generic. Two leather brown sofas and a matching armchair all centred around the large flat screen tv that mounted the back wall. A charcoal grey matt rested beneath a glass coffee table and the surrounding walls were painted cream, each displaying multiple framed photos. Some were basic pictures that had most likely came with the frame, flowers in a field, puppies with their tongues hanging from their mouths. Then there were the ones that actually meant something, a picture of her sister Elain while planting, a picture of her family before her mother had died. Even at the age of nine, Nesta still looked the same. Her lighter hair was tied in braids, her hand resting on Elain's shoulders as Feyre sat on their mother's lap, their father supposedly behind the camera. Nesta's young eyes were filled with the ice that Cassian knew now, that little mouth of hers curling into a smile that didn't meet her eyes, exactly the same as it didn't now. Somehow, at such a little age, she had still held the world on her shoulders.
Turning to the side so his wings could fit through the narrow doorway, Cassian entered the brightly lit apartment. He shut the door behind, slipping his boots off and heading toward the sofa. He was bound to be here all night knowing how much Nesta loved to avoid conversation. Settling her legs beneath her, Nesta curled against the arm of one of the leather sofas, picking up the book that rested on the seat beside her and flipping it open. Surely some smutty romance novel. A large black pyjama shirt hung from her slim frame, her long legs were bare beneath it and her golden-brown hair was tied up into a messy heap atop her angular makeup-less face. Cassian hated how he noticed the dusting of freckles on her nose that only ever appeared during summer. Running a hand through his rain-soaked locks, Cassian sat at the other end of the sofa, glaring at Nesta. She didn't move her eyes from her page.
"A text would have been nice," he growled, leaning back and hooking an ankle atop his knee.
He had been at that restaurant for an hour. A fucking hour until he had given up and come here. It wouldn't have hurt as much if it was some random girl Azriel had hooked him up with for a first date, but this was Nesta. Things with Nesta were always far more complicated.
Nesta just shrugged, turning a page of her book, "My phone died." The phone that sat upon the table before her made Cassian think differently, especially when it lit up seconds later with no noise to match it. Silent, she had put her phone on silent.
"Why say yes to me if you're not gonna show up?" He questioned, noting how she still hadn't bothered to look at him since he arrived. Cassian drummed his fingers against his thigh impatiently as Nesta continued reading.
"I'm tired of your shit, Nesta. I'm not leaving until you're honest with me." Cassian snapped, leaning forward toward Nesta who simply acted as if he was not there. This was not a rare occurrence, he was used to having to rile her up to get any sort of reply. He wondered how much longer he would try to break past her walls, how much longer he would care enough to try. Apparently, two years wasn't enough.
"I called you. You made me look like a fucking idiot. I waited for an hour, Nesta. And you fucking stood me up!" He cursed, watching as she yet again flipped a page and continued reading.
Before he even realised what his body was doing, Cassian had slid across the sofa, grabbed the book from her hands and smacked it down on the table. His wings were tucked in tightly behind him and he was right up beside her, their legs brushing. Nesta's face whipped to his, a fire burning within those cold eyes of hers. As her eyes met him for the first time that evening, they flicked over all of him. He was wearing a navy blue suit, had had it fitted specifically for their date. Of course, Cassian would have just worn jeans and a nice sweater, but Rhys knew someone who was willing to fit him a suit in time for his date in only a week's time.
Nesta's eyes lifted from his shirt, looking at him directly, "What exactly do you want me to say?"
"I want you to fucking apologize. I want you to tell me why you didn't show up!" He told her, face only inches from her's. He wanted more than anything to cup her face and kiss her, he wanted the feel of her lips on him. On his lips, on his chest, wrapped around him wholly.
Nesta scoffed, "I felt sorry for you! You've asked me out so many times, it's pathetic!"
Cassian blinked, leaning away from Nesta as she looked down her nose at him. Realising what she had done, what she had said, Nesta bit down on her bottom lip, avoiding Cassian's eyes. She really knew how to hurt him.
"Cassian..." She breathed.
Cassian stood from the sofa, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the room to the window. The city below was drenched in rain, thick black clouds washing over Velaris. His chest felt tight, a lump growing in his throat as his eyes glazed over. He wouldn't fucking cry.
"Cassian," Nesta repeated. He heard as she stood, walking up behind him. He could almost feel the warmth radiating from her. Her breath made his skin tingle as she spoke, "I'm sorry."
Cassian turned, he towered over Nesta. He had never noticed how small and fragile she was compared to him. Cassian slipped his callused palm into Nesta's soft gentle hand, intertwining their fingers. She did not pull away. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Nesta's and cupping her cheek with his spare hand. "Just be honest," he begged, stroking his thumb against her cheekbone, "I need to know, Nes. Please."
Nesta shifted, moving closer and slipping an arm around his waist as she leaned her face into his palm. Her bottom lip had begun to tremble as she squeezed his hand, "I can't, you know I can't."
Cassian slipped his hand around to the back of her head, holding her closer to him. Just in case she tried to slip away again. He would leave. If tonight didn't go the way he wanted it to, he would walk out of her life. He couldn't live like this anymore.
"Nessie," he breathed, his breath warm against her skin. He pulled the band from her hair, letting her hair fall messily around her face, he ran his fingers through it, taking in the coconut scent he adored. Nesta removed her hands from him, inching forward and gripping his collar, resting her head in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his wings curling around the both of them.
"I'm not good for you," she told him, running her nose along the length of his neck, a low groan escaping Cassian's lips.
He hooked a finger under her chin, lifting her face to meet his, "I decide that."
She shook her head, despite the hold he had on her. Retaking Cassian's hand, Nesta turned, pulling him and leading the both of them back to the sofa. She settled against the leather, the cold fabric like a harsh kiss upon her legs as she patted the seat beside her. Without a second thought, Cassian took the seat, resting a hand immediately on Nesta's thigh. She shuffled, leaning her head on his shoulder and letting out a long breath.
"I was a coward, that's why I didn't show up," she began, laying her palm atop of Cassian's and intertwining their fingers.
Cassian shifted to look down at her properly, a frown crinkled in his dark brows, "What do you mean?"
Nesta let out a chuckle, " I mean that I was a fucking coward. I was scared to admit that I like you, and showing up would just... make that feeling real."
A smile grew across Cassian's lips, "And it's real?"
Turning to him, Nesta gently brushed her lips against Cassian's. A soft kiss, allowing him to taste her before she pulled away and rested her head against Cassian's brow, turning to cup his cheeks in both hands. They sat like that for a while, holding one another in a way that they never had before. He wanted to kiss her again, the feel of her lips was like a drug and he had become addicted. But she was here, and he had his arms around her. She felt like home.
Nesta whispered, her voice warm against his face, "It's real."
* * *
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365 Days: Part 2 (Feysand)
I feel like this should be beyond obvious at this point, but black lives matter. As a white person, I understand that I’ll never fully comprehend the struggle black individuals face on a daily basis. I stand with them, protesters, and activists as a lifetime ally. “Don’t be mad they’re rioting, be happy you don’t have to.” -- If you are not a supporter of the BLM movement, go ahead an unfollow me. I couldn’t care less.
OKAY. Sorry this is a day late! This part kind of has it all (humor, fluff, some slightly kinky smut) so I don’t know how to describe it. I also hate it, but whatever. Part 3 (last part) out Friday!
Part 1
________________________________________________________________
Day 1, 7:13 AM
~Feyre~
Something warm laid across her cheek, and Feyre peeked an eye open, only to groan at who she saw staring down at her. “If you make a habit of waking me up at the ass crack of dawn, I can already tell you you won’t live through our year of marriage, Rhysand.”
He smiled. “You have to get up. We're taking wedding pictures.”
She didn’t see the point. They’d signed the marriage license last night. How he’d procured one in less than an hour, she didn’t even want to know.
“Why the hell would we do that?”
“Because I’m a public figure, and the newspaper asked for a quote on our marriage.” She groaned. “Now get your cute ass downstairs.”
She glanced at him speculatively but stayed firmly planted in the bed. “What’s downstairs?”
“Someone to help get you ready. Not that I don’t appreciate the bed head. Up.”
Feyre shook her head. “Ask me again in two hours.” She glanced at the clock. “Make it three.”
Her husband pinched the bridge of his nose, but stood back up. She closed her eyes, happy she’d won their first argument.
Only to be proven wrong a moment later as the demon spawn flung back her blankets, grabbed her waist, and threw her over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down,” she shrieked, beating the back of his toned legs with a fist.
Rhysand, calm as always, smoothly responded, “If I put you down, you’ll just get back in the bed.”
“No, I won’t,” she lied.
Even though she couldn’t see his face, she’d bet anything he rolled his eyes. He walked out his/her/their bedroom door and down the stairs, his casual gait suggesting nothing out of the order.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly to whoever was waiting.
Feyre peeked around his ass to see four complete strangers, varying levels of amusement on their faces. “Um, hi.”
She was placed on a salon-like chair.
Which was odd, considering they were in the middle of the living room.
Rhysand pointed at two hulking figures sitting on the couch. “These are my friends Cassian and Azriel. You’ve met.”
The smugness in his voice, combined with the shit-eating grins of the men he was referring to, had her snapping back, “Oh yes, my kidnappers. Sorry I didn’t immediately recognize you. I had a sack over my head last time we met.”
“I’m Cassian.” The larger of the two smiled. “I’m the one you tried to gut with a butter knife.”
“I’ll have to practice my aim.”
Cassian looked at the man standing next to her and winked. “I like her.”
The other man on the couch, Azriel, sighed and shook his head, resigned.
Rhys just rolled his eyes and continued his introductions. “The two normal people here,” he gestured to a very brightly-dressed pair, “are here to do your hair and makeup and whatever else.”
He gave her a light kiss on the forehead, then spoke to his fellow criminals. “We have shit to do. Come on.”
“Are you off to do illegal activities, my dear husband?”
“Don’t worry, Feyre darling. You won’t be without eye candy for too long.”
He laughed at the look on her face, then wisely jogged out the door before she could throw something at him.
She turned to the people left staring at her with wide eyes and repressed a groan. “Let’s get this over with.”
~Rhysand~
Two hours after he’d left, Rhys came back to the house, showered, and changed into a tux. Then he went to his backyard where the photographer had set up.
“Where’s Feyre?” he asked the man as he messed around with lighting balloons.
The photographer gave him a knowing smile. “I want to get a picture of your reaction when you first see her.”
He was about to respond when the backdoor of the house opened and she walked out.
She was wearing a classic gown with long sleeves and a deep neckline, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. Her hair was up, and she had a veil trailing behind her. The sunlight made the white of her dress almost glow.
If she’d been beautiful before, now she was...
There were no words for how she looked.
Fucking radiant was a start.
She walked across the lawn to him and smiled, and he couldn’t keep the matching grin off his face if he tried.
Rhysand heard the faint snap snap snap of the camera and finally understood what the photographer had meant.
He’d wanted to capture the moment the city’s Son of Satan was practically brought to his knees by a single woman.
And Rhys didn’t even care.
Feyre finally drew close enough that he could see the details of her face. Even though he had a million more romantic things running through his brain, he murmured, “Who’s the eye candy now?”
“You are,” she said, as if it were obvious. “You look like sex on a spoon.”
His mouth dropped open, but before he could respond, the photographer butted into their moment. “Okay, I want you two to act like I’m not even here. We’re aiming for three or four really good shots, so just be natural, and I’ll let you know if anything has to change.”
They both nodded absently, still staring at each other. Rhys reached down to grab her hand, finger flicking the ring on her finger.
“I can’t believe our marriage is making the paper, and I didn’t even get a real proposal,” she teased.
It was true.
He’d put the ring on her bedside table the night before, too much of a simpering coward to give her the ring in person, too nervous about what’d she say. It had been his mother’s, and he’d once sworn to never let another soul have it.
“I didn’t want to risk your wrath and wake you up.”
She rolled her eyes and smiled.
Almost on its own accord, one of his hands reached out to cup her cheek. He didn’t know if Feyre was acting or something else, but she leaned into his touch, a hand coming to rest against his chest.
“Beautiful, just beautiful,” the photographer cooed.
“You are,” he told his wife. “You’re beautiful.”
She smiled.
“Annoying as hell, but beautiful.”
She shoved his shoulder and turned away, but he grabbed her wrist to spin her back, and decided to risk his life.
He kissed her.
Hands locked around her waist, lips crashing into hers, Rhysand kissed her like he’d been dying to since he’d seen her asleep in his shirt.
And she really, really kissed him back.
Feyre’s hands wound around his neck, and he lifted her up a little to get a better angle. Her lips opened to let his tongue in, and he had no other thoughts in his head besides the woman in his arms.
The photographer coughed pointedly.
They ignored him.
Until Rhys finally relented and set her back on the ground, both of them panting for air.
“Sorry,” she told the blushing man, but he waved her off and insisted it happened all the time.
The thing was, it didn’t.
Rhysand had kissed plenty of women in his lifetime, but none of them had made his entire body start simmering like that.
Her blue eyes watched him speculatively as he slipped the ring off her finger, dropped down to one knee, and smiled. “Feyre darling, will you marry me?”
Despite already being legally married, she bent over and kissed him, then stole the ring back. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
Day 9, 8:04 PM
~Feyre~
Feyre had to admit that while the house outside the city had a charm and wholesome quality she’d come to admire, being trapped here had started to drive her slightly insane.
Especially since Rhysand had been been on a business trip the entire week, so she’d been here by herself.
After a tense phone call with her sisters--where Nesta had cackled and called her Satan’s nephew--and getting ahead in her textbooks, she was out of things to do. So she spent most of her time being a nosy little snob and going through her husband’s stuff.
Apparently, the Son of Satan had a very serious addiction to wine, if the cellar in the basement was any indication.
But other than that--and a mysterious letter from a woman named Amren--he had no trinkets, pictures of family, or any other worthwhile gossip.
The word “boredom” hardly covered it.
Once upon a time, Feyre wouldn’t have minded a couple days like this. When law school was in session, she didn’t have a spare moment and enjoyed when she got to do nothing.
She didn’t bother lying to herself about why it was driving her insane now.
She missed Rhysand.
After only a couple days of marriage, he’d wormed his way into her heart and made her start to rely on teasing him, seeing that devilish smirk, making him laugh. The nightly texts he sent her weren’t enough to satisfy her insane need to talk to him. He’d told her he was coming back later tonight, and she was practically coming out of her skin with excitement.
She was an idiot, basically.
This marriage wasn’t supposed to involve actual feelings. It was a publicity save. And despite giving her a hotter-than-hell kiss during their photo shoot, he hadn’t so much as touched her since.
Feyre had the distinct feeling he was waiting for her to make the first move.
Which, again, she normally wouldn’t mind. But something about Rhysand... she knew once she started down that path, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
So she slept in his bed, wore his t-shirts, and avoided thinking about how his mouth had felt against hers.
And how he’d tasted like chocolate and watermelon and-
Cutting that thought off, she resolved herself to be cool and calm and collected when he came back. She needed to nip the feelings she’d started to develop for him in the bud.
But then the front door banged open, and Feyre instantly disregarded every promise she’d made to herself and raced down the stairs, yelling like a banshee.
She saw Rhysand standing in the doorway in his usual Johnny Cash uniform and didn’t hesitate before yelling, “You’re home!”
And throwing herself on him.
He dropped whatever he was holding and laughed as she wrapped herself around him like a koala.
“Are you alright, love?”
She nodded against his neck. “I’m fine. Ignore me. I’ve just been so bored. This place is way too fucking quiet when you’re not here. I think I’m going insane.”
“I believe you.”
“Asshole.”
He laughed, then did as she’d said and ignored her presence, crossing the living room to the kitchen.
Rhys bent to look through the fridge, and she tightened her hold on him.
“We have no food, also,” she told him helpfully.
“I see that. If you put some pants on, we can go into the city for dinner.”
She laughed. Along with wearing his shirts, she’d taken to stealing a pair of boxers to sleep in.
Feyre dropped to the floor, and he smirked down at her. “I was gone for five days, and that’s the greeting I got. Next time I’m staying away for six.”
She swung a hand and punched his shoulder, which probably hurt her more than him, and told him, “You’re so very funny, Rhysand. Please feed me.”
Her husband gave her a shooing motion. “You might want to put on something besides my boxers, then.”
She took his advice.
About an hour later, she sat in front of him, watching as he adamantly tried to avoid looking at her.
She’d chosen a dark green dress--unremarkable except for the low neckline and short skirt--black heels, and simple makeup.
“Are you alright, Rhysand? You look like you’re having a stroke.”
Those violet eyes slid to hers. “I’m fine, thank you for asking. I like that dress.”
“I can tell.”
He looked at the ceiling. “When we get home, I’m going to replace your entire wardrobe with burlap sacks.”
Feyre shrugged, then decided to take a chance. “You’d still stare at me.”
His eyes met hers, and when he spoke, it was practically a purr. “Am I supposed to deny, Feyre darling, how attractive I find you?”
The waiter arrived before she had to respond. She made a mental note to leave him a huge tip.
As they ate their meal, she was overly aware of how many people stared at them. The whispers that surrounded them.
She was about to ask how he dealt with it when a chair was slid up next to her, a heavy-set man settling in. “Hello, Rhysand. I need to talk to you.”
The man was dressed in dark clothes, covered in tattoos, and had the promise of violence written across his every movement. He practically had the words drug dealer floating above his over-sized head.
“Dante.” The warm look she’d come to recognize in her husband’s eyes was nowhere to be found. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Leave.”
“I promise you, it can’t,” the man said boldly, continuing to ignore her presence entirely. “A shipment’s gone missing.”
Feyre watched, stomach twisting, as Rhysand leaned forward and smiled cruelly. “Would you like to join it? I don’t discuss business in front of my wife.”
My wife.
Despite the more than tense surroundings, Feyre felt a spark run through her at the words.
“Then the bitch can leave. I need to talk to you.”
There was a slight pause, then everything changed so quickly she didn’t have time to process it. One minute she was watching the man’s face twist with impatience, the next there was a gun pressed against his ruddy forehead.
A gun that practically looked like an extension of Rhysand’s arm.
Her husband was standing, entire body stiff with anger. The look on his face was inhuman. And promised a slow, slow death as he looked towards the man on the recieving end.
“Refer to her as Feyre Asterra, or lose your fucking tongue.”
The restaurant was dead quiet, everyone holding their breath and waiting to see what happened. No one dared move a muscle.
Except Dante, who nodded stiffly.
“Now apologize.”
The way he said it, the command in his voice... a thrill sparked through Feyre, and she bit her lip to keep the gasp in.
What was wrong with her? Where fear should’ve taken root, there was raw, untapped excitement whirling inside her. Rhysand’s entire body was lined with power and dominance and rage, and it made her breath come quicker as she watched.
Dante looked at her, the hatred clear. “I’m sorry,” he spat, then looked back at Rhys.
Rhysand tilted his head, a king holding court. Another cruel smile. “Beg me.”
Something inside Feyre twisted at his words.
Beg me.
The man’s jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth, but he still said. “Please, Rhysand. I’ve worked for you for five years. I’m sorry.”
There was a pause, and she wouldn’t be surprised if someone passed out in anticipation. Then Rhys made a soft tsk sound.
“You no longer work for me. You’re no longer welcome in this city. If I see you after tonight, I won’t be as forgiving.”
The man opened his mouth to oppose, thought better of it, and sulked to the restaurant of the exit.
In that moment, Feyre knew why people called him the Son of Satan. Knew because, as calm as ever, he turned to their waiter and said, “Check, please.”
~ nsfw warning ~
Rhysand stood in front of the fireplace in their room, silent as the dead.
He hadn’t said a single word on the way home, and she could tell whatever had happened at dinner had been the tip of the iceberg. Something had gone wrong.
She replayed the meal over and over in her head, trying to figure it out, but only seemed to be able to remember one thing.
Beg me.
Something had snapped inside her tonight, and she couldn’t keep herself still. Seeing him like that, seeing the power he had over people...
Slipping off the bed, Feyre walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
Her hands were spread on his taut stomach, but he gripped her wrists and took them off. When he spoke, his voice was rough and low. “I can’t do this right now. I’m not... I’m trying to keep my promise to you.”
Stay good with me. It felt like she’d said that a lifetime ago.
Rhys turned around, drank whatever was in his glass, and looked down at her. There was violence and anger and animalistic rage in his gaze.
It did little to calm the roar in her veins.
“Break your promise.”
A muscle in his jaw flickered, but he kept his hands to himself.
She wanted him so bad she could hardly stand. Her hands found their way to his chest, needing to touch him. “Please.”
Suddenly, she was pressed against the mantle near the fire, heat scorching up her leg. His glass fell to the floor as his hands pressed against her shoulders.
He’d barely touched her, and she was breathing like she’d run a mile.
A hand came to trace her bottom lip, then he was kissing her, and she finally let out a sigh.
The day of their wedding pictures, his kiss had been decadent and exploring. But that was when he was happy.
When Rhys was pissed off, he kissed her in a raw, aggressive sort of way that made her lose her mind. A hand pulled her hair, making her tilt her head back, and he deepened the kiss.
She’d just started to unbutton his shirt when he lifted her by the back of the thighs, then dropped them both to the floor and pinned her underneath him.
Rhys braced himself over her trapping her arms above her head. She thought about the first time they’d been like this, and the look in his eye said he was doing the exact same thing.
“I wanted you so bad that night,” he told her, voice rough.
She arched her back, chest pressed against his, and he gave her a wolf’s smile.
“Did you want me, too?” he asked, lips and teeth on her collarbone.
Feyre nodded.
His mouth drifted down to her chest, and his teeth scraped her nipple through her dress. Rhys looked up at her, more monster than man in his eyes, and asked, “Were you wet for me, Feyre?”
Okay. Maybe it had been a mistake to encourage being together right now.
Only one way to find out.
She nodded again, and his eyes went dark.
A hand remained pinning her wrists, the other drifting up her thigh. His fingers grazed the lace of her panties, then slipped inside.
He ran a finger up her core, and she shifted beneath him.
“Stay still,” he ordered, the command in his voice making her freeze.
His finger slipped inside her, and he nudged the neck of her dress down to take a breast in his mouth. He made a humming sound in appreciation as he moved, then added another finger.
Feyre moaned, pushing uselessly against the grip on her hands. It was too much. He was too much. She wouldn’t survive this.
But she couldn’t force herself to stop.
She’d been right. Now that she’d started, a shower of bullets wouldn’t make her leave this room.
His stubble scraped the valley between her breasts, and then they were kissing, a deep, wet slide of tongues and lips and teeth. He kissed her in time to the movement of his hand, and Feyre groaned into his mouth.
“I need more,” she panted onto his skin.
Rhysand’s teeth closed softly on her shoulder, and then he was looking down at her. His eyes were so dark they were like the nighttime sky, and then he said the words she didn’t know she’d been craving.
“Beg me.”
She whimpered underneath him, shifting restlessly.
A small, knowing smile was on his face, and she would’ve punched it off if she hadn’t been so attracted to it.
“Please. Please.”
His hand was on her jaw, and he pressed a wet kiss to her lips. “Good girl.”
Lord help me.
He made quick work pulling her clothes off, then leaned back on his knees, surveying her head to toe.
She repaid the favor.
She didn’t know when his shirt had fallen open, but she sure as shit wasn’t complaining.
His chest was covered in tattoos, the dark swirls running across his pecs and shoulders, all the way to his fingertips. The tattoos, the dangerous look in his eyes... Feyre lost a bit of her sanity as she leaned up to drag her mouth up his stomach.
Flicking open his belt, Rhys pushed her back down. Then his pants were pulled down, and he was spreading her thighs and settling in between them before she got a proper look.
“Again.” He looked half crazed with anger and lust.
She nipped at his bottom lip. “Please.”
He was pushed inside her, deep and slow and steady. He groaned in her ear, and the sound threatened what remained of her.
Then he gripped her hips, lifted slightly, and began to move.
Holy gods.
Feyre didn’t know what language she was speaking in, but it wasn’t English. She was murmuring incoherent somethings, not able to string together proper thoughts.
She moved in rhythm with him as he picked up speed, and even though they were spread out on the ground, Feyre felt like a freaking queen.
He was taking his time, listening and learning what she liked, and she could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge.
Soon she was so loud it was a miracle they didn’t have close neighbors.
But as soon as she felt release start to come, he paused his movements.
The sound that came out of Feyre’s mouth was close to a snarl.
Rhysand smiled, gripping her chin. “Do you want to come, Feyre darling?”
If she wasn’t practically immobile, she’d strangle him. “You’re such an insufferable bastard, Rhysand Asterra. Yes.”
“And what do people say when they want something?”
She bit his lip in frustration, but said, “Please, you pri-”
His hips slammed into hers, a moan cutting her off as release crashed into her. Muscles twitching, face pinched in concentration, he followed her lead, collapsing on top of her.
They laid there together, both breathing heavily, until she started losing air. He rolled off her and looked over her with male satisfaction.
There was still a little tension from earlier, but his usual brightness and light was back. It was impossible not to smile at the happiness coursing through her veins.
Then he opened that smart mouth. “Let’s take a moment to remember when you said you could go two years without sleeping with me.”
“In my defense,” she panted back, “I hadn’t seen you in action before.”
He looked adorably shocked. “So threatening to shoot people is hot to you?”
“When it’s because of me, yeah.” She flicked his bicep, unable to help it. “I almost jumped you right then and there.”
He started kissing her neck, grinning against her skin. “I might have to hunt him down, then.”
She laughed, hands playing in his thick hair. Feyre pulled him back on top of her, a deliciously heavy dead weight. “I think I might have to update my pros and cons list.”
Rhysand laughed, and Feyre doubted a year of looking at that smile would be enough.
Hell, a lifetime might not be enough.
She didn’t let the thought linger.
“Do you think there’s some innocent people around for you to threaten?”
A kiss to her temple. “I’ll hire someone if I have to.”
________________________________________________________________
Part 3
@a-bit-of-a-cactus @bamchickawowow @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @rapunzel1523 @negativenesta @burritowithfeels @exciting @sis-it-dont-add-up @mockingjayusa @aelin-is-my-heart @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @awesomelena555 @thekeytohappiness-is-you @keshavomit
#feysand#feyre archeron#rhysand#feyre x rhysand#feysand smut#feysand fanfiction#acotar#acowar#acomaf#acofas#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 fanfiction
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