#acosf au

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 26)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Eris has yet another surprise for you, and a secret is revealed

warnings: feyre slander, slightly nsfw towards the end

word count: 5.7k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this is a filler chapter, sorry if it's boring! wedding is coming up next chapter i think. also so sorry the taglist got messed up somewhere halfway through teh fic and it wasn't actually tagging people so if you haven't been tagged like 15 chapters i fixed it now im so sorry!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25

read on ao3

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A throbbing headache greeted you as you peeled your eyes open, the bright rays of sunshine coming in through the window directly onto your face. You groaned, mouth dry as sand. Regret over those last few drinks washed over you as you rolled over, body shaky as you pushed yourself up.

“Morning!” Gwyn’s voice sounded through your blurry vision – her normally soft tone was ear-splitting due to your hangover.

“Ugh, please tone down your mouth noises.” You grumbled, rubbing your temples and yawning.

The redhead rolled her eyes, handing you a tray. “That’s what you get for drinking so much. A servant brought us a tray each for breakfast. Drink water and the tonic, you’ll feel better.”

You sighed, trying to fight off the hangover shakes as you reached for the tray. On the golden platter was a glass of water, a vial of liquid meant to ease how shitty you felt, and a plate with toast, eggs, fruit, and thick slices of bacon. The food smelled heavenly, but your stomach churned in protest. So you quickly downed the tonic before slowly sipping water, your throat no longer feeling like a desert.

Nesta had joined Gwyn on the bed in the far corner in an effort to get Emerie to sit up. The Illyrian female protested, eyes squeezed shut as she cursed the sun for being so bright. Despite your state, you snorted. At least you were better off than Emerie. 

“Come on,” Nesta insisted. “You have to at least have a sip of water.”

Emerie shook her head vehemently, then cursed, dizzied. “No. I’m gonna die if I move another inch.”

Gwyn reached down to Emerie’s tray and grabbed the glass of water, bringing it up to her lips. “Here, that way you won’t have to move.” The hungover female protested, but Gwyn tilted the glass up anyways, forcing the water into her mouth. She sputtered for a second, but eventually swallowed some of the cold liquid.

With Gwyn now settled coaxing water into Emerie, Nesta headed towards your bed, smirking. “Morning, sunshine.” She said coolly. Her hair was loose and messy around her shoulders, eyes slightly red from the lack of sleep. But she still looked incredible, despite having drank more than you.

“Not fair.” You complained, rubbing your dry eyes again and scowling at your mate. “I drank half as much as you and you seem perfectly fine.”

Nesta plopped down beside you, shrugging. “Perk of drinking myself half to death for a few months, I guess.” She joked, then motioned to your bacon. “Are you going to eat that?”

“Go for it.” You shook your head. “I can’t imagine eating anything right now.”

A wider smirk came over Nesta’s face as she popped the bacon into her mouth, blue-grey eyes going up and down your body. “I can.”

You blushed, smacking her with your pillow. “What has gotten into you?” You hissed playfully so that Gwyn and Emerie wouldn’t hear. Your body had responded to her words instantly, heating up even more and making you squirm. 

She shrugged, taking the second piece of bacon off your plate as well. “I’m just glad I can finally show appreciation for my mate without worrying about someone hacking my head off for it.”

“Fair enough.”

The four of you picked away at your breakfasts in silence, much to you and Emerie’s relief. The tonic began to work after twenty minutes, your headache slowly easing up and the fog around your brain clearing. Eventually, Eris and Azriel came through the doors, stifling their laughs at how hungover or sleep deprived you all were. After saying goodbye to your friends, Emerie grumbled something about the likelihood of throwing up all over Azriel as she took his hand, preparing to winnow. Gwyn’s cheeks flushed slightly as she took Azriel’s other hand, the spymaster’s shadows curling around her slender wrist. You raised an eyebrow at her, but she blushed harder and refused to meet your gaze.

After Azriel, Gwyn, and Emerie left, Nesta left for the bathing chambers to freshen up while you flopped back down into the bed, pulling the sheets over your head. “I’m staying here all day,” You declared. “Nobody wake me.”

You heard Eris chuckle, feeling the bed shift as he sat down beside you. He yanked the sheets down, and you whined in protest. “Eris!” You cried out. “Please, I’m so hungover. I just want to rot in this bed all day.”

“Too bad,” Eris said with a delighted grin on his face. “Because I have another surprise for you.”

You groaned, turning onto your stomach and burying your face into the pillow. “I cannot handle another surprise right now.”

“Trust me. You’ll want to see this. Now get out of bed.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish. Now get up.”

When you didn’t move, strong hands grabbed your waist, pulling you into the air with surprising strength and flinging you over the High Lord’s shoulder. You yelped, the blood rushing to your head as Eris gripped the back of your thighs, holding you steady as he walked.

“Put. Me. Down. Right. Now.” You hissed through gritted teeth, stomach churning as the world swayed around you.

“Absolutely not.” Eris quipped, squeezing your legs once and he strode down the hallway. “Besides, you’re too hungover to use any of those sneaky moves the shadowsinger taught you. So suck it up, do not vomit on me, and thank me later for dragging you out of bed.”

You groaned as Eris carried you up a winding staircase with ease, your upper body swaying across his back. “Where are you even taking me?” You asked, defeated.

“Your surprise is out on the private balcony.” 

“What is the surprise?”

Eris snorted. “Mother above, you and Nesta are the worst when it comes to surprises, you know that? Nosy creatures.”

“You could have at least given me time to prepare.” You grumbled, realising you were still in your pyjamas.

“So you’d rather I have told you I had a surprise in advance and then let you stew over it for a whole day, leaving you in limbo before finally revealing it?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he had a point. You didn’t answer, and Eris laughed victoriously. “Thought so.” He said smugly.

Finally, after climbing up a mountain’s worth of staircases, Eris finally set you down. You wobbled, legs unsteady and clinging to the High Lord for balance as you adjusted to being upright again. A large wooden door stood in front of you, elegant whirling carvings along the edges. You shivered at the bone chilling cold of the stairwell, and Eris was quick to drape his warm cloak over your shoulders.

“Thanks.” You said before shooting him a glare. “But if you throw me over your shoulder like that again, I will nail your balls to the wall.”

Pure predatory smirk overcame Eris’s face as he met your gaze evenly. “Oh, please. We both know you enjoyed being tossed around.”

Your cheeks burned, unable to deny that his words rang partially true. You slapped his arm, and hissed at him, “This surprise better be worth it.”

“Oh, I know it is. Once again, feel free to use your spare time to brainstorm all the ways you can thank me later.” Eris simply winked, turning the knob and pushing the door open. You squinted, eyes taking a second to adjust to the bright morning sunlight that glared at you.

Stepping through the doorway onto the breezy balcony, your eyes began to focus. A tall, male figure stood a few feet away, the rays of the sun shining behind him and casting him in an otherworldly glow. Strands of red hair blew in the breeze, the light reflecting off of a familiar golden eye.

“Lucien…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as tears began to pool in your eyes at the sight of your friend coming into view. His golden skin shone in the light of Autumn, his red hair half tied back, revealing his chiselled, handsome face. It was filled with a mix of emotions as he stared back at you – awe, happiness, regret, all at once.

“Hey there, (Y/N).” Lucien said softly, lips pulling up in a smile.

All nausea and dizziness vanished as you surged forward, running towards your old friend. Your heart raced with excitement as you leapt into his outstretched arms, burying your face in his shoulder. There was no hope at stopping the sobs that choked up your throat, so you let them out. Lucien’s strong arms wrapped around you, holding you up as you clung onto his tall form.

Time was askew as you hugged him. It could have been hours or seconds for all you knew. You hadn’t seen Lucien since those few minutes after you escaped Rhys’s prison, all those weeks ago. 

Eventually, Lucien gently set you down. You turned around to ask Eris how he had found and gotten his brother here so quickly, but your mate had slipped away, leaving you alone with Lucien. When you turned back to your friend, his remaining eye simmered with emotion. “I’ve missed you.” He said, squeezing your hands in his own.

“I’ve missed you, too.” You said through tears. “I’m so sorry, Lucien.”

He frowned. “What do you possibly have to be sorry for?”

“For everything,” You gulped. “For everything you’ve been through, for how you’ve been treated. For not trying to find you sooner–”

Lucien interrupted you sternly. “No. Do not say that. None of this is your fault. You’re safe, that’s all that matters. I’m sorry, too.”

“What do you possibly have to be sorry for?” You threw his words back at him playfully, despite the sadness still lacing your voice.

Lucien squeezed your hands again, regret crossing his kind face. “For not fighting harder for you.”

Your heart cracked a bit at his broken voice. Lucien was the best male you had ever known, always putting others above himself no matter the personal cost. “You showed up with armies from the Spring Court to get me back. I’d hardly call that not fighting for me.”

“I meant before that. Feyre and Rhys told me that you were enjoying Velaris and your new missions as a spy, which was why you hadn’t come to visit me. They even went so far as to bring me a scarf claiming it was from you. I simply believed them, and didn’t question it. It wasn’t until Azriel found me and told me the truth about your situation that I realised what was going on.” 

“Lucien–” You tried to speak, to reassure him that he was not at fault here, but your friend cut you off sharply.

“No, it is not okay.” He said sternly. “I should have known better. I had never trusted Rhysand, but decided to take his word for it anyways. I was living in the human lands minding my own business while you were being tortured by that scumbag. And I will carry that guilt with me for the rest of my life. I failed you, (Y/N). And I am deeply sorry.”

You smiled sadly. “Listen to me. You did not lock me up. You did not deceive people. You did not have anything to do with what happened to me. That was Rhys and Feyre. They failed me, not you. And I made it out, that’s all that matters. You risked your life going back to Tamlin and raising the armies for me. If you really wish to seek penance for your guilt, consider that your debt paid.”

Lucien sighed, shaking his head. “I just can’t believe they put you through that.”

“I can.” You snorted, leading him over to the soft couch by the marble railing, overlooking the vast forest below. 

“With Rhys, yes I agree.” Lucien said as he settled down next to you. “But Feyre… the girl I knew who went under the mountain would not have ripped open a court of innocent people for petty reasons. Before Rhys took her away, she gave her own jewels to a poor citizen who did not have enough money to pay the Tithe. It seemed that every time she went away to the Night Court with him, pieces of her slowly chipped away and were replaced with new ones that Rhys created. She was so young, so vulnerable, and now she’s completely under his spell. The fact she could let any of this happen to you disgusts me, and I am ashamed that she manipulated me into believing she was a better friend to me than I ever was to her.”

The autumn breeze soothed your warm face, the fresh air clearing your foggy mind as you drank in the beauty of the view. Lucien was right – the Feyre you had heard about in the stories of Under the Mountain was not the Feyre you had met. As much as you resented her, you couldn’t help but spare her a shred of pity. “She chose her path,” You said steadily. “Just as I have chosen mine.”

Lucien fiddled with the rings on his fingers, playfully elbowing your ribs. “Your path as High Lady and my awful brother’s wife, you mean.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him back. “He’s not so bad.”

Lucien laughed sharply, a beautiful sound you had missed dearly. “Ok, sure. Come talk to me in a few centuries when you’ve had enough of his bullshit and are debating throwing him off a cliff.”

“Eris seems so enamoured with me, I’m sure all I’d have to do would be to tell him to go fling himself off the cliff and he’d happily do so without question.”

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”

The two of you chuckled, just like old times. You adjusted Eris’s cloak, wrapping it tighter around your body. His scent filled your nostrils, filling you with content. “Lucien,” You said hesitantly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” The male replied with confidence.

You took a breath before speaking. “Eris is my mate. He has been extremely good to me throughout all this, but you’ve known him and this court almost your whole life. What am I truly getting into by marrying him?”

Lucien was silent for a moment, as if contemplating his answer. Regardless, you knew nothing he could say would change your mind. You wanted to marry Eris, and you knew he would look out for you. But marriage and the workings of Autumn? it was still unknown territory for you. 

“Eris has always been a puzzle,” Lucien said slowly. “For as a long as I can remember, he’s been difficult to figure out. Everything he does is for a reason, and sometimes I can never figure it out. He switches personalities so fast it makes my head spin, and I could never tell what kind of male he truly was because of it. He was an excellent brother when Beron was not around, but the second he entered the room Eris became a different person.

“But it’s different with you. He’s different around you and Nesta, like he’s beginning to thaw. I think it will take a while for him to get used to not having to pretend to be Beron’s prodigy. But with time, he will soften up. Eris knows what he wants and will do anything to get it. He will protect you with unyielding loyalty, even if at times he may seem aloof. There will be times where you grow frustrated with him, and he may shut you out. But from what I’ve seen, I have no doubt that the three of you will be able to work things out. As for this court, give it time. The people can be frosty. Do not show weakness, for they will devour every ounce of exposed flesh like starved vultures. With the right leadership, I do believe it can change. But be patient, and unyielding.”

You mulled over Lucien’s words. He was right – it would be ridiculous to think everything would be smooth sailing from here. Being mates did not mean any complications in your dynamic would be immediately soothed over. It would take a long time for you to recover from and process everything that happened since you were sent to the House of Wind. Just as it would take a long time for Nesta to be comfortable with bathtubs and crackling fire. There would be challenges and disagreements, but at your core you knew it was nothing the three of you couldn’t manage.

“And how do you feel about us all together?” You asked. “Me, Nesta, and Eris, I mean.”

Lucien shrugged. “I see no issue with it. As long as the three of you are happy, that’s all that matters.”

“I wish the rest of this court felt that way.” You sighed. “They didn’t react well.”

He barked out a laugh. “No, I can’t imagine they did.”

You tilted your head back, letting the sun warm your face as you sighed. “So, when did you manage to sneak in here? I assume your banishment is lifted.”

“Yes, it is. Eris brought me here yesterday. I spent the day with my mother. Thank you, by the way, for what you did for her.”

Your heart swelled with happiness. You knew how much Lirilla loved Lucien, how much it pained your friend to be away from his mother for so long. She had a soft spot for him, as he was the least cruel out of all her sons. Every day you thanked the Mother that Lucien had not turned out like Beron.

In the distance, three dragons circled the air, sunning their wings in the rays of sunshine. Their gentle cries rumbled throughout the air like a song carried by the breeze. You snuck a glance at Lucien, whose eyes were fixed on the beasts circling the mountains in the distance. “Eris really did it.” He mumbled as Athariel spun upwards and around Zorzimril.

You whipped your head around. “You KNEW he had dragons?”

Lucien was awestruck as he continued observing the creatures. “Technically, yes. But I never believed him. When I was younger, Eris showed me 3 unusual rocks, claiming that they were dragon eggs. We played with them for hours, and I helped him build a nest to keep them warm. He swore me to secrecy, saying it was our own little game. He told me one day the eggs would hatch, and would grow into three big dragons. Then he, myself, and my mother could each climb on one and fly away from everything.” Lucien’s voice grew sombre, his eye darkening as he continued. “Then one day we found the rocks broken, and Eris told me the dragons had flown away after hatching. I was devastated, I had wanted to see one so badly. But he said they were gone, and I was to never breathe a word about them to anyone. I guess the slippery prick found them and raised them in secret on his own.”

“How did Eris keep dragons a secret from everyone?”

“Keeping secrets is one of his many talents. As I am sure you know very well since he hid the fact he knew that he was your mate.”

You snorted at the jibe, rolling your eyes. “Wow, so you really know everything then, don’t you?”

Lucien laughed, stretching his arms and resting his hands behind his head. The image reminded you of a cat sunning itself in the window. “Unfortunately, yes.” He said. “Eris and my mother filled me in. Among other things.”

You frowned. “Among other things? What does that mean?”

Lucien’s expression was grave, and he turned to face you. His golden eye gleamed in the sunlight but was equally intense as his regular eye as he stared you down. “Promise me that what I’m about to say, you keep to yourself, Eris, my mother, and Nesta.” He said seriously.

Confused, you nodded. Lucien took a deep breath before continuing. “Beron was not my father, apparently.”

You blinked in surprise, but bit your tongue. Lucien had always looked slightly different than his brothers, but you had never really thought twice about it. “My mother had an affair with Helion of the Day Court,” Lucien admitted, his voice hollow as if he didn’t even believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I’m his son, not Beron’s.”

Your jaw was slack. “Wow…” You muttered. “Does Helion know?”

Lucien shook his head. “No. But my mother has always been in love with him. It will take her a while to adjust to a reality without Beron hovering over her shoulder, to allow herself to love him openly. If that is what she desires, of course.”

“And what about you?” You asked your friend. “What do you want from all this? I mean… how does it feel?”

Lucien’s expression was distant, as if his mind was elsewhere. It wasn’t hard to tell by the way his jaw tensed that he was thinking of his childhood with his father, remembering every cruel word and ruthless fist he endured. How maybe if things had been different, he could have been spared Beron’s suffering and been raised by Helion – a father who did not delight in torturing his sons. Lucien had a rough life, one that did not seem to be getting any easier. From being banished from Autumn Court to living in a state of uneasy limbo with his mate who seemingly wanted nothing to do with him, Lucien’s life was never truly stable. He was always bouncing from one place to another, never truly fitting in. 

You hoped that with his banishment lifted, Lucien would choose to come back to Autumn. After months of being separated from your best friend, you wanted nothing more than to have him back by your side.

“I’m not quite sure,” Lucien finally answered. “On the one hand, I am glad I am not actually Beron’s son. But Helion being my father changes very little. I was raised by Beron, and for better or for worse I am the way I am because I was a part of his family. In my blood, I am Autumn Court and always will be.”

“But Helion has no other children,” You pointed out carefully. “Which technically makes you the heir to the Day Court, whether you like it or not.”

He shook his head. “It is a power and title I do not want. I’ve never desired to be a Lord of anything, especially not one of an entire court.”

You smiled softly, leaning your head into his shoulder and sighing contently. “I know. That’s why you’re such a good male.”

Lucien wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed you closer to him. “I will let my mother choose what to do about Helion.” He continued. “She may well want to forget the whole thing and leave the past behind. If that is her wish, I am content to go along with it. If she wants to rekindle a relationship with him, then she may tell him that I am his son, and we would go from there. Besides, not all of us are High Lord power hungry like you.”

You laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. “You’re going to make fun of me for becoming High Lady of your court for as long as we live, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” Lucien purred. “Someone has to keep you humble so that power doesn’t get to that pretty head of yours.”

“Careful,” You teased, grinning. “Or I’ll force you to scribe notes during all the council meetings for a decade.”

“Never mind, reinstate my banishment and bounty, please. I’d prefer that over being your note boy for your and your mates’ stuffy meetings.”

Your laughter echoed across the wind, just as Zorzimril let out a playful screech in the distance. For a few minutes, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, until your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked, “So… speaking of mates, has anything happened with Elain?”

The male sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand. You felt a muscle in his neck twitch at the mention of her name, an instinctual reaction like the mere mention of her rang a bell inside him. “No,” He said stiffly. “And frankly, at this point I wish that she would just sever the bond if she wanted nothing to do with me. It’s agonising. And Feyre and Rhys keep her cloistered away, knowing it would be too hard for me to try and visit her after everything that’s happened. I want Elain to be happy, even if it’s not with me, but I truly don’t think she would be happy in the Night Court. I just… I just want her out of there. To give her a chance to choose her own life.”

“From what I’ve seen, she seems content to let her sister choose her life for her.” You kept your words delicate, not wanting to offend Lucien. As much as he was your friend, he was still a mated male – and now you understood that protectiveness he likely felt.

“I think the Archeron sisters need to be apart from each other.” Lucien said, stiffening but not snarling at your comment. “They’ve all been through a lot, and none of us will ever truly understand the history they have because we did not live it. Nesta needs this freedom here in Autumn to build a life for herself after everything was taken away from her. Feyre, for all her faults, needed to be loved in a way that was different from how her sisters loved her, and now she seems to have that. Elain… Elain has been coddled by both of them, from what I’ve heard. She needs to stand on her own two feet and figure out what she wants and how she can navigate this new life by herself.”

You picked at one of the threads of the cushion. “And you want to help Elain do that? Even if it means she severs the bond?”

He nodded. “Yes. I will not lie and say I would not be upset if she chose to do so, but she deserves the choice. We all do. Besides, isn’t Nesta planning on severing her bond with Cassian?”

“We don’t think there’s even a bond.” You admitted, stomach fluttering with nerves at the mention of Cassian’s name. The three of you still hadn’t figured out how you’d deal with that. “It’s a touchy subject. But we know he isn’t her mate.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “But Rhys said Cassian was her mate.”

“And you’re going to suddenly start taking his word now?”

“Point taken.” He corrected himself. 

“Something about the whole situation is just weird.” You muttered. “Maybe a link between them is some kind of punishment from the Cauldron. Azriel is investigating it secretly.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow. “He’s still in the Night Court? After everything he did to go against Rhys?”

“Yup. I think Rhys knows he’s too valuable to lose at the end of the day, which is why his head isn’t on the chopping block. Azriel is good at playing both sides I guess.”

That comfortable silence fell over you for another few minutes as you happily existed in each other’s company. You huddled into Lucien’s warmth, begrudgingly knowing Eris was right and this had been worth getting violently dragged out of bed.

Later, you would think of ways to thank him.

An idea formed in your head as you thought of your mate. You propped yourself up, turning to face your friend. “Lucien?” You asked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Sure.”

You took a deep breath, wringing your hands together before blurting out, “Would you walk me down the aisle at the wedding?”

Lucien blinked in surprise, and then a grin spread across his face. “Really?”

You smiled. “Yes. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have giving me away.”

“Giving you away? I thought you wanted to smash all archaic male-oriented traditions in this court.”

“Don’t be an ass.” You smacked his arm playfully. “I do. But… I won’t have any of my family at the wedding like I always imagined as a child, and you’re the next closest thing. I just want you by my side, that’s all.”

Lucien reached forward, wrapping his big arms around you in an embrace. “Of course I will.” He muttered, squeezing you tight. “Thank you for allowing me the honour.”

The dragons screeched happily in the distance, reflecting the content you felt in your chest. So you inhaled your friend’s familiar scent mixed with the fresh autumn air. Everything you had done to get to this point was all worth it.

 *********************

You all but skipped down the hallway towards Eris’s office in the private library. After hours of talking, Lucien had left to go on a ride through the forest with Lirilla. You had briefly bathed and changed, freshening up to remove the lingering mustiness from your body after the sleepover and alcohol. 

You felt ten times lighter as you swung open the door with a force so strong the expensive knob bounded off the wall. Eris’s head snapped up from where he sat in a plush armchair, a mountain of papers in his hand. He was dressed in a billowy white shirt, the laces at the neckline undone and ever-so-slightly pushed open, revealing part of his toned chest. Red hair was tied back loosely behind his neck, and he raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the fire?” He asked dryly.

You simply bounded across the room in three steps and flung yourself into Eris’s arms, crawling into his lap and pressing your lips against his. His eyebrows shot up and he let out a muffled noise of surprise, but brought his hands up to your hips and pulled you closer. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee, melting in your mouth as you kissed him fiercely. 

Your skin tingled at the sensation of his hands on your hips as they slowly crept downwards, giving your backside a firm squeeze. The mating bond was practically purring in your chest at the contact, urging you to give into your desires. But you reigned yourself in, finally pulling your lips away from Eris’s after your lungs begged for air.

The High Lord smirked up at you, face flushed from your kiss. “I take it you liked your surprise?” His hands stayed on your backside, gently gliding up your hips then back down.

You nodded, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. “You’re amazing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He chuckled, letting his lips drag over the shell of your ear as he spoke. “You’re very welcome, my dear.”

You pulled away, tangling your hands in Eris’s hair, tugging on the end of the locks right by his scalp. The High Lord tilted his chin back and let out a breath, eyelids fluttering as he grinned. You leaned down and pressed your lips to the column of his newly exposed throat. Underneath you, Eris shuddered as you grazed your teeth up his warm, pale skin before pressing a kiss just below his jaw. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, little fox?” He asked, but his voice was strained, hands gripping your hips tightly.

“Thanking you.” You purred, moving your head to the other side of his neck and repeating your actions.

Eris swallowed thickly, but chuckled. “Oh, sweet thing. Thanking me properly will have to wait until after the wedding.”

You leaned back, sitting up and frowning with confusion. Your mate’s subtle rejection stung slightly. “Seriously? I didn’t peg you for the wait until after marriage type.”

“I’m not,” He corrected, sliding his hands up from your hips and onto your lower back, pulling you closer to him once again. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to take you against this very desk and bury myself between your thighs until time loses all meaning. But I have plans for how I want to fuck you, the both of you. And it involves waiting a little longer. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded, but stuck out your bottom lip ever so slightly. Eris smacked your rear sternly. “Don’t pout,” He scolded. “Brats don’t get nice things. And you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“When I feel like it.” You shrugged playfully. Eris’s grin widened like a cat that had just eaten the canary.

“Oh, I am going to have so much fun with you.” His voice was a slick purr, heating up your skin as if his very own fire was running through your veins. Eris pressed a kiss to your cheek, then tapped your hip. “Now, I hate to brush you off like this, but as you can see I have a mountain of paperwork to get through before the wedding to make sure everything is in order. Nesta needs your help in the main hall, she’s all alone with those wedding planners and threatened to shave my head if I don’t send you to her the second you’re done with Lucien.”

You crawled off his lap, rolling your eyes playfully. “Aw, poor High Lord has paperwork.” You said mockingly. “You poor pampered thing.”

Eris shot you a glare. “Careful, little fox. Soon enough you’ll have your own mountain of paperwork as High Lady. That is, if you actually want to help me run this court. Unless you’d rather be like little Archeron over in the Night Court and be just a pretty face.”

You crossed your arms defiantly, knowing he was right. “Fine.” You turned on your heel to exit the study, cringing slightly as you noticed the chip in the wall from where you flung the door open.

“Little fox?” Eris called out.

You turned to face him at the door frame. “Yes?”

Eris’s smirk was devilish as he said coolly, “Do not seek out Nesta to satisfy your desires. She and I have already discussed the matter and are on the same page, so she will say the same thing I have told you, that you have to wait until after the wedding. And don’t you dare try to satisfy your urges on your own. If you do, I will know.”

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#ialtpwf #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris vanserra smut #nesta archeron #neris #neris x reader #nesta archeron x eris vanserra #eris vanserra x nesta archeron #nesta archeron x reader #nesta archeron fic #pro nesta #pro nesta archeron #lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra x reader #acosf #acosf au #autumn court #gwyneth berdara #emerie #emerie acotar #valkyries

[arinbelle]

Gentle

A/N: Happy Cassian Appreciation Week! It has been so long since I’ve posted anything and this fic sort of came to me unexpectedly. I really miss Nessian and I super, super miss the concept of them in Illyria with Nesta going with Cassian after ACOFAS. I guess this is an AU to ACOSF, and it’s a little angsty, a little smutty, and a lot of Nessian, which of course I love and live for.

Thank you @cassianappreciationweek for putting this amazing week together. I’m so excited!!!

                                                            ~*~

Nesta was curled up on the couch, a cup of tea steaming besides her and a thick novel held in her hands which she promptly laid down once she saw him.

She didn’t say hello, or ask how he was, not that he expected her to. And apart from a quick nod of acknowledgement on her part and a grunt from him, that was it for them.

Cassian was tired. Bone-deep tired and he worried he may not have the energy to speak for the rest of the week, let alone do anything else. The rain he’d been caught in on the way home hadn’t helped his mood either. And definitely not as he’d trudged upstairs and peeled off the sodden clothes and leather that stuck to him like glue.

But a quick, heated bath restored some of his energy and he made his way back down to Nesta, still on the couch, and still reading as he towel-dried his hair.

“Good book?”

A hum. Yes.

“Did you eat?”

Another hum. Lower. It could be yes or no, he’d learned.

“Come eat with me.”

A click of her tongue. He was interrupting her reading and it was his cue to stop bothering her. So he did.

He made his way to their small kitchen, following the smell of freshly warmed up food. He opened up the pots on the stove, taking in the rice, lentils and chicken. The smell was heavenly and after surviving on stale bread and hard cheese for the past week, he was relieved to eat a hot meal that required a plate and cooking.

Nesta didn’t move away when he joined her on the empty side of the couch, nor did she prompt him to eat somewhere else. Not that there was anywhere else to go eat. It was either down here with her, or upstairs shut away in his bedroom.

He opted for company, however silent it may be.

“It’s good.” He said after getting a second serving for himself.

“Emerie’s recipe.” She flipped the page, eyes never once wavering from scanning the lines in front of her.

He finished the remainder of the meal quietly, peeking glances to the female across him, not even two feet away, every so often. She’d opted for a loose knot at the back of her head, as opposed to the tight coronet braid it was usually in. And the nightgown she had on covered her from shoulders to toes.

Last he’d seen her, the week before, she’d looked much different. Her hair had been loose, falling down her back in silky ripples. He’d wrapped his hand around the length of it once, twice, until he’d had enough to tug her head gently backwards and meet him for a kiss. His hips had snapped into her own, pounding deeper and deeper and she’d pulled away with a moan, burying her head into the pillows as he tightened his grip on her hips. The thin scrap of lace that she’d come to him wearing, a barely there nightgown, was sitting discarded besides him on the floor besides the couch. He had been too close and he would have pushed her over the edge soon enough had there not been a sharp rap on the door a few feet from them.

Nesta had quieted immediately while Cassian had stopped altogether. The knock had come again a few moments later and Cassian had flipped her over onto her back while yelling out at whoever was at the door.

A message had come from a northern kingdom in the mountains that he was needed for some sort of emergency. Cassian had discussed the details for a few minutes more while continuing to fuck Nesta slowly, covering just her mouth as she came hard around him, back arched and eyes rolling back in her head.

It wasn’t until the messenger told him goodbye and that he’d be waiting at the training barracks for him that Cassian had properly extricated himself from Nesta, and propped himself into a sitting position on the couch.

Nesta was still catching her breath besides him and the swift peek he’d gotten between her slightly spread legs, of her swollen sex, had almost tempted him to taste her one last time before he had to be off. Almost, because before he could do anything, Nesta had reached down and dressed herself in that damned gown again.

Before he could rise as well, and cool down to get rid of his hardness, Nesta had gotten on her knees between his open legs, sucking him down her throat. It hadn’t taken him very long to explode in her mouth, his hands holding her hair back while he fucked it with a frenzy. She’d taken every thrust, and swallowed his release while continuing to work her mouth around him.

Her eyes had looked up at him wickedly as her tongue had chased him from the side of pleasure to overstimulation and he had twitched against her hold.

They hadn’t shared a goodbye but Nesta had kissed him swiftly, brutally, with the taste of himself still on her tongue before walking away.

“What?,” she snapped, pulling him from his lewd thoughts.

“Nothing,” he said, scraping his dish clean. He picked up the bag he’d brought with him and made his way to the kitchen to clean up.

It was only after he’d washed his dishes and placed the leftover food in the icebox did he call out to Nesta to join him. She hadn’t moved right away but after a few breaths he’d heard a shuffle, the closing of a book and she’d soon appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“What?” Clipped. And a hint of annoyance if he’d read the rest of her posture correctly.

“Aren’t you charming? Is the book getting good? Did I interrupt an upcoming smut scene?”

He opened the white box’s packaging and Nesta took a seat opposite him from the center island.

“It already happened. They were going at it again.”

“How refreshing,” he chuckled with a wink. Nesta rolled her eyes.

“So I know how you are about your chocolate cake, but you have to try this one. I picked it up from a bakery up north and trust me, you’ve never had anything like it before.” He placed a generous slide onto the cake plate and pushed it towards her, handing her the fork she always favored.

Nesta didn’t eat it. She only surveyed the white cream and strawberry jam in between the large cake layers with barely concealed disdain. Strange. To his knowledge, she liked strawberries fine enough. And cake was always a welcome dessert for her.

“Where is it from?”

“Erm, Miyola. It’s a small town between these two hills in the northern Steppes. I know the baker there. I haven't had a chance to go in a while but I was nearby for the work I was doing with that Illyrian king, so I decided to drop by on the way home.”

She picked up her fork, spearing the center of the cake, but still not eating it.

“This baker is your…friend.”

She stated it but Cassian heard the question in her voice.

“Yes,” he answered, confused. A sort of friend that he’d known for a couple decades. Nothing like Azriel or Rhys, which were more family than friends at this point. But still, a good friend who made great pastries. And always gave him some extra for free when he left.

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Just friends? It’s a very nice cake.”

“Yes,” he answered again, irritation beginning to spike in him. Gods but he was tired.

Nesta reached down to her lap before procuring a small piece of paper, all but throwing it at him.

“It fell from your bag when you came home.”

Cassian read it in silence, quickly realizing what Nesta was probably thinking.

“It’s not…”

“She doesn’t seem to be very set on being just friends, don’t you think?”

Nesta’s glare was murderous.

Layla, the baker he’d met a century ago had been a fun, heated tryst that had quickly fizzled out. Or so he’d thought. And when he had dropped by this past week, his thoughts of their past nights had been a fleeting memory. Perhaps he should have explained the cake was for Nesta, his…

Well she wasn't really his anything. Not between them or amongst the rest of the world. She’d made that much clear the first time they’d slept together. A very formidable  line had been drawn, by her, making it known to him that it was just sex. Just for fun. And only while she was staying with him in Illyria. That it had nothing to do with romance, or care, or anything outside of base lust and desire. Which he could understand if it was any other female besides Nesta. If it had been any other female, he would have gladly accepted the agreement, and while he still had, a large part of him had felt empty at the thought. That it was all they would ever be. So for her to question this situation, question them when there really wasn’t a them - well it clawed at some already fraying part of him.

“Is that a problem?” He couldn’t help the snap in his words, the teeth he had to keep himself from baring.

If she wanted to play games, he could too. Nesta didn’t expect that and her spine stiffened, practically begging her to fight back. Bite back even. But he knew she wouldn’t answer truthfully. Because to do so would mean admitting that this thing between them was something real, something more than what she was lying to herself about. And the best thing she always did was run from the truth.

“Of course not. Why should I have a problem who you invite to your bed? I was just curious since you said- no, you lied, about who she was.”

“I didn’t-,” Cassian caught himself, taking in a ragged breath. So that’s what they would do tonight. Fight. He was in no mood for it.

“She’s a friend. I didn’t lie about it. And even if she wasn't, why do you care?”

Her spine went ramrod straight and she took in a quick breath, eyes blazing with simmering fury.

“I don’t,” came her strained reply.

Sure.

“So eat the cake.”

She waved her hand, ignoring him. “I don’t care. I don’t control you. I’m not stopping you from whatever you want with her. If you’d like to even bring her here and fuck her, why should I care?” Nesta got up, getting shriller and shriller with each passing word. “I don’t care one bit Cassian. Don’t stop on my account. While you’re at it, why not become reacquainted with all of your old friends? Females just seem to throw themselves at you left and right, don’t they?”

“They do, actually,” Cassian retorted. “I didn’t think you’d give a shit though. You don't about anything else.”

Nesta seemed to startle at his sudden outburst, but she quickly recovered.

“Well how great that’ll be then. You can go to one of them now and stop panting after me.”

“I wasn’t aware you were so miserable,” he deadpanned.

She smirked, crooning. “Males’ egos are truly a thing of wonder. You aren’t doing anything for me that I can’t do for myself with my own hand.”

Cassian laughed darkly. “Let’s not get into all the things I do to you. With my hands or otherwise.”

A faint blush stained her cheeks at that but she didn’t back down. She opened her mouth, readying for her next attack, but Cassian interrupted it.

He tried softer this time. “Don’t be cruel, it doesn't suit you.”

“Doesn’t it?,” she snapped.

Cassian shrugged then. “Jealousy definitely doesn’t. You would know if there were any other females around me in that way. You’d smell it on me.”

She shook her head. “I’m not jealous. I already told you, I don’t-.”

“Yes I got it the first time. You don’t care. Are you done now?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian had to laugh at that. “Are you done, Nesta? Have you had enough?”

Eyes narrowed in contempt, arms crossed over her chest in lovely defiance, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.

Cassian took a bite of the cake. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. And you don’t quit. I’d admire it if I wasn’t so tired. And I’d encourage it if I wasn’t already in a piss poor mood. Gods know I don’t need any excitement for a while.”

She blinked, unmoving, but quiet. So he continued, finishing up his dessert.

“But we do this, don’t we? You pick a fight with something that isn’t really an issue. I say something, you say something worse, I say something back, you get upset. You cry and then I’m the asshole that has to apologize for something you started. Or did I miss something?”

She knew he was right, but Nesta wouldn’t say it. Nesta wouldn’t say a lot of things. So instead he reached across the table, and pushed her plate further towards her.

“Eat the damn cake, Nesta. I brought it for you.”

She did. With just enough contempt that she might have scratched the plate with her fork from her first bite. But she did it. And eventually she had a second slice too, Cassian noted with a small feeling of victory.

“What’s her name?”

Gods save him, not this again.

“Nesta, I don’t-.”

She held up a hand, almost placating him. “I’m not trying to start a fight. I just wanted to know her name.”

Cassian hesitated for a moment. “Layla.”

“Pretty,” she noted quietly, moving the fork around her empty plate.

“Yes,” he murmured, cleaning up, and trying his best not to stare too much at Nesta, in case she spooked and ran from him again.

“Is she? Pretty, I mean.” Nesta’s voice was soft and too fragile for his liking. She wouldn’t look at him as she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted slowly. And she was. He couldn’t deny it. And even if he lied, Nesta would know. She always knew when he lied.

Nesta left then.

He argued with himself the entire way up the stairs and to her door. To talk to her, soothe her worries, and reassure her that there was no one else for him. But to do that would mean acknowledging that there was something here of enough substance where another female might present a problem.

Nesta would never accept that.

Still he knocked, and even though she didn’t and wouldn’t respond, he let himself in.

“New book?”

She didn’t look up once, sprawled out on her stomach, with her feet to the head of the bed.

“Old book. Rereading it.”

At least she spoke to him. He supposed they were no longer in that rough place anymore where he would have to worry about her stoic silence. She rarely iced him out since staying with him. Rarely felt the need to resort to it, even with some of their worst fights. This, he could work with.

He sat down beside her, trying his best, and failing, to keep the peace.

“You’re beautiful,” he finally said after a pregnant pause.

She clicked her tongue. “Is that why you’re here? I don’t need that from you. I’ve been told I had a face fit to marry a king since I was eight. This isn’t news for me.”

Of course it wasn’t. People had to be blind to not know that Nesta was stunning. Becoming Fae had only heightened it to being otherwordly.

“Well, then you should know that just because Layla-.” She clicked her tongue, shutting him up. She didn’t want to talk about this. But he couldn't leave it so cold and open. Especially not when he knew exactly what sorts of thoughts were probably racing in her head.

“Nesta,” he murmured, hoping she’d at least look at him before he threw his heart out in front of her, yet again. She had a habit of stomping the life out of it, but he prayed one last time, that maybe she wouldn’t.

She closed her book then, turning onto her back to look up at him. Her hair fanned out behind her and Cassian couldn’t resist carding through the tresses softly, gently, with so much hesitation it was a wonder he didn’t tremble too.

There was something about Nesta that terrified Cassian. Not the stone cold facade or the cutting words. He could take a hit or two to his ego, and with Nesta, it was more entertaining for him than anything else. But he had faced foes on battlefields for centuries, had killed and maimed without much thought, and never once had he encountered someone like her.

The brute strength and the efficiently cutting violence that he could easily execute with had always helped him as a soldier. As a general. And then as commander. Never had it been a weakness to deter from until he’d met Nesta.

Then, suddenly, all his largeness, all his brash, booming loudness had become dangerous. To her. For her. Gods knew she had the temper and fire inside to match his own, and to meet every shredding, stupid thing he said to her with her own poison. But it wasn’t the same and he knew it.

The fragility that she hid behind a beautiful, almost impenetrable mask scared him. As if he may one day, accidentally, shatter her irreversibly, if he wasn’t careful. So he tried again this time, trying and willing the words to form in the gentlest way possible to deal with this storm of a woman laid out in front of him.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t guard you from reality even though I’d like to. There will always be another Layla if you go looking hard enough. And knowing you, you tend to go looking for heartbreak just so you can swing first.”

Cassian didn’t miss the fact that her storm-grey eyes began to fill with tears, but he had to commend her grit in not letting them fall.

“Is it not enough if I tell you there is no one else? Not now, not for a very long time, and not anytime in the future as long as you wish it.”

She laughed, but it was a hollow, broken sound. “I never asked for your loyalty.”

“You have it anyhow.”

A stray tear leaked out and Cassian’s hand flexed automatically to reach over and wipe it away. He held himself back only for a moment, judging whether or not it would shatter this delicate moment. Another tear leaked out and Cassian gently wiped it off then. Nesta nuzzled against his hand and it took everything in him to not pull her towards him.

“I never asked anything of you,” she whispered into the heart of his palm. 

“I know.”

“So why do you keep giving?”

Cassian smoothed her hair, stroking her cheek. “Because I can. Because I want to. I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

She froze as he leaned down over her, before softening against him.

“I suppose so,” she whispered against his lips.

Cassian kissed her gently, even though his soul had been wholly consumed by her. Perhaps it would never be enough time in this world for him to show her how much she mattered to him, how much he cared. But for now, this would do.

~*~

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#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nessian fanfiction #nesta fanfiction #cassianappreciationweek2023 #acosf au #one shot #arinbelle #cassianappreciation

[nocasdatsgay]

The Price You Pay For Power Ch. 5

Pairing: Neris | Chapter Rating: T | Word Count: 4493

Story Summary: Eris revises his bargain with Rhysand: Nesta for Autumn Healers. He agrees and Nesta is sent to Autumn under the guise as Eris’s new bride in order to assist with removing Beron for good. Now she has to navigate a new court and also decide just how much she will trust her new husband.

CW: None

Chapter Summary: Wedding Day!

Read it here on AO3| Previous Chapter| Masterpost

A/N: if the vows are icky that’s on purpose. Also I had to replace Áine because it copied over wrong and I wanted to die by the time this is posted. I don’t think the photo below is going to appear smaller so. Oh well I am attempting dividers. I apologize in advance.

Nesta awoke early to the sounds of movement in her room. For a moment she panicked; unfamiliar scents and the sounds of more than one person made her heart race. Then she remembered. She sat up to find the two servants from yesterday in her room.  

“Lady Nesta,” one noticed her first and curtsied by the bed. “Your fitting is in an hour. The dress is being set up in the sitting room. The Lady of Autumn requested she be present.”

The girl did not look her in the eyes. She felt guilty for already forgetting their names. The quiet one scurried off to the bathing room. She could hear water being run. 

“Thank you,” Nesta whispered. 

As she gained her senses, she remembered their names: Opal and Lynn. As yesterday, she bathed- they insisted despite her protests. They also insisted she wash her hair. Nesta sarcastically asked how she was supposed to let that much hair dry before the ceremony only to be informed there was a way to dry it with magic. Begrudgingly, she did as requested. 

She was given a soft amber colored robe to cover herself with. They indeed used magic to dry her hair; Lynn used her hands, hovering them over her hair until they dried in perfect curls. They said it was Autumn fashion to wear it down. She didn’t argue with them. Opal was the one who wove in pearl pins, with a golden rose clipped on the right side of her hair. Nesta hated that she liked it despite preferring her hair up. Magic was used to keep it styled. 

She was finally allowed out of her room and she entered the sitting room to see it rearranged. In the corner was a privacy divider. A small riser was where the table originally stood. Her eyes widened as she took in the stand behind it. The wedding dress was beautiful. The color like ivory minerals from the mountains she’d only seen in pictures in books. The top was modest with long sheer sleeves, with a corset bust and A-line skirts that flowed out. Near the bottom there was orange and gold stitching in the shape of vines and leaves.

“Do you like it?” A soft voice startled her. 

She turned and saw The Lady stood behind her. Nesta had never been this close to her before. She was beautiful, auburn hair in soft waves cascading down over her shoulders. Her russet eyes were bright despite the shadows under them. Nesta wasn’t this close last night to see there was a hollowness in her cheeks. She wondered if her appearance was the future that awaited her if she stayed in this court too long. 

“It’s beautiful,” Nesta replied honestly. 

“I wish Lord Rhysand had allowed you to come try it on,” she looked past Nesta at the gown. “I’m sure your sisters would have loved to see you in it. After.” She paused. “My son deserved an engagement period. However, his father was of the opinion this might be another trick of the Night Court. We’ve already had a tarnished betrothal. Beron does not want to risk another.” 

Mor. She had forgotten about her past with Autumn and Eris. Now the push to wed her off to Eris and keep her made sense. Nesta went to ask what happened with that engagement, to hear the Lady’s version of events but a knock interrupted her. A stout female entered with a covered basket. 

“Lady Áine, good to see you,” the female curtsyed. “Lady Nesta.”

This female did not lower her gaze like Opal and Lynn. Her hair was red with a touch of grey though she didn’t look much older than Nesta herself. It was the fine lines around her small russet eyes that gave any indication of her age. Nesta also realized she called the Lady of Autumn by her name: Áine. 

“This is my seamstress,” Lady Áine said with a soft smile. “Meri will help you into the dress and see if any changes are needed.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Meri,” Nesta nodded. 

“Pleasure’s mine dear,” she smiled back. “Any female willing to marry that rake of a boy has my utmost respect.”

Nesta’s eyes widened at her candor but Áine laughed. A true laugh she didn’t think was possible given the circumstances. 

“Now Meri, you’ll scare my new daughter in law into changing her mind,” Áine joked with a soft giggle. 

“If she’s half the female I’ve heard about, then it’ll take more than my nonsense to scare her off.” 

“And what have you heard of me,” Nesta furrowed her brows. 

Meri looked her over, as if she was debating with herself. 

“I heard you’re quite the dancer.” Nesta blinked, not expecting that. “Let’s get you in that dress, shall we?” 

Meri ushered her behind the screen and helped her into the dress. It fit. Almost too well, in Nesta’s opinion. There was a mirror behind the divider for her to see it first. She looked the part of a princess her mother envisioned for her so many decades ago. When she walked around the screen the Lady was sitting on the couch, legs crossed with a book in hand. She looked up and gasped, a grin forming. 

“Oh Nesta,” Áine placed the book down and watched her as Meri helped her onto the riser. “Oh it’s perfect. You’re beautiful.” 

Nesta pushed down the well of emotions building in her chest. Áine was looking up at her proudly. Like a mother should when seeing her daughter in a wedding gown. But Áine was not her mother. This wasn’t a real wedding. But maybe she could pretend selfishly. Just this once. She gave her a polite smile in return while Meri went to work and circled around her once to look her over. 

“Hold up your arm.” 

She did as instructed. Meri started pinning fabric along her forearm to tighten the fit. She then did the same with the other. Áine filled the silence by making small conversation and commentating every now and then on something Meri missed. That left Nesta to stand in relative silence which she didn’t mind. A few minutes passed and Meri stood up.

“Not too bad; a few quick changes- nothing drastic. I’ll return with it in a few hours.” Meri smiled at her.

She helped Nesta off the riser. Behind the screen she eased the dress off of Nesta, mindful of the pins she placed. Once Nesta was back in her robe, Meri bid them both a good morning and promised to return when it was time. That left her alone with Áine again. The older female must have sensed her unease, as she patted the seat on the couch next to her. Nesta sat down beside her and Áine placed a hand over her own. 

“You’re brave, Nesta Archeron.” She whispered, eyes pleading with Nesta to read between her words. “The walls have ears, so I shall not say more.”

“Thank you.” What else was there to say? Nesta decided to change the subject. “I am not familiar with fae weddings. Would you mind going over the ceremony with me?” 

Áine nodded. “I think we should have some tea first.” 

Without much effort, she used magic to make a tray appear. A tea pot, two cups, a cream pitcher and sugar. There was also more fruit and what looked like small sandwiches. Áine served the tea. Nesta looked away when the sleeve of her dress rose up her arm. She was too afraid of what she might accidentally see. 

“Sugar?” She asked, bringing Nesta’s attention back to her. 

“No thank you,” she replied politely. 

Nesta was given a look that she could only describe as a stern mother’s knowing look. However she did not add sugar as requested. She handed Nesta the cup and saucer and poured her own. 

“My husband will have to escort you, since you have no family here to present you.” 

Nesta leaned into her tea cup to keep from spitting out the carpet. Gods she would have to endure Beron again. She continued. 

“There will be a priestess. She will recite the vows in the Autumn tongue and bind your hand to my son’s with a silk ribbon. You’ll make your own vows to each other. Then we will hold a reception.” 

“Will I need to prepare vows?” Her anxiety tumbled in the pit of her stomach. 

Áine shook her head. “There is a standard vow of the Vanserra family. The priestess will speak it and ask you to repeat it.”

That felt like a weight removed from her shoulders. Though her anxiety didn’t fizzle. She at least didn’t have to worry about fumbling to remember, she still needed to make sure she didn’t mess up. Áine seemed to sense the whirling in her mind. She sat down her cup and sauce and gave her a soft smile. 

“Tell me Nesta, do you like to read?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A knock came. Nesta looked up from the Sellyn Drake book she’d been reading for the last few hours. It felt too early to be getting ready but she‘d been reading for some time. She placed the book Lady Áine had given her, opened and facedown to save her spot onto the table. She tightened her robe just in case and opened the door. Before her was one of the brothers. Asher. Up close, she could see he looked more like his mother than Beron. And while she had called him stalky, she realized it was simply that he was more broader in the shoulders than the Eris. He did not greet her with a smile. 

“I brought you a visitor.” 

He stepped to the side and Nesta inhaled sharply. 

“Elain?”

Her sister came up and embraced her tightly. Nesta was in too much of a shock to do much other than hug her in return. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Asher grumbled.

He left and Elain let her go, so Nesta stepped aside to let her in and shut the door. She stared at her sister as she looked around the room, eerily calm while she took in her surroundings. Nesta noted she wore a warm yellow dress- like the color of the leaves that littered the ground when she arrived. 

”What are you doing here?” Nesta finally found her voice. 

Elain turned to her, her expression neutral. “Rhys is with the High Lord. He will be joining us shortly.”

Nesta blinked. “Rhysand is here?”

“It would have looked poorly for your family to not be present. I believe that is the excuse he’s giving Beron. Really, we didn’t want you to do this alone.”

Nesta felt her heart harden, her features returning to the stony demeanor she so casually used her whole life. She saw the flash of fear in her sister’s eyes as she braced herself for the worst Nesta could offer. And yet Nesta could not force herself to be angry, she couldn’t even force herself to remain steady with a cool indifference. 

“Will it just be you and Rhys?” She asked instead and Elain nodded. “Cassian didn’t wish to attend?”

”He would have slaughtered everyone in attendance.” Elain whispered. “He wanted to come. Rhys talked him out of it. He asked him to stay with Feyre.” That did nothing to ease the knot in her stomach. “Azriel has not returned yet. Feyre, well she’s with healers as we speak, not that she’s allowed to winnow.”

Right, the healers that Nesta was bargained for. She wondered how Eris snuck them out with the wedding. Maybe they would return in time to not even be missed. Elain sat down on the closest end of the couch. She looked up at her sister with her sad doe eyes. 

“Rhys has no idea the consequences of the decisions he is making.”

Nesta frowned. “What do you mean?” 

Elain didn’t answer her question. She stared at the empty dress holder. Instead, she asked another of her own. 

“Is your gown being tailored?” 

“It is.” 

Nesta went around and took her place back on the opposite end of the couch, curling up on it while ensuring the robe stayed in place. She thenpicked her book back up and opened it. It felt rude to ignore her sister but what else did she have to say? 

“Are these your permanent quarters?” Elain asked as if to spite her for trying to read. 

“I hope so. His are across the hall. I shutter to think about being forced to share a bed every night with him.” 

“He’s no worse than what you bedded in Valeris.” 

Nesta’s head jerked up and Elain bursted out with a laugh. Nesta kicked her which made Elain laugh harder. 

“I am not wrong,” she giggled. 

Surprisingly, Nesta laughed too. She couldn’t remember the last time her and Elain acted like true sisters. It was long before their mother passed. If Nesta was honest with herself, it was nice Elain wasn’t handling her with gloves. Or worse, for Nesta to be too defensive. 

“I suppose not,” she sighed, her laughter dying down.

They spent the next hour talking, Elain asking subtle questions about Nesta’s time at the house so far. She explained how dinner was interesting but didn’t go into detail beyond the brothers rude remarks. If the Lady was right and the walls had ears, she had to be careful. Even Eris had warned once already. 

“Your hair is beautiful. Do you do it yourself?” Elain’s gaze went to the rose clip. 

“Opal and Lynn did my hair. They’re a lot like Nuala and Cerridwen. They don’t really talk to me.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Opal talks the most. I think I only heard Lynn tell me her name.”

“They will open up to you, I’m sure.” Elain gave a polite smile. 

Another knock came. This time she didn’t have to wonder who it was. She put her book away, resigned to reading it later and answered the door. As expected Asher had once again came this time with Rhysand. 

“Rhys,” Nesta greeted him with no emotion, letting him into the room. 

“Nesta.” He nodded in return. 

They were silent, the three of them, once the door shut. So much it was almost deafening. Rhys sighed loudly and took a seat on the couch. Nesta wanted to roll her eyes. 

“Are you to walk me down the aisle?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms. “Or however the customs for weddings are in this realm?”

”Yes, Nesta.” He glanced up at her. He looked tired but not as tired as he did before she left. “I know that I haven’t been the kindest to you. But I am eternally grateful for what you’re doing.”

”I’m not doing it for you,” she hissed back. 

“I know. For that I am even more grateful.”

She bristled even if she didn’t understand why it bothered her so. She was certainly not sitting next to him. So she held her robe tight and grabbed the chair that had been pushed to the side and brought it forward. When she was seated, she looked over to him again. 

“Beron asked me to show him where Velaris was when I arrived. I told him I couldn’t read a map.”

Rhys and Elain both snorted a laugh. Nesta decided right then she may as well come clean and admit the other things she said. 

“I also told him I wasn’t allowed to leave the house as punishment, when he asked how the governing system worked for Velaris.” Their laughter stopped and she stared at the floor. “I- I said some things about Feyre I didn’t mean. I also said you were jumping at the chance to be rid of me.” 

“That’s why he was shocked to see us.” She could feel Rhys staring at her, probably glaring. His tone however was neutral when he said, “Thank you for protecting the city, Nesta.”

She looked up in shock. “You’re not angry with me?” 

“I’m too tired to be angry,” Rhy shrugged, picking at his suit. “Beron has already put forth his demands now that our courts are ‘better aligned’. I told him I was only here because my mate insisted someone be present. If he wanted to talk business, we would do it later.”  

Thankfully there was yet another knock. Nesta didn’t have to bother getting the door this time, even as she stood to answer it. Meri came in and abruptly halted as the door shut. 

“Oh,” Meri’s eyebrows rose on her forehead. She curtsyed deep in front of Rhys. “High Lord. I wasn’t expecting-“

“It’s alright,” Rhys waved a hand as Meri straightened herself back up. “I wanted to surprise my sister. No one knew we’re coming.” 

It didn’t seem to put her at ease. She glanced nervously at Nesta and Nesta nodded in return. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Made a few adjustments, but it should fit her just right.” Meri waved her hand and the dress appeared on the stand. 

Elain gasped, looking it over. “Oh Nesta, that’s beautiful.” 

“Wait until you see it on her,” Meri said proudly. 

Nesta wished Áine had returned with her, as she followed Meri behind the screen. She couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be in the same room as Rhys. Which made Nesta resent him just a little bit more. Meri helped her into the dress; the small changes made it so it fit her even better than before. She came around the screen while Meri held up the train and Elain gasped again. There were tears in her sister's eyes. Like this was the only wedding dress Nesta would ever be in. Even Rhys smiled. There was a scratch at her mental wall. She opened it and heard Feyre. 

Nesta, you’re beautiful. She could hear tears in her sister's voice. 

Thank you.

I love you Nesta. I love you so much. I need you to know that- 

Nesta shut the window in her mind. Any longer and hearing Feyre cry would leave her a sobbing mess as well. Besides, Nesta didn’t deserve that confession of love from Feyre. Not really. It would take more than marrying the enemy for Nesta to deserve an ounce of her love. So she held head high and pretended Rhys wasn’t frowning at her for shutting out Feyre.

“Everything appears to be in order,” Meri said and took one last walk around Nesta. Nesta forced a smile as she came back around. “The captain will escort you and your family to the temple, at the request of Lord Eris.”

“Captian?” Rhys asked, leaning his elbows onto his knees. As if it would make him less threatening. 

“Captain of the guard,” she replied curtly. “He’s outside the door.” If Rhys was offended by her response he didn’t show it. “Shall I let him in? The ceremony is soon.”

“Of course,” Rhys spoke for them.

It was a blessing she kept her eyes from rolling. Meri curtsyed before wishing Nesta the best of luck and left out the door. As promised a male entered. He had brown hair and deep brown eyes, though he was not as pale as the rest of those in Autumn. 

The male bowed. “I’m Captain Rowen Garlian, the general gave me the pleasure of escorting this beautiful female to the temple.” 

“General?” Nesta frowned, noting how her stomach flipped, immediately thinking of Cassian. 

“Lord Eris,” he replied. 

“Right, apologies,” she said. 

Eris was a general? The cauldron was surely making fun of her at this point. A scrap came against her mind walls. She wanted to ignore it but opened a window against her better judgment. 

You’re supposed to be happy, so maybe act like it. Rhys hissed into her mind. 

She slammed her walls shut. As if she had forgotten. If there were still gods they surely hated Nesta, for her to have to suffer these men- males, she corrected herself- like this. Elain stood, drawing her attention. She seemed worried but quickly schooled her features. 

“Shall we?” 

Politeness never sounded forced from her. 

Before they left Rhys threw some magic on her- to keep the dress clean or so he said. She opted to believe it when Elain nor the guard had any comments. It was a long and quiet walk. They saw no one in the halls as they passed, which Nesta found strange. They followed the captain out a different door than the main hall entrance. 

She was again struck by how beautiful the trees in autumn were. Just ahead across a wide path was the temple. It too, looked to be a large tree, the stones covered in moss and a grove in the back with the leaves casting a silhouette. There was a male at the door as they approached. It was Piran, she remembered. Unlike last night he was far more subdued, not looking any of them in the eyes. It made Nesta sick to her stomach. 

“High Lord,” he bowed. “If you will come wait in the foyer, I will escort Lady Elain to her seat.” 

Elain turned and came up to Nesta. She gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. She then followed Piran into the temple and behind them, her and Rhysand followed. The captain did not follow them in. It was a small closed off foyer, sconces all on the walls to illuminate where there were no windows. Piran held out his arm and together they slipped through the door. Nesta was standing too far to the left to see inside but heard the chatter. 

She wanted to vomit. 

“You can do this,” Rhys whispered. “I believe in you.” 

“I’m surprised,” Nesta whispered back. “Considering you think I fuck everything else up.” 

Rhys rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. Piran came back out and wordlessly nodded to them. Rhys held out his arm and Nesta begrudgingly took it. They came to the door and the sanctuary was full, everyone silencing as she appeared in the doorway with Rhys. Only a soft piano played to fill the silence. Her stomach flipped again as all eyes went to her but she bit the inside of her cheek.

She held her head high and focused her gaze forward on the Priestess ahead. Her heart ached for Gwyn and Emerie, wishing they could be there for her. As she walked arm in arm with Rhysand, she dared to glance at Eris. She could admit he looked handsome. The outfit he adorned was different from his usual attire. A long, sleeveless burnt orange robe with what seemed to be red detailing. Under that was a long sleeved white shirt. The sleeves appeared puffy and were cuffed at the wrists. The sleeves also adorned the same threading details her dress had. In another life, this is the wedding she would have wanted. 

Maybe in another life, he would have been the groom she wanted too. 

She also admitted he was a good actor; in that moment he seemed stunned at her, like a real groom would. She watched his gaze run over her and when his soft amber eyes met hers, even at a distance he looked away. Like he wasn’t supposed to be staring at her. Like she had caught him even though his staring was technically warranted. She tried to not frown. When they reached the end, Eris gave Rhysand a nod and then held out his left hand to Nesta. 

For a split moment, she thought about not taking it. It felt too permanent. As if this was her choice to make and by doing so, would change everything. Elain’s voice rang in her mind from earlier about the consequences for the choices being made. But they were not hers to make. 

Without another thought she took his hand in her own. 

The time did not stop for her. The world did not flip in on itself. He helped her up onto the rise and she stood before him. The Priestess smiled at her, the stone on her forehead flashing from the lit sconces. Eris did not let her go as the Priestess started to speak in a language Nesta did not know. She tried to pull her hand away but Eris held a firm grip on it. 

The Priestess nodded and Eris lifted their hands up. She pulled a deep green ribbon from her pocket and began to wrap it around Nesta and Eris’s hands. She still was speaking what Nesta remembered Áine called the ancient Autumn language. She watched it as it was wound snug around their joined hands. She swore the ribbon glowed the more that was added. Finally a bow was tied and the Priestess let it go. 

She spoke normally. “I will ask you both to repeat the vow. This vow is not bound by magic but bound by duty and love you share with each other.” 

Nesta bit her tongue again. The priestess continued. 

“You, Eris Vanserra, promise to be a righteous and dutiful husband. You honor the Vanserra family and the Autumn Court through this marriage with Nesta Archeron. You ask the mother to bless this union between you, to guide you to be a pillar of support for herself and for the family you will create.”

Even Eris looked like he had been biting his tongue. He stared directly into Nesta’s eyes as he spoke, repeating what the priestess said. 

“You, Nesta Archeron, promise to be a righteous and dutiful wife. You honor your family, your former home in the Night Court, and your new home here in the Autumn Court through this marriage with Eris Vanserra. You ask the mother to bless this union, to guide you as you serve and support your new husband. You ask The Mother to bless your womb so you may honor her image through the children you will bear.”

Nesta tensed at the last part. Words felt heavy on her tongue though she did not show it as she repeated the words. She nearly stumbled on the ‘serve and support’ and her stomach churned again as she repeated the last bit. 

The ribbon glowed, glittering and in an instant lighting aflame. Nesta gasped; in the ribbon’s place were two solid rings. 

“It is my honor to be the vessel that pronounces you, by The Mother, husband and wife.” 

The Priestess smiled and the room erupted into applause. There was no romantic gesture on Eris’s part. He let go of her hand gently and offered his arm as he faced the aisle towards the door. In a daze, she took it. As they walked past her sister and Rhys she noticed Elain watched her while Rhys glowered at Eris. It was when they exited the door that the reality of the situation truly hit her. 

She entered that temple as an Archeron and walked out of it as a Vanserra. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Next Chapter

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#eris vanserra #acotar #nesta archeron #Neris #fanfic #The Price You Pay For Power #Chapter 5 #This chapter took forever and a day #wedding day! #lady of autumn #eris acotar #nesta acotar #acosf au #elain archeron

[ladynestaarcheron]

Who by Water - Part Two

masterpost - ao3

everybody say thank you @that-golden-lyre for softly bullying me till i finished this.

---

Since the first time she died, Nesta’s done some reading up on hell, and death in general. Over the centuries, for humanity, words had lingered where faith had not, and she had heard of what supposedly lies below her feet and what is suspended above the clouds, but not much beyond. In her research, she has learned of purgatory, or limbo: a spot where nothing happens, where people wait. This is where Nesta finds herself after she dies on the beach.

Or so she thinks, before she realizes it’s just a white room.

Feyre’s been decorating her new home, she knows, but she probably hasn’t gotten around to this one yet. The finished ones all bare some of her paintings upon the walls, and this one doesn’t even have curtains yet.

She kicks the blankets away. No ties bind her, but gauze is wrapped around her legs, and--she touches her midriff through her nightdress--her abdomen. You broke my ribs, she remembers saying.

They had found her. It comes back to her now; it always takes a while after she...wakes up.

She had fallen off the cliff--fallen, yes?--and then...to that state.

Waking up is always painful. Her body doesn’t heal while she is dead; only after she returns. The revival feels much like whatever caused her to go in the first place, and adds a pounding headache to boot. Nesta rubs her temples, trying to ease the pain. She spots a mug of tea, lightly steaming on a night stand, as she moves her neck from side to side.

Verbena. Elain’s doing probably, she knows Nesta likes it. Ugh. They had not been there, her sisters, on the beach. After she had vomited up water and collapsed back, she had seen him first. Cassian. Her head, she recalls, was cradled in his lap, his hands upon her face. Amren was there. And Rhysand, Morrigan, and Azriel. Her own personal hell.

Of course, Nesta has died enough times by now to know she wasn’t truly in an afterlife. That was reality, and knowing those incessant gossip mongers, it’ll now be her only one. They’ll have told her sisters, and now she’ll be forced to talk about it at length. It’ll be everybody’s business.

Or worse, everybody’s problem. What will Rhysand and Amren do when they learn of the magic that’s inserted itself into her bones, that won’t leave?

Control it. She doesn’t need a moment to debate. Either by harnessing it themselves, taking it out of her body...or controlling her.

Nesta shudders. She doesn't think Amren or Rhysand will harm her--though she certainly can’t assume they don’t want to--but when it comes to magic, there’s no way she’s escaping unscathed.

She’ll have to think of something to ensure they all stay away from her. But what? She can’t master her magic, so that’s out of the question. They won’t let her isolate herself so easily now...something more drastic needs to happen...

A soft knock jolts Nesta out of her thoughts. The door creaks open, and Elain’s face appears through a sliver before her gaze lands on Nesta’s, then she pushes in.

“Nesta,” she says, voice wobbly. “I’m happy you’re awake. How is your tea?”

Nesta glances down at her mug. “Fine.”

“Would you like me to get you some more?”

“No. Thank you.”

Elain sits on the bed. “You had quite a scary afternoon,” she says, voice pinched. She has been instructed, Nesta guesses, to keep herself level. “A healer’s bandaged you. She’d like to see how you’re doing now.”

“What time is it?”

“A little after nine. In the morning.”

Less than a day since she had died. Not so bad, all things considered. Nesta wonders, if her neck hadn’t snapped as she hit the water, and she had drowned instead, would she still be out? If Cassian hadn’t interrupted her revival by, well, reviving her?

“All right,” Nesta says, realizing Elain is still waiting for an answer. “She can come in.”

Elain leaves for a moment, then brings the healer in. It’s not the usual one, Madja. She introduces herself as Autry.

Elain turns to give Nesta privacy as she slips the nightgown off herself to let Autry see her bandages. Her eyes bore into her sister’s head; half of Velaris has seen her bare by now, what does it matter who else does?

But the healer’s eyes don’t linger in the spots she’s used to. Her quick fingers press alongside her ribs, and she clucks her tongue once as she feels for Nesta’s pulse at her wrist. “I’d like to do some tests, if that’s all right,” she says, motioning for Nesta to cover herself.

“What tests?”

“Blood. To ascertain your levels. We’ll begin there.”

Begin there. Then they might slice open her brain. But what choice does she have?

Elain grips her palm tightly as the healer draws from Nesta’s veins, as though the prodding hurts her, but she doesn’t say anything until Autry leaves. “I’ll draw you a bath now, Nesta.”

“Don’t bother,” Nesta says, sick at the thought of submerging herself. “I’ll do it.” She only remembers to ask when she stands. “Where are we?”

“Velaris,” Elain replies, surprised. “Feyre and Rhys’ house. The new one.”

Nesta raises an eyebrow. This is plain for a royal guest room. Had they stripped it for her?

“Feyre would like to see you, actually,” Elain says. “When you’re feeling better. We just want to know you’re all right, Nesta.”

Nesta pushes herself out of bed, not facing Elain as she walks into the bathroom. “I’m fine,” she says, shutting the door behind her.

There will be questioning, of course. Nesta isn’t fooled by this display of gentleness, restraint. But she’ll take advantage of it as long as she can.

It’s a few hours later when there’s another knock on the bedroom door.

“Nesta?” Feyre calls.

She groans internally. Of course they wouldn’t give her until tomorrow. 

“Are you asleep?”

Not even close. “No.”

Feyre opens the door, hair swaying as she peers in. “Oh,” she says, seeing Nesta sitting upright in bed. “How are you feeling? Hungry?”

Never. “No.”

“You only had tea, right? You’ve had...a rough time. You should eat.”

“Fine.”

Feyre frowns at this, probably expecting her to argue more. “The healer says your bloodwork is...weak. You need to take better care of your health, Nesta.”

Would that were true.

“And...I want to talk to you.” Feyre settles on the bed. “We all want to talk to you, Nesta. We’re...worried about you.”

Nesta keeps her face blank. 

“I know you’re not really close with anyone right now, but I hope you’ll still believe me when I tell you we just want to help you. Will you please come sit and talk to us?”

“Who is ‘us’?”

“Me,” Feyre says unnecessarily. “And Elain. And Amren and Cassian. And Rhys.”

Nesta only huffs in response, barely amused, and not surprised.

“We really do care about you, Nesta.”

Right. Sure.

Best get this over with.

“Fine,” Nesta says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

“Not so fast, don’t strain yourself.” Feyre’s eyes widen in alarm, and her voice is higher than normal.

Sliding her feet into slippers, Nesta shrugs off Feyre’s extended arms and pulls a fine white dressing gown around herself. Taking a few moments in front of the vanity to pin up the braid she had made after her pitiful bath, she turns to her sister. “Where are they sitting?”

Feyre leads the way slowly, conscious of Nesta’s hindering injury. Or so she believes.

They reach one of the living rooms, with seats arranged in a circle. Two are free, one on the couch beside Rhysand, and one armchair. Nesta doesn’t wonder which one is meant for her, but she does narrow her eyes at the papers everyone holds in their hands. When Feyre sits down next to Rhysand, he passes one to her.

“All right, Nesta,” Feyre says, clearing her throat. “We...as I told you, we all want to talk to you because we care about you.”

Elain already has unshed tears in her eyes. Cassian is staring at the ground. Amren is staring at her, clenching her folded paper.

“And we’re worried, Nesta. So...we’ve spoken to Autry, your healer--”

What? When did Autry become her healer, and what does she have to do with any of this?

“--and we’ve decided that in order for you to heal properly, first it’s important to give you a reason. To show you how much we care about you.”

What does this have to do with her magic? Nesta doesn’t realize she’s supposed to say anything before Feyre nods encouragingly.

“What does that mean?” 

“Well, we’ve all written letters...to you. And we’re going to read them now. Elain, would you...?”

Elain, at Nesta’s immediate left, takes a shaky breath. “Dear Nesta,” she begins before unfolding her paper--letter. “Dear Nesta,” she starts again when she does. “I remember...I remember the very first--the very first time that I ever realized not everyone has an older sister.” A tear drops from her ducked head, hitting the letter, but Elain only clutches it tighter and continues. “I realized that you didn’t have one, and I knew that--that was only because you were strong enough, and I would never be able to function that way.”

Nesta’s jaw nearly drops. She looks around the room, expecting other incredulous looks, or perhaps mocking or amused ones, but Amren is still staring at her, emotionless, Cassian, hands fisted, is glaring at the floor, and Rhysand has dropped his head into the crook of Feyre’s shoulder, rubbing her arm as she covers her face with her palm.

“I have never imagined a world without you before--”

“What?”

Elain inhales sharply, startled with Nesta’s leap upwards, but she pays this no mind.

“What are you talking--what is this!”

Elain looks to Feyre, who wipes her eyes before saying, “We told you, Nesta. We need to tell you how much we care about you...”

“Stop,” she says, pulse quickening. “Stop it. This isn’t--I’m not suicidal. I did not try to kill myself.”

“The hell you’re not,” Cassian mumbles, but if anyone else hears him, no one comments.

“Nesta,” Feyre says, “you’re--”

“And I can prove it,” she blurts out.

Yesterday, she would have said there would be nothing worse than the lot of them finding the truth about her magic. There is, apparently, this. This is unequivocally worse.

She’s not surprised when Rhysand answers her first. “How?” he asks. He suspects.

Nesta breathes deeply before responding. This is her last moment of peace.

“Because it’s happened before.”

She does not know if she expects an outburst, but she is taken aback by the limp silence, defined more by the lack than its own existence. 

Amren speaks for the first time. “What’s happened before?” Her flat tone tells Nesta she already knows.

Nesta swallows, fisting her hands in her robe for a moment before defiantly crossing her arms. “Dying,” she says. “And coming back.”

“What are you talking about?” Feyre demands at the same time as Amren asks, “How many times?”

Nesta only answers the latter. “Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three--”

“It happened by accident,” Nesta interrupts Cassian.

“Bullshit,” he snarls.

Well. At first.

Elain brushes a hand against Nesta’s arm, making her jump. She hadn’t even realized her sister had stood. “Nesta,” she says, voice shaking. “You’re saying you--that you--you tried--”

“It was an accident the first time,” Nesta says aloud. And it was. She was drunk and alone. She tripped and hit her head. She went to bed. She didn’t get up. And then...she did.

She hadn’t realized anything was amiss at first; had figured the throbbing headache was just her hangover. It had taken another accident to realize even among the Fae, she was supremely unnatural. “And the second. And then I could...feel the magic.”

Feyre says, furious, “So you tested it on your own?”

“It wasn’t a test,” she says, haughty. “I could feel it. I knew what would happen.”

“Then why?”

Nesta draws herself up, shoulders back. She puts as much venom into her voice as she can: “Because it’s mine.”

Cassian doesn’t miss a beat. “Bullshit.”

“And what did you learn, girl?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Feyre says. “Nesta...that’s done. You’re done. And quite frankly...you’re moving out of your apartment and into this house with us. We obviously can’t leave you alone.”

“Finally,” Cassian says.

“Feyre,” Rhysand starts, but she cuts in.

“I don’t want to hear it, Rhys. She’s staying.”

“Of course, darling, I know, I only meant--”

“I’m not staying here.”

“We can move into the townhouse together,” Elain says, desperately. “It’ll be quiet. Just the two of us. We’ll have a lovely time.”

“That’s unnecessary,” Nesta says, not willing to accept defeat. She doesn’t need Elain stifling her, following her every move. Besides, this still isn’t how it’s supposed to go. This isn’t about her personal well-being, it’s about--

“So you control death, then. Is that it?”

Nesta meets Amren’s eyes. There it is. It stings, somewhat, coming from her instead of Rhysand, whom she doesn’t care doesn’t care about her, but Amren...no matter. This is better than the alternative.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “I only know that I keep coming back.”

“How have you tried it?”

“Amren, enough!”

“You’re not expirementing with this!”

“I haven’t burned,” Nesta says. “I haven’t decapitated. I haven’t drowned...I suppose.”

“So poisons, mostly?”

“I hit my head the first time,” she says. “I think it was a concussion. Then I...choked.”

Humiliating, that one. Choking to death alone in her apartment. Pathetic. Sometimes she wonders if some stupid sense of loneliness is what first drove her to bringing a male home for the first time.

“This is sick,” Cassian says, momentarily frightening her into thinking he can read her thoughts. “How can you be considering this?”

“No one’s considering anything,” Feyre says forcefully.

“Feyre--”

“No, Rhys.”

“We can’t just ignore what we have before us beacuse you want to handle your sister with child’s gloves,” Amren snaps. “This is power the other Courts--the other countries--will kill to have.

“You can’t leave this house,” Amren continues, nodding at Nesta.

“What?” That’s not how this was supposed to happen.

“We can’t risk someone finding out and then selling you off. Come on, Rhys, you know I’m right. I didn’t say we have to lock her up, just keep her safe. Until we figure out what to do with her.”

“We’re not doing anything with her, Amren,” Cassian says. “She’s a person.”

“Who belongs to this Court.”

“You’re supposed to be her friend. You said you were concerned about her!”

“Should we let her magic ran rampage? Should we let her continue to explore it on her own?”

“She’s not a tool.”

“For the Night Court, you’re all tools.” Amren looks to Feyre and Rhysand pointedly. “You two should know that.”

“Enough of this,” Feyre says, sudden and angry. Nesta’s heart sinks--Rhysand didn’t suggest it because he didn’t want to be the one to upset her sister, and he knew Amren would demand it anyway. To study her, to use her. Now he has everyone where he wants them. A scream coils inside her, and then, as usual, fades into nothing.

“Nesta...you can stay here with us or in the townhouse with Elain. Or if you both want to stay in that horrible apartment...fine. But you have to stay with one of us, Nesta. And Amren, enough.”

“How long are you going to let this go on, Rhys?” she asks.

“I’m not going to force anyone into your hands, Amren,” Rhys says, shrugging. Liar. “If you want to explore Nesta’s magic with her, you’ll have to convince her yourself.”

Is that supposed to be a threat?

“No,” Feyre says firmly. “Don’t even--just, let’s go. Nesta, Elain, we’re going to get you set up in the townhouse.”

And so it begins. The shepherding, the chaperoning, the surveillance. But as Nesta catches an exchanged glance between Amren and Rhysand, and feels Cassian’s gaze upon her back all the way up the stairs, and following her on the way to the townhouse, she knows it isn’t the end.

#nesta archeron #acotar fic #nessian #acosf au

[tru-ho]

so i’m rereading acowar and it’s at the part where feyre sees elain and az and wondering if the cauldren could make mistakes in putting people who don’t belong together as mates. disregarding the can of worms w elain’s mate, i had thought of another fanfic idea that i will never fully flesh out and write.

but basically it’s a nessian angst. where nesta still thinks about the concepts of mates and essentially not having any choice and regardless of how she really feels about cassian, she’ll still choose him bc of the bond. anyway, w that in mind, she comes across this witch while out across illyria to save this other women who had requested their highlord’s help. she and az go on behalf of rhys. nesta doesnt know she’s a witch, but the witch basically gets nes to talk about something she really desires. at this point nesta has everything. elain and feyre are happy and she’s happy with cas. gwyn and emerie are also content and the valkyries are growing in both size and strength. sometimes though she just has that anxiety over the fact that she didn’t choose cassian and neither he chose her. they were chosen for each other. so then after making sure the witch is safe, she reconvenes with cassian but she feels dizzy and lightheaded and she blacks out.

then she feels cold, darkness, and the void. she’s back in the cauldren. she thinks it’s a nightmare, she stills her mind, she hears muffled sounds, but she focuses on her body, on her senses. she thinks that everything feels too real, too detailed, to be a dream. she’s then pulled out. out of the cauldren and she sees the scene back when she was made. back to the worst days of her life. but it felt different. felt like something was missing. she has this terrible feeling in her gut. she sees elain on the ground, lucien hovering. feyre crying out. the horrible, wretched, mortal queens watching with wicked smiles. she sees cassian, his wings. her heart lurches but it feels feint. like it only lurches in memory. she calls out to him and he tries to go to her. he can’t. something is wrong. something has gone terribly wrong.

this isn’t a dream. this is real. this is reality. she was too focused to trying to get out of the “nightmare”, too focused on calming herself that she didn’t take from the cauldren. she didn’t have her death powers. her silver flames were still inside the cauldren. as if sensing what she realized, the cauldren did something, she passed out.

she wakes up in the house of wind, in her room. she tries to talk to the house, no answer. rhys and mor visit, saying there’s food. reluctantly she goes if only to see cassian. cassian, who’s wings had been badly hurt, cassian her mate, cassian who had always been her friend, the one who would help her through whatever this is. something is different, she is different, and not just that she’d recently been turned fae. she helps him recover, to everyone’s utter surprise. she actually becomes helpful. she seeks goes to the library, seeks out gwynn but in increments as to not freak her out. she also find emerie. she just wants her friends. even though at this point they weren’t. she didn’t even have the house. while cassian recovers, she trains with him. she helps elain. who is also different this time around. nesta thinks elain knows that this isn’t where nesta is supposed to be.

one of the more important part though is that despite his flirtatious advances, nesta doesn’t feel the bond. they are not mates. they werent chosen for each other. she is less mean to him this time around though. occasionally flirting back, to his utter surprise, but still having that banter. she has her memories of them being mates. she thinks this time they are not, but she’s okay being with him despite it. when feyre gets back from destroying the spring court, and they go to the high lord meeting. nesta meets eris.

and oh boy she definitely felt that mating bond. she wasn’t as oblivious this time around. wasn’t as avoidant in the original timeline. he feels it too but is reluctant, not thinking too much of it, knows not to hope. she ignores him regardless because she knows him. knows how horrible and wretched he is. she thinks it is better to avoid and hope to never see him again. until rhys and feyre need eris. elain mentions her dancing abilities, and her ability to woo and make any guy fall for her through the dance floor. they persuade nesta to get eris to fold. she really doesn’t want to but knows how the story will unfold. they do need him.

she meets eris again. there’s no denying of the bond. her body yearns for him and it makes her sick. why tf is she mated to this fucker. she gets not having the death powers bc she was preoccupied while in the cauldren, but it had chosen nesta and cassian first. it was cas and nes, not nesta and eris, how is it that mates can change? in their first dance, eris has decided she is going back with him to the autumn court. one way or another, today or next year. he doesn’t care how long it’s going to take, whatever it’s going to take but he will do whatever to be with his mate. even if that includes betraying his father and teaming up with the night court losers.

in the sidelines, cassian is having a panic attack. he watches them dancing. everyone else had stopped to watch them. noticing how perfectly they seemed to fit together, how her blue flames swirl with his red, how the way he looks at her as if she was the sun moon and stars. how she doesn’t seem to hate him despite telling her what cas knows. he wants to stop them, he’s not thinking and his body takes him to them. he hears rhys, ordering him to stop. cassian doesn’t. but seconds later, a few feet before them, his body stops walking. rhys is using his powers to physically stop cassian from reaching them. the music stops and cassian can move. he goes to interrupt the two. despite not wanting to, eris gives her to him.

eris talks to rhys. nesta and cassian talk. he’s nervous. super fucking nervous. he makes small talk. something about the hor d’oeuvres. she gives him this one last dance. cassian barely keeping up. afterwards, she takes him someplace not too crowded but still in the room.

she tells cassian, eris is his mate. she can feel it. and so can he. cassian’s face is solid, but his eyes well up.

yeah so angst central right. things happen. nesta feels obligated to stay with eris. despite wanting a choice. against her better judgement. against her instincts. she gives eris a chance. only bc he lets her stay in the house of wind for a while. eris fucking hates cassian and vice versa, but eris knows if he picks a fight, he’ll lose her. so he plays good guy. he tells nesta of his plan to get rid of his father so the autumn highlord title goes to him. but he needs help. even wo her death powers nesta’s pretty powerful. instead of the silver freezing and deathly flames. the cauldron had originally granted her blue flames that burn hotter than ever. she helps him because honestly fuck the autumn court and also she sees how genuine he is. how his walls came down just for her. how vulnerable he is with her. she’s mean but she isn’t evil. this eris is quite different from the other eris. she think she could be okay with this new reality. things are working out. she feels contented. eris crowns her higady of autumn. but she goes back to the house of wind one last time. and she sees cassian.

her world as she knew it just falls apart. he’s wearing his illyrian fighting armor. his siphons seem to glow, calling out for her. his hands into fists at his sides. his eyes filled with yearning. he cocks a smirk, “hello nes”.

and basically then and there she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to the autumn court. apparently rhys had been ordering him to be scarce when nesta was still wondering if she should choose eris. cassian had been temporarily stationed in windhaven until nesta is officially with the autumn court.

so long story short though, despite eris having this kind of redemption. nesta still chooses cassian. despite the bond, despite what the cauldren decided, she chose cassian. she sees the witch again. and the witch brings her back to the original timeline.

she’s back to being mates with cassian and is content. but then she sees eris still waiting for beron to die and notices something that she had never seen before. something that if she hadn’t gone through what the witch put her through, she would not have seen or even looked for. a feint glimer of a bond. not a broken bond. but a bond that should have been made but was not. nesta considers that while she was in the cauldren, thrashing and pulling and biting, grabbing whatever she could. she may have also erased her original bond with eris and wrote the one with cassian. essentially going back to the idea that before she was even made, she had chosen cassian. and cassian, with his declaration to protect her and her people, had equally chosen her.

#nessian #acosf #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #eris vanserra #neris #or is it #erista #nessian angst #nessian au #eris x nesta #nesta x eris #acosf au

[shadowdaddies]

obsessed with this batboys band au

from elenana.art on Instagram

#acotar #acotar fanart #acotar au #batboys #batboys fanart #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #azriel acotar #azriel fanart #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian fanart #rhys #rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand art #acomaf #acosf #acotar art #feyre fanart #nesta fanart #nesta art #azriel art #cassian art #feyre acotar #acotar comic #Cassian art #rhysand fanart

[achaotichuman]

Human Nesta would shake Nessian Nesta by the shoulders screaming "What the fuck is wrong with you???!!!!"

Human Feyre would be drawing her bow trying to shoot Feysand Feyre just so she would never become her.

Human Elain would look at Elucien Elain and be like, "Nice."

#acotar #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron #feyre archeron #pro feyre archeron #anti nessian #anti feysand #pro elucien #anti rhysand #anti cassian #anti ic #anti acosf #anti acomaf #anti acowar #acotar headcanons #acotar au #elucien

[janearts]

It was interesting to see Cassian wildly and completely out of his element as a courtier, and I wish that Nesta—who has experience seducing Dukes with a quick turn of the foot and whatnot—was roped in to assist. It would've been great to see the training go both ways: Cassian training Nesta to be able to defend herself physically and Nesta training Cassian on the nuances of courtly games of power.

... aaand I also just wanted more scenes of Nesta using her powers for Good and not for Evil.

#A Court of Silver Flames #ACOSF #Nesta #Cassian #Nessian #Nesta Archeron #Jane's ACOSF AU #still on the wishful thinking train choo choo #i shant tag E- and I apologise to all the Neris shippers if I lead them on with my previous sketches asdkfjaskjfak

[itsphoenix0724]

Can You Kill A God? (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: No one will ever forget why you are Death's queen ever again.

Based on another fic I wrote which you can read here

Warnings: Gore, blood, the reader is a little sinister but I love it, SMUT (unprotected sex, breeding kink?, oral: m and f receiving)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I've been really missing Death!Az and Life!Reader recently. Also, I've had an obsession with Get In The Water from Epic the musical and this is what spawned. I did set in Ancient Greece so I did mention a Greek city. Happy New Year!!!

It started as a petty slight. Some stupid mortal king had said they feared Death more than War, so the god had raged a challenge. Your husband doesn’t normally involve himself in other matters, he had no need.

Eris was irrelevant to him.

Of all the other gods he is the only one who was inevitable, who would be permanent despite all odds. Azriel didn’t even feel the need to acknowledge the God of War, but he had started harming your creations, which was unacceptable in his eyes.

The souls had come into the underworld brutalized, they curled into your lap as you wiped their tears with the gossamer of your gown and told you that they had been sent as a message. You shed your own tears as you escorted them to eternal paradise and Death’s eyes went dark with promise as he cupped your jaw. 

Then he prepared for battle. 

You had to return to the overworld soon, the last phases of winter thawing into springtime greenery. He would sort this mess out before you leave his protection realm. Azriel gathered his allies and they outfitted themselves for combat. He took care to strap the armor to your chest, the gauntlets on your arms, and around your calves, kissing his devotion before securing every piece of metal. You did the same to him taking extra care to protect his heart.

The sight of you almost sent him to his knees.

There are still flowers wound through your hair, nightshade and belladonna make a deadly crown, and the golden glow that seems to permanently surround you bounces off the obsidian steel of your armor.

The battle had been bloody and long, it felt as if you’ve been here for days. Your dress was torn, the cloth shredded around your feet. Blood covered your entire front, caked and cracked into your skin. 

You cannot kill a god. 

But that doesn’t make the battle any less gruesome. 

Nothing would touch you thanks to Death looming over your shoulder. Every attack that may have hit you was deflected by your husband and vice-versa until the God of War catches onto this little tactic and baits Azriel by attacking you. Az had jumped in front of you, a wall of shadows blasting the God of War back a few feet at the risk of wounding him. 

But Death had fallen, red blood spilling sickly and sweet onto the fresh spring grass. It reminds you of a splitting pomegranate as the red seeps out and stains the dirt, every god in the field halts their battle and watches 

You fall to your knees in front of him, vines starting to curl around him as your magic begs to erupt from your chest to protect what’s yours. Eris gloats from his spot hovering in the air, laughing at Azriel struggling to breathe around the blood coming up his throat. The thorn vines wrap around Azriel to ward off any who might try to weaken him further as you rise to your feet. 

“Flower,” he wheezes around a cracked rattle in his throat, shaking his head and trying to sit up. You shush him gently pouring golden light into his chest that does nothing. You are not the Goddess of Healing, life will never stop death, so Az will have to heal on his own. War still mocks your shushing, your tears, calling your magic pathetic.

The earth beneath you starts to rumble. 

You are the Goddess of Life, the Goddess of the Earth, the World Shaker, and you will make every God here remember why you are Queen of the Underworld. 

Rising to your feet, the earth grumbles and shudders under the very force of your erratic heartbeat. War made a mistake waging this battle in Sparta, his arrogance will be his downfall. Your entire body shakes with rage as you stare at Eris from his spot in the air. 

“Get on the ground Eris.” Your voice rumbles in time with the splitting of the earth and War widens his eyes at the splintering ground. Yet, his overconfidence keeps him hovering out of your reach.

“Go home, Little Goddess” He drawls, “You’ve been beaten.” he spits at you with venom in his eyes—a dark, dark laugh bubbles out of your chest like molten lava. 

“If you don’t come down here I will collapse every wall in your city, and kill everyone in it.” You glare up at him, and he laughs shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t believe me?” You quirk a brow and the rise around the city starts to shake. “Tell me God, what happens when every last worshiper of yours is dead?” His eyes widen in fear then. 

Because that is how you kill a god, you force them into the darkness of being forgotten until they waste away like little more than salt in water. 

Faster than a breath thorn-covered vines shoot from the earth and surround War kicking and screaming, golden light begins to glow brightly from your eyes as your fury hauls him to the ground.

 People seem to forget that Death is the calm acceptance of something coming to an end. Life joins this realm wailing its existence to the stars, Life can be a very violent thing.

You will break him beyond repair, you can’t hear the sounds of Eris choking on his blood, the only noise in your head is the dull thumping of a war drum. He fights back with as much power as he can muster, but you’re barely trembling with the effort it takes to hold him there. The sinister in your smile reflects in his shining, terrified eyes. 

How pretty would it be if lilies sprouted from his lungs? 

Someone may be calling your name but you can’t hear anything, the tunnel vision threatening to collapse you entirely. You might not be able to kill him like this but regrowing all of his organs certainly would take some time. Feeling the golden power writhe and wrap around his heart, begging you to let it off its leash and crush, but it’s then that you feel the cooling darkness wrap around your shoulders. Death sweeps his chill gaze over War after rising to his feet. You still hold the line firm, one arm shooting out to block Azriel from any further advancement. The light in your eyes still refuses to dim, but Az wraps a hand around your jaw delicately turning your face toward him. 

“You’ve made your point My Love,” the steady weight of his hand calms the rising heat in your blood. “It’s time to let him go.” Azriel didn’t particularly care if you ripped Eris apart and scattered him to the seas, but he knew the guilt would threaten to drag you into the abyss entirely. The light dims, and you drop your hand. Eris falls to the ground like a puppet dropped from strings, coughing blood like shiny red rubies onto the grass. You’re only looking at Az, the wash of reassurance running over your body as you finally process that he’s whole–that he’s standing. 

He’s alright. 

Death doesn’t deign to even look at War as shadows come around you like dark silk, and you’re back in his realm. He finally sags into your arms as he lets the facade drop, the real pain and exhaustion catching up to him. Az thinks you might call for a medic, but it feels like someone is holding his head underwater. The silk of the sheets feels distant against his skin as your hand strokes his face, and he finally lets his eyes slip closed. 

Azriel sleeps for four days. 

He wakes in your bedroom, your presence absent, but a pitcher of water remains on the bedside table. The armor he’d donned for battle had been stripped from him, replaced by a black chiton that fell loosely around his chest and hips. He chugs half the water in one go as his power reaches out frantically for you, his heart settles when he feels like your golden aura, and he rises to set off looking. 

He finds you beneath an ever-blooming willow tree in Asphodel fields, reading animatedly to a group of children, the golden reeds bellowing in the fresh spring air. They scatter as he leans against the trunk, giggling and laughing as they chase each other into the meadow. You’re overjoyed when you see your husband, throwing his arms around him and crashing his lips to yours. 

“Are you all right?” You mutter, gently pushing back the curtain of black hair that had fallen into his eyes. You’re so delicate with him, Azriel feels his heart skip two beats in his chest. 

“I’m content,” He hums lazily dropping his nose into your hairline, the lingering smell of lilies floods his senses and calms his nerves as it always does. He nudges his nose to your pulse point before biting gently at your fluttering heartbeat. 

“Azriel,” your voice reverberates into his chest, twinning heartbeats thudding together. “You’re still injured.” he continues his exploration of your neck, nipping his displeasure at your attempt to coddle him. Your body shudders as he finds a sensitive point, and you can feel his smug smile at your jugular. 

“Let me worship my Goddess in peace,” he rumbles relishing in the feel of your skin and the golden warmth of the fresh sun. He drops to his knees in the dirt, pressing devotion into the curve of your knee as your back thumps against the bark of the willow. He smirks as flowers bloom around you in time with your bashfulness, red poppies matching the pretty flush on your cheeks. 

“The souls,” You whip your head from side to side as he runs his hands along the sensitive skin of your thighs. He tilts his head in contemplation, hazel eyes reflecting the warmth like molten gold.

You feel his power ripple around you and a blanket of silence covers the area. Everything goes quiet, no birds chirping or animals running through the surrounding forest, even the rustling of the grass in the wind falls silent under his command. 

“No one will bother us now,” Azriel muses, continuing his travels, you squirm under his attention as he climbs higher and higher. 

“You’ve been asleep for four days,” You barely get the words out as he runs his thumb delicately over the apex of your thighs, enjoying the feel of you under his hands. “You should really eat something,” He growls his frustration as he bites a dark mark on the sensitive skin. 

“I’m trying too, if you would stop interrupting me.” His eyes turn almost black as he focuses his attention on your core again, brushing aside the scrap of silk covering you. Az lets out a guttural moan as your scent floods his senses.  He dives in then, feasting on you like he needs it more than air.

He’s wasted precious time with you since he’s been asleep, winter is caving to the sweet spring, but it seems the cold is listening to his prayers and holding on just a little longer. He licks straight to your center, tasting the honeyed sweetness as it floods his mouth. No matter how many centuries you spend together you are always still so responsive to him, you’re twitching and squirming against the tree just about to tumble over that edge when you yank his head away to pull him to his feet. His eyes are glazed over and your slick is dripping down his chin, you haul his mouth to yours tasting yourself on his tongue. All of a sudden his back is against the tree and you sink to your knees before him, tearing at the laces of his pants. 

It seems that you’ve missed him as well. 

You look up at him through batting lashes, and Azriel strokes his hand along your jaw in adoration. You take him in your mouth and Az feels like molten iron has been poured down his spine, white-hot pleasure blinding all of his senses. Death’s knees begin to buckle under Life’s ministrations, the smug look in her eyes adding to the crumbling of his resolve. He has always laid everything he is at your feet, intimacy is no different. You stroke the rest of won’t fit in your mouth in time with the bobbing of your head and he feels weightless. 

Your tongue strokes along a vein on the side of his cock and he explodes almost embarrassingly quickly. It appears that four days had taken more of a toll on him than anticipated. He scoops you into his arms and in a blink you’re in your bedroom. The absurdly large bed stretches across the expanse of the room, the open windows letting in the sun. Azriel tosses you on the cool silk sheets as he stalks on top of you. His lips collide with yours again as he slowly draws one hand up your thigh and draws your underwear down, throwing it somewhere behind him. He thrusts into you in one long motion, and the searing pleasure sends a rumble of power that shakes the very foundation of the palace. 

“Calm Flower,” he whispers as he hits the spot inside of you that threatens to launch you into oblivion. “You’ll bring the walls down around us.” You let out a laugh that bubbles into a moan as he continues his languid drive into you over and over. Eventually, Azriel starts to ram into you as his restraint falters like a splitting thread, toying his fingers over the apex of your thighs with musician’s grace as he bites at your neck. He flips you over at lightning speed, your ass in the air as he drives your further into the mattress, your moans muffling into the pillows as your try to keep up with the relentless tempo. You finally tip over the edge right before Az spills himself inside you, your combined release makes him let out a roar so loud the birds flee from their nests in the trees.

He watches himself spill out of you, thrusting it back inside with two of his fingers.

You whine in overstimulation as he crooks his fingers inside of you, he lets out an amused huff as he gently strokes your shaking thighs. Azriel waves a hand, and you hear the water in the bathtub start to run. You stroke a gentle path through his night-dark hair as he leans into your touch. 

Yes, spring may be coming soon. The time with your husband dwindles to sparse moments in a dying winter fire, but as Az scoops you into his arms to take you to the bath you enjoy every single moment you have left.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #acotar fanfiction #acosf #azriel spymaster #azriel smut

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

IN EVERY UNIVERSE

── Azriel x Fem!Reader

(i try to be as non descriptive as possible but do use she / her, and mention reader being shorter than all the guys.)

CHAPTER ── INTRODUCTION

Ever since you were little, books have been your escape. Whether it was needing to get away from a bad day at school or an immature fight with a friend when you were a kid, or a rough day at work as you got older, reading allowed you to temporarily forget all of that.

You imagine what the characters might look like, you dream up scenarios for them that don’t happen in the books. And like so many others who do the exact same thing, you can’t help but wish characters were real so that they could sweep you off your feet. Ugh, what you wouldn’t give to have a certain one-armed super soldier call you doll.

You thought the MCU was where you wanted to exist the most… and then you were introduced to ACOTAR.

It didn’t take long at all for you to become another one of the many girls to fall for Azriel. You dreamt of what he might look like. And of course, knew he’d fall in love with you. Would you guys follow the enemies-to-lovers trope? Childhood best friends turned significant others? Or would it be a love-at-first sight moment for the shadowsinger, who would do everything in his power to get you to notice him? The answer depended on your mood, of course.

As much as you loved to fantasize, you also knew you had to be realistic. Azriel didn’t actually exist, at least not in your world.

One night, you even go so far as to convince yourself that all the hopeless dreaming had to stop. From that moment on, you’d still enjoy books, but you wanted to do your best to stop imagining a life for yourself in worlds you’d never get to visit.

It’s definitely easier said than done, but you go to bed that night confident that it’s the right thing to do.

Only, when you wake up the next morning… something is off. This isn’t your bedroom. The clothes you’re wearing, you’ve never seen before. And why does the man that has just entered your room look exactly like how you pictured Azriel?

TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES ONLY ── if you requested to be tagged and your name isn’t clickable, it means i wasn’t able to tag you! also sorry to anyone who might’ve gotten their hopes up thinking this tag mean i posted it, but i promise it’s coming sometime this week! this is just so i’m able to keep track of who asked to be tagged.

@namelesssav | @cinnamoodles | @orphicmeliora | @flowerprincezz | @blushingfawnsposts | @kylaisra | @princessbelleinthetardis | @msoldier | @ccacotartoglover | @vickykazuya | @thecourtofnightmaresanddreams | @mirandasidefics

TAGLIST FOR ALL THINGS AZRIEL ──

@bakananya | @thisiskaylin | @saltedcoffeescotch | @melmo567 | @chelsiemp | @lilah-asteria | @r0sluvs | @imagoddessinmystories | @sandramalikstyles-blog | @minnieoo | @durgenyx

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THIS SERIES TAGLIST, LET ME KNOW! (you can specify just this series, or all things Azriel)

#acotar au #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader #cassian #rhysand #inner circle #acosf #acomaf #acofas #feyre archeron #elain archeron #morrigan

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 22)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the face off with Beron Vanserra is finally about to happen, but the new discover of eris and the reader being mates makes things challenging

warnings: violence, misogyny, beron sucks so rip to y'all who liked him in chapter 20

word count: 3.3k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: i know this chapter is super super short compared to the usual but i wanted to split this scene up and leave y'all on a major cliffhanger because i am evil

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20

read on ao3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Eris is my mate

The phrase played in a loop in your head as once again chains found their way around your wrists. You barely felt the weight of them, nor did you feel the dampness of the dungeon floor against your knees, or the agonising pain in your body from where Malgorm beat you. You didn’t care that you were in a dungeon, something that typically would have sent you panicking.

All you could think about was how Eris knew he was your mate, and he kept this information from you.

You knew what excuses he’d make – that it wasn’t the right time, that it was too dangerous for you to know right now. But you didn’t care. There would never be a good time to find out that the male who your mate was mated to was also your mate. The concept of it all made your head spin. Never before have you heard of a mating bond existing between three people unanimously. Sure, there were people you knew of in polyamorous relationships, but never with a mating bond. According to legend, the mating bond was designed to bring together a male and female who would produce strong offspring. Nesta and Eris made sense, and with the newfound discovery of your unexplored abilities it was safe to assume that you and Eris being mates somewhat made sense too. But you and Nesta could not create a child together, nor did you have any desire to.

It was too convenient. Too easy to have a mating bond happening to exist between the three of you. And to complicate matters, you knew Nesta still felt linked to Cassian somehow, despite not being his mate.

A thousand questions swarmed your mind as Saeros and Ivar closed the door behind them, leaving you seemingly alone in the cell, waiting for Beron and Eris to arrive.

(Y/N), You heard Nesta’s voice in your head, so close by as if she were whispering softly into your ear. I’m here. Azriel is hiding us in the corner to your left.

You did not reply. All you could do was stare blankly at the floor beneath you, inspecting the various cracks and crevices. The blood of thousands had probably been spilled into this very floor. Perhaps Beron would see right through your plan, and simply smite you into the stone. And perhaps it’d be a blessing.

Nesta’s voice came again, more worried this time. Hey, are you okay? Something’s wrong, I can feel it.

You laughed hoarsely, a harsh sound that echoed eerily throughout the chamber. That’s something you should ask your other mate. Or should I say, our other mate. 

Even the air seemed to still around you, surprise pulsing from Nesta’s end of the bond. I take it he didn’t tell you, either. You continued bitterly.

No. He did not. Did you just find this out?

Another cursed tear fell down your cheek, landing on the cold floor with a delicate plop. Yes, right after you and Azriel left, the bond snapped. He didn’t seem surprised, only… only remorseful. I can’t believe he kept this from me. I trusted him… and now…

You felt a gentle caress down the bond, a soft mist of silver soothing over the raging sea of emotions on your end. You could not see Nesta, or even sense her presence thanks to Azriel’s shadows, but you could feel her.

You could not feel Eris, having elected to put up an iron wall between you and him.

I know this is the last thing you want to deal with right now, but we need to focus on the plan. Nesta said sternly. Believe me, I know the emotional turmoil that comes with finding out Eris is your mate, yours made worse by the fact he lied to you. But none of this matters right now. None of us will be safe with Beron alive. Killing him is all that matters, for the next thirty minutes at least. Can you hold on, just a little longer? Please.

Your heart felt like it was being pulled in a hundred different directions. Deep down, you knew Nesta was right, that none of this mattered if Beron still held dominion over the Autumn Court. So you took a deep breath, forcing the stale air of the dungeon into your lungs. You closed your eyes. I am the rock against which the surf crashes, You told yourself. Nothing can break me.

You imagined Emerie’s hearty laugh, and Gwyn’s bright eyes as you repeated the Valkyrie mantra to yourself over and over again, willing your mind to still. 

You had to get through this. Not just for yourself, or Nesta, but for Gwyn and Emerie. For every female who had suffered like all of you had. For the chance at giving them a better life.

For them, you would do this.

It only took ten minutes before you heard the angry voice of Beron Vanserra, his footsteps heavy against the stairs that winded down into the dungeon deep within the Autumn Court prison. The pounding fuzziness of your head kept you from making out his words, but his tone said enough.

“She’s down here, father. Nobody else knows, I swear by it.” The coming of Eris’s voice was like the crisp autumn breeze that cleared away the dewey morning haze, bringing life to the world around it. Even though you had tried to block him out, his close proximity was too much, and the feeling of his approaching presence sent a tingling warmth through your body, defrosting your bones.

“Make sure your guards know if they breathe a word about this to anyone, I’ll cut off the head of everyone they’ve ever loved.” The High Lord snarled.

Moments later, the heavy door swung open, revealing a shocked but furious looking Beron Vanserra. His hair was slightly dishevelled, and he was clothed in extravagant red and gold robes. Evidently, Beron did not like being woken up in the late hours. Eris strode in behind his father, that familiar cold mask adorning his features. His amber eyes settled on you, and you fought the urge to squirm as he stared at you as if you were nothing.

You knew it was an act, yet it was hard to keep yourself from tearing up. There was no warmth in those eyes that had stared into your very soul with vulnerability as the bond had snapped into place. His lips were pulled down in a scowl that made you cower. It was hard enough to remind yourself you were all playing roles in this situation, but the contrast of the deep-rooted mating bond with the angerEris was looking at you with made the room spin before you.

You forced yourself to look up at Beron. There was no trace of the loving father-in-law facade he had put on in front of Rhys. No, his eyes were black pits in his skull, dark voids of hatred that knew no bounds. You didn’t have to fake your tremor as the High Lord stared you down.

“Eris tells me that Malgorm has been slain by your hand,” Beron said, his voice a thin layer of ice holding back a raging sea. “Do you deny this?”

You had no idea how long Eris, Nesta, and Azriel had planned on letting Beron interrogate you before they made their move. As you scrambled to think of what to say, Nesta spoke urgently into your mind. Buy us time. Eris’s guards need to secure the area in the next few minutes. Talk.

 “It was an accident, your Grace.” You sputtered, desperation seeping into your tone. “He came onto me in the middle of the night, and he brought a knife with him. I was just trying to get him off of me, I didn’t mean to–”

“Silence!” Beron hissed. “I ordered Malgorm to stay away from you. He is an obedient son, and would have listened to me. You must have snuck into his room during the night and tried to kill him to end this engagement.”

“Actually, that is not true.” Eris interjected carefully. “Several eyewitnesses confirm Malgorm was not in his room at that hour, and was seen headed towards the corridor where (Y/N)’s room resides. She is covered in wounds that only Malgorm would have inflicted. You know what kind of male he was, father. You cannot be surprised–”

“SILENCE!” Beron yelled sharply, spit flying from his lips as he shot a glare at Eris. “My son is dead, and you dare speak ill of him before a grave can even be dug for his body? You disgust me.”

Your breath hitched as the High Lord turned back towards you. “I offered you the greatest honour that a pathetic female like you could have hoped for,” He growled. “And you decide that is not good enough and murder my son. You will pay for this with your life, girl.”

“My Lord, may I suggest–” Eris couldn’t finish his sentence before his father cut him off again, unhinged anger coming off him in waves.

“You have no say in this, boy. Your mother made you too softhearted. You would never be able to rule this court successfully, and it is clear I have wasted my breath trying to make you my heir.”

Eris was utterly still, his eyes narrowing like a snake about to strike it’s target. “I will be a better High Lord than you or the bastards who came before you have ever been.” He said calmly.

And then the room exploded.

Tidal waves of silver fire exploded from the darkness, shadows peeling away like curtains to reveal Nesta. Her eyes blazed with silver, that otherworldly magic rippling off her as she used her flames to press the High Lord into the wall. The sound of his body hitting the stone was like thunder over the mountains, creating small cracks along the space behind him. Orange flames joined, entwining through the silver flames like a magical dance. Beron writhed underneath them, sending his own fire in an attempt to defend himself.

But it was no use against the fury of Eris’s fire, or the steel will of Nesta’s magic. Your jaw went slack as you stared at your mates, one bathed in orange and the other in silver. Red and dark gold hair flared around their necks, as if carried by an imaginary breeze. They looked like gods from another world, coming to unleash their power on the inhabitants of this world.

You heard the sound of keys jingling as Azriel’s familiar voice sounded in your ear. “Come on,” He said urgently. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The chains released your wrists, your arms falling to the ground with relief. You felt Azriel’s shadows curling around you, ready to winnow you away. “No.” You said firmly.

“This is not up for debate. I’ve been instructed to get you to safety the moment shit goes down, and I intend to do so.”

You turned around to glare at the shadowsinger, his hazel eyes glowing against the silver and orange light from the flames. He was still partially hidden, his shadows dancing around eagerly as if ready to join in on the action. “I am not leaving them until it’s done.” You insisted.

He grabbed your arm firmly. “I will not let you get hurt in the middle of this.”

“Then protect me. I cannot leave them behind. You cannot take me away… again.”

You saw the regret flicker across Azriel’s face as he evidently remembered the last time he stole you away at the Hewn City. It was a low blow, you knew. Especially after all Azriel was risking just by being here helping you. After a moment, the Illyrian sighed, muttering something about your stubbornness before saying, “Fine. Get behind me.”

A shimmering blue light formed around the two of you, shielding you from the angry flames. Azriel’s siphons glowed as he produced a wall of protection. You peeked out from beside his arm to witness the scene before you, heart racing.

“Your time as High Lord has ended, Beron Vanserra.” Eris said sternly, his eyes glowing, his voice an echo on the roaring wind of the flames. “Too long have you sat upon this throne and cast a shadow over this court. Nobody will mourn your death, father. Just as nobody will mourn Malgorm’s. When you see him in hell, what’s left of your souls can spend the rest of your miserable eternity there knowing there isn’t a single individual who wishes either of you were still here.”

You expected Beron to spew vile insults, to fight back angrily and wish a miserable death upon you all. But the male only laughed, a rasping sound like two stones rubbing together. “This is a truly pathetic show,” Beron said. “All of this planning and scheming, and for what? You can’t kill me. You needed the magic of your mate to help you while you strung your other mate up like bait. You’re weak, boy. Too weak to ever take me on properly. You’re a coward, and a fool.”

You felt pure shock coming from both ends of the bond. You couldn’t see Eris and Nesta’s faces from your angle, but their flames flickered for a split second, as if they too couldn’t believe what Beron said.

As if reading your mind, the High Lord snorted and continued. “Get that stupid surprised look off your face. Of course I knew this whole time. You forget, I’ve been in this world a long time and can sniff out mates before they even know it themselves. Of course I was aware of your disgusting threeway bond. It’s the only reason I didn’t slaughter you, boy, for getting engaged to the Archeron female without telling me. I thought marrying that Spring Court wench to Malgorm would take care of some of my problem, at least.”

Nesta spoke up, fury lacing her voice. “What?”

“You are a fool, Eris. Of course Malgorm obeyed my every command. Who do you think told him to attack the girl in her room tonight? I gave the order less than a minute after you left the table, you stupid boy. You handed me the opportunity on a silver platter.”

“Why?” Was all Eris said, his flames angrily licking at Beron’s fingers. A burnt smell began to fill the room as they burned the High Lord’s flesh. 

But like the madman he was, Beron continued manically, seemingly blind to the pain his son was inflicting on him. “A mating bond between three people is unnatural, a crime against all that we hold dear. She needed to be eliminated in order for your marriage to Nesta to work. I didn’t care what Malgorm did to her. I told him he could do as he pleased, as long as it ended with her throat slit.” He turned his beady eyes towards you, making you freeze. “I would have let him carve you up into a thousand pieces. A pity he didn’t get the chance to do so before you murdered him. He was weak. No son of mine would let himself be murdered by a stupid female.”

You weren’t sure you were even breathing as reality sunk in. Beron knew the entire time that the three of you were mates, long before any of you had even figured it out fully. The truth of that sinister cunningness beneath his gaze that had unsettled you made your stomach churn. He had been one step ahead the entire time, counting on Malgorm killing you to ensure a marriage between Eris and Nesta without complication. It took a great amount of self control not to vomit all over Azriel, who was watching the scene unfold with a look of pure horror in his eyes.

A spear of orange fire wrapped around Beron’s throat, leaving red scorch marks on the male’s skin as he gasped for air. “You will not talk about my mate like that, you fucking asshole.” Eris snarled viciously as the flames grey brighter. “I will kill you for this. I will slaughter you for everything you put her through. For everything you put all of us through. Nobody will miss you, you absolute filth.”

Silver and orange flames danced higher, rolling back like a wave about to crash down on the sand. But before Eris and Nesta could strike down the High Lord, the door swung open and the Lady of Autumn ran in.

“Stop!” She cried desperately, her eyes frantic.

“Mother?” Shock laced Eris’s voice, and just for a split second, his flames flickered and dimmed.

That split second was all Beron needed to cast forth a wall of angry fire, pushing Nesta and Eris’s flames away. He roared definitely as your mates were thrown backwards, landing on the cell floor with a loud thump. You tried to pull away from Azriel, but his arms wrapped around you, holding you firm behind his shield. You thrashed and fought, but were no match for the Illyrian. 

“Let me go!” You hissed, stomping on his foot as hard as you could. But he didn’t budge.

“What are you doing?” Eris gasped, making his way back onto his feet with unsteady legs. A thin trail of blood trickled down his nose, evidence of the toll that much power took on him. Nesta scrambled to her feet, silver flames already curling defensively around her hands. You couldn’t help but notice how they trembled.

“Please don’t do this, Eris.” Lirilla begged. “He is your father. I have already lost so many of your brothers, don’t take your father from me, too. Let him go.”

Eris looked utterly broken, confusion and sadness written plainly across his features. The arrogant confident mask he had donned moments ago was gone. “You know more than any of us what kind of male he is,” Eris insisted. “Let me free us of him. For good.”

“Please, no. Eris…” The Lady of Autumn sobbed.

Your heart shattered at the sight. Fresh bruises were visible on the frail female’s body, yet she stood here and begged her son to not kill the one who inflicted them. Eris’s mother had endured Beron’s abuse so long she seemingly didn’t know who she was without it or him. She could not dare hope that things would ever change, so she accepted her fate, finding comfort in the dark corner her husband forced her into.

You remembered how she offered you some sanctuary the other night, willing to endure more abuse to spare you from some of it. She had seemed so resourceful, so strong despite all she had faced.

Yet here she stood, regressed before her cruel husband as she begged for his life to be spared.

Rather than rushing towards Eris or Nesta, Beron’s dark red flames wound around Lirilla’s throat. Her eyes popped open as they suffocated her, and the High Lord stood himself up and came over to stand beside her, facing Eris and Nesta.

“Stand down, or your mother dies.” Beron growled sternly, a sick glee coming across his features.

Your heart was in your throat as you felt Eris being torn in too – closer to his goal than he had ever been before, but uncertain of what to do. “You’re bluffing.” Eris said, but his voice was weak as he watched his mother gasp for air.

“Am I?” Beron said, fixing a glare at Nesta, who was frozen in shock. “You too, girl. Stand down. Now.”

A heartbroken look passed between Eris and Nesta. You felt every turmoil of emotion through the bonds, ripping away at your heart as you watched Eris nod to Nesta. Silver and orange flames evaporated into thin air, leaving behind angry scorch marks.

Beron laughed harshly, psychotic dark eyes gleaming as he snarled at his son. “I told you, boy. Your mother made you too softhearted.”

Before any of you could react, a sick crunching sound echoed throughout the dungeon as Beron reached over with his own two hands and snapped the Lady of Autumn’s neck.

The light left Lirilla’s eyes as her body fell down onto the cold floor in a crumpled heap.

And Eris began screaming. 

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful  @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford  @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @nikovasbitch @chasing-autumns-chill @the-sweet-psycho @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @red-bees @daughterofthemoons-stuff

#ialtpwf #neris #nesta x eris #nesta archeron #nesta archeron x eris vanserra #neris fic #neris x reader #nesta archeron x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #pro nesta #pro nesta archeron #anti nessian #beron vanserra #autumn court #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acosf au #eris acotar

[lyssasdrafts]

— AFTERGLOW 🦇🌟

azriel x reader smau!

status: completed!

pairing: azriel x reader, slight eris x reader

includes: humor, angst, fluff, modern au, coffee shop au, college/university au, strangers to lovers (for azriel x reader), childhood friends to lovers (for eris x reader)

description: being a childhood friend of the archerons and vanserras; you happen to keep running into a certain member of the inner circle at velaris university, but pursuing a new relationship with someone else is hard when you struggle with commitment issues from your first love.

content warning: contains themes of azriel’s canonically toxic family life, mentioned/implied homophobia for mor’s arc (chapters containing these will have a warning)

00 profiles: y/n’s group exiles cafe inner circle

001: “ i blew things out of proportion ”

002: “ i pinned your hands behind your back ”

003: “ thought i had reason to attack ”

004: “ fighting with a true love ”

005: “ boxing with no gloves ”

006: “ this ultraviolet morning light ”

007: “ chemistry ‘til it blows up ”

008: “ tells me this love is worth the fight ”

009: “ tell me that you’re still mine ”

010: “ why’d i have to break what i love so much? ”

011: “ it’s all me, in my head… ”

012: “ i’m sorry that i hurt you ”

013: “ but it’s not what i meant ”

014: “ i don’t wanna lose this with you ”

015: “ just wanna lift you up, not let you go ”

016: “ i lived like an island ”

017: “ tell me that it’s not my fault ”

018: “ i don’t wanna do this to you ”

019: “ i’m the one who burned this down ”

020: “ just don’t go ”

021: “ meet me in the afterglow ”

bonus chapters:

002.5: “ who’s that barista guy? ”

013.5: “ why are you calling me your babygirl? ”

021.5: “ the wedding ”

#— afterglow #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar au #azriel au #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadow singer x reader #night court x reader #inner circle x reader #acotar rhysand #acotar cassian #bat boys x you #bat boys x reader #azriel imagine #azriel acosf #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #autumn court x reader #acotar lucien #azriel angst

[nocasdatsgay]

The Price You Pay For Power Ch. 3

Pairing: Neris

Word Count: 3767 | Warnings: Beron, minor NC slander because of Beron| Chapter Rating: T

Story Summary: Eris revises his bargain with Rhysand: Nesta for Autumn Healers. He agrees and Nesta is sent to Autumn under the guise as Eris’s new bride in order to assist with removing Beron for good. Now she has to navigate a new court and also decide just how much she will trust her new husband

AN: I am terrible with descriptions but I think I did okay with this chapter. Shout out to google so I could look up smells and color palettes

Chapter Summary: Nesta enters the Forest House and is forced to swear loyalty to Autumn

MasterPost | Read it here on AO3 | Previous Chapter

Or read below

Eris did not wait for her. He walked ahead, hands behind his back. She picked up the skirt of her dress to keep it off the dirt path. She followed him up the stairs, doing her best to keep her head high and back stiff. They made it to the doors and Eris nodded to the guards. 

The large hall that appeared through the doors was nothing like anything Nesta had seen before. High vaulted ceiling with panels of windows to the right and left almost floor to ceiling. Like a brightly lit tunnel that would lead her to her doom. The ceiling was a light gold, beams dark wood. A long, large ornate rug, colorful as the Autumn trees with gold, orange, and rust red swirls stretched out to the end where the hall split to left and right corridors. There was another set of large doors at the end of the hall, closed. 

Eris stopped and looked at her. “The throne room is at the end there. I will escort you to your rooms. I wasn’t lying when I said you smelled.” 

Of course she was forced to be made presentable- acceptable to their standards. Like she always was. 

His eyes raked over her. “The servants will provide you with less drab clothing.” 

“I will wear what you ask but I want to keep this dress,” she looked down her nose at him, heart beating fast. One of the few dresses she owned that she loved. 

He considered her for a moment. “No one will be taking your dress from you.” 

“Good.” 

The moment of silence that followed, and she held his gaze wondering if he would lash out at her. Instead he broke first, turning and walking towards the end of the hall. She followed him. The house was a maze and definitely more like a castle than a ‘house’. Numerous doors lined each hall they passed through, no windows to be seen save for the first staircase they ascended.

“Who all resides here?” She dared to ask as they walked. 

“Autumn families have always been large, second to Winter. My brothers and I all have a set of chambers of our own. Some prominent court members and their families live here as well. Servants reside on the farthest end.” They ascended another staircase. “There is a large courtyard and orchard in the center. The house surrounds it.” 

This hallway only had four doors, spaced greatly apart from one another. They stopped at the first one on the right. 

“These will be your chambers.” Eris opened the door and held it for her, guiding her in. 

The door opened to a massive sitting room. The walls were cream colored, the beams similar to the ones in the entry hall lined the roof. A sole large window graced the wall in front of them with a sitting cushion on the window sill. There was a door to the left. Nesta assumed it led to her bed chambers. A fireplace was stationed centered to the right from that door. It had a beautiful onyx mantel. The polished wooden floors were covered with large burnt orange rugs.

A couch, sitting tables, plush chairs- her eyes ran over them with disinterest. Then she gasped when she glanced at the right wall. The entire wall was shelves covered in books with potted flowers scattered in between. She was not Elain and could not tell what most of them were; she only knew they were beautiful to look at. She recognized the roses and the daisies, though their coloring was something she’d never seen before. 

Eris’s voice drew her out of her thoughts. “Is it to your standards?” 

“I suppose it will have to be,” she replied without thinking, sarcasm getting the better of her. She looked back at Eris and couldn’t read his expression so she added, “Yes. It is.” 

“Through that door,” he nodded his head to the left. “Is a hall. You’ll have a study, bathing chamber and bed chamber.” He paused. “There is a door that leads to an empty room in your bedchambers. You won’t have to worry about it.” 

“What is it?” 

Though his expression was unchanged save for a slight crinkle of his nose when he replied, “A nursery.”

Right, Nesta thought. She let the realization wash through her- she remembered this was for show. 

“And your rooms?” She asked. 

“Across the hall.” He waved his hand and she felt the magic casted in the room. “Your rooms will be warded but only for tonight.” He then reached into the air and pulled forth a pouch. He held it out to her. 

“What is this?” She said, taking it slowly. It felt full of coins. 

“Your wages.” 

She frowned. “You’re paying me?” 

Nesta looked back at the coin purse in her hand with a harder scowl. It felt wrong to accept it. It reminded her of solstice; money in exchange for the presence of her body, like a common whore. 

“Would you rather I pay Rhsyand?” Eris’s voice brought her back to the present. When she didn’t respond, he smirked. “I suspected you’d want to save your actual wages. I will provide them to you for every week you’re present. You will have access to my accounts once we are wed for anything you’ll need while here.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll run up your tab?” She didn’t stop the bitterness that laced her remark. 

He studied her for a moment. Something flashed across his features. Nesta swore it was a brief understanding. 

“My credit is only good within this court and honestly- it would not hurt for some of the money to go back where it belongs. Just don’t spend a thousand marks in one go and no one will be the wiser.” Eris added, “we may be getting married but you are working. I can’t speak for your high lord but I pay the people who work for me, female or not.” 

Nesta scowled at his tone but didn’t comment on his remark. Thankfully a knock came at the door. 

“You brought that with you, understood?” Eris said sternly, glancing down at the purse. She nodded and he went to the door. 

Two females came in, heads bowed and not looking up. They were pale like Eris, but their hair was a deep brown. She could see their ears poking out their hair. They were high fae. They wore plain ruby red linen dresses, with white aprons. Eris looked down at them with contempt. 

“These are the assigned servants for your chambers.” Nesta’s eyes widened at the horrible realization. “They will help dress you. I’ll retrieve you for dinner shortly.” 

Nesta only nodded. She felt her shoulders relax when he slipped out the door and shut it. She looked at the servants, who still did not lift their heads. 

“I’m Nesta,” she said, breaking the silence. They didn’t reply. “Do you have names? You can stand up straight, I won't harm you.”

She watched their heads tilt towards each other. Finally one of them spoke. 

“We are not allowed to look our betters in their eyes, Lady Nesta.” The one on the left whispered. “It’s easier if you simply pretend we aren’t here.” 

Nesta frowned. “I don’t want for you to be in trouble but I would like to at least be able to address you. If that’s acceptable.” 

Another pause and the other female spoke. “My name is Opal.”

“Opal. And you?” Nesta didn’t want to push but she also did not wish to say ‘you, female’ any time she needed something. 

She shifted her feet. “You may call me Lynn, if that’s acceptable.”

“Lynn. Pleasure to meet you, Opal and Lynn.” Nesta let her shoulders relax. She didn’t realize she had held them tensely. “I was told you would help me get ready for this evening.”

“Yes,” Opal nodded. 

They both lifted their heads finally but neither looked her in the eyes. Nesta did not have time to linger her gaze; both went to the door to the right and opened it to walk through. It was a small hall. Eris was correct that there was an open study, with a desk and more sitting chairs. The hall ended in another door. 

She followed them through and her eyes widened. The bedroom was enormous. The four post bed was as large as the ones made to hold the Illyrians. A blood red duvet and matching pillows covered it with a peak of white sheets folded over at the top. There were red curtains tied to the headposts. Near the bed was a privacy panel. It was decorated in a simple fashion to the rug in the entry hall. 

Two doors were on opposite ends. The one on the right was opened. She could see the tiled floor and assumed it was the bathing chambers. Which meant the other door was the nursery. She decided she would avoid it. The two girls scattered, one to the bathing chamber and the other to one of two massive wooden wardrobes along the wall. Nesta watched her open the doors and her eyes widened at the amount of dresses inside. 

“Lady Nesta. I was informed you will need to wear blue. Once you are finished with your bath, would you like to choose your dress or would you prefer we lay out the options?” 

Opal kept her eyes to the ground. She could at least see her face now. Opal had a round face, small lips, simple nose, and wide flat cheeks. Nesta’s mother would have called her plain. 

“Lay out the options.” It was easier than she thought to slip into the persona she held when she was human and running the household. “I prefer long sleeves and a modest bodice.” 

Opal nodded. Nesta left her and went to the bathing room. It was the most plain room, white tiles and a large tub, sink, and toilet. Lynn was bent over running the water and Nesta stared at the tub. She could bathe now without much issue but already being on edge made old thoughts skirt the outer edges of her mind. She stepped forward and saw the water was already close to where she would be comfortable. 

“That will be enough.” Lynn startled and turned off the faucet. She knew she sounded condescending but she couldn’t let them think she was weak. “I would like to bathe on my own, thank you.” 

Unlike Opal she did not lift her head. She curtsied and went quickly out the door. Nesta went to the door and shut it. She took a deep breath and looked back to the tub. She walked up to the tub and stuck her hand in the water. It was too warm- almost scalding. With a quick debate in her mind, she decided she would weather it. 

Bathing was easier once she was in the water. She scrubbed at her skin until it turned pink. The smell of the soap caught her off guard. It had a faint wooden undertone, but mostly smelt of vanilla and something citrus. A strange combination; something she would not have anticipated for Autumn. Yet it worked. She refused to wash her hair as she did not have the time to dry it. Eris could fuss at her if he wanted to.  

Nesta found a robe to wear once she was done and dried. She came out with her dress on her arm and found the maids had laid out two dresses on the bed. She sat her own dress and coin purse from Eris on one of  the end tables. 

Opal came up to her. “I spoke with the other servants and Lord Eris requested you pick from the two.” She gestured to the bed. 

“Was he in here?” 

“No my Lady,” she shook her head, downcast eyes wide. “He specified the color.” 

Nesta wrinkled her nose. “Will he always be choosing the color?” 

“No, my Lady. That is the Lady of Autumn who manages the weekly dinner color schemes.” 

Nesta hummed and looked at the dresses. They were both a varying shade of dark teal, more blue than green. She picked up the one on the left and studied it. It was warmer in tone and would probably look better against her skin. The sleeves were long as requested; high neckline and a faux corset when she turned it. The fabric was soft but thick. Simple and safe. 

“I will be fine with this one.” She looked back at Opal. “Where is Lynn?”

“She went to retrieve some refreshments for you.” 

“And how much longer until dinner?” 

Nesta stayed and ate lunch with her sisters one last time before leaving. It was Feyre’s request; it postponed the meeting with Eris by at least three hours. Of which Cassian and Rhys made themselves scarce while she and her sisters contemplated on what information Nesta could gather while there. 

And what horrors might await her. 

“In a few hours. However I was requested to help you get ready as soon as possible. Shall I help you into your dress, Lady Nesta?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Nesta ended up being thankful for the help. Two layers- her underthings and a shift, were required before she was helped into the dress. It was as heavy as she anticipated. Lynn came back with a pitcher of water and some fruit. Nesta muttered her thanks and the female scampered off again. Opal left once the dress was tied and new white heeled boots laced onto her feet. 

Now she simply had to wait with nothing to do. 

She went to leave but a noise startled her. A letter had landed on her bed. She froze for a moment, before grabbing it and ripping it open. Her chest was in knots seeing it was Gwyn. 

Nesta

I went and waited for Cassian to return the moment I got your letter. I was wondering why training was canceled. I’m livid I didn’t get to say goodbye. He did clear a few things up once I was able to corner him. You should have seen him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cassian cower before. He says we need to be vigilant on how we communicate and what we say. I wish you could see my eyes rolling as I write this. I suppose I should congratulate you on your marriage. I wish I could be there with you as you take this next step. Emerie too. I didn’t see her today but she wrote to me to discuss your announcement. 

We love you Nesta. I hope we can visit sometime after your ‘honeymoon period’. 

Nesta held the letter close to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, from what she couldn’t pinpoint. It was possibly the notion that her nor Emerie were angry with her. Or that her friend left the library to hunt Cassian down. She pulled it back and looked it over again. 

She needed to learn how to send letters through magic. She dreaded what Eris would ask in return for such assistance. She folded the letter and placed it under her dress and coin purse. She didn’t need the maids seeing it and reporting her. 

Satisfied, she left her bedroom and went to the sitting chamber. She was startled to find Eris waiting for her. His coat was the same color as her dress, his pants the same white as her boots. Oddly, it didn’t wash him out. If anything it made him look somewhat appealing. His eyes raked over her quickly. Nesta scowled when he leaned in towards her and sniffed the air. 

“You smell better. That alone is a vast improvement.”

“I cannot say the same for you,” she replied, crossing her arms. “I was told dinner was in a few hours.”

“It is. However, we’re meeting my family in the throne room. Beron is going to make you swear your allegiance.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“You don’t have a choice,” Eris replied darkly. “Come, or we will be late.” 

—————

The throne room reminded her of the one in Hewn City. Only the pillars mimicked massive tree trunks and the tile was crimson red. At the end of the room sat Beron on a golden throne. His wife sat beside him on his left and the Vansera brothers flanked both sides. All of them except for Beron, wore varying shades of the same dark blue she and Eris wore. 

Nesta’s gaze lingered on a female she didn’t recognize next to one of the stocker brothers at the end. Her dark blonde hair looked out of place amongst the row of dark brown and red hair. That must be the wife Eris mentioned. Soon Nesta would be up there looking just as out of place. 

Eris walked in front of her and stopped a few feet from the steps to the dais. Nesta stood behind him. 

“High Lord Beron,” Eris said, cutting through the silence. “I formally present my betrothed, Nesta Archeron.” 

Nesta curtised. 

“Nesta Archeron,” Beron’s voice rang out through the hall. “My son told me you accepted his proposal. Quite a shock you willingly left the Night Court.”

Nesta did not reply. That seemed the correct thing to do. Beron stood and came down the steps, stopping in front of them. 

“You will swear your loyalty to me if you wish to remain in this house.” 

Just like with Rhysand, she felt the pull. The fae part of her wanting to submit. She curtsied deeper than before and bowed her head. 

“I swear my allegiance to the Autumn Court. And it’s high lord.” 

Ancient magic washed over her. She tried to not vomit from it. She straightened and stared Beron in the eyes. He sneered at her. 

“Show me your powers, girl.” 

Nesta’s eyes widened. He laced his words as a command. She looked at Eris beside her. He simply nodded at her. Could he not see the fear in her eyes? Gwyn’s voice was suddenly loud in her mind. I am the rock against which the surf crashes. She repeated it in her mind. Numbly she held out her left hand. She kept repeating the phrase and she dug deep into herself. To the part she buried for so long. It seemed like everyone in the room waited on bated breath. Finally a silver ball of flame manifested itself. 

Beron approached her, his hand covered in flames. He held out his own flaming hand over hers. She extinguished her own fire before he could touch it. 

“I agreed to allow Eris to bring you here because the crone Briallyn has expressed her desire for you.” He lowered his hand, putting out his own flames. “She thinks you are the reason her youth was stolen in the cauldron.” 

Nesta lowered her own arm and stood still, back straight and unmoving. She did not answer him. A test. 

Beron chuckled to himself darkly. “I think you’re a valuable asset. Much more valuable here than with her. Much more valuable alive. After the wedding, you will show me where on a map this prized city Rhysand has kept secret is located. You will explain to me its inner workings.”

Nesta laughed. She didn’t even stop when rage graced Beron’s features and flames rose in his eyes. 

“High Lord, I was the eldest daughter of a wealthy merchant. I was raised to marry and run a household. To bear children. I do not know how to read a map nor do I understand the workings of a city like Velaris. It was not becoming of a female to do so.”

The lie fell easily off her tongue. Beron did not seem to buy it. 

“Your sister is High Lady.” He said it with such venom she almost recoiled. You were at the High Lord’s meeting and you were present during the war.”

“I was forced to be present for the war. My sister being High Lady has nothing to do with my own abilities. And even then, they are incomparable.” 

“What exactly are you suggesting?” 

Nesta needed to play this right. Beron was scrutinizing every word she spoke to find a fault. She wished she could glare at Eris. He could have warned her. She calmed herself and responded. 

“I am suggesting Rhysand is a fool. My youngest sister was practically raised feral. Youngest and least beautiful of three daughters; my mother had no time nor the patience for her. She didn’t even know how to read until recently. He puts her on a pedestal because she is his mate. He lets her play pretend. She only understands a map herself because it has pictures.”

One of the brothers snickered at her comment and Nesta felt the bile in her throat. She prayed to whatever gods were listening that if this got back to Feyre, she would understand. Understand she said these things to keep them all safe.  However, she kept going, her harsh tongue knowing no end once it began. 

“Rhysand despises me. I was not allowed into the city. I was sequestered to a house built into the side of a mountain. House of Wind, he called it. The only way out being ten thousand steps or to be flown down. Punishment for my sister’s inability to read and her feral behavior which got her caught by a fae in the first place. He forced me to work in its library. The only time I was allowed to leave was during Solstice. I was flown directly to their home and only at Feyre’s request. He was looking for an excuse to be rid of me without killing me.” 

Beron studied her for a moment, taking in her words. “Show me your flames again. This time do not extinguish them.”

She did not let her expression change as she held her arm out again. The flames came forth easier this time. Beron manifested an apple. He reached over her hand and dropped it into the flame- onto her palm. Nesta willed it to not burn- to not turn to ash. She had no understanding of her powers and she knew whatever Beron saw, he would use against her. 

Her power cooperated. 

He plucked the apple out of her hand and turned it, studying it. She let her flames die and hoped he would not punish her for it. He finally looked back at her, a gleam she couldn’t place in his eye. 

“Welcome, Lady Nesta. I look forward to having you as my newest daughter-in-law.” 

Next Chapter

#nesta archeron #neris #eris vanserra #eris acotar #nesta acotar #pro nesta #pro eris vanserra #fuck Beron and his ugly ass #I had to say it #The Price You Pay For Power #Chapter 3 #acotar #acotar fanfic #Acosf #Acosf AU

[azsazz]

Change Your Ticket

Rugby Star!Cassian x Reader (A Modern AU)

Summary: Dating famous rugby star Cassian Bailey is a dream. What's not one is keeping your secret relationship under wraps. Will you and Cassian be able to keep from the limelight or will your relationship crumble because of it?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,264

Notes: I'm overthinking this now, I don't think I like it

_________________________________________

There’s no better way to wake up than buttery morning light drifting through the curtains, songbirds chirping outside cracked windows, and the warmth of your significant other surrounding you.

Unfortunately, that isn’t how you wake.

You wake up to the sound of your alarm, blaring its cheerful tune much too early in the morning. The sun isn’t shining in through your windows, rousing you from a deep slumber. Instead, thunder cracks loudly, drowning out the grating chimes coming from your phone, only for a second, before it sounds louder, alerting you that you have places to be.

Namely, at the airport, and not in the lovely muscular arms of your boyfriend in bed.

His cozy hold makes you want to sigh, snuggle backwards into him and sleep for a few more hours, but the blaring of your phone makes that difficult, even with the taunt of his morning wood brushing up against your backside.

Groaning, you slide from his arms. It’s a struggle, because his muscular limbs are heavy, but you manage to shove yourself from under the thick arm covered in swirling ink, stretching as far as you can in hopes to turn your phone off.

Another bout of thunder rumbles in the sky and you startle, knocking your phone over the edge of the table. It clangs loudly and you cringe, peering over your shoulder at Cassian. His eyes are shut and his chest moves up and down rhythmically. You sigh, shoulders relaxing at the sight of his bare chest, gaze snaking down his strong body to where the cuts of his hips dip under the sheets. Your mouth waters a little, but before you can make the move to slide the blankets back and get a full look, your phone sends out another screeching knell and you nearly dive from the bed to shut it off.

The time mocks you when the sound no longer does. It’s an ungodly hour and you’re hardly coherent, eyes gritty with sleep and hair curling in tangled waves around your face. You shove it back, collapsing for a moment, half off of the bed.

Warm hands search blindly in the bed before latching onto your waist, tugging you back into his solid body. You squeal as you’re so easily maneuvered, and it makes butterflies stir in the pit of your stomach.

Cassian grunts softly, burrowing his head into the crook of your neck. It’s early and he’s just as disturbed by your phone as he is. Neither of you have slept much at all, and with the warmth of his body holding tightly to yours, you find yourself resting your head against his, shutting your eyes and breathing in the scent of him—a comforting freshness cut with an earthy pine—drifting back into a light slumber.

Your eyes snap open later, something rocking you to your core. Not just something, the flight you’re supposed to be on, at the airport you should be at, sitting in your window seat and missing the body of your boyfriend next to you.

Cursing, you throw the covers back, ignoring the grunt Cassian lets out as you accidentally elbow him in the chest. You lunge for your phone, but it’s not on the side table where you’d left it. Fuck, you remember knocking it off and having to lean over the side of the bed to turn off your goddamn alarm when you should’ve hit snooze. You’re going to pay now; your mind supplies drily.

Frantically searching, you find it in the pile of clothes you’d left on the floor. Lifting your jeans to tug them on, it slips, clattering against the hardwood floors again. You don’t have time to wince, wonder if the screen is cracked, snatching it up and checking the time.

Holy fuck, are you late.

Shoving the phone back into your pocket, you scramble to get ready, tugging a black t-shirt over your head from the mound at your feet. It’s pools around you but you’re in no mood to care, shoving it into the waistband of your pants and stuffing your feet into last night’s socks. You grimace as you do so, the feeling of dirty socks making your toes curl. Switching with Cassian would be better, though they’d be scrunched in your shoes and you’d be tripping over them at the airport.

The sky is still dark with cloud cover, but there is no longer frantic lighttight brightening the sky, nor rumbles of thunder that would have delayed your flight. You haven’t gotten an update about it being late due to the nature of the storm, so it must be on time.

Perfect.

The heap of blankets on the bed jostles, and Cassian’s sitting up. The fabric falls from his torso like a waterfall of white, striking against his tan skin. As much as you’d love to climb right up onto him and wake him properly, you’re in too much of a rush to allow the aroused side of your mind to take over.

“Sweetheart?” he asks sleepily. His hair is mused from where you’d had your hands buried in it last night, and he brushes it from his eyes roughly, using the hair tie around his wrist to tie it back haphazardly. Cassian blinks around the room, hazel eyes clearing as he meets your panic-stricken gaze. “Where are you going?”

“I’m late for my flight,” you reply breathlessly, hopping on one foot to slip your shoe on.

“You’re leaving already?” Cassian asks with a frown. His voice is groggy with the aftermath of sex and sleep. It sends shockwaves zipping down between your thighs. “It’s only been two days.”

You sigh, forcing your other foot into the shoe. You know it’s only been two days since you’ve gotten into town for Cassian’s match, but you have to get back to work tomorrow, there’s just too much to do.

It’s difficult when he’s in the middle of the rugby season and you have to work. It’s hard to find the time to chat or even text sometimes, but the both of you love your work and couldn’t imagine giving it up. You do what you can to be at Cassian’s games. He flies you in privately and you meet at the hotel or the pitch, cheering from the stands with the other fans of the Velairs Stars, Cassian’s rugby team. But then you have to fly back home, only to do it again the next weekend over.

It's draining, which is why you’ve overslept like a damn fool.

“I have to go,” you answer, picking up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Your carry-on sits packed by the door. “I have work in the morning.”

“Take that bag off of your shoulder,” Cassian pouts.

You groan, turning to look at him. “I can’t, Cass, I’m really late.”

Cassian slides from the bed. The duvet slips from his body, revealing the entirety of his naked body. He’s built like a Greek statue, minus the tiny cock. His tan body ripples with muscle and ink—broad shoulders to hard abs to his taut waist, down to thick thighs and a half-hard cock that twitches when your eyes roam over it.

Your cheeks heat and you turn your head away, gazing at the floor.

Cassian’s feet enter your line of vision and then his hands are on your cheeks, tilting your head up to face him.

You stare into those soft eyes, green and brown clashing like a tornado in the woods. His pink lips are turned down, the crease between his brow in concern something you never like to see on his face.

A strand of his hair tickles your cheek as he dips down, thumbs brushing soothing stripes across your skin.

“Please, don’t leave.”

Your heart cracks in your chest at the sincerity of his words. Your body slackens, tipping into his. You place a hand over his wrist, holding him just as he is you, and you let out a deep sigh. “I can’t. I really have to go.”

Cassian doesn’t respond, only tucks you tighter to his chest as if he may never let you go. You press up to the tips of your toes, catching him in a soft kiss. You can taste his yearning, missing you from miles away. The absence of him from your side, from your apartment, preferring your quaint place to his bachelor pad in the thick of the city. He’d disrupted your life in the best way, and it’s different to be by yourself in the place you’d spent so much time alone, before Cassian came rumbling in on a gust of autumn air with trophies the size of your head and rugby uniforms that never seemed to stay clean.

When you pull away you don’t stray far, placing your head on his chest. His heartbeat strums loudly, comfortingly as he places his chin onto you, hugging you tight.

And its bliss, the both of you tucked together like this. You don’t ever want to let him go but this is reality and you both have lives outside of each other, outside of this little bubble of heaven you’ve created for the two nights you were staying here. Cassian feels like coming home.

“At least let me walk you down,” he says finally.

You huff, pulling back to look up at him. He towers over you and you have to crane your neck back to meet his gaze. “As much as I would love that, you can’t. We can’t be seen together,” you remind him softly.

Cassian rolls his eyes, twining his fingers with yours as he leads you into the main room of the suite. It’s a lovely hotel, but eventually, all of the rooms start to blur together. There’s an empty bottle of victory champagne tipped over on the couch, your still half-full glass precariously perched on the edge of the coffee table from when Cassian could no longer control himself and your bubbly, giggly kisses turned into something hotter and heavier.

“I don’t care about any of that stuff, sweetheart. I just want to be able to show you off.”

“Well, I care,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not ready to tell the world yet.”

You spot your bra flung over the lampshade and grab for it, but Cassian’s quicker, taking it and hiding it behind his back with a cheeky grin.

“If you want it back, you’ll have to come get it. Two weeks, we’re playing the Sealions in Adirata.”

“Cassian,” you sigh, trying to reach around his thick torso for your bra. “I don’t know if I can make it—”

“You will,” he says, pecking you on the nose. You glare up at him but he’s grinning like a fool. “I need my best cheerleader there.”

You want to grumble that he never really can find you in the crowd. You don’t sit with the other players’ girlfriends or families because your relationship with the superstar athlete is your best kept secret. You aren’t ready for any of the drama that comes along with dating a public figure, and Cassian knows this, accepts it because he loves you.

“I’ll try,” you amend, and you don’t think his smile can get any bigger but it does. Cassian swoops down to kiss you on the lips. The eagerness takes your breath away and makes you clench your thighs together, his intrigued cock still seeking you out.

“Good,” he seems satisfied with your answer, unhooking the handle and raising it. He scoots your roller out of the way when you go to reach for it, tsking. “Let me help you with this, sweetheart.”

“Cass, we talked about this,” you repeat, “And you can’t go to the lobby buck ass naked.”

His grin is shit-eating.

“What? Afraid you might have to fight for my goods?” he wiggles his eyebrows as you wrench your luggage from his hand.

“Don’t start with this,” you answer, leaning up for one last kiss. “You and I both know that I’ll take anyone down who tries to get a look at what’s mine.”

Cassian hums against your lips, his large hands settling on your hips. “I like it when you act all possessive, sweetheart. Makes me so hard for you.”

You let out a breathless sigh, pressing even further into him, pinning his cock between your hips. Cassian bucks and you clench your thighs together, glaring up at him.

“I don’t have the time for this,” you say, sadly.

Cassian nips at the juncture of your shoulder and throat, already distracted by the sweet scent of the lingering perfume on your skin. He hums and the feeling rakes down your spine, rattling your senses.

“I’ll call you a car,” he says between open mouthed kisses that have you craning your neck to give him more room. “But please come back to bed until it comes.”

You bite your lip. This isn’t a good idea. You’re already late, and who knows how long the lines will be at security or how far your gate is. What if they’re moved up your flight?

But his eyes are just too eager, filled with the promise of one last good dicking down until he sees you again, in two weeks.

“Fine,” you give in. It’s early, maybe Cassian can get you on the next flight instead. He’s already helping you from your clothes, as much as he loves seeing you in them, they look much better on the floor. “But we have to make it quick.”

#cassian #cassian x reader #modern cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #modern!cassian #rugby!cassian #cassian au #change your ticket

[ladynestaarcheron]

Who by Water - Part One

masterpost - ao3

back at it again at krispy kreme! a new wip where nesta's death magic means something. starts off a/cosf-ish setting, but mostly au. enjoy! (there will be disturbing content in this one and more explicit things later)

When Nesta goes six weeks without speaking to the family, Feyre decides it’s time to step in. A trip to the cabin, she deems, is what she needs--it had helped all of them, once. Since they assume Nesta won’t go for her own sake, they propose it as a mandatory group trip. Cassian isn’t there when she tells her (at Feyre’s insistence), but he can’t imagine it's pleasant. Nevertheless, when he arrives at the manor early morning on the appointed day, Nesta sits quietly in their preferred living room, her cup of coffee untouched in front of her.

She looms like a threat; sidelined and avoided, but they are all too wary of her for it to be considered ignoring. Her sisters sit on either side of her, Elain with a hand on her thigh, and Feyre pushing her mug towards her every few seconds, but neither of them speaks to her. Afraid, Cassian thinks, of pushing her too far, pushing her away. But this can’t be right. This can’t be the way.

She’s halved herself in weight since he last saw her. Her hair, coiled in a perfect crown, is a dull blond instead of her sisters’ shining gold. The bruises under her eyes make him think she had a long night, make him sick to think of who would take her to bed like this, when she appears as though a caress would shatter her into a million pieces.

At eight, they rise to winnow, bidding Amren farewell. One of them must stay in Velaris at all times; they’ll trade off. Cassian’s shift is tomorrow. He’s dreading it; secretly, he doesn’t trust the rest of them with Nesta.

Feyre and Elain have planned their days meticulously. They all cook breakfast together with the fresh ingredients waiting for them. He’s in charge of the omelets. He doesn’t even know if Nesta likes eggs.

She sits on the couch, by the window, staring out unseeing. Elain puts a mug of tea in her hands, a plate of a buttered hot bun beside her. Nesta mutters something to her he can’t overhear.

Cassian hates this part. They’re all supposed to be here, act natural, then slowly fade into the background. Let Nesta acclimatize, find something she likes, and then Feyre and Elain will step in. It’ll be easier this way, Feyre argued. Nesta won’t agree to talk to them, be with them, but if she’s avoiding the whole bunch and finds a quiet, peaceful place, then she’ll let her sisters join her. Then they can talk.

Whether his aversion to this plan is that he’s bitter he’s not a bigger part is irrelevant; it won’t work because Nesta won’t be manipulated into accepting help. At least, not this way. There needs to be a more sophisticated plan. She needs to be active in some way. Cassian tried to pitch some sort of volunteer program, or even a job, something with structure that would help Nesta feel purposeful.

But he didn’t get a vote, as Feyre flatly told him. So he’ll be here on this trip, silently observing her, taking notes, and when it inevitably fails, he’ll swoop in with his idea which will be...something he comes up with over the next few days.

Master of Strategies, he thinks drily to himself.

Nesta wanders away before they finish breakfast, but he can spot her from the window. She’s chosen a heavily shaded spot under a tree. Her back is to him, but he’d bet both his wings she’s not reading the book propped open in her lap.

Perhaps the fresh mountain air is doing her good. The quiet. The breeze.

No one approaches Nesta for the next few hours as they clean up after breakfast and prepare their picnic lunch. When they all go outside for their hike, Elain goes to fetch her. The two of them trail behind the group, Elain pointing out flora every now and then and Nesta largely ignoring her.

“You had a broach like a violet, Nesta, remember?”

“I do,” she says, in a voice that is quiet but cannot be called soft. Cassian aches to hear it, aches as he pretends like he did not and continues talking to Mor at the front of the group. They walk for about an hour--an easy enough trek, and they go slowly, but too long, he thinks, for Nesta. She’s too weak for the journey. But she doesn’t complain, though her breathing grows uneven quickly. Maybe she’ll be tired enough that she’ll actually eat. 

They settle at a cliff overlooking the sea. He and Az spread out a blanket. Elain sits Nesta down in a corner and Feyre joins them. “It’s called Widow’s Peak,” she tells them. “Good name, right?”

Elain extends her neck. “It’s a straight drop down?”

“Yeah. That’s where the name is from. A female kept taking husbands who kept dying. She was poisoning them and throwing their bodies down here. They smoothed the side of the cliff.”

“That’s a horrific story, Feyre.”

“Well, I hardly think it’s real, Elain...”

“Did she throw herself down?” Nesta interrupts. “The widow.”

“Oh,” Feyre says, as the group falls silent. She looks to Rhys.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think so.”

“Who wants fruit salad?” Elain asks.

Cassian bites his tongue. She had spoken now, of her own volition. Who cares if it was not a pleasant subject? If that’s what she wants to talk about, that’s what they should talk about.

But Rhys shoots him a look, so he only scowls into the glass of cider Mor passes to him.

They lounge around for another hour or so, before walking back. Nesta doesn’t speak again except to tell Elain she’s going to take a nap, and then for dinner when she refuses a slice of roast beef Feyre offers her.

But Cassian goes through it all in his mind. Every movement, every utterance. He shouldn’t wait for this to fail; he should do something before it ends. If she wanders out of her room, he’ll definitely pounce on the opportunity, but he won’t wake her up. Feyre’s cleared the rooms of alcohol, so that if she wants a drink, she’ll have to brace them in the kitchen. Perhaps he can swipe some and bribe her into a quiet corner. Splitting a bottle of wine might be an idea.

When Azriel switches shifts with Amren and she arrives, she doesn’t waste any time. “Where is she?” she asks immediately.

“Nesta went to bed, Amren.”

“We hiked,” Rhys says, voice warning.

Amren ignores this. “And she passed out?”

“She’s not used to it,” Feyre snaps. “It’s perfectly reasonable for her to go to bed early.”

“What’s the point of this if you’re just going to let her sulk in her room the whole time?”

“We just told you she hiked with you today. If you can’t handle it, you can go right back to Velaris.”

Cassian meets Mor’s eyes. She shakes her head at him. It’s not that he agrees with Amren, just that he disagrees with Feyre. 

Well, fine, maybe he agrees with Amren a little. The don’t-leave-Nesta-alone part. It can’t be right. Not like this.

The loaded silence stifles them all for a few seconds longer, before Mor breaks it to say, “Are we going to the beach tomorrow?”

“You can if you’d like,” Feyre says, looking away from Amren. “We’re baking. We might join you in the afternoon.”

They all hear the retort Amren bites back, but no one says anything on the matter for the rest of the evening.

---

The cabin is quieter when Nesta wakes than it had been when she had gone to bed. Most of them, she presumes, are out. Her sisters are probably still around to hover, so she takes her time dragging herself out of her room.

Indeed the pair of them are waiting for her in the kitchen. “Good morning!” Elain cries, spotting her first.

“Elain made pastries, Nesta, look.”

They pull her into these projects every so often, but this one is by far the most irritating. No space to pull away and duck into a bar. They probably think it’s genius--no matter, it’ll last for a week or so, and then they’ll go back to their regular lives. She’s learned her lesson, she can’t go over a month without attending a luncheon or whatever party they’ve planned. Fine. She can handle showing up for a few hours every other week. That way they’ll manage ignoring her the rest of the time, guilt-free, and won’t push her into something like this to feel better about themselves.

If once Nesta had felt shame over thinking such venomous thoughts about Elain and Feyre, she no longer remembers. It’s all numb now.

They spend the morning baking, which means Elain bakes and Feyre stirs whatever she tells her to, and Nesta watches. They bring up rose-colored, false memories of their life before. She nods along, head lightly aching for a drink.

“We’re going to go to the beach, Nesta,” Feyre says when they have decided enough bonding time has passed. “Want to join?”

“No,” she says, rising. “I’ll read instead.”

To their credit, they do not suggest she read at the beach. They bid her goodbye sweetly and leave her four fragrant rolls she won’t touch.

Reading her book is more glossing over the same few paragraphs over and over again, and eventually, she grows restless. The alcohol is all magically locked behind cases so she can only drink with them; the rest of the house is dry. She moves without thinking about it, trying not to think of anything at all. An occurrence that has been growing more and more common--frightfully, she might say, if she still felt fear.

The weather is nicer than in Velaris. The air is crisp, clean. There are too many smells in the city, from the markets, from the people. Perfumes and paints and heavy food that makes Nesta sick. She skips most meals now; she obviously doesn’t need the food, and the hollow pit in her stomach isn’t from hunger anyway.

She doesn’t think it’s been an hour when she reaches Widow’s Peak, the cliff from yesterday, though that’s how long it had taken then. A glance down at her watch  confirms it. Only half an hour. She breathes deeply as a gust of wind hits her face; she hadn’t realized she was rushing.

The waves crashing on the cliffside below sound louder than they had yesterday. Menacing. She hates herself for thinking it, but she can’t help it. Water will always terrify her now. Not even drowning--she supposes, logically, there’s no need to fear drowning--but the water itself. How high would it crash? Could it climb up the side of the mountain, grab her, pull her in? She knows what it's like to be thrown around in the blind darkness. The worst way to die; she’s certain of it.

She stands--when had she sat down?--and tries to back away, look away from the sea. Shutting her eyes tight, she takes a step. Another. Back, she tells herself. Back.

Opening her eyes, she sees she hasn’t moved at all. Or has she gone closer? Nesta can’t tell. I don’t want this, something inside of her screams. But she can’t listen.

It’s like a drug. Worse than the alcohol.

Another step. Another.

She can feel the water climbing up to greet her. See it through her eyelids, shut again. 

Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the moment.

I can take a step back. I’m in control.

But it’s a lie. She falls, or jumps, or is pushed, but either way the water grabs her before she breaks the surface, and she thinks, This has to be the worst way to die, but she doesn’t live to make the verdict. Her spine cracks upon hitting the force of the sea, and she is gone before she can feel the full brunt of the cold.

---

The beach day is fun, but Cassian barely notices. He goes through the motions, waiting for afternoon when the Archerons arrive...without Nesta.

“She’s reading,” Feyre explains, in lieu of a greeting. 

Fine. But that means that he’s not going to see her all day, and he’s on shift in Velaris tonight. He counts the hours till they all winnow back to the cabin--but Nesta isn’t there.

Feyre and Elain are unconcerned. “She went for a walk.”

“She was exhausted after yesterday,” he argues. “Why would she go far?”

“Well, she’s not here. So she obviously went somewhere, and she had to have walked. Don’t stress over it, it’s a good thing.”

“This isn’t right,” he says. “I’m going to look for her.”

He kicks off high into the sky, circling in lower rounds every time he makes a loop, but Nesta is not in the woods.

He forces himself to treat this as he would a rescue. It won’t do to panic and lose his head. Where would Nesta go? Perhaps the beach? She had seen it from the cliff the day before...

He settles down at Widow’s Peak, gazing at the horizon, the shore. The strip they had visited today isn’t visible.  He can smell her scent here, too stong to be from yesterday. She had come here, saw the beach, and decided she wanted to come too. Perhaps she’s wandering there, looking for them.

Combing the shore with his eyes, Cassian flies along the coastline, back and forth, until he can no longer pretend that she’s there. Are there caves around? Perhaps she’s hiding in one of them. But why would she do that? Where else could she have possibly gone? Unless she learned to winnow and never told any of them.

Callin to Rhys with his mind, waiting for answer, he paces the length of the beach. Her scent isn’t here. He looks around piles of rocks, hoping to see her clothes neatly folded, as though she had decided to go for a swim--but honestly, he doesn’t like the idea of her swimming out here alone. The waves can get unpredictable, and it’s getting dark...

“Hey,” Az says, appearing. “Rhys said you haven’t found her.”

“No.” He looks out at the sea. Surely if she’s anywhere here, she must come up for air sometime.

“We’re all looking now. Feyre and Elain are nervous.”

About time. “Do you think she can winnow?”

“No. Mor’s looking in Velaris anyway.”

 Cassian can’t help but hope Mor isn’t the one to find her. There’s no reason to push those two together. But it’s better for her to have snuck back to Velaris; at least then they’ll know she’s been safe this whole while. Even if it means she’s keeping secrets from them.

“Something’s off,” Cassian says. “Where have you looked?”

“They’re on foot in the woods now.”

“Her scent?”

“We’re looking, Cass,” Az says. “Come on. She’s not here.”

“She was at Widow’s Peak. She had to have left from there--”

“What?” Az prods.

“She’s not in the woods.” He’s going to be sick.

“What is it?”

“She was at Widow’s Peak. She’s not in the woods. Az, she’s--she’s--”

“I’ll get Rhys,” he says immediately. Only magic can track someone in the water.

But he doesn’t need to go. To his left, twenty feet off the shoreline, he sees it: a flash of white peaking through the waves.

With a roar, Cassian throws himself forward.

She’s the only thing he can see, but not as she is. He can’t see this bloated, crumpled form in his arms, can’t see her blue lips as he lowers her onto the sand, nor her still chest beneath his hands. As he pumps his arms against her breasts, he can only see her curled lip in her father’s home, her tears as the queens refuse aid to the humans, her ghost of a smile as Rhys jokes about her position as emissary. He does not hear Rhys appearing as Az calls for him; Mor arriving with Amren, he can only hear her shrieks as she fights for her life with Hybern, her screaming his name on the battlefield, her snarls at him to leave her alone, and the entirely unpleasant voice of the Bone Carver: How lovely she is—new as a fawn and yet ancient as the sea. How she calls to you. A queen, as my sister once was. Terrible and proud; beautiful as a winter sunrise.

 “Cassian.”

“She needs air! Az--”

Azriel falls to his knees beside him, pumping Nesta’s precious heart as Cassian titles her head back and breathes. Someone is sobbing, but Cassian ignores them. She needs more air. More. More.

“Cassian, you have to stop.”

“Shut up!” He switches hands with Az now--he can do it best, he knows how.

How the wind moans her name. Can you hear it, too?

“He’s not going to stop. Oh, fuck, this isn’t happening. Gods, what are we going to do?”

“He has to stop. He’s...there’s no reason.”

Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.

“Cassian. CASSIAN.” Someone clamps down on his shoulders. This time, they don’t let him shrug them off. “Cassian,” Mor says, and her voice is choked. Was the sobbing hers? “Cassian, you have to stop. I’m sorry. She’s gone. Nesta’s dead.”

“She’s NOT.”

But Mor’s words break the spell: he can see her now.

Her graceful neck is tilted at a horrific angle. Her eyes are shut , face frozen in a twist. Her skin, like a princess’, he had once thought, is swollen and cold to his touch. He drops his head to her chest, and hears nothing.

He shoots upward as he feels movement--but it’s only his own sobs. He had been the one crying. Because his body knew, even before he did.

“Oh, gods, Cassian...”

Perfect lips, frozen violet. Braided hair, dull and strewn around. Eyes shut tight. Forever. Forever.

“Feyre’s asking me...oh, gods, what am I going to tell her?”

“Shut up.”

Cassian is barely aware he’s spoken, but Rhys drops his eyes to him, softening. “Sorry, Cass, I didn’t mean--”

“Shut up. Go...get away. Get away from her. Leave her alone.”

Rhys takes a step back raising his arms. “I’m not trying to hurt her, Cass. Come on. We’ll get you inside. You’re in shock.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

“Of course not,” he says smoothly. “We’ll have the morticians here soon. They’ll clean her up so you can say goodbye. But you have to let go of her now, Cassian.”

Cassian looks down. She’s in his arms, head resting on his lap. He brings her up to settle her against his chest. “Go away,” he repeats.

“Cassian,” Amren says softly. She’s not crying, but her eyes are empty. “You have to put her down.”

“You get away from her,” he says, keeping his voice low. “You’re not her friend anymore. She hates you.”

“Cassian.”

“Cass, come on,” Mor says, reaching a hand out. He lurches backwards, tightening his grip on Nesta.

“Get away from her. She--she hates you, Mor. Why are you even here? What is this? She hates you all, why is everyone here?”

“I think he needs to be restrained,” Azriel says quietly. “I think you should call Madja.”

“She’s on her way with the morticians,” Rhys says, matching his tenor. “I want her cleaned up before Feyre and Elain see her.”

Mor sniffles. “Poor girls...they loved her so much--”

“Shut up!” He can’t stand to hear this. This is all wrong. This shouldn’t have happened. She didn’t want to come, what is wrong with them? What is wrong with him? Why didn’t he argue? Why didn’t he--oh, gods, he could’ve--and now--now--

“This is your fault,” he says aloud.

“This is no one’s fault, Cassian.”

“Did she fall?” Mor whispers. “Or...”

“I don’t think she could have gotten a drink. I don’t think she fell.”

“Oh, poor Feyre and Elain, I can’t even imagine--”

“SHUT UP!” he shouts. “You don’t even care--”

“Of course we care!” Mor cries, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, Cassian, but she’s gone! I’m sorry! We have to...you don’t have to do this, you should go--”

“I’m not leaving you with her. I’m not--I’m taking her--”

“Cassian, sit down--”

“I’m going,” he snarls. “We’re walking.” Nesta hates flying. He marches down the shore, Nesta tucked firmly in his arms, Rhys’ magic trailing tentatively behind him.

“Do something before I will,” Amren warns. “She’s not his. This is fucking insane.”

“He’s mourning, Amren,” Mor hisses. “Be sensitive.”

“You keep quiet, girl, he’s right--you’ve got nothing to do with this.”

“They’re not right, Rhys--”

Az rushes in front of him, blocking his path. “I’m not going to hurt you or Nesta,” he says. “But you have to put her down. All right?”

“No. She doesn’t want sand in her dress.” He knows it’s the truth.

“Cassian, she’s dead. You have to listen to me.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Cassian--”

“She’s NOT DEAD.”

Mor whimpers behind him and Azriel deflates, but Cassian doesn’t care. He knows. He knows she’s not gone. She can’t be. He would die if she were gone, and he’s still here, so she must be, too.

“Cass...”

“I can feel it. Get away. She needs space. I can feel it.”

Azriel widens his eyes. “Cassian, put her down--”

“No--I know--”

“I know. I--put her down. I--I felt it too.”

There is a beat of silence. Amren breaks it first. “That’s the wrong thing to say--”

“I’m not joking,” Azriel says flatly. His shadows curve around his face. “Cassian, put her down. Gently.”

Cassian glances back at Rhys, Mor, and Amren. “Okay.”

He lowers her to the ground, resting her head upon his lap.

Az and Rhys step forward.

“Az, what are you?”

“Wait a moment.”

They do. A minute. Nearly two. Then--

“That was a heartbeat,” Amren blurts out.

Mor hesitates. “I--I know you both loved her very much--”

“Hang on, Mor,” Rhys says, crouching beside Nesta. He frowns, holding a hand up. “I won’t touch her, Cass. This won’t hurt. I’m just...” Magic swirls at his fingertips as he combs the air over her. “That’s...not possible.”

“Call the healers,” Az says, serious.

Cassian looks over frantically, desperate to see what they see. She is still frozen. She is still broken. He cannot feel life inside of her--but he knows she isn’t dead.

“Nesta,” he says aloud. “Please--please just--please come back now. Please.”

“I think it’s really cruel to do this to him,” Mor says. “It’s been far too long, Rhys, you know that.”

“Please, Nesta.”

“She’s not...all gone, Mor.”

“Just open your eyes,” Cassian encourages, wiping away one of his tears that hit her face. “Please, Nesta, please, please just open your eyes.”

“But Rhys--”

“Hush,” Amren barks. “Something just happened.”

They all fall silent. Even Cassian stops his pleading, looking at her face, her beautiful face, and then--it changes.

Blood rush.

Cassian’s hand shoots to her chest--heartbeat.

A groan, though her lips do not part. Cassian cries out. A crack of her neck--back where it should be. And then the most beautiful sight in the world: coughing up water. Nesta, coughing up water.

Cassian holds her on her side, his other hand rubbing her back as she vomits. “It’s all right, Nesta, it’s all right.”

She gasps a few times--then stops. She can breathe. She’s breathing. She’s here, she’s alive. It was a horrible mistake, but she’s here, she’s okay--

She collapses back against him. Gazing up with her blue-grey eyes, she looks then to Az, to Rhys, to Amren, to Mor.

“This...” she mumbles, barely opening her mouth. “This is hell.”

She looks back to Cassian. Louder, clearly, she says, “You broke my ribs.”

Then she passes out.

#nesta archeron #acotar fic #nessian #acosf au #@dadrie this is for you

[thehighladywrites]

— “ an unexpected twist ”

⋆˙⟡ pairing: professor eris vanserra x reader, part 3

⋆˙⟡ summary: you spend every weekend at eris’s mansion, what happens this time? Who is Eris Vanserra and how come he is so rich on a professors salary? GASP A PLOT TWIST

⋆˙⟡ warnings: mentions of smut, tw talks of beron vanserra🤢, abusive childhood, eris dropping huge stacks of money on you, eris channeling his inner sugar daddy, you call him daddy for the first time ever, mentions of an unalive body.

⋆˙⟡ amara’s note: i’m not going to lie the plot twist is either a banger or the messiest thing i’ve ever written (pls be a banger)

part 1, part 2

In the gentle morning light, you lay there in his bed, your lover's bed, serenely unaware of him, enchanted by the sight of you.

Eris had been awake for hours, yet the idea of leaving the cocoon of your warmth never crossed his mind. He marveled at the sheer luck of having someone as incredible as you in his life.

Last night, he came to the realization that he had started to feel mushy and in love with you. The thought still rattled him, and he couldn't shake the slight wariness that you held the power to influence his feelings.

Feelings, thoughts, and open discussions were never entertained in the Vanserra household. Eris and his brothers had been raised by their abusive father, who subjected them to verbal, physical, and emotional abuse. Their father manipulated them into accepting and believing whatever suited his agenda.

Through the passing years, Eris had finely tuned his act as the heartbreakingly cold and scornful eldest son. The mask of cruelty clung to him so persistently that he found himself questioning if it was a facade or a painful reflection of his true self.

When his old man kicked the bucket, Eris felt like a ton of bricks was off his back – turns out, it was just an act. Now, with the nosy observer out of the picture, he went all out decorating his room, something he couldn't do growing up. At firat he felt stupid for being happy about being able to change his room because it was something so normalized but he realized how much it healed his inner child. No more walking on eggshells; he could finally kick back. Where did he celebrate his first taste of freedom? The same bar where he first bumped into you.

Grinning at the notion, Eris not only shed a heavy burden but also welcomed newfound brightness into his life. He was determined not to mess things up in any way.

Fully aware that his actions were objectively wrong, Eris couldn't muster the will to change course. He had succumbed to love, a fertile ground for obsession. While he concealed that side for now, he knew it would eventually surface.

The gentle stir in his arms brought Eris back to the present. A warm feeling enveloped his heart as he looked down at you, tenderly running his fingers through your hair, savoring the sweet moment.

Bending down, Eris pressed a gentle kiss on your head, catching the sweet aroma of the strawberry-scented shampoo you insisted he use. Amused by the fact that his hair had never been smoother, he looked at you with a smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Want to do something fun today?” he suggested.

Excited, you sat up straight, a huge grin on your face, eager for some fun. When you asked him what he had in mind, Eris leaned in, maintaining eye contact, and handed you a black card with a hint of mystery.

“Go crazy,” he smirked, settling in with his glasses, preparing to read the book laying on the nightstand.

You stared at the black card and then at him. The question lingered – how did a professor end up with a black card? Weren't those reserved for big spenders and invite-only privileges?

“There's no need to be shy, love. Ask whatever it is you want to ask,” he reassured you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Your cheeks warmed at how well he seemed to know you.

“How are you so rich? I mean, no offense, but I thought professors and teachers weren’t really that... well-off,” you inquired, genuine curiosity in your voice.

“I'm not only a professor, beautiful. I worked at my father’s company before he passed, and now I’m the owner and the CEO. Teaching is just a side job,” he explained, shedding light on his financial standing.

“Oh, I didn’t expect that. So what do you do?” you asked.

“Investment banking,” he replied quickly, not seemingly open to having a conversation about it.

You didn’t really know what that meant but you also really didn’t care. He had money and you were gonna spend it.

“Huh, okay. Does that mean I can buy whatever I want?” you tilted your head at him, a teasing expression on your face with slightly raised eyebrows.

“You can buy whatever you want. Start off by adding the card to your Apple Pay wallet. I want to pay for whatever it is you need. Don’t worry about anything anymore, my love.”

He kissed your forehead, and the gesture made your vision slightly blurry. Eris took such good care of you, and the desire to make him proud lingered in your heart. Wanting to lightheartedly joke with him you tell him how much he reminds you of a dominating sugar daddy.

“Yeah? A dom sugar daddy, huh? How about you come here and give me something sweet, then?”

His taunting voice almost turned your brain to mush. This dynamic was entirely new and felt amazing. Eris embodied a provider, protector, and lover, all in one. No more worrying about the bare minimum or small things – he treated you like a queen. Unlike people your age, he didn't play games or ask for something in return for his gestures; it was a standard for him, a refreshing change.

You were well aware that Eris's fucking would leave you in need of a nap, so you decided to playfully tease him now, saving the rest for later.

“I promise to give you something real sweet after I’m done shopping, daddy.”

Damn. You knew you should’ve saved it for later. The man grabbed your giggling form and quickly turned it into moans, whimpers and sobs.

—

Obviously and sadly you couldn’t go outside together and shop so you had to order things online, but it was fine because it was so much more convenient this way. With a few clicks, your numerous packages arrived. Was it rude to order so much on someone else’s card? Hmm… maybe for regular people, but not for you. The man had a black card aka no fucking limit. You could buy literally anything and it would go through. So you did what any sane person with an unlimited budget did.

You shopped your ass off.

Clothes, makeup, skincare, books – you turned his doorstep into a glam runway. Nails, lashes, hair appointments – basically, you scheduled a spa day for yourself via delivery. Waxes, new phone case, upgraded computer – you were basically giving your whole life a makeover. Better shoes, nicer bag – You didn't just shop; you leveled up your entire wardrobe.

When you saw the damage of your shopping spree in his living room your cheeks heated as you looked at him with an apologetic smile.

But Eris wasn’t mad, not in the slightest. There was truly no better feeling than being able to spoil you. He loved your facial expressions when you saw something that caught your eye, loved the way your eyes sparkled when you saw a cute piece of jewelry that you just had to have. Your unapologetic way of spending his money was such a turn on for him. You sure showed him how much you appreciate him…

—

The weekend with Eris was almost over, and the thought of going back to school didn't sit well with you. Being with him felt comfortable and safe, away from potentially judgmental eyes and consequences. Now, you had to act like he's just another professor, dealing with thirsty whispers from fellow students that made your fists tighten. And don't get started on Professor Jensen – despite your warnings, she still managed to hover around Eris. Guess you’d just prove your words weren’t just words and that being around Eris would give her consequences. The return to the school routine felt like a looming storm, and you weren't looking forward to it.

You voiced your concerns to him and he gave you comfort and promised that you’d be spending more time with each other next weekend and all weekends forward.

After your final night routine, you fall asleep together, finding comfort and warmth in each other's embrace. The room quieted down, and your drift off into a peaceful slumber.

—

However, the peace was short-lived. Hearing a muffled thud, you attempted to snuggle closer to Eris, only to find his heated presence absent. Sitting up, you assumed he might be in the bathroom. As minutes passed without his return, worry crept in, and the realization hit you – you had grown accustomed to his warmth, and now, sleep seemed impossible without him by your side.

You got a blanket and wrapped it around you, got into the fuzzy slipper he got you and went to look for him.

Shirtless, Eris stood there, speaking harshly into his phone. Another male voice emanated from the speaker, filled with concern and fear.

“I won't repeat myself. The deal happens tomorrow night, or you will face consequences. Inquire with your father. Oh, wait, that’s right, you can't.”

Eris's voice turned taunting and cruel, unlike the playful teasing you were familiar with. This was a cold demeanor you hadn't seen before, a stark departure from the Eris you had grown accustomed to.

“Eris?”

His entire body froze, not expecting to see you awake. He prayed to every god and whatever people prayed to these days that the man on the phone didn't hear your voice. Because there was no telling what he’d do if he found out Eris had a weak spot. He reminded the man of what he said and hung up before turning around and going back into the warm Eris you knew.

“What are you doing up, princess? It's 2 in the morning,” he smiled so warmly and softly at you, it nearly made you forget your words.

“I couldn’t sleep without you. What’s going on? You sounded angry, is everything okay?”

He looked at you with tenderness, grabbing your cheeks before kissing you softly.

“It was just one of my employees at the company who had been slacking off a bit. Don’t worry about me, my love. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You nodded at him, lifting your arms in a sleepy gesture for him to lift you up. With a chuckle and no difficulty, he complied.

Eris cradled your head in the crook of his neck, strategically shielding your view. Unbeknownst to you, his men worked silently in the background, discreetly cleaning up the dead body. He fervently prayed that your drowsiness kept you oblivious to the grim details.

Crossing his fingers, Eris also hoped the presence of his gun on the nearby table escaped your notice in the dimly lit room.

🏷️ taglist: @teenageeggscissorslawyer @daycourtofficial @nocasdatsgay @vellichor01 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @rowaelinsdaughter @meshellexplosionmurder @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @candyjaypoppins @natashachelsea @whatthefuckshappeningrn @acourtofbatboydreams

#talkswithamara #acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar imagine #i need eris so bad rn y’all i’m not joking #eris vandaddy #eris acosf #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra acowar #eris vanserra #eris acowar #eris acotar #eris x reader #professor eris vanserra #professor eris #professor x reader #student x professor #mafia au #mafia #mafia boss #mafia au acotar #mafia boss eris vanserra