#tacmc void

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { F O U R T E E N }

Chapter 14. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars.” ― Stephenie Meyer, Twilight (sure did)

Azriel couldn’t control his nerves which only made him more nervous. 

The second he knocked on the door, his hands were shaking. He had to shove them into his pockets to keep from showing his embarrassment, his anxiety. 

And when Elain opened the door? He was breathless.

He begged his mind to come up with something to say, but he came up short. He cursed, first in his head, then aloud, causing a bright, beautiful smile to capture Elain’s face. 

Azriel was weak in the knees.

“Hi,” he said, at last.

“Hi,” Elain replied, cheeks pink. 

“You look…” Azriel’s words trailed off, because anything he would have said would not have been good enough for the goddess standing in front of him.

“Thank you,” she said, anyways, stepping out of the doorframe and onto the front porch. “You, too.”

Nesta was in the hallway behind Elain, smiling mischievously, making Azriel feel even more uncomfortable than he felt. 

Uncomfortable, but excited.

He had been out with a handful of girls in the last few years, but none of them made him feel the same way that Elain did. She was different. She was perfect. 

Elain closed the front door softly behind her, Nesta disappearing behind it. 

“So,” Azriel said, clearing his throat. “You ready?”

Elain chuckled, softly, looking down at her dress. “Yes, I am.”

Azriel, realizing it was a stupid question, nodded and held out his hand. She happily accepted it and he helped her down the front porch steps, refusing to let go of her hand until they reached his truck. He opened the door, helped her inside, and let out a long, loose breath on his walk back to the driver’s side.

They road in silence, although it remained fairly comfortable. Azriel had never been good at taking the lead in the conversation, although it had always been easy with Elain.

With the exception of now.

He wanted to impress her but didn’t know why. He had never worried about impressing her before. But now? He felt like he suddenly wasn’t good enough. 

“So,” he began. “I hope you like Italian food.”

“Love it,” Elain assured him. 

“Good,” Azriel said, nodding his head uncontrollably. 

“Good,” Elain repeated.

Azriel felt the need to facepalm himself, but his hands only tightened on the steering wheel.

“Are you okay?” Elain asked, after a minute. 

Was he? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t answer, making the silence even more uncomfortable. In his mind, he scolded himself. 

But when he looked at Elain, he smiled. She was watching him, brow raised, amusement lighting up her deep, brown eyes. 

“I just want to be with you, Az,” she said, quietly. “I want you for you.”

The nerves didn’t leave him, but he laughed. He actually laughed, for the first time in a long time, his heart felt light. He nodded, carefully, reaching over the middle seat and taking her hand. 

~

Nesta and Cassian sat in Hale’s library, neither of them saying a word. 

He was nervous.

She was nervous for him. 

Hale had yet to arrive. 

“You okay?” Nesta whispered.

Cassian shook his head, but said no more.

By the time Hale entered the room, Nesta and Cassian were thrumming with anxiety and anticipation. 

He sat in a leather armchair, eyes on Cassian. “I’m glad you came. I was surprised. I thought my doorman was joking with me, honestly, when he said you were waiting in here.”

Nesta smiled, but Cassian’s expression didn’t change. 

“I wasn’t sure I was going to come, to be honest with you,” Cassian whispered.

Hale nodded. “I understand.”

Nesta felt uncomfortable, as if she was intruding on something precious. She pretended to fade into the background as the two men stared at one another.

“I’m not sure what I wanted to tell you,” Cassian began. “But, I know that I wanted to see you again.”

Hale’s hard demeanor softened. 

“I’m glad you came.”

Cassian nodded, and Nesta suddenly regretted her offer to join him in his meeting with Hale. Nesta loved Hale, and she had grown fond of Cassian, as well, but sitting between the two of them left her feeling more uncomfortable than she had in a long while. She wanted them to have a moment alone. But, she sat perfectly still. 

“I want you to meet my sister,” Cassian said, after a minute of silence. “Cecily.”

Hale let out a long, loose breath. “I’d love to meet her.”

Cassian nodded, jaw locked. “I’ll bring her by tomorrow?”

“Maybe we can have lunch?” Hale suggested.

Cassian nodded, again, and that was it. The two men said no more. Nesta wasn’t sure what she expected to happen during this meeting, but she hadn’t expected it to be so short. Nonetheless, Nesta gave Hale a hug before walking out of the mansion with Cassian at her side.

The minute the door shut behind them, Cassian let out a high, manic laugh.

Nesta raised a brow. “You’re scaring me.” 

Cassian shook his head, smile still spread wide on his lips. “That...was nothing like I expected it to be. I had a speech planned out in my head, that I arranged on the drive over here...and it went nothing like I had planned.”

“And how did it go in your mind?” Nesta asked as they strode further down the driveway.

“Far less…” Cassian paused, “awkward.”

Nesta barked a laugh, unable to control herself. She had to agree. It was awkward.

“Don’t laugh,” Cassian muttered, but he was smiling. “At least I went.”

Nesta’s smile softened. “Yes, at least you went.”

Cassian stopped and turned to Nesta. “I...want to thank you-”

“It’s not a big deal-”

“Yes, it is.”

Nesta’s eyes met his, and for once, her breath caught in her throat. 

“Why do you want to help me?” Cassian asked, quietly. “You’ve been pestering me for months, but we hardly know one another.”

Nesta tilted her head to the side. “I have spent a long time wondering if anyone else feels the way I feel. When I met you...we feel the same. You understand me, and I understand you. We don’t have to know everything about one another...we understand each other. Our minds, yours and mine...they are the same.”

Cassian nodded, hazel eyes softening. “I have waited for someone to come along who understands the chaos that is my mind.”

“It seems we’re both a little crazy,” Nesta said.

Cassian chuckled. “It seems so.”

Nesta stopped in the driveway and faced him. “So, what now?”

Cassian met her gaze and smiled. Not a fake smile, not the cocky one he typically gave out, but a real, genuine smile. “Now we move forward.”

“And how do we do that?” Nesta asked.

Cassian’s grin widened. “Want to walk with me?”

Nesta pretended to weigh his question for a minute before answering, “Okay.”

~

Rhysand stood in the threshold of his old bedroom, heart heavy.

He hated it. He hated those four walls, the four walls that once seemed to close in on him so often. Yet, he was back, bags in hand, ready to sleep in the bed he had once slept in. 

His dad hadn’t said a word when Rhys had told him that he was moving back in. He obviously couldn’t play basketball, which was the original agreement, thanks to the crash that left his body broken and bruised.

Reina was happy to have him back. She had greeted him with a big hug and a soft sob, helping with his bags back into his old bedroom, right across the hallway from hers.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Reina said from behind him.

Rhysand twirled around, eyeing his little sister as she meandered in her own doorway.

“I know it wasn’t an easy choice,” she continued, “but I like having you here.”

Rhysand nodded, and turned back to his room. He had only been gone for a few months, but it felt like a lifetime ago that he occupied that room. His childhood trophies sat on floating shelves beside his bed, posters covered his walls. 

He had trouble entering. Not only because it was his father’s house, but because he was a different person the last time he had been in that room. “Rhys?” Reina asked, concerned from the doorway behind him. 

Rhysand took a step inside his old bedroom. “I’m glad to be back too, Rein.” 

Reina smiled. “You don’t have to be here, you know. Me and mom were getting along just fine. You deserve to live your own life.”

Rhysand turned, ever so slowly, and met his little sister’s gaze. “This is where I belong.”

“With dad?” she asked, arms crossed.

“No, with you,” Rhysand corrected. “And with mom.”

“And when you go to college next year?” 

Rhysand frowned. He hadn’t thought that far. He would be going to college next year. At least, that was the plan. And then what? It would be him moving out all over again. Unless he went to a local community college. It wasn’t his dream, but Velaris Community College was nice. He could go there, if it meant staying with his family.

If it meant keeping Reina and his mother safe.

When Rhys said nothing in return, Reina sighed. “I love you, Rhys. But you were so miserable here-”

“I’ll be fine,” Rhysand said, forcing a smile. “It’s going to be great. I promise.”

Reina nodded, although she still seemed unsure. After giving him a gentle nudge in the arm, she left him alone to his thoughts. 

Rhysand felt lost in the quiet. He had felt so certain coming back home, but now that he was there, the nerves were settling in. 

He had yet to see his father. He and his mother were gone on a business trip. When Rhysand arrived and found Reina alone, he was half relieved. He hadn’t realized how intimidated he still was of his dad, after all these years. 

But he was doing the right thing.

He knew he was.

Just, unfortunately, sometimes the right thing was the hard thing.

And this new situation of Rhys’ was difficult as hell.

~

Their date had gone better than Elain thought possible.

Azriel was the perfect gentleman. He treated her with the utmost respect from the time they got to the restaurant to the time that they left. He pulled out her chair, offered his jacket when she caught a chill from sitting on the patio, and grabbed for the check before she could even offer otherwise. He smiled at her constantly, ate with forced manners, and laughed at every lame joke that she attempted. 

On the car ride home, their fingers danced against one another’s. Elain was in paradise. She had never had such a perfect first date.

Her heart felt lighter.

Her soul was just a little bit freer.

When he pulled into her driveway, she didn’t want it to end. 

“When will I see you again?” Elain asked.

“Soon,” Azriel promised. “As soon as possible, I hope.” 

Elain’s smile widened. “I would ask you to come in, but everyone’s home and…”

“I understand,” Azriel chuckled. “Can I call you?”

“Of course,” Elain smiled, fingers still brushing along his.

Azriel cleared his throat. “Good.”

“Good,” Elain repeated. 

Before she could get anything else out, Azriel met her gaze. And before she could comprehend what she was doing, Elain leaned across the center of his truck and pressed her lips softly to his.

At first, he tensed beneath her touch, but his hands soon found comfort along her lower back.

Elain let all doubt fall out of her as she crawled across the bench and settled onto his lap. 

She hadn’t realized that Azriel’s hands could be so comforting and lustful all at once. And yet, she did not push him away. Instead, she melted in his arms and fell apart.

#tacmc void #elriel #nessian #feysand #acotar #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm

[snelbz]

Light Up the Ice - Chapter 11

Summary: Aelin Galathynius has never really been into sports. Yes, she likes to keep in shape, and she works out, but watching people run up and down a field, trying to keep a leather ball away from each other? It’s always seemed a bit childish to her, and decidedly NOT a way for a grown adult to make a living.

Rowan Whitethorn has recently been drafted by the Terresen Staghorns, one of best teams in the EHL (Erilean Hockey League). And since he moved to Terresen from Wendlyn, it’s been hard for him to get more than 30 seconds alone from someone demanding a picture with him. Getting drafted straight out of college wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he’s not complaining. Until he accidentally meets a girl. More specifically, until he accidentally meets his neighbor. She seems to have no idea who he is and for some reason, that’s refreshing. But will she still want to be with him once he shows her the truth?

Light Up the Ice Masterlist

My Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Co-written with @tacmc​.

Warnings: language, smut - this chapter is 18+.

A/N: No tag list this week, still working on how I should tackle that bad boy. But enjoy and look for Chapter 12 later this week!

Rowan was fully aware of Aelin’s hand creeping up his thigh. 

The radio was off and the two remained silent. All that could be heard was Rowan’s shuddering breaths and the intense beating of his heart inside of his chest.

At least, he was fairly sure she could hear it.

Aelin didn’t look at him, but that delicate hand kept slowly moving up and down his thigh atop his trousers. He looked over at her as he sped down the street, back to their apartment building. Her lips were slightly parted, her turquoise eyes wild.

He cursed himself for buying a manual car, that he’d let Fenrys talk him into the fancy, sports car, rather than the reasonable SUV he’d had his sights on. He couldn’t remove his hand from the gear shift, not on the city streets they currently drove on.

He wanted to tease her as they drove, wanted to feel if she was as wet as he hoped she would be. Twice now, she’d had her mouth on him, but he was yet to touch her, yet to explore what it took to make her writhe and gasp and moan.

Tonight, that would change in every way possible.

They had less than a mile to go, but it felt like far more than that. Every second that passed had Rowan nearly about to combust. 

As soon as they pulled into the parking garage and Rowan brought the car to a stop, Aelin was reaching across the car and turning his face towards her, her lips crashing into his. She cupped him through his slacks, and he groaned into her mouth.

The husky chuckle that left her was enough to make Rowan growl, “We need to go upstairs.”

“You aren’t enjoying this?” She breathed, squeezing gently.

The noise that left Rowan was guttural.

“Keep on, be my guest,” he breathed, his lips brushing her ear. “But I’m taking you, one way or another. You decide whether that’s going to be in my backseat or in bed.”

She lifted a brow but made no indication of moving. Instead, her lips found his, yet again, and she was nowhere near gentle. 

Aelin giggled into his mouth as he pulled her over the console and onto his lap, the horn going off as her back brushed the wheel, echoing in the concrete garage.

Rowan just pulled her tighter against him as her knees snuggly settled on both sides of his thighs.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the kisses growing slower and deeper. Aelin’s fingers were gripping Rowan’s shoulders so tightly, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find small, crescent-shaped holes in the fabric when he took his jacket off. It didn’t help that while one hand was pressed firmly to her lower back, keeping her body tightly against his, the other was knitted into her hair, tugging on the strands.

Suddenly, Aelin’s hips jerked and she gasped quietly. She repeated the motion and the hand in her hair lowered to grip her hips, urging her to do it again and again.

Rowan felt like he was sixteen again, dropping Lyria off after a date and trying to get what time in with her he could before curfew befell them both.

But he wasn’t sixteen anymore, and the girl in his lap was not his inexperienced first girlfriend. No, Aelin was a woman, a woman who constantly filled every thought and whose face was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing before bed. 

And there was not enough room in this car to do the things he wanted to do to her.

Pulling his lips from hers, he breathed, “Let’s go upstairs.” She nodded, and he could tell how frantic it was, how erratic her breathing had become. He tilted her chin up, her turquoise-and-gold eyes clouded with lust, and asked, “Are you already close, Aelin?”

Her cheeks were flushed, but he could see them darken. “It’s been…a while,” she admitted.

Rowan nodded, slowly, and said no more as they got out of the car and went up the stairs. Rowan’s car honked in the distance as it locked.

His hands cupped under her ass as he carried, he didn’t set Aelin down once.

Not wanting to wait until she dug her own key out of her bag, Rowan headed straight for his door, unlocked the lock, and crossed the threshold. The door was shut with Aelin’s back, which was quickly pressed up against it. His mouth found hers hungrily, urgently.

Her hands were under his suit jacket, pushing it over his shoulders. He shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. Rowan’s hips were pressing into her, holding her against the door, as he lifted the jersey off of her body. It joined his suit jacket, and Rowan’s lips found her neck.

Aelin groaned his name quietly, and something inside Rowan snapped.

Before Aelin could decipher what was happening, she was being dropped onto his couch, and Rowan was pulling her boots off one by one before roughly undoing her jeans. He tugged them off and his mouth attached to her lace-covered sex.

The moan that tore from Aelin was the single most erotic noise he’d ever heard.

She was so wet, so ready, and Rowan had to remind himself to take his time. If it had been a while for Aelin, he would make it all worth the wait. 

She breathed his name and his shoulders tensed as the single word crept down his spine, leaving chills in its wake. Rowan’s lips pressed against her sex once, twice, then his teeth pulled the thin lace fabric over her panties and tugged, gently. 

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed, his breath warm against her. 

“Everything,” she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders. “All of it, all of you.” There was a pause as Rowan tugged on her panties, yet again, with his teeth. “Taste me.”

He would oblige her, if for no other reason than the memory of the taste of her, off her fingers, had been on his mind for days. He could only imagine how sweet she would be straight from the source.

His fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties and Aelin lifted her hips, letting him pull the pale lace down her legs. When he pulled back, loosening his tie and tossing it to the side, he couldn’t help but run an appreciative eye over her body.

She had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and one of her arms was above her head, clutching at the couch cushion. She still wore the soft pink, lace bra, but Rowan would make quick work of that later. Her legs were pressed together though, and with what he wanted to do, that wasn’t going to work. He tried to push her legs apart but she shook her head.

“Not until you lose that,” she breathed, reaching out and tugging on the collar of his dress shirt lightly.

Rowan chuckled, but didn’t protest. He pushed himself up on his knees and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. He watched Aelin’s eyes as he did so, watched how her eyes followed the slow motion of his fingers.

The second Rowan’s shirt hit the ground, Aelin’s legs spread wide.

He smirked, moving his fingers to the belt around his waist, removing it, before flicking the button of his slacks and letting them fall to the floor.

Aelin’s eyebrows rose as she took Rowan in, in all of his naked, muscular, tattooed glory. “I didn’t know you weren’t wearing underwear.”

The smirk on his face was one of distinct male pride. “Sometimes it’s just too constricting.”

Rowan dropped to his knees and settled himself between those legs, kissing the inside of her thigh, then the other. 

The second his lips made contact with her sex, a quiet sigh that left Aelin. Rowan dragged his tongue between her folds and the sigh became a gasp. Her fingers tugged on the short strands of his hair, which only urged him on.

He gripped her hips, pulling her ass to the edge of the couch, spreading her legs as wide as he could. He gazed up at her as he gave her a long, flat lick, then another, and another.

Aelin swore she was going to catch on fire, was going to physically combust as Rowan devoured her. And when his tongue, at last, flicked over her all too sensitive clit, she cried out, and Rowan repeated the motion again and again, until she was muttering his name like a reverent prayer.

He didn’t bother feeling sorry for their neighbors as Aelin’s volume increased.

There was no vulgarity in her curses, no shame in her screams. She held nothing back as she writhed beneath him, was nothing but confident as her eyes rolled back and she fell into an endless void of pure and utter ecstasy. 

She was completely and beautifully alive, and Rowan was lost in the image of her deep in pleasure.

It wasn’t long before her heels began to dig into his back, her screams became less intelligible and her legs began to shake slightly. Rowan looked up at her, groaning as he saw her head thrown back, her hand gripping her breast, her chest heaving.

Sensing his eyes on her, Aelin’s eyes opened and she looked down at him. Her gaze was wild, her eyes glazed and pupils blown out in her lust. Nearly none of the sparkling iris was visible. With his eyes on hers, Rowan sucked her clit between his lips.

And Aelin shattered.

Her hips bucked off the couch as her orgasm slammed into her and Rowan wrapped his arms around her legs, placing his large hand against her stomach. He held her down on the couch as he continued to worship her body, his tongue plunging in and out of her, before paying special attention to her clit again.

The noises falling from Aelin’s lips eventually became quieter and quieter and after a moment, the only only sound was her heavy breathing and the sound of Rowan’s lips kissing a path up her body. He paused at her chest, playing with the lace of her bra. Aelin’s eyes lazily opened and settled on him.

“Wow,” was all she said.

“Wow?” He repeated, quietly, licking his lips.

“Wow,” she said, one more time, softly, pulling on his face until his lips met hers. She could taste herself on his tongue.

Her body shuddered again in the aftermath, and she wrapped her arms around him with a soft, shaky laugh.

“You’re tongue has a ridiculous amount of talent,” she said.

Rowan only grinned. “And I’ve only just begun.”

“Is that so?” She whispered, rubbing her fingers through his wildly messy hair.

“Mmm.” The noise was an affirmation, but his lips had left hers and were back on her neck. He lightly sucked on the sensitive skin there. His teeth nipped lightly. “You have no idea.”

Her response was breathy. “Prove it.”

Rowan slowly pulled away, his eyes finding her hers, and the grin on his face was dangerous.

Before Aelin could react, Rowan had her over his shoulder, carrying her into his bedroom and tossed her on his bed. She giggled quietly, but didn’t have time to right herself before Rowan had flipped her over and grabbed her hips, pulling her up onto her knees.

His face was back between her legs, his tongue diving back into her sex and Rowan wrung three more orgasms from her, back to back to back.

When she was a quivering mess on the bed, her legs having given out somewhere between the third and fourth orgasm, Rowan trailed his fingers down her back before gently pushing one inside of her. Aelin moaned softly, and Rowan felt her tighten around his finger. He teased her with one more and asked, “You okay?”

She nodded, not saying anything, just enjoying the feel of his fingers filling her, working her, higher and higher again. She had never cum so much in such a short amount of time.

“Should I stop?” He asked, curving his fingers, searching for that spot he knew lay deep inside of her.

She shook her head, incapable of saying anything. To punctuate her reply, she tried to shift backwards, tried to urge him on, pushing him deeper, quicker, harder.

He pulled his fingers from her slick heat, and crawled up her body, pressing kisses along her back as he went. He leaned down, his lips against her ear. “What do you want, darlin’?”

She finally spoke, though her voice was high and breathy. “I want you to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked, quietly, nipping at the back of her ear. 

Aelin nodded, once, slowly, still trying to catch her breath. 

“Slowly?” he whispered, gripping her hips and pulling her ass back into him.

“It seems you don’t do anything without taking your time,” she breathed, and Rowan’s grin widened as his teeth gently found the side of her neck. 

“Is that a complaint?” Rowan grumbled. 

Instead of replying, Aelin lifted her ass, rubbing it against his bare cock. Rowan took a harsh breath through his teeth and Aelin chuckled quietly, burying her face into his comforter.

While he looked like the picture of calm, his control was getting dangerously close to snapping. He needed her, and he needed her now. He kissed her neck one last time before sitting up and gripping Aelin’s hips. He pulled her ass up until she was on her knees again and he stroked his cock.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he admitted, placing a hand on her lower back.

“Don’t care,” she mumbled, pushing her ass back against him.  “I’m on the pill. I need you. Please.”

He didn’t need to hear her say it again, didn’t need to be told twice. 

“Rowan,” she pleaded, and he fell into her without another word.

She gasped as he slowly slid his cock inside of her. Rowan’s eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back as he pulled her ass into him.

The apartment was silent, save for the sound of Aelin’s gasps and Rowan’s quiet grunts as he thrusted into her again and again. He tried to keep it slow, to let her adjust to his length, to let her lead and listen to her body. His fingers kneaded her hips, and he glanced down, watching as he slid in and out of her warm, hot center.

“Fuck, Ace,” he breathed. He wanted to smack her ass, wanted to slam into her as hard as he could and hear her scream his name. There would be time for that later though. For now, he was thriving on the sounds that fell from her lips as he pulled nearly all the way out, leaving just the head of his cock inside of her, and slid all the way back in.

Aelin reached back and unclasped her bra, removing it and throwing it to the side. Rowan tracked the motion, wanting so desperately to flip her over and finally worship her breasts. He had yet to see them, but he had a pretty good imagination.

She looked over her shoulder, as if reading his thoughts before pulling up her leg and turning herself around. Rowan tracked the motion, watched as she fell onto her back and met his hungry gaze. Her wild, untamed hair was spread out against his pillow, her beautiful breasts on full display. 

His eyes trailed down as he admired her body, then back up again as he thrust himself back inside.

She cried out softly, and Rowan lick his thumb before reaching down and rolling her pink, pebbled nipple between her thumb and finger. Aelin’s eyes rolled back in her head and he watched as her hand slipped between them and began to circle the sensitive nub at the apex of her sex.

The sight was almost as erotic as the sounds she began to make, her pussy clenching around him. He groaned, loving the feeling of being inside her.

And then she moaned his name.

Something concrete snapped inside of him, the tentative control he had over himself finally losing out, and he grabbed that hand she was using to play with herself. Pinning both of her hands above her head, Rowan laid over her, crashing his lips against hers, and his thrusts became harsh and quick and rough.

Aelin was groaning into his mouth and gripping his hands in her own. She bit his lip, and the sound that came from Rowan had her toes curling. Every ounce of her being was unravelling, and she suddenly lost all sense of who and where she was.

“I’m close,” she whimpered, throwing her head back. Rowan’s teeth found her throat, but his thrusts slowed, nearly stopping. He pulled almost all the way out and paused, nibbling on the skin of her neck.

She gripped his hair and tugged his face towards hers. “What are you doing?”

His lips brushed hers in a near-kiss. “You can’t cum yet.”

She tried to push her hips up into him, which only made him chuckle. She growled, “You’re a cruel, wicked man.” 

Rowan didn’t respond, he only kissed the side of her neck, sucking on the most tender of spots. He palmed her breast as he teased her, slowly inching his way back inside of her.

It was only a few minutes before he picked his pace back up, his lips unable to stay off her skin, kissing, biting, licking. He rested his forehead against hers and asked, “Are you still close?”

She nodded, her eyes shut, nails digging into the hard muscles of his back.

He nipped at the tip of her nose, wanting her attention. Aelin opened her eyes and gazed up at him. “Do you want to cum?”

She nodded again, breathless.

“Say it,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“I need to cum,” she whispered, one hand threading through his hair, holding him where he was. “Please.”

Please.

That word falling from her lips did things to him he wasn’t expecting, and Rowan hooked one of Aelin’s legs around his waist. He pulled all the way out, before slamming back into her, repeating the motion again and again and again until she came with a breathy moan, clinging to Rowan. Her body went rigid, save for her legs, which were quivering, locked around Rowan’s waist.

His lips crashed into hers in a bruising kiss and he fucked her fast and hard until she came down from her orgasm.

Her legs were still shaking, but she had gone nearly limp against the mattress.

“Good?” Rowan asked, smirking as he gazed down at her.

She nodded, not opening her eyes. “Very good.”

He kissed her gently, sweetly, so unlike what they’d just done, and they stayed like that for a few moments.

She pulled away, and asked, “Wait, did- did you not cum yet?”

The grin on Rowan’s face was almost childish, sheepish. “No, I’ve, ah, I’ve got pretty good stamina. Can go all night. Can be ready to go again after about five minutes if I do, though.”

Aelin’s eyebrows rose. “That’s good to know.”

“Aye?” He was chuckling quietly, and began kissing her neck again.

She caught him off guard, using his surprise against him, and rolled them. He was flat on his back, while she straddled him, his cock still nestled inside of her.

“Shit, that’s…full,” she breathed, adjusting to the new angle. With a devilish smile, Rowan flexed his hips, making it twitch inside of her. Aelin gasped and bucked her hips, which had Rowan’s smiling faltering, a quiet groan tumbling from him.

Those hips moved slowly as Rowan’s hands ran up her thighs and behind her ass. Although Aelin didn’t take her eyes off him, Rowan’s eyes fell shut, his mouth having fallen open. A low noise came from the back of his throat, a noise that Aelin thrived on.

Her hands slid up his abdomen and rested, palms flat atop his chest.

He could feel her nails gently digging into his skin, and he gripped her hips, helping guide her as she picked up speed. Her head fell forward and his name was a whisper on her lips. That sound, those two syllables, had Rowan growling as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down and roughly kissing her, and he snapped his hips up into hers.

Aelin tore her lips away from his as she cried out, and Rowan bit down on the tender skin where her neck and shoulder met. He continued to thrust up into her, as Aelin fell apart in his arms, the small cries and whimpers spurring him on.

“I’m about to cum,” she moaned, resting her forehead against his. “Please, please, please, I’m so close.”

Rowan grunted his acknowledgment and he realized he was getting close, too. The feel of her all around him, the weight of her body on top of his, her breasts pressing against his chest, had him seeing stars.

He rolled them, pinning Aelin beneath him again, letting his lips close around her nipple as his fingers found that sensitive nub at the apex of her sex.

She gasped. “Fuck, Rowan, please!”

The cry was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard and gods, he wants to hear her moan his name for the rest of his life.

He felt her shatter completely as her knees shook around his hips. He kept moving, kept pushing, until his toes began to curl and the feeling of utter ecstasy filled his core. 

He breathed her name, his voice breaking into nothingness halfway through. A low groan escaped, and then another, as he pushed himself inside of her one last time. His body went rigid as he came, his face pressed into the crook of her neck.

They stayed like that for a few moments, no sound in the quiet apartment, save for their heavy breathing and the hum of the air conditioner as it kicked on.

Delicate fingers began to drag a gentle path up and down his back. Aelin chuckled as Rowan hummed softly, loving the feeling of her hands on his skin. He hadn’t pulled out, was still nestled deep inside her, and when he finally pulled back to look at her, he was once again floored by just how radiantly gorgeous she was.

Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair a mess. He had never seen anyone so beautiful.

Leaning up to press a featherlight kiss to her lips, Rowan whispered, “I am so in love with you, Aelin Galathynius.”

Her eyes softened and she wrapped her arms around him a little tighter as he kissed her again. She didn’t need to repeat the words back to him.

He could feel the truth of them in her kiss.

#light up the ice #lui #rowaelin hockey fic #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #snelbz #fanfiction #snacmc #collab #snelbz tacmc collab

[cat5313]

Dance With Me

When Feyre married the High Lord, everything changed.

The young woman and her new husband ushered in a new, prosperous era for Velaris and the rest of the Night Court. Their own corner of the world changed drastically within the span of a few short years, and while the new feel to the city was a welcome, positive thing, a select few members of the Night Court didn’t enjoy all the changes.

Nesta Archeron was one of them.

Sure, the young woman was glad that the city was prospering. It wasn’t necessarily a horrible thing- it was more of a sort of inconvenience. Over the past few years, Velaris had gone from a quiet, quaint city by the river to a buzzing epicenter for clubs, parties, and overall chaos. As a creature who preferred the calm lifestyle Velaris used to have, this progressing change had become a challenge to live with. 

Feyre and Elaine had dragged her out a few times, insisting Nesta would enjoy herself once she got a taste for the adrenaline and rush that came along with going to huge parties thrown within the city, or the overflowing clubs where the alcohol flowed like water and the music blared so loudly it made Nesta’s sensitive ears ring for days. Yes, Nesta enjoyed going out to spend time with her sisters every now and then, however, she was becoming more and more sensitive to the scene after each outing. It was becoming too much for her, especially once Elaine and Azriel finally confessed, prompting the shadowsinger to join them, along with the High Lord and Feyre’s husband, Rhysand. 

When the two men started to join them, Nesta was forced to take in her surroundings. With her sisters distracted by the two men, she’d felt alone. She couldn’t focus solely on them anymore in an attempt to ignore everything going on around them. Besides, at this point, she felt like she was only invited along so her sisters wouldn’t feel guilty. So, she’d stopped going. She was tired of the music hurting her ears, tired of the smoke of Cauldron knew what clouding in the air, of the scent of alcohol-laced vomit and strangers thinking it was okay to dance up against her. She was tired of how heavily those parties attacked her senses, and she was tired of spending hours getting all dolled up just for the occasion. 

Nesta glanced over at her shimmering, iron-grey dress laid out on her bed, her burnt amber hair falling in gentle waves down her back. Both her sisters had cut their hair once the trend had started- although neither of them had cut it any shorter than to their shoulders. Both of them were in Nesta’s bathroom getting ready, as the sisters had always done before an outing, talking and laughing and drinking their favorite wine. They always tried to convince Nesta to start coming with them again,but the young woman always refused, preferring to spend the night nursing a glass of her own favorite wine curled up with a good book. 

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to come?” Feyre asked as she and Elaine exited the bathroom. Nesta shook her head, her lips curling into a small smile. Her little sisters looked gorgeous, as always. Feyre’s hair was straightened and her eyes lined with kohl, her deep, navy blue dress glittering with her movements, matching the silver band upon her brow. Elaine, in contrast, had curled her hair, her own light green dress hugging her body, layered necklaces covering the skin that the dress’s plunging neckline did not. 

“Yes, I’m sure. Now, go have fun. And for Cauldron’s sake, be careful,” she grumbled. Elaine grinned and Feyre rolled her eyes, both sisters going to kiss the eldest on the cheek. 

“We will,” Feyre reassured as always, and with that, they left. 

With a heavy sigh, Nesta spared her favorite dress one last glance before leaving her room with the intent to get herself a glass of wine. Turning to enter the kitchen, Nesta paused at the doorway to see the back of a large, muscular figure standing at the counter, pouring two glasses of wine. 

Cassian. 

The Illyrian male had been gone for the past few years- training young warriors up in the mountains, warriors of both male and female. 

When Cassian had left, he and Nesta had left things off in a bit of an awkward state. The mating bond had snapped into place years ago, but neither had been bold enough to make that first step. So, off Cassian had gone, leaving Nesta with an aching heart. 

“Hey, Nes,” 

Nesta flinched, his voice pulling her from her thoughts. There were no words in her throat as she stared at him, her feet frozen to the floor and expression void of any emotion. Cassian’s eyes lit up as he drank in the sight of the young woman, moving to hand her a glass of wine. Trying to keep her hand from shaking, Nesta reached out and took the glass, her eyes never leaving Cassian. 

“So,” he drawled, that handsome, infuriatingly charming smile on his face, “Why don’t you catch me up on what I’ve missed in the past few years?” 

( PART 2 COMING PROBABLY TOMORROW OR MAYBE LATER TODAY IDK MAN) 

(ALSO THIS IS A GIFT FOR @tacmc CAUSE I LOVE HER WITH MY WHOLE HEART)

#nessian #acotar #rhys x feyre #azriel x elain #nesta x cassian #Feysand #elriel #sarah j maas #acomaf #acowar #nesta archeron #velaris #1920s #1920s au #dancing #cassian #rhysand #azriel #feyre #elaine #archeron #archeron sisters

[all-the-fand0ms-blog]

The Siren

A/N: I wrote this in my creative writing class and got a bit carried away, but I really love how this story turned out so I decided to share it with you guys! Also, I might write a part two but only if people actually read this and like it. Feedback, tips, etc. would be great! I'm still new to the whole fic writing thing so don't be too harsh, hehe. Enjoy!

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, nudity implied, angst

Word Count: 924

Description: A Hunter is tracking down two sirens but what he doesn't know is that he is the one being hunted. (It’s much better than this, I just can't say anything else without spoiling)

There was something about him. Something about the way he watches me. It’s a predator's gaze he gives me, but I pretend not to notice.

I glance behind me and smile at my friend, my gaze directed toward the man.

“You coming?” I ask her. She grins, large enough for anyone passing by to notice the unusual point of her teeth.

“Always, darling,” she replies, her grin shrinking into a smirk. Anything? she says in my head.

Ya, he’s got the tattoo on his forearm. Poorly hidden by what looks like his girlfriends' concealer, I think back. The tattoo is a snake in a figure eight shape, forever going in a loop trying to eat its tail. To the normal human's eye, it looks just fine, but to us, and him, it moves.

My friend grins at me again as she picks up her pace to walk alongside me. Fabulous, she thinks to me, looks like we just found our next meal.

We walk into the woods, chattering about nothing and everything while squeezing in mentions of a small lake we found and how excited we are to go swimming on such a hot day. In reality, our kind has lived in these woods for as long as we know, and have always lured our prey to this lake. The waters enchant them and seep into their skin, showing them their wildest fantasies.

Once we get there, my friend turns around and beckons the man closer.

“Wanna join?” She asks, her signature smirk gracing her face. The man looks surprised but quickly shaking it off and joining us at the edge of the water. We all strip down and we both grab each of the man’s hands and pull him in.

I follow the sirens through the city and watch as the brunette turns to her blond friend and asks a question before the blonde speeds up her pace and joins the brunette at her side. They enter the woods as he creeps behind them, staying hidden in the shadows from the trees as he listens to their conversation.

“So how long have you known about this lake?” the blonde one asks.

“Just the other day, actually.” replies the brunette. “My little sister found it while hiking with her friends.”

I stay hidden, thinking how stupid sirens are, especially these two. I stop at the edge of the tree line where dirt meets sand and pebbles as the girls start stripping down. Before they are fully unclothed, the blonde turns to me and smiles.

“Wanna join?” she asks me. Her question catches me off guard because they knew I was there. I wondered how long they were aware of my presence. I swiftly recovered putting a blank look on my face, complete with a lust-ridden smile. I saunter over and start stripping down and flirting at the same time, pretending I was just a human, hypnotized by their beauty. They both grab a hand and pull me into the water. I don’t resist. I act my part, letting them do what they want, as I think up a plan.

Quickly, I cast a flimsy, weak illusion of another man that I would have gotten scolded for, but no other Hunter was around to do so. I have him walk away from the tree line toward the beach, calling for me. I look up towards him and apologize to the sirens, babbling on about how I shouldn't be here and how I have a wife at home waiting for me and tread out of the water.

 I start threatening the illusion to not tell my wife and to forget anything he just saw, trying to make it seem as real as possible. I bend down to grab my pants, but instead quickly come up with my dagger which I throw at the perfect angle, causing it to swing in a way a boomerang would, cutting off the blonde’s head in the process. The brunette lets out a scream the sirens are famous for, busting my eardrums, instantly causing temporary deafness in both ears. I quickly throw the dagger again but am off balance from the loss of my hearing, making the dagger sink into her chest.

She slowly walks out of the lake in all her naked glory and glares in such a way that would make any smart man run. Unfortunately, I thought, I’m an idiot. I stand my ground as she gets closer. She pulls the dagger from her chest and smiles.

“Was that supposed to hurt?” She cocks her head, looking at me with big doe eyes and before I can move into a defensive position, she throws the knife and I know I’m a goner. It cuts into me and my insides practically spill out. I lay on the beach, staring at the sky and can see more and more sirens show up as they creep into my line of sight.

“Great job, Iris” one of the sirens, the leader, praises the brunette.

“He killed Emmelyn,” She says bitterly as angry tears roll down her face. “I get the first bite.” She lunges, and the last thing I see is their sharp, white teeth. I scream.

Iris slowly backs away from the pile of what used to be the man’s body. Now it's just a pile of meat and bones, covered in blood. She turns away, sick from the site. Usually, it doesn't bother her, but he killed her best friend, her sister. She will come back, Iris thinks. Come back! She shouts into the void where Emmelyn’s mind always was. But she gets nothing back, no snarky remark, no joke. Just silence.

Hope you guys liked this! I might be adding one shots later from other stories I wrote, so let me know if your interested so I can tag you!

Tags; @manoriantrash101 @tacmc @gigir0se

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { T H I R T E E N }

Chapter 13. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“I'd rather feel something for real than pretend it's not what it is. Which Zen guy said "If you want to drown, do not torture yourself with shallow water"?” ― A.S. King, Please Ignore Vera Dietz

It was just after nine when Feyre was hurrying toward the front door, where a loud knocking was bound to wake everyone up. It was the weekend. What kind of asshole would disrupt the peace of the weekend?

Cassian would.

As soon as Feyre opened the door, her surprise quickly turned to confusion, then worry. “Is Rhys okay? I was just about to leave-”

“He’s fine. Pissed, but fine. I’m here to see your sister.”

Feyre lifted a brow, leaning against the doorframe. “And what business could you possibly have with Elain? Besides, she’s at Mor’s.”

“Not Elain,” he said, clearing his throat. “Nesta.”

Feyre nearly fell over. “Nesta? I wasn’t even aware that you two knew one another.”

Cassian sighed. “Feyre, I would love to catch up, but I need to talk to Nesta.”

Feyre had not seen much of Cassian since the accident. Every time she was with Rhysand, he made himself scarce - probably due to the increase of PDA. But, she did know that there was something in Cassian’s eyes that she had never seen. Something she could not quite describe, could not recognize. 

“Come in,” Feyre said, stepping aside. Cassian entered without saying a word. “She’s upstairs. First room on the left.”

After a soft thank you, Cassian began his walk through the house. Feyre watched him worriedly before quietly letting herself out.

~

Although he was off his crutches, the walk up the stairs still made Cassian wish for his bed and a bottle of Advil.

He hadn’t slept at all the night before. He lied awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking of Nesta and Hale. It was annoying more than anything; yet, as soon as the sun began to rise through his bedroom window, Cassian was getting dressed and ready to go.

Nesta was exactly where Feyre said she would be. She was sitting in a window nook, an oversized sweatshirt and a blanket swallowing her whole. A book was open on her lap.

Although the door was open, Cassian gave the doorframe a little knock.

Her look of utter surprise was almost worth the journey alone. 

She slowly closed her book, setting it down gently next to her. “You’re...in my house.” 

“I am,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “I needed to talk to you.” 

Nesta showed no emotion. She sat, perfectly still, watching him. “Are you okay?”

Her voice was quiet, polite, but it still sent chills down Cassian’s spine. Was he okay? He didn’t know, wasn’t sure. He could not define the word. Okay.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” he said.

“And that’s my issue?” she asked, brows raised. 

“No,” he answered, plainly. “But I thought that you would understand.”

For a moment, he thought that she would scoff at him, but she didn’t. She nodded. “I do understand.” 

She moved aside, allowing him room. He took the opportunity, joining her. The moment he sat, a sigh of relief left him.

Neither of them said a word. Cassian stretched out his legs as he leaned against the window. “I’m going to see Hale.”

Nesta lifted a brow. “Yeah?”

Cassian nodded. “Not sure what I’m going to say, but I’m going to see him.”

Nesta said nothing, and Cassian thought that she could care less. But, she surprised him when she reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, gently. 

They sat in a deep, comfortable silence. 

“My name is Cassian,” he began, feeling childish, but oddly brave, too. “I drink when I feel alone, which is most of the time. My father was an abusive asshole. My mom is dead. I am sad that she died. My father is dead. I thank the gods that he died. My sister knows nothing of a good, healthy family. I have no idea who I am. I have no idea who I want to be. All I know is that I want to be better.”

A moment passed before Nesta nodded. “My name is Nesta. I fell in love with my best friend...who came to rape and degrade me, as time passed. I also have no idea who I am, or who I want to be.” 

“You have given me a sense of peace, Nesta,” Cassian whispered, and it was true. She had come when all hope was lost. She had given him a glimpse of hope.

Her fingers tightened on his.

“Would you like me to go with you?” Nesta asked. “To see Hale?”

Cassian met her gaze for the first time when he begged, “Please.”

~~~

Feyre held Rhysand, her arms wrapped around him as they laid on the couch. 

“They won’t leave him,” he said. “I don’t understand it.”

But he did understand.

They were afraid, just as he used to be. It wasn’t until recently that he saw his father for who he truly was: a coward. 

Feyre said nothing, but he knew that she cared. There wasn’t much to say, nothing that changed anything, anyways. 

Feyre gently stroked his forearm with the tips of her fingers. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he continued, quietly, letting out a long, deep breath. 

Feyre pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. Just one, ever so softly. 

He felt peaceful lying there with her, then instantly felt guilty for feeling peaceful when his mom and sister were stuck with the monster that was his father. 

“Maybe I should move back home,” he said.

Feyre’s fingers stopped.

She had met his father, had witnessed his horrid nature. 

Before she could voice her concerns, Rhysand said, “That way I can make sure they stay safe.”

“But what about you?” Feyre whispered. “What about your safety?”

“What’s the point of my safety if they’re in danger?” he asked, looking over his shoulder to meet her worried gaze. “I have to take care of them.”

He knew that she understood, knew that she adored him even more for wanting to protect his family. But it didn’t end her worry. 

“Be careful,” she breathed.

He kissed her forehead, and smiled, before settling into her arms once more. 

~

Elain looked in the mirror, her high heels atop a pile of clothes she had already tried on and dismissed. 

She glanced at the clock.

Fifteen until seven. 

He would be here soon and she wasn’t ready. 

The door of her bedroom slowly opened and Nesta walked in, brow lifted. She looked at Elain’s stilettos, then her black mini dress and the plunging neck that showed off her breasts. 

“What kind of date is this, exactly?” Nesta asked. 

Elain sighed. “Too much for dinner?”

“Will you be giving him a treat after dinner?” Nesta crooned. 

Elain’s cheeks heated as she kicked off her heels. “Help!”

“You look beautiful,” Nesta laughed. “Pull those heels back on and make him suddenly lose all ability to speak.”

Elain grinned, pulling back on her shoes. 

“Nervous?” Nesta asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know. A little bit,” she said, honestly. “I mean, we’ve become friends. But this is different.”

“He likes you.”

“Did Cassian tell you that?” Elain asked, sitting on her bed. “Wasn’t aware you two were so friendly.”

“We’re not.”

“You seemed pretty friendly with him sitting in your bedroom under the same blanket when I woke up this morning,” Elain said, head tilted.

Nesta shook her head, rolling her eyes as she walked back toward the door. As Elain opened her mouth to push her older sister further, the doorbell rang.

Nesta stopped in the doorway as Elain’s stomach twisted into knots.

It was time.

Azriel had arrived.

#tacmc void #coid #voic #fanfic #acotar #acomaf #acowar #fanfiction #sjm #nessian #feysand #elriel

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { T W E L V E }

Chapter 12. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

 “It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.” – Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

Cassian hadn’t been to church since he was a child, and the moment he stepped into the sanctuary he literally thought that he might burst into flames.

He didn’t.

He did, however, sit in a pew in the middle of the large room and stared at the stained-glass cross behind the pulpit. It was empty, no one in sight. He preferred it that way. He didn’t want to be preached at, just wanted to observe, reflect in the quiet. It was a small church, unable to hold hardly any more than a hundred people, if that. When he was young, Cassian thought it was huge, though.

And he had always admired the ancient stained-glass windows. 

He heard the door open and close behind him, then the footsteps of whoever it was stopped.

A quiet curse filled the room.

Cassian glanced over his shoulder. “You know, you’re not supposed to curse in a church.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Obviously, I didn’t know anyone was here. I’ll go.”

Cassian turned back around and faced the cross. “You don’t have to.”

At first, he thought she hadn’t heard him, or that she had simply walked away. But, a moment later, she sat across the aisle in the same row as he.

For a minute, no one talked. Then, Cassian said, “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I don’t know you, and I shouldn’t have said what I did about you.”

She gave him a curt nod. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, but Cassian nodded, anyway. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Your words kept replaying in my mind. Maybe that’s why fate sent you here, to give me another kick in the ass.”

“You’re not supposed to curse in a church,” Nesta muttered, copying his earlier words.

Cassian chuckled.

“And it wasn’t fate,” Nesta went on. “I live around the corner. I come here sometimes. I like the glass. And the quiet. The solitude.”

Cassian nodded, looking around at the stained-glass windows. “My mom used to take me and my sister here when we were little. I think she came to pray for my father. We all used to pray for him. But they were never answered. Instead, my mom died leaving us alone with him.”

Nesta didn’t say anything at first, but he knew she was watching him. “And you think that was God’s fault?”

Cassian cleared his throat, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans, as he did in uncomfortable situations. “I want to believe in God. I want to believe He’s there, watching over us...I used to lie awake at night, praying for a better life. But, I’m an underage alcoholic with rage issues, no parents, and a little sister that I can’t set a good example for if my life depended on it.”

Nesta shifted in the pew across the aisle. “My mom used to say that God doesn’t control our lives or the people in it, but he’s there when we need him. When we want to talk, to vent. I don’t know why he works in mysterious ways, but mom always said that he does. I’ve been questioning it a lot, too, lately...if there is a God, and if there is, why am I in so much pain? Why do I not want to live, why do I hate who I am...I wish I had all the answers, but I don’t. I wish I understood life and all its struggles and obstacles, but I don’t. But, I do know that I feel better today than I did yesterday, and I do believe that people are sent into our lives to give us the little bit of light that we need to keep on going.”

Cassian understood her meaning. “Hale?”

Nesta looked at him, and for the first time, their eyes connected. “I wanted to die. I was ready. And he saved me. Literally. He stopped me, and talked to me, and heard me out. I understand that you have hard feelings against him, and I’m not telling you not to. But, personally, Hale gave me the light that I needed when I needed it.” 

Cassian looked back up to the cross, just as the sun shone through the glass, brightening its colors and the sanctuary around them. “I don’t like who I am.”

Nesta nodded, then quietly said, “Look for the light. Don’t push it away.”

~~~

Rhysand hated the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he knocked on the door of his own home. When no one answered, he pushed it open. “Hello? Anyone home?” 

“Rhys?”

He spun around, almost losing his balance.

Reina was walking toward him, eyes wide and red-rimmed.

“You okay?” He asked, but she was running to him, arms wide as she wrapped him in a hug.

“I’ve missed you,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes against the front of his shirt. 

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, holding her near. “Where’s mom?”

A crash came from down the hall, and Reina winced.

Rhysand didn’t wait for an explanation. He hurried down the hall until he found himself standing in the doorway of the study. His mother was lying on the floor, clutching her face, his father standing above her. 

He wanted to say something. He wanted to scream, wanted to yell, but nothing came out. His body shook as his mind reeled.

“Rhysand?” his father crooned, as if the scene he had laid out wasn’t atrocious. “What a nice surprise.” He surveyed Rhysand’s current state before adding, “Ah, yes, I heard you had gotten yourself into some trouble.”

Rhysand blinked. “Are...I…”

Alastair clicked his tongue. “You never could get your words out. A weakness.”

Rhysand’s mother pushed herself up, locking eyes with Rhysand for the first time since he entered. Her eyes, the same eyes that reflected his own, were lined with tears.

“Come on, mom,” Rhysand said. “We’re leaving.” 

She didn’t move.

“Rhys,” Reina whispered. “Come on.”

“No,” Rhys snapped. “No, I’m not going anywhere. Not without you and mom.”

Rhysand’s father looked as if nothing was amiss as he took a step forward. Rhysand did not move, did not retract his gaze. 

“Your mom and sister aren’t going anywhere,” his father began. “The only one going anywhere is you. You don’t live here anymore. You’re not welcome here anymore. Go, Rhysand.”

“Go?” Rhysand repeated. “Who the fuck do you think you a-”

His father reached forward and grabbed Rhysand’s collar with one tight fist. Rhysand’s mouth snapped shut, quickly.

“You will leave, and you will go home, and you will leave us alone. Is that understood?” he asked, his voice quiet but brutal. 

Rhysand said nothing. A word didn’t leave his mouth until his father let go of his collar and took a step back. 

Rhysand’s mother quickly lowered her gaze, as did Reina.

They lived in fear. Fear of the man before them.

Rhysand took a step back toward the doorway, but before he left, he stopped and shook his head. “You know, when I was little, I wanted to be just like you. You were my hero. Now, the thought of me ending up like my father is a nightmare. You’re cruel, a monster. You don’t deserve all of this, the life people believe you have. You don’t deserve any of it. You don’t deserve anything.”

A conniving smile twisted his father’s mouth. “Spoken like a true bastard.”

Rhysand laughed - a low, shaky, humorless laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Leave,” his father repeated. “Go home.”

“We’re okay,” his mother smiled, still from her place on the floor. “Really. Go home. We’re okay.”

Reina hesitated, but then she nodded in agreement.

Rhysand looked back to his father, jaw locked. “You’re going to get what you deserve. Soon.”

He simply smiled. “It was good to see you, son.”

“Burn in Hell,” Rhysand spat through gritted teeth. 

His father’s grinned widened. “I’ll see you there.”

With that, he pushed Rhysand out of the study and slammed the door shut behind him, his sister and mother inside alongside him. Rhysand stared at the dark slab of wood before pounding his fist against it. And when that did no good, he left.

~~~~

Nesta exited onto the back porch to find Feyre and Elain already huddled together on top of a blanket in the grass beyond.

“It’s about time!” Elain hollered. “We were missing a sister!”

With a sigh, Nesta meandered down the porch stairs, onto the soft Autumn grass. She had always loved the feeling of grass between her bare toes, even if the night chill was growing colder.

She plopped down next to Feyre, resting her folded hands behind her head.

The Velaris starlight was breathtaking. Nesta could believe that there was no other night sky in the world like it.

“Is dad home yet?” Feyre asked.

Nesta shook her head. “Not yet.”

“I’ll take that as a good sign,” Elain grinned.

It was his first night out on a date in years. He had only gone on a handful since their mother’s death, and he had hated all of them, without hesitation. But, a waitress at the diner he liked to eat breakfast at kept asking him for a dinner, and he had eventually said yes, leaving the girls to have a night to themselves.

“How’s Rhysand?” Nesta asked, glancing sideways at Feyre.

“He’s doing well,” she said, thoughtfully. “Itching to be more active, but he’s getting stronger.”

“Azriel says the same,” Elain said. “He finds Rhys doing squats every morning when he wakes.”

Feyre chuckled. “Sounds right. And what of you and Azriel?”

“We have settled on tomorrow night for our date,” she crooned. “He’ll pick me up at seven and I’ll look fabulous.”

Nesta was almost surprised by the chuckle that shook her frail body. “Of course. And then what? A goodnight kiss?”

Elain made a noise that was half embarrassment, half pure joy. “Maybe. Maybe something more.”

Feyre howled, shoving on Elain’s shoulder as Nesta grinned.

It had been so long since Nesta had felt such joy. They had been through their hardships together, but there was nothing like spending alone time with her sisters.

They fell into a humored silence as they watched the stars twinkle above. 

Nesta almost felt at peace. At least, until Elain asked, “Have you talked to Tomas since you’ve been home?”

She must have known it was a fragile topic because the question was quiet, hesitant.

But Nesta closed her eyes as she said, “No. He texted for the first few days after I left, but I never replied. It seems he took the hint.” I hope, she added, silently.

“You can talk to us,” Feyre said. “You do know that, right?”

Nesta did know that, but it wasn’t that easy. She had never talked about Tomas, about who he truly was, to anyone. Not even Hale, not in its entirety. She hated Tomas, loathed him. For years, she was a slave to him. Yet, the moment she opened up about it… it was then that it became real. But she didn’t want it to be real. She wanted the years that she had spent with Tomas to be a bad dream, a horrible nightmare.

But it wasn’t.

It was real.

It had all been real.

She had danced with the devil for two years, but she had survived.

“He was kind to me, at first,” she began, and when she spoke, she surprised herself. Her voice sounded distant, foreign, but she continued. “Then, when he got comfortable, that kindness faded.”

Nesta’s voice became lost, but Elain and Feyre did not push. They waited. Listened. They let her take her time. 

“He abused me,” she confessed, quietly. “Sexually. Verbally. Physically. I wanted to get away, but I couldn’t. For a while, I thought I deserved him, everything he did to me. But then, one day, I realized that he was the one that was making me believe that. I left. I had to get away from him. But, now, I don’t remember who I was before him.”

The words spilled out of her, as if she didn’t speak them quickly enough, she would have lost her courage to do so. 

At first, neither Feyre nor Elain said a word. Then, Feyre took her hand while Elain, on Feyre’s other side, whispered, “You are loved. That’s who you were before him, and that’s who you are now, Nesta. Everything else will come to you, but you must know, that you are loved.”

Feyre squeezed her hand as if to say, Yes, you are loved.

As Nesta’s eyes closed, she felt completely and utterly peaceful.

And loved.

For the first time in years, Nesta felt truly and unconditionally loved. 

#nessian #feysand #elriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #tacmc void #update #alas

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { E L E V E N }

Chapter 11. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“We all bear scars,... Mine just happen to be more visible than most.” ― Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass

Nesta didn’t know why she was standing outside of his apartment door, but she was. With Elain’s help, she had tracked him down and slammed her fists against his front door. He answered a moment later, chest bare and hair disheveled. He looked annoyed, that typically handsome face laced with anger and frustration.

He raised his brows, an implied what do you want making Nesta clench her fists.

“You’re Cassian,” she said.

Cassian’s jaw locked. “Aren’t you from that support group?” Nesta gave him a curt nod. “Sorry, not interested in coming back. I did my time.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Nesta snapped. “You should see Hale.”

Cassian showed no emotion. His hazel eyes lost their fire, his body grew slack. And just as he began to shut the door in Nesta’s face, she took a step forward, stopping the door with a flat palm. “He hasn’t slept. He’s barely eaten. You’re all he can think about. Talk to him. Please. Hear him out.”

It was rare that Nesta asked anyone for anything. She nearly choked on the words as they left her lips.

“You seem to care a lot,” Cassian said, crossing his arms. “Are you his little whore?”

“I’m his friend,” Nesta spat. “And he’s a damn good man, so watch your tongue.”

Whore.

Tomas’ voice popped into Nesta’s mind, but she quickly shook it away as she beheld the man in front of her, lit with anger. People always said things they regretted when they were angry.

When they were sad.

“You don’t have to grow close with him,” Nesta said, words clipped. “Just talk to him.”

“And tell him what?” Cassian asked, that fire in his eyes returning. “That I finally understand why my father didn’t want me?”

His voice rose, the low growl echoing in the halls as Nesta went cold. She didn’t speak, didn’t break eye contact.

“My father was an addict! Do you know what it’s like to live with an addict? To constantly be ignored and dismissed because he was too drunk or high to care?” He took a step toward her, but that fire in his eyes was replaced with sorrow, with fear. “But why would he give a damn about his kids? Everyone else had given up on him. I know I did, a long time ago. And so did his parents. My father couldn’t be a father to me because his own father gave up on him when he needed him most.”

“That’s not true,” Nesta said, but her voice wasn’t as confident as she wanted it to be. 

“You don’t know anything about me or my dad,” Cassian hissed. “I don’t even know you! So don’t show up at my door expecting to drag me back to that rich bastard’s house.”

“You’re going to regret this,” was all Nesta said.

“Then I’ll be sure to add it to the list,” he spat, and slammed the door in her face.

Nesta stared at the chipped slab of wood. She thought tears would come, but they didn’t. She felt nothing. Nothing for Cassian, nothing for Hale, nothing for herself. Her body was empty, her mind a meaningless void. Her thoughts had vanished, and all she knew was that she was breathing, although she wasn’t sure why. 

It all seemed silly.

Life.

What was the point of it all?

You’re born, you live, then you die. And while you’re living, you don’t make a difference. Nesta had gone to Cassian’s, hoping to give Hale a glimpse of hope, but she had failed.

Another thing she had failed at. 

Nesta took a step back.

But then she thought of Hale. She thought of how she walked by his room the night before and heard him sobbing, thought of how he had saved her and taken her under his wing, thought of how their talks made her feel lighter, because he made her burdens his burdens.

Nesta stepped forward and knocked on the door, once more.

He didn’t answer, but she knew he was there. 

At least, she hoped he was there. 

“Don’t talk to him,” Nesta said, her voice cracking as she yelled through the front door. “But know that he wants to know you. And know that he loved your dad very much. I’m not a parent, and I don’t know why he chose to do what he did, but I believe his intentions were true. He’s a good man. We all make mistakes, and we all make choices that we grow to regret. But, he wants to know you, and he wants to be your family. He doesn’t know I’m here, so don’t think that he pushed me here….but I really think you’re missing out by pretending he doesn’t exist. He didn’t know you were even born before you came over. And now, all he wants, Cassian, is to know you. I don’t know what it’s like to be the kid of an addict, but I know what it’s like to be sad. I know what it’s like to completely hate who you are and to want to end the pain. I know what it’s like to not want to exist anymore.” Nesta wiped at the tear that fell from her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt as she took a step back, shaking her head. “You don’t have to talk to him, just know you’re not alone.”

And with that, she walked away.

~~~

Azriel used to hate running, but as he’d grown older, he found that it was a great way to clear his mind. He’d always struggled with guilt, had always struggled with everything. He’d grown up in foster care, never finding a good home. It wasn’t until he’d turned eighteen that he went out on his own, and luckily he had found good friends along the way to help him out.

But that guilt remained.

He wished he could take away their pain. Rhysand’s physical pain, and Cassian’s physical and mental pain. He knew Cassian was beating himself up, knew because although Cassian had a lot of problems, his heart was bigger than anyone’s Azriel knew. He wouldn’t answer his phone. Azriel kept trying him, but Cassian kept sending him straight to voicemail. 

Elain had been a great distraction.

She was kind, and beautiful, and genuine. 

But he had been pushing her away, too.

“Az!”

Azriel slowed down to a jog as he turned around, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt down to reveal his dark, messy hair.

Mor stood on the corner of Main and Second Ave, a reusable grocery bag tossed over her shoulder.

He gave her a small wave as he jogged across the street.

“Long time, no see,” she said.

Azriel forced himself to smile. “You know. Busy.”

Mor’s smile wavered. “How’s Cassian? I talk to Rhys quite a bit, but Cass won’t take my calls.”

Azriel nodded. “Mine either.”

Mor slowly nodded along with him before perking up. “Oh! So, I talk to Elain quite a bit.”

Azriel raised a brow. “Is that so?”

“She seems to be very fond of you.”

Azriel scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Mor tilted her head to the side. “You’re fond of her, too.”

“Do you have to keep using that word? Fond?”

“Yes. Fond. You two are fond of one another, yet you haven’t asked her out on a date?”

“I’ve got to get back to my workout-”

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

Azriel just stared at her, unblinking.

Mor rolled her eyes. “I know you, Az. You’ve been beating yourself up, pissed at yourself for what happened, but it wasn’t your fault. Now you’re thinking that Elain’s too good and pure for you, which is why you won’t ask her out.”

Azriel blinked.

Mor’s smile softened. “You deserve the world, Azriel. Get out of your own head for a little while, will ya?”

Azriel chuckled, eyes weary as he looked away.

“Here,” Mor said, taking his hand and leading him to the other side of the storefront, where a flower cart stood. She paid the vendor for a small bouquet of pink roses and handed them to Azriel. “Go find your happiness.”

“But I don’t…” he hesitated, running a hand through his hair.

“Go to her house, tell her that she’s beautiful, give her the flowers, and profess your love to her. It’s that easy. Then, of course, call me and tell me how it goes.” She pushed the flowers into his chest then said, “Go.”

Azriel opened his mouth, then shut it before grabbing the flowers, giving Mor a real, genuine smile, and jogging back the way he had come.

~~~

“You seem out of it.”

Rhysand was sitting next to Feyre in the hot tub outside of their apartment complex as he brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

“Just been thinking,” she confessed.

“About?” he asked.

“What do you think about mental illnesses?” she asked.

Rhysand hesitated. “What do you mean? Like… do I think they exist?”

Feyre chuckled, humorlessly. “No, like… how do you help those who struggle? My oldest sister… I don’t even know who she is anymore. I do think she knows who she is. None of us know how to help, though. She’s… different than she used to be. Something happened while she was away at school that triggered it, but she won’t talk about it. She won’t talk about anything. I don’t know what to do. But, I want my sister back.”

Rhysand found her hand beneath the water. “Love her. Let her know that she’s loved, that she’s valued… that’s all you can do.”

“It doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Love is the most powerful force on the planet,” Rhysand said, staring at the bubbles coming out of the jet. “My mother has struggled with depression for her entire life. My dad, as you saw, is a total prick. Controlling, demeaning, cruel. My mom is a strong woman, but I’ve watched her struggle. Leaving home was the hardest thing I ever did, but she wouldn’t come with me. She’ll stay with my dad until the day he dies. But, when I tell her that I love her and that I’m thankful for her, that she means the world to me...I know that she believes it. She smiles, and kisses my cheek, and I feel like it gives her a little bit of hope, you know? It reminds her that she’s not alone, that she’s loved and that not all men are like my dad. But, then again, what do I know?”

Feyre cleared her throat, blinking so that the tears that were dwelling in the corners of her eyes faded away. “More than you think you do.”

Rhysand grinned. “Talk with her. If she doesn’t respond, it’s okay. But, talk to her. Remind her. Love on her. It may not seem like it makes much of a difference, but it will.”

“But what then?” Feyre asked. “It’s an illness. It’s not like it just goes away.”

Rhysand agreed. “True. But, as I said, love is powerful. It conquers all. Love her in spite of her illness, love her through the struggle. She will have bad days, but that love...it makes all the difference. And when she’s ready to open up about what’s triggered it, be there to listen. Hold her hand. Feel her pain alongside her. Hold her.”

Feyre nodded, still feeling uncertain. Although, the hand squeezing hers was making her feel a little bit bitter. Her and Nesta had always clashed, but she loved her sister and wanted to see her happy. Depression was a miserable, hated bitch and she hated that her sister couldn’t help but struggle with it. Illness. It was an illness. She couldn’t help the depression that coated her soul, that controlled her mind.

Feyre cursed that depression as she stood up in the hot tub. “I’m going to go see her.”

Rhysand smiled, although it quickly turned wistful. “Perhaps I should see my mother then, too. Put my words into action. It’s been too long since I’ve gone home.”

Home. Whatever the hell that was.

~~~

The wait after Azriel knocked on the door seemed like an eternity. 

A man, perhaps early fifties, answered the door sending Azriel into an awkwardly stiff stance. “Um, hello. Is Elain home?”

The man blinked. “May I ask who's asking?”

“Azriel,” he said, and hated that his voice cracked when he said it. “A friend.”

The man looked down at the flowers, then back up to Azriel’s eyes before calling, “Elain! There’s a boy here to see you!”

The sound of feet running down the wooden staircase was all Azriel could focus on before she appeared behind the man.

When he didn’t move, Elain cleared her throat. “Thanks, dad, I got it from here.”

After one more long, horrible glare, the man padded back down the hallway.

Elain gave Azriel a bright smile before stepping out onto the porch and closing the door softly behind her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Azriel repeated. “You’re beautiful.”

Elain’s eyebrows shot into her hairline as her cheeks turned red. “Thank you.”

“I like your hair,” Azriel went on, trying to spice it up.

Elain huffed a laugh. “It’s in a ponytail, but thank you.”

Azriel cleared his throat. “I…..sort of got these for you.”

He handed her the flowers, and Elain melted. She took the bouquet, bringing them up to her nose. Her smile spread. “Thank you.”

“I like you,” Azriel went on, trying to remember Mor’s order of operations. “And I know I’m not good at this stuff, and that I’ve been really distracted since the accident, but I like you. A lot. You’re kind, and you’re helpful, and you make me feel good. And I would really like to take you out on a date. Unless you don’t want to. Which you probably don’t, because I’m being really awkward right now.”

Elain laughed, trying to press her mouth together so that her laughter didn’t make him feel bad. “I was beginning to think you’d never ask.”

Azriel let out a breath. “I’m not perfect. Actually, I’m really a mess. But, I think we’d be good together.”

Elain’s smile softened. "I think so, too."”

“Are you busy tomorrow?” Azriel asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Elain took a step closer to him as she said, “Pick me up at seven.”

#tacmc void #void #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nessian #feysand #elriel #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #tara writes

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { T E N }

Chapter 10. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“He's a wallflower. You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand.” ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Cassian was sitting in a small library, completely unnerved.

The elderly man sitting in the armchair across from him was staring, and it wasn’t until Cassian cleared his throat that the man apologized.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice quiet. “It’s just...you remind me of-”

“I’m sorry to intrude, but my father recently passed,” Cassian began, cutting straight to the point. He didn’t have the time or patience for pleasantries. “He was the last living relative we knew of. I googled our last name and you’re the only person in Velaris who came up.”

The elderly man smiled, softly. “You are a Nazari, then.”

Cassian nodded. “Yes, Cassian. My sister’s name is Cecelia.” 

“I’m Hale,” he said, “but you already know that, don’t you?”

Cassian gave him a hesitant nod. “What I don’t know is if we’re related or not.”

“Well,” Hale said, crossing his legs. “Who are your parents?”

“My mother’s name was Maria,” Cassian said. “But she was only a Nazari by marriage. My father’s name was Elijah.” 

Hale froze, his wrinkled skin paling at Cassian’s father’s name, although he didn’t look too surprised, as if he saw it coming and just needed it confirmed. “You’re Elijah’s son?”

Cassian’s shoulders tensed. “You knew him, then.”

Tears sprung in Hale’s brown eyes. That was the one thing Cassian had gotten from his mother. He looked just like his father, but his eyes were not brown, but hazel. “Yes. He was my son.”

Cassian didn’t speak for a moment. He wanted to, but no words came. After a long, miserable silence, Cassian asked, “He was your son?”

Hale nodded. “Yes.”

Cassian’s eyes grew weary. “Elijah said he didn’t have any family left. That his parents died years ago.”

“My wife passed a few years back,” he said, weak voice cracking. “We both grew apart from Elijah nearly two decades ago.”

That sounded right.

Cassian was nineteen, and he had never known that he had living grandparents.

“Why?” was all Cassian managed to say.

Hale looked down at his folded hands. “I loved my son, up until the day that he died. He was a good boy, a great kid. But, in his teens, he began to experiment with alcohol, with drugs, no matter how much his mother begged him not to. He quickly became hooked. We spent years and years trying to get him help, but he didn’t want any. Eventually, we told him that he would have to get clean if he wanted to stay in the house. Showed him a little bit of tough love. Unfortunately, he chose the drugs. He never answered our calls after that, never came around. We only saw him a handful of times after. Every time, he was lost. He needed the drugs too much. Loved the high.”

Cassian was speechless. He wanted to yell, wanted to scream, but he just felt empty. Empty because his life had been a shitshow because of his father’s addiction, and yet, the man in front of him had been here, fifteen minutes away, the entire time.

“I didn’t know that he married,” Hale continued, voice distant. “I knew he had met a woman, but I didn’t know he married her until much later. And i never knew that he had children.”

Cassian couldn’t breathe. The gates of numbness opened up from within him and emotion came flooding out. Anger, bitterness, sadness, fury.

“I hated my father,” Cassian began, voice low. “I loathed him, and yet, I’m pissed the fuck off that you gave up on him. He was sick! He had an addiction!” 

Hale didn’t argue. He simply nodded. “I am often angry with myself for the same reason. I wish I could have done more, but the situation felt so hopeless.”

Cassian got that, he understood that, and yet, anger radiated through him. “I grew up in hell, and you’re over here living in fucking luxury!” 

Hale didn’t say anything. He sat there, perfectly calm, letting Cassian yell.

“You created a monster, and that monster raised me!” Cassian yelled, chest heaving. “I have battled my entire life, and you were my grandfather the entire time? You could’ve done more! You could’ve helped him! You could’ve...could’ve helped me.” 

“Cassian, I didn’t even know you existed-”

“Here,” Cassian snapped, reaching into the bag at his feet. He brought out a cardboard box and dropped it on the floor. “There’s his ashes.”

Cassian rose to his feet, put his crutches under his arms, and hobbled toward the door.

“Cassian-” Hale begged, but Cassian didn’t stop.

He kept going until he was out the front door, the cobblestone driveway beneath him.

Hale didn’t move from his seat in the library.

He sat there, staring at the cardboard box on the rug, in front of the chair in which his grandson had been sitting in.

~~~

They hadn’t known she was there.

She was hiding, but even if she’d walked into the library she was sure that they wouldn’t have seen her.

The spiral staircase to the east of the foyer didn’t hide much, but Cassian hadn’t seen her as he stormed out of the mansion. Nesta continued to sit on the step, staring at the door that had been slammed shut behind him.

She remembered him.

Remembered him from the meeting, remembered what he had said.

That his father had passed, that he hated him.

That he had almost killed two of his best friends.

He was Hale’s grandson.

She wanted to go check on the old man, but she figured she would give him some time. Cassian had left his father’s ashes.

Hale was looking at his son’s ashes.

Nesta felt sick.

She felt horrible for Hale, even horrible for Cassian even though she didn’t know him. She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say.

Nesta stood up and walked upstairs, pretending she had never been there at all. 

~~~

“You need to relax.”

“I do relax.”

“I’m talking about right now.”

Azriel huffed out a sigh. “I know.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

Azriel glanced at her from across the table. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”

Elain nibbled on her lip.

Azriel was still filthy from his afternoon in the shop, but Elain didn’t seem to mind. Elain, however, looked pristine but felt like she was being horribly annoying. She only wanted to see him smile.

That was all. 

They were sitting outside of a little cafe in Velaris, meeting for dinner after Azriel got out of work. Elain had texted him earlier that morning to ask and, surprisingly, he had said yes. 

“Tell me about yourself,” Elain decided on, propping her chin in her hands on the glass tabletop. 

Azriel shrugged. “I’m a mechanic.”

Elain smiled. “That’s what you do, not who you are.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes gleamed. “Very well.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

Azriel’s eyes drifted away from hers. He didn’t know. Didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound ridiculous, depressing. My parents didn’t want me. My foster dad gave me the scars on my hands. I’ve never been in a relationship because women find me terrifying. I feel numb, guilty, like I’m living a meaningless life.

“I like cars,” he said.

Elain’s smile deepened. “I would hope so, considering you’re a mechanic. Since when?”

“I was young,” Azriel said. “I taught myself all about them. Read books, got a part-time job as a custodian at a shop when I was fifteen...they were great, there. Helped me learn, hands-on. I like taking something that doesn’t work and making it new.”

“That’s lovely,” Elain said. 

“Thanks,” Azriel whispered. “And you? What do you enjoy?”

“Gardening,” she said, lifting a perfectly plucked brow. “And clothes. Designing things.”

“Designing what?” Azriel pushed, leaning back in his black-wired chair.

“Anything,” she said, gesturing around her as if the world was hers. “Clothes. Rooms. Furniture. Handbags.” A shrug. “Anything I feel that day.”

“Do you have a sketchbook?” he asked, head tilted slightly to the left. “I would love to see them sometime.”

“Really?” Elain asked, freezing in her seat. “I mean...really?”

Azriel couldn’t help his spreading grin. “You act like no one’s ever asked before.”

Elain blinked. “Well, that’s because they haven’t.”

Azriel’s smile faded. “Why’s that?”

Elain scoffed. “I’m the middle child. The middle child never gets attention.”

“Never?”

Elain shook her head. “My mother passed a few years back. My father’s attention is either on my younger sister, or my older. There’s no room for me. Not anymore.”

A deep ache took over Azriel’s chest. “I’m sorry. About your mother. About all of it.”

Elain’s smile returned. “Don’t be. I’ve got nothing to complain about.”

Azriel nodded, and they fell into a comfortable silence as their sandwiches arrived. He ate, locking eyes with her every so often.

Azriel didn’t have a lot of good days lately.

But, for once? His day was turning out pretty great.

He had smiled.

And he needed a good smile.

Elain Archeron made him smile.

~~~

Feyre had walked home from Rhysand’s, basking in the autumn afternoon sunlight. It was less than a ten minute walk, and Feyre had been deciding lately that she could use the fresh air and exercise.

Her good mood quickly faded, however, when she walked through her own front door.

It was quiet, all except for the sound of sobbing from the kitchen.

She quietly shut the door behind her and walked down the hallway. When she rounded the corner, she stopped.

Her father was sitting alone at the table, face in his hands.

There was only ever one other time Feyre had seen her father cry, and that was after the death of her mother. 

“Dad?” Feyre whispered.

Isaac jumped. He wiped at his face before looking to his youngest daughter and clearing his throat. “Feyre. I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

Feyre nodded. “Are you okay?”

He nodded in return, giving her a smile that was far too forced. “Yeah, of course.”

He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans before trudging to the sink. Once the water was on and the bowl was filling with soapy water, he asked, “did you have fun with rhysand?”

Feyre didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe and said, “dad, I’m not a child anymore. You realize that, right? I know life isnt all rainbows and butterflies, so if something’s not okay, you can tell me. I can handle it.”

Isaac didn’t say anything for a long time. It wasn’t until the sink was full that he shut off the water and turned around. His brown eyes were red-rimmed, weary. “Nesta didn’t come home last night.”

“She's with a friend,” Feyre replied, far more gently than she typically did with her father.

Isaac nodded. “That’s What Elain told me. I’m beginning to think she doesn’t feel safe here. Nesta.”

“She doesn’t feel safe anywhere,” Feyre said.

“Do you know what happened?” Isaac asked. “When she was away?”

Feyre shook her head. “I haven’t wanted to ask. I figured that she’d come to us when she’s ready.”

Isaac’s eyes fell from his daughter’s to his feet. “I don’t know what to do, Feyre. I don’t know how to handle it. I want to help, but I can’t.”

“She’s healing,” Feyre said, quietly. “We have to be here for her, but she has to heal at her own pace, in her own way.”

“As a parent, that’s hard to do.”

“As a sister, it’s hard to do, too. Don’t think that I don’t care for Nesta.”

“You two have never got along,” Isaac said, a surprising bite to his already raspy voice.

“Neither have you and me,” Feyre said, voice growing louder. “Do you not love me?”

Isaac’s eyes returned to Feyre’s, narrowed. “Of course I love you. You’re my daughter.”

Feyre shook her head, but said no more. Getting into it with him now wouldn't do either of them any good. 

Instead, she turned to head back down the hallway and up to her bedroom.

“Feyre?” Isaac called after her.

She stopped, although she didn’t walk back to the kitchen, didn’t turn to face him.

“I mean it,” he began, voice broken. Scared. He was terrified. “I do love you. I always have. I love all three of you.”

“I know,” Feyre said, closing her eyes so that the tears could fall. “I love you, too. So does Elain. And although it doesn’t seem like it right now, so does Nesta.”

“Thank you,” he breathed.

Feyre walked up to her room and shut herself inside. 

#tacmc void #void #nessian #feysand #elriel #nesta #cassian #feyre #rhysand #elain #azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { N I N E }

Chapter 8. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all.” ― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Princess

Nesta was pounding against his door. Any onlookers probably thought she was angry, but anger was one of the only emotions she wasn’t feeling. Unless it was anger at herself.

She pounded against the thick slab of wood once more.

It opened.

Hale stood in the doorway, eyes wide as he beheld her and the arm she was cradling. 

“I’m sorry,” Nesta said, quiet and in a rush. “I didn’t know who else to talk to, and if you’re busy, I don’t want to be a burden-”

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside. “Please.”

Nesta did just that. Hale hadn’t exaggerated when he’d talked about how big his house was. It was truly a mansion - his wife’s dream home, he had once told Nesta. And it was lovely. 

A grand, spiral staircase traveled up each side of the main room, the white floors completely spotless. Nesta was afraid to move, was afraid to touch anything.

Hale walked along the Persian rug into the next room, Nesta not far behind. She looked at everything as she passed, although there wasn’t much to see in the foyer. Just a line of paintings and a small statue of a man reading a book.

They entered a library and Nesta was in awe. Books lined each wall, some older than them both, some new. Nesta took a seat in a small, black leather loveseat as Hale perched himself in an armchair across from her.

“Want to talk about it?”

She wasn’t sure. She had never been good at talking about her emotions, especially not within the last few years. But when she looked up at Hale, she saw someone who actually cared, who understood.

“I panicked.”

Hale nodded. “About?”

Nesta blew out a breath through her nose. “Life. Everything. All of it. I’m afraid of myself. Afraid of what I can do to myself.”

Hale’s eyes shot to her arm, the arm in which she still held close to her chest. “Are you injured?”

Did you injure yourself? She could hear his silent question.

Nesta shook her head. No, not this time.

“Afraid you’ll find yourself back up at the top of the parking garage?” Hale asked, thoughtfully.

Nesta nodded, eyes weary, shoulders hunched. 

“You said you went to a support group last week?” Hale asked, a moment later. After Nesta nodded, he asked, “Did you like it?”

Nesta chuckled, humorlessly. “No. It felt like everyone was tiptoeing around one another. I felt… I don’t know. Like a child.”

Hale smiled, softly. “I used to go to a support group and thought the exact same thing. I wasn’t made of glass, but they acted like I was.”

Nesta sighed. “Exactly.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Hale asked, “Do you still want help, my dear?”

Nesta nibbled on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I hate feeling the way I feel, but some days I don’t want help. Some days I feel like I deserve everything I feel.”

“And what is it that you feel?”

Stupid.

Idiot.

Pathetic.

No personality.

Worthless.

“Lost,” she admitted. “Alone. Empty.”

Hale nodded, eyes never leaving Nesta.

“I don’t remember feeling any other way,” Nesta went on, eyes watching her still hands resting on her lap. “I’ve felt this way for so long that I don’t remember how I was before.”

“Some of us feel much more than others do,” Hale said, voice low in the quiet. “And eventually we feel so much that our minds can’t handle anymore, so we feel nothing at all. Then when we feel nothing at all, it’s hard to get back to how we were before. Hard, but not impossible. Never impossible.”

“You made it back,” Nesta said, simply, finally meeting Hale’s gaze. “How?”

Hale took a moment before rising to his feet and searching through the bookshelves, gentle, wrinkled fingers grazing over the bindings. “These shelves are filled with my favorite protagonists. Each one of them faced hell and still survived, thrived. They hit rock bottom, but they overcame it. We live with mental illnesses, and some days will always be harder than others…but, when I was in my darkest, I realized that my story was still being written. I was the protagonist of my own story, and my story was not ending there. So, I kept going. And it was really hard, but I kept telling myself it would get better and then…” he shrugged, turning to face Nesta with a smile. “It did. Slowly, and not smoothly at all, but it did get better.”

Nesta had wanted it to get better for so long, but it almost seemed impossible. She had lived in hell for so long that better seemed impossible to reach.

“How do I get there?” She asked, eyes lined with silver.

“You just keep going,” he said, simply.

But although it sounded simple, they both knew it wasn’t simple at all.

“You are more than welcome to stay here tonight,” Hale said. “You’d have an entire hallway to yourself. Stay here as long as you wish. Sometimes getting away, into a new scene...it helps.”

“I don’t want to intrude-”

“I’ve been alone in this house for ten years, my child. You would not be an intrusion, but a blessing.”

Nesta nodded. A change in scenery didn’t sound all that bad.

~~~~

“Your move.”

Feyre was sitting with Rhysand, chess being played on the kitchen table between them in Cassian and Azriel’s apartment. 

“Alright,” Feyre sighed, taking another sip of her orange juice. She moved her pawn, the only piece she was able to move without getting knocked off the board. “Your move.”

He chuckled, falling back against the wooden chair. “As exciting as this is, I’m done playing chess. This is our third game and I’m about to lose my mind.”

“Well, what else do you have in mind?” Feyre asked.

Rhysand grinned mischievously, but Feyre cut him off short. “No. You need to rest.”

“I can kiss-”

“Rest!”

Rhysand groaned. “Fine, but you have to rest with me.”

With a small smile, Feyre helped Rhysand to his feet. His head had been injured the most during the crash, his broken arm was also in bad shape. But, at least his legs were okay. With an arm through his, Feyre led him to the couch where Rhysand plopped down. During the last week, Feyre had been at Rhysand’s side every day since they shared their first kiss. Now, the thought of leaving him alone seemed foreign.

He plopped down on the couch before motioning her to come closer. She did as he asked, pressing her lips to his forehead as she laid next to him.

His strong arm wrapped around her waist. It had been a week of kissing and cuddling, of Feyre taking care of Rhysand. Every time things got hot and heavy, though, Feyre would quickly back off. She didn’t need him breaking something else because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

But being in his arms? That was paradise in itself. She felt safe, comfortable, happy.

“I’m gonna have to take you out on a proper date soon.”

“Is that so?” Feyre whispered, huffing a laugh.

“Believe it or not, I’m pretty romantic,” he said into her ear before pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

“You’re a bit of a kiss-ass,” Feyre mumbled, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Did I just hear you say that you like my ass?” Rhysand crooned.

“Rest,” Feyre laughed. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Girlfriend’s orders?”

Feyre only hesitated for a second. “Is that you asking me to be your girlfriend? It’s the meds talking, isn’t it?”

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “I’d be honored if you were my girlfriend, Feyre, darling.”

Feyre smiled, back still turned to him. “I’ll give you my answer after you rest.”

Rhysand quickly shut his eyes, his arm tightening around her waist. “I’ll wait.”

~~~~

Cassian stared at the sheet of paper lying on his bed.

Feyre and Rhysand had been hanging out in the living room, so Cassian shut himself in his room and did some research. Now that both his mother and father had passed, he needed to know if he had any other family out there. Cece was only sixteen. She deserved someone, so Cassian took it upon himself to find whoever was out there. 

And he’d found someone, one other person on the outskirts of Velaris that shared their last name and looked an awful lot like their father. 

His address was written on the back of a receipt. 

Cassian had been staring at it for nearly half an hour, wondering if he actually wanted to go through with it. If this man was related to them, how come he had never come around before?

It was worth a try.

If not for himself, then for Cecily. 

Cassian quickly pushed himself off his bed before he could change his mind.

Fifteen minutes later, after quietly sneaking past a sleeping Feyre and Rhysand, Cassian was sitting at the bus stop. He still couldn’t drive himself, both because of his injuries and the fact that the last time he was behind the wheel it didn’t turn out well.

So, he waited for the bus and once it arrived, he rode it halfway around the city before they came to his stop. He was dropped off along the Sidra where he hobbled with his crutches down the street until he found a taxi.

“Where to?” the driver asked once Cassian plopped into the backseat. 

Cassian handed him his old receipt.

The driver lifted a dark brow in the rearview mirror. “Buckle up.”

Cassian did as he was told and the driver took off. He drove Cassian another five minutes down the road before letting him off on the curb outside of a large, gated mansion.

Cassian approached the gate, a bag slung over his shoulder as he hobbled with his crutches. 

When he got to the black, iron gate, he looked around. There was no one inside. You would think that with a house so large that there would be people around, tending to the grounds. But Cassian saw no one.

He simply pressed the button on a speaker box and waited.

Without a word, the gates opened, and Cassian went inside. The path to the front door was agonizingly long. By the time he reached the set of double oak doors, Cassian was exhausted. Nonetheless, he knocked. Waited. And knocked again.

Maybe no one was home.

Maybe someone was home and didn’t want to see him.

Maybe he was wasting his time.

Just as Cassian took a step back to leave, the doors opened.

An elderly man stood in the doorway. The moment he saw Cassian, his face paled.

Cassian cleared his throat, hardly able to control his nerves. “Hello. I’m Cassian. Are you Hale Nazari?”

#tacmc void #void #nessian #feysand #elriel #elriel isnt in this chapter #but theyll be back i promise #nesta #cassian #feyre #rhysand #elain #azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #fanfic #fanfiction #acofas #9

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { S E V E N }

Chapter 7. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.” ― John Green, Looking for Alaska

Feyre strode up to the looming mansion and pounded on the door. When three seconds passed and no one answered, she did it again.

It was just after sunrise, but Feyre hadn’t slept. She’s spent her night at the hospital, watching Rhysand’s chest slowly rise and fall.

It hadn’t been too difficult finding out where Rhysand’s family lived just outside of the city. She had hounded Azriel until he spilled just enough of Rhys’ backstory so that she could Google the details, only to find out that Rhysand’s father was one of the wealthiest businessmen in all of Velaris’ history.

From there, his address was easy to locate. He was practically royalty.

Feyre pounded on the door, once more.

A tall, slender man opened the door, dressed in black. “Good morning. May I help you?”

“I need to talk to Alastair Lunasa,” Feyre said, wasting no time.

“Mr. Lunasa has a number for his office you may call. Let me write it down-”

“No,” Feyre interrupted, wondering if the poor man in front of her knew how cruel his master was. “I need to see him now. It involves his son.”

“Rhys?” A quiet voice came from behind the butler.

The butler’s thin, bony shoulders stiffened as the woman moved around him.

She looked just like him. She had the same tanned skin, the same sculpted cheeks and jawbone. Her pink lips were just as luscious. Her long, black hair was braided. Dark circles rested beneath her hazel eyes.

“You’re his mother,” Feyre said.

She nodded. “Where is he? Has he come with you? Has he finally come home?”

Even her robe was made of the finest silk.

Feyre blinked. “I- no, he hasn’t come home. He hasn’t woken up yet.”

The woman’s lips twisted into a small smile. “He never was an early riser.”

Feyre’s anger lessened as the realization hit her.

She had no idea.

“Where is Rhysand’s father?” Feyre asked, with a little less hostility. 

“Readying for the day,” she answered, softly. “Who are you? Are you a friend of my son’s?” 

“I just came from the hospital.” Feyre wanted to yell, but her voice was nothing more than a whisper. “Where they contacted your husband days ago to tell him that his son was in an accident and has a serious injury. He hasn’t woken up yet. He’s in critical condition.”

The worlds fell out of her mouth without a breath, each one leaving a heavier impact on Rhys’ mother.

Her face had grown pale, but her eyes were ablaze. They shot from Feyre, to Elain’s little car where it was parked behind her. 

“Can you drive us?” she whispered.

The butler had begun to pretend like he wasn’t listening. Feyre had a feeling he did that often.

Feyre nodded, unsure of how else to react.

Rhysand’s mother gave her a quick, curt nod before softly shutting the door.

She hadn’t known.

The nurse said that they had talked to Alastair, but he had never told his wife.

It wasn’t even five minutes that had passed before Rhysand’s mother, and a teenage girl who was her mother’s spitting image, hurried out the front door.

The ride was quiet, at first.

Feyre had so many questions that she wasn’t sure which to ask, in what order.

She decided to begin with the simple ones.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh,” his mother breathed. “I’m so sorry. How rude of me. My name is Meira. And this is my daughter, Reina.” 

Feyre glanced in the review mirror. Reina wasn’t paying attention. She was watching the buildings pass them by in a blur, her violet eyes red and puffy.

They must have gotten their eyes from their father.

Feyre tried her best to smile. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Feyre. A friend from school.”

“Thank you,” Meira said, hurriedly. “For...coming. I-We...had no idea. As much as I appreciate you coming, however, it would best if you stayed away. For your safety. Alastair can be….”

“A dick,” Reina supplied, quietly. The first word she had spoken. “An asshole, a monster.”

The words were quiet, but Feyre felt them like a knife in the heart. 

She assumed they would not be so open if they were not so terrified, so anxious.

Feyre nodded, swallowing her building questions. 

To fill the silence, she gave them both the morbid details. She told them about the accident, about how Azriel and Cassian were holding up and healing. And by the time Feyre pulled into the hospital’s parking lot, her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Their silence continued, as did Reina’s tears, as Feyre led them up to the fifth floor and down the hallway to where Rhysand’s heart monitor still steadily beeped.

Meira gasped, taking in her son’s appearance.

Silent tears began to stream down her cheeks as she strode to his bedside and knelt, taking his limp hand in hers and kissing it softly. “I didn’t know,” she wept. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I didn’t know.”

“They talked to my father? They told him that Rhys was here and what had happened?”

Feyre jumped at the sound of Reina’s voice. When Feyre glanced beside her, Reina was watching her mother and brother with an empty expression.

“Yes,” Feyre replied, quietly.

Reina said nothing more, didn’t move. She simply stood in the doorway, watching lifelessly. 

______

“You should really eat something, dear. It’s on me, so eat and get whatever you’d like.”

Nesta sat perfectly still on the other side of the diner’s booth. “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you ever hungry?” He asked. It was not a judgmental question, but his eyes were lit with mere curiosity.

Since he had found Nesta in the parking garage the night before, Hale had not let Nesta out of his sight.

He’d taken her to his home, which was massive on the other side of Velaris. She’d slept in his guest room, one of many, and was woken bright and early for breakfast.

She probably should have turned down his offer. He could’ve been a murderer for all she knew, although the elderly man looked completely harmless in his cardigan sweater and pressed khaki pants.

“Why do you live alone?” Nesta asked, instead. “Your house is huge but you’re the only one in it.”

Hale’s brown eyes softened. “My wife died about five years ago. It was her dream home, and I stay because of her. Although, personally, I could deal with something much less grand.”

Nesta couldn’t help but give him a slight smile. “No children?”

Hale took a deep breath before replying, “Just one. But, we fell out of touch about twenty years ago.”

Twenty years without seeing his child?

As if seeing Nesta’s questions brewing, Hale gently sat down his fork. “It’s a choice I made with a lot of thought and a lot of heartbreak. My son had a very horrible drug problem. I did everything I could to try and help him, but he didn’t want to be helped. He was abusive and cruel, and he used me often. For money, mostly. Stole a lot of what we had to buy drugs.”

Nesta nodded. “Had?”

Hale raised a dark brow. “Pardon?”

“You said that he had a drug problem.”

“Ah,” Hale said. “He passed away recently.”

Nesta nodded, once more. She picked up her fork and picked at her scrambled eggs. “Is he why you’re helping me?”

Hale tilted his head to the side, watching her. “When I saw you, you reminded me of him, yes, and also of myself. I, too, have battled with depression for my entire life. My worst years were in my early twenties. I remember that pain, that hell. You seem like a very nice girl, Nesta. A smart girl, with a bright future. I just want you to see that, too.”

Nesta met his kind gaze. “I could hurt you. I could be crazy.”

He shrugged, taking another bite of his French toast. “If that’s the case, I’m almost eighty years old. I lived a good, long life.”

Nesta laughed, breathily. “Fair enough.”

They ate in a comfortable silence, Hale asking Nesta questions every now and then about her life, her interests. Nesta returned his questions with those of her own.

And she actually began to enjoy herself.

_______

Azriel sat in his apartment, alone.

Cassian was still in the hospital.

Rhys hadn’t even woken up yet.

But Azriel had to leave the hospital, at least for a little while. He hated seeing Cassian beat himself up over something that was all of their faults. He hated seeing Rhys, too, lying there like a beaten rag doll.

Being home wasn’t any better, though.

Cassian’s room was empty. Cece stayed with him at the hospital. Rhys’ bag was still sitting open, his clothes strung throughout the living room.

Untouched.

He could’ve turned on the tv, or at least the radio, but Azriel sat in complete silence.

He should’ve been the designated driver that night. Should’ve stopped after one. He was usually so good about those kind of things, and the one time he wasn’t, it had cost him.

He felt like screaming.

He felt like reaching into his head to try and remove his racing thoughts.

Cassian.

Rhys.

He had gotten out almost untouched and he felt guilty.

Guilty that he was okay when his two best friends, his brothers, weren’t.

Guilt.

Azriel stood up from the kitchen chair in which he sat and began to pace.

Maybe he should pray.

He used to pray when he was young, not that it made much of a difference. At least it made him feel hopeful.

But he wouldn’t even know how to pray anymore, wouldn’t know how to start.

Maybe he should try and distract himself.

But with what? Alcohol?

No.

He was starting to sweat, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as his hands began to shake.

He cursed, inside of his mind, those voices that controlled his thoughts becoming louder.

His phone began to ring.

Elain.

He knew it was Elain, she was the only one that had called him in recent days.

Sweet, innocent Elain.

Azriel had liked her, had wanted to get to know her, but then the accident happened and now Azriel wanted nothing but to be alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

It was better that way.

That way, he couldn’t hurt anyone else, wouldn’t be responsible for anyone else, for their pain, their misery, their lives.

Alone.

That was what he was meant to be.

______

Meira and Reina had gone to the cafeteria with Feyre, allowing Cassian to be alone with Rhysand.

It had been good to see Rhys’ mom and sister. They had always been kind to Cassian. He wasn’t surprised that Alastair wasn’t there.

Bastard.

Cassian glanced at Rhys’ heart monitor, beeping steadily, then at the clock, ticking slowly.

He met Rhysand’s blank face, dark eyelashes still against his tanned skin.

“I’m so sorry,” Cassian began, no more than a whisper. “I will never forgive myself for this. I need you to wake up, man. I need you to wake up, and make some stupid, cocky joke about all this, okay? I need you to do that for me.”

Nothing happened.

Cassian hated himself more as his eyes began to water. He wiped at them, angrily.

“I have a problem, okay? But I’m gonna get help. The alcohol, the anger… I’m gonna get help, alright?”

It was a promise, but Cassian didn’t know how much power it held if Rhysand never woke.

“Wake up,” he pleased, his forehead falling into Rhysand’s limp hand. “Wake up, Rhys, please, wake up. Wake up!”

His tears slid from his cheeks onto Rhys’ skin. He didn’t care. He didn’t care that he looked like a pathetic fool, that he was talking, yelling, at someone who probably couldn’t even hear him.

“Wake up,” he sobbed. “Wake up, Rhys, Wake up. Please. Please.”

He wanted to reach up, shake Rhys’ shoulders until his eyes opened and all was okay.

He couldn’t live with himself if this was it, if this was Rhys’ fate.

Beneath Cassian’s forehead, a finger twitched.

Cassian's gaze shot up and met a pair of tired, violet eyes.

The sound that left Cassian was something between agony and joy. He reached for a cup of water off the bedside table and held it to Rhys’ lips.

He drank and drank until the cup was empty. He looked to Cassian and blinked once, twice, then asked, “Who the hell are you?”

His voice was raspy, weak.

Another tear fell from Cassian's hazel eyes as he stuttered, “I- I, you don’t….”

Rhysand’s pale, chapped lips twisted into a smile as he whispered, “Kidding, jackass. This is one hell of a hangover, yeah?”

Cassian didn’t laugh, though.

Instead, his lip began to wobble and he laid his head against Rhysand’s chest and wept.

#tacmc void #void #7 #nessian #feysand #elriel #fanfic #fanfiction

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { M A S T E R L I S T }

An Acotar Fanfiction.

Nessian. Feysand. Elriel.

Disclaimer: This story contains heavy material. 

teaser one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen  

#nessian #feysand #elriel #tacmc void #fanfic #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { E I G H T }

Chapter 8. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“You can't force love, I realized. It's there or it isn't. If it's not there, you've got to be able to admit it. If it is there, you've got to do whatever it takes to protect the ones you love.” ― Richelle Mead, Frostbite

It had been a week since Rhysand woke up, and Cassian was sitting in a large room, in a circle with about fifteen other young adults.

He was out of his wheelchair, although it was by choice. He awkwardly used crutches, even though using them caused his entire body to hurt.

The days passed by slowly, even more so since they sent him home. Azriel took good care of him. Things were different, though.

Tense.

Cece continued to live with them after they decided to cremate their father. His ashes were in a box in Cassian’s closet. He wasn’t sure what to do with them, but he had felt guilty tossing them.

Guilt he shouldn’t have felt, but did.

Now, he was sitting in his group, the one he was required to go to for drunk driving underage and nearly killing himself and two others.

At least this is all they’re giving you, Cece had told him that morning when he was complaining about going.

Yeah, because they think I’m mental, he’d mumbled back.

Cecelia never corrected him, either.

“We have two new members of our group today,” the guy sitting at the head of the circle smiled. Cassian guessed he was in his mid-twenties or so. His skin was covered in tattoos, his dark, curly hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck.

He looked harmless enough, but Cassian soon changed his mind when the guy looked at him and asked, “Would you like to share?”

Cassian blinked. “Share what?”

“Anything,” The guy shrugged with a genuine smile. “Who you are, where you’re from, why you’re here?”

Cassian took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he had shown up for his group, but speaking publicly about why he was there was pretty much the worst case scenario.

“I’m Cassian,” he said, and when he said nothing more, the instructor gave him a kind, gentle smile.

Cassian hated that kind, gentle smile.

“Is there anything else you’d like the share, Cassian?” The instructor asked.

He didn’t realize that being backed into a corner was a part of his time here, but alright.

“I almost killed my best friend, so instead of jail, I’m here,” Cassian snapped.

The instructor’s smile faded. Eventually, he nodded. “Very good. Thank you for sharing, Cassian.”

The look on the instructor’s face told Cassian that he was anything but thankful. 

Scared, slightly intimidated, but not thankful.

The instructor looked across the room and met the eyes of a stone-faced young woman. She wasn’t watching him, though. She was watching Cassian.

Cassian met her gaze and lifted a brow as the instructor asked, “Would you like to share?”

She didn’t break Cassian’s stare as she said, “No.”

“Sharing is a part of the healing-“

“No,” she interrupted.

The instructor moved on without another word, but Cassian wasn’t paying attention. He had promised his friends he would get help, but court-mandated group therapy sessions were not how Cassian saw that happening. 

He didn’t appreciate someone speaking to him like he was a fragile porcelain doll, nor did he appreciate someone asking him what he thought about everything every two minutes.

He was only there for an hour, but it felt like an entire lifetime had passed by the time the clock struck noon.

And the minute it did, Cassian was out of there. He hobbled out, as quickly as his injuries allowed him to. He made his way to the sidewalk just outside of the hospital, to the bus stop where the next bus would not be arriving for another twenty minutes.

He wanted to be alone, but that want was rejected a minute later. He was joined by the girl who wouldn’t say anything other than no. 

She had a buzzed head, which Cassian never would have thought he’d find attractive on a woman, but did. All of his attention went to her stunning facial features. Her gray-blue eyes were piercing, unrelenting. Her plump, pink lips were pursed shut. Her cheekbones were sharp, her jawbone rigid.

“I’m assuming you’re here against your will, too?” Cassian asked, after she didn’t say a word.

They were the only ones there, sitting on the bench under the awning, but there was a solid three feet between them.

She didn’t answer.

“I like your hair,” Cassian said, then, if only because the silence was agonizing. He had never been good with silence when he was among others. “A daring choice. It looks nice on you.”

Her eyes flickered to him, then flickered back to the busy street in front of them.

“I-”

“If you’re going to keep talking to me, I’ll move,” she snapped.

Cassian raised a dark brow. “You have a lot of anger.”

“You’re not perfect either,” she shot back. “Apparently.”

Cassian glanced at her, then looked away. “Fair enough.”

She opened her mouth as if she’d apologized, then thought better of it.

Just when Cassian was about to give up on the entire situation, she said, “You look familiar.”

Cassian shrugged. “I’ve lived here forever. You’ve probably seen me around.”

“You know my sister,” she said. “Feyre.”

Cassian blinked. “Feyre is your sister?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

Cassian didn’t reply. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t like his answer.

They didn’t talk for the next fifteen minutes. The time passed by slowly, and when the bus finally arrived, Feyre’s sister practically jumped off the bench and onto the bus, not bothering to ask Cassian if he needed help.

Not that he would have accepted her help, or anyone’s for that matter.

He wasn’t worthy of such generosity.

Not after all that he’d done.

He sat alone in a row and took a seat by the window as the bus took off.

~~~

Elain didn’t know what to do.

Azriel had been ignoring her. She knew it had nothing to do with her, that he was just going through some stuff, but a little voice inside of her mind kept telling her that she was responsible. 

She was sitting in her bedroom, flipping through her literature book when her phone chimed.

Meet me in the park by Rita’s along the Sidra?

It had been almost a week since she’d heard from him, almost a week since he’d begun to shut her out.

Elain picked up her phone with a shaky hand. When?

Five minutes passed before she received, Now?

Elain didn’t hesitate before grabbing her phone and her keys and running out the front door. She had been the only one home since that morning. Feyre was with Rhysand at the hospital, Nesta had gone to a therapy session, which surprised Elain in itself. Their father had gone to the farmer’s market to explore, although Elain thought he was doing a lot more than that, she just wasn’t quite sure. Besides, who went to the farmer’s market for five hours?

Nobody.

The park was less than ten minutes down the road, although the traffic of Velaris made Elain grow anxious. But when she arrived, Azriel was there, sitting on a bench by himself, watching the river flow.

She sat beside him without saying a word.

He didn’t look in her direction.

He was wearing a black henley shirt with joggers, his boots untied and beaten. 

His eyes looked sad, dreary as if he hadn’t slept in days.

Those scarred hands that Elain thought beautiful for a reason she couldn’t quite explain were shoved into his pant pockets. An old ball cap hid his disheveled hair.

“I’m sorry.”

Elain blinked, almost surprised to hear his voice after the moments of silence. She looked at him, brown eyes wide. “For what?”

“I’ve been ignoring you.”

Elain was fully aware of that fact, but the words still hurt. “It’s okay.”

“I feel guilty,” he said, still refusing to meet her eyes. “I have never dealt with guilt well.”

He didn’t say anything more, and Elain wasn’t quite sure what to say in response. If the accident had never happened, Azriel would have probably asked her out on a date. But that never happened, and Elain and Azriel had never become anything more than acquaintances, no matter how fond she had been of him.

“I don’t mean to sound rude,” Elain began, voice quiet, “but, why are you telling me this? Why am I here?”

Azriel didn’t blink, didn’t even stir. He simply watched the sparkling water of the Sidra flowing freely. “I love watching the water pass. It never ends, the flowing of the water. It’s never still, always moving. When I was little, I used to run away, just for the afternoon, to watch the water from the Sidra. I dreamt of building a boat and putting it in the river, letting it lead me to the ocean so that it could take me wherever it wanted to.”

Elain didn’t respond. She just watched him, listened.

“You are kind, Elain. And I don’t know who else to talk to,” he said. “If you don’t wish to be here, you don’t have to be.”

His voice was not rude, just honest.

Elain took a moment before saying, “I have been told that I’m a great listener.”

Azriel huffed a laugh through his nose, although his lips never twitched.

“It is beautiful,” Elain said, looking away from him and toward the river. “I haven’t lived here long, but I truly admire its beauty.”

Azriel nodded, keeping silent.

“You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Elain said, quietly. “When it is not yours to carry.”

Azriel took a deep breath. “I remember that night. Of the accident. I remember telling Cassian that he shouldn’t drive. I knew that Rhys was in the back. I knew Cassian was too drunk to make decisions. But, I let it go. I was drunk, but I still knew better, and I let it go. I should’ve pushed harder. They almost died, Elain, and if I would’ve been the only one who had been okay-” he cut himself off and shook his head. “They almost died.”

Elain wanted to reach over and take his hand, but she didn’t. She told herself it was because they were still shoved into his pockets, but in reality, it was because she didn’t have the nerve to.

“They're okay,” she said, voice gentle. “They made it, Azriel. They’re going to be just fine. It was a mistake. A stupid, drunken mistake. But that does not define you. It does not define Cassian, and it does not define Rhysand. We live, we learn, but we must move on.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes grew weary. “I feel too much. Everything I feel - sadness, joy, guilt - I feel it more than most people.”

Elain instantly thought of Nesta. She felt too much, too.

“Feeling too much can be a blessing and a curse,” Elain said. 

Azriel nodded, but didn’t reply.

They sat in comfortable silence. Azriel still hadn’t looked at her, but Elain didn’t mind. She didn’t mind being someone’s go-to, someone’s shoulder to cry on, even if the tears were metaphorical. 

“I don’t know you all that well,” Elain began, cautiously. “But, I do know you’re a good guy. You are not cruel, and you love your friends fiercely. I can’t tell you how I know that everything is going to be okay, but I know it will be. Life sucks. I am a living testament of that, as are my sisters, but that’s how we find out who we are, and who we want to be. We have to live through the trials to see what we’re made of.”

Azriel nodded, slowly. “My entire life has been a trial. I’m beginning to think I am unworthy, as if the universe is attempting to tell me something.”

This time, Elain did reach across the empty space between them, her fingers brushing along his forearm.

Azriel still did not meet her gaze, but his fingers intertwined with her own as the water of the Sidra flowed past.

~~~

Feyre knocked on the door.

She had come earlier that morning, but had chickened out just before reaching his room. She’d gone and got some breakfast at a local cafe, then went for a run, then went shopping, and eventually ended back up at the hospital. 

“Come in,” a sleepy, low voice said.

Feyre wandered in, silently shutting the door behind her. Rhysand was lying in bed, an arm tossed behind his head which was no longer bandaged.

Stitches held the skin on his forehead together.

“Hey,” he said, smiling when he saw her. “Look who decided to pay me a visit.”

Feyre didn’t walk in too far, her body swaying by the doorway. “How are you feeling?”

Rhysand raised a brow. “Fine. How are you feeling?” 

Feyre hesitated. “I-seriously? Look at you, and you’re asking about me?”

Rhysand chuckled. “Humor me, Feyre. I’ve been stuck here for too long.” Feyre took a seat by his bedside.

“You went to my house.”

Feyre froze. She had left just after Rhysand woke up and hadn’t visited him in the week since. “Did your mom and sister stay long?”

He shook his head. “No, had to get back home before dad realized they’d gone against his obvious wishes.” He scoffed, anger brewing in those violet eyes. “They said hi. Haven’t seen them since. Thank you, though.”

Feyre lifted a brow. “Thank you?”

“For going to get them,” he said, his voice sounding more sincere than Feyre had ever heard it. “Really.” Feyre gave him a nod.

She kept silent, glancing up at the daytime talk show that was playing in the background up on the tv. 

Rhysand wouldn’t stop looking at her.

“What?” She asked, at last, exasperated.

Rhys chuckled. “They say you sat at my bedside nonstop.”

Feyre’s cheeks turned red. “Yeah, well…”

“And yet, you haven’t come since I’ve been awake?”

Feyre looked at her combined hands. 

When she said nothing, Rhys shook his head. “You’re really going to make me ask you why, aren’t you?”

Truth was, she didn’t know why. She hated hospitals after her mom died, but it didn’t stop her from coming when Rhys was asleep.

Maybe it was fear, or pure nervousness.

“I just wanted you to be able to get better,” she said. “Without any distractions.”

Rhysand grinned. “Liar.”

She was. She was a liar, she had been since the moment she’d met him, every time she had told him that she wasn’t interested.

This was the moment.

She either had to go for it, or walk away and never look back.

Rhysand lifted a brow. “Thank you for staying, Feyre Archeron.”

A thousand thoughts flooded through Feyre’s mind.

But instead of saying a word, Feyre leaned across the cot and pressed her lips to his. 

#void #tacmc void #feysand #elriel #nessian #fanfic #fanfiction #acotar

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { O N E }

Chapter 1. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

"Eleanor was right. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something." - Rainbow Rowell, Eleanor & Park

“Who are you texting?”

Tomas’ smile quickly faded. He didn’t need to answer her question, she already knew who it was. There was only one person who made him smile so dopily into his phone.

Claire.

He was so obviously in love with her. He never tried to hide it.

But every time he and Nesta were together, Tomas would get text messages that made him smile, made him laugh, made his eyes sparkle.

Nesta hated Claire.

If only because Nesta had never made Tomas laugh like that. Tomas looked at a text message from Claire a hell of a lot more lovingly than he ever looked at Nesta.

“None of your business,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Why do you get so jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” she snapped. “I just think when you’re with someone you shouldn’t be spending all your time staring and laughing at your phone.”

Tomas snorted. “Stop being an idiot.”

Nesta stared down at her plate of fries, which she hadn’t touched. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Tomas waited until she looked back up at him to say, “Obviously.”

“Prettier than Claire?”

Tomas rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. “That’s a stupid question.”

“Is it? Because I’m trying to figure out what Claire has that your so in love with that I don’t have.” she sounded pitiful, but she couldn’t stop the words that had been building up for months from slipping out of her mouth.

Tomas just shook his head. “Being pretty isn’t everything. People aren’t just going to like you because you’re pretty.” Nesta looked back down at her plate when he muttered, “It helps to have a damn personality, too.”

Nesta blinked. “Are you saying I don’t have a personality?”

Tomas didn’t respond. He simply picked up his phone, smling at whatever text he’d gotten next.

Nesta didn’t touch her food.

She didn’t say anything else for the rest of the meal, either.

They sat there for another thirty minutes and all the while all she could hear was: no personality, no personality, boring, dull, pathetic. He’s never going to love you. No fucking personality.

Perhaps it was because he had stolen her personality from her long ago.

~~~~

It had been three days since she’d seen Tomas, but he still texted Nesta every little bit to make sure she was at home, alone, and not doing anything he referred to as stupid.

She wasn’t doing anything stupid.

She wasn’t doing anything at all.

Nesta stared at her bedroom wall, lying on her side on her bed. She used to have posters up, used to have pictures up of herself and her sisters, but now her wall was bare.

Her breathing was slow but steady. Her head hurt, probably due to lack of food or water or the fact that she hadn’t gotten out of bed all day and it was nearly nightfall.

The last time she had seen Tomas, he’d hit her in the stomach because she was late. Her period began two days later, two weeks after it was meant to. The bleeding was different. Unnormal. Irregular.

Different.

If she had been carrying his child, she no longer was.

So Nesta stared at the wall.

Her phone rang, startling her out of her daze.

Elain, her screen read.

She didn’t want to answer.

But, if she didn’t answer, Elain would just keep calling until she knew that Nesta was alright.

“Hello?” she answered, sighing into her phone.

“Hey!” Elain said, bright and cheery. “Whatcha doin?”

Nesta took a moment to say, “Just relaxing at home. You?”

“School starts tomorrow,” she said. “I’m organizing my backpack.”

Nesta almost laughed. Organizing her backpack? It was something that was so Elain that Nesta’s chest began to ache.

“We miss you,” Elain said. “I wish you would’ve come home for the summer. Seen the new place.”

But she hadn’t. She had remained near campus so that she could see Tomas whenever she wanted. She didn’t go to Velaris to stay with her sisters, their dad, all because she wanted to stay near Tomas.

“How’s Feyre?” Nesta asked, when she wasn’t sure what else to say.

Elain cleared her throat. “Um, she’s okay. Her and dad are fighting a lot.”

Nesta wasn’t surprised. They had always fought, ever since their mom died. Elain was hoping that moving to the city, a new change of scenery, would help with all the fighting, but it seems it hadn’t.

“I’ll come up for fall break, okay?” Nesta promised.

Elain beamed. “Okay! Great! I’m so excited to show you the city. You’re going to love it here.”

Nesta felt like Elain was talking painfully slow, even though she knew her sister was probably speaking completely normal.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Elain sounded disappointed when she said, “Oh, okay. I love you.”

“Love you,” Nesta said, and hung up.

She should get up.

She should walk around.

Eat.

Pee.

Bathe.

With a sigh, Nesta meandered to the washroom across the hall.

She flipped on the lights, the brightness hurting her eyes.

When she saw herself in the mirror, she should have cringed, but she didn’t feel a thing. With a tilt of her head, she made note of the dark circles beneath her eyes, the tangles in her hair for not brushing it in days. She made note of the emptiness in her eyes, the dullness, the lack of life.

She was a ghost.

No personality.

She supposed she should be happy that Tomas found her pretty, though. Perhaps it was her beauty that caught his attention in the first place. Perhaps it was her beauty that caused him to smoothtalk his way into her heart, into her bed.

He had been her first.

Not that he believed her. When she told Tomas that she had been a virgin before him, he laughed in her face. Fucking liar. Don’t tell me that bullshit. Don’t lie.

But she hadn’t lied. He was her first, and it was why she loved him, why she was connected to him, why she wanted so desperately for him to love her, too.

But he thought nothing of her.

Only that she was beautiful.

Beauty.

That’s what she was.

That’s all she was.

She was a boring, personalityless girl caught in a beautiful woman’s body.

Nesta stared at herself in the mirror as a single tear slid down her cheek.

She was beautiful, she supposed. People had always told her that she looked like her mother. Men had always found her pretty, just like Tomas did.

Pretty, but nothing more.

All she was good for was sex. Tomas only wanted her for the physical stuff, and then he went to Claire for the real connection.

Beautiful.

All she was to him was a beautiful piece of fucking property.

Before Nesta knew what she was doing, Nesta opened the top drawer of her vanity and found an old set of clippers. She had used to cut her dad’s hair with those clippers, before their mom had died.

Beautiful.

It’s all he saw her as.

But she wanted to be more. She needed to be more to him. Maybe he would see the real her if he wasn’t focused on her damn beauty anymore.

She had a fucking personality.

She was more than just a pretty girl.

Nesta didn’t even realized she had plugged the clippers in, didn’t even realized she had raised the razor sharp tip to her scalp.

It was until she saw half of her hair lying on the bathroom tile that she knew what she was doing. Her hands were shaking as she placed the clippers gently back on the counter. Her blue eyes were red, puffy. Her lips were wet with tears, swollen, covered in snot that had been running from her nose.

Her fingers rose to graze the buzzed side of her head.

With half of her hair gone, the other half a tangled mess, Nesta fell to the tiled floor and cried. She cried loudly, angrily. She cursed his name, cursed her worthless, stupid fucking life. She cursed the fact that she felt absolutely nothing and everything all at once.

She cursed the fact that she cared about Tomas, still. That she cared what he thought of her.

She cried and she screamed until there was nothing left in her, and her face fell into neutral territory.

Nesta rose to her feet and wiped her cheeks dry before taking the clippers and removing the other half of her hair.

Tomas would not think she was only a pretty girl, now.

~~~~

Elain continued to stare at her phone for a long while after she hung up with Nesta.

Nesta wasn’t doing well, she knew that, but it made it a lot more difficult to try and help her when Nesta was so private.

“Done organizing?”

Elain jumped, completely unaware how much time had passed.

Feyre leaned against her door frame.

“I think so,” Elain said, keeping her voice light. “Talked to Nesta.”

Feyre raised a brow. “She actually answered? Shocking.”

Elain nibbled on her lip. “Are you ready for your first day of junior year?”

Feyre groaned. “Wishing I was a senior with you. Two more years of school sounds like a lifetime.”

Elain laughed, quietly. “I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t super excited to be a senior.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Rub it in why don’t you.”

“Girls! Dinner! Come eat!”

Feyre raised a brow. “Warning- he made meatloaf.”

Elain scrunched her nose. “Gross.”

“Don’t tell him that. He’s proud.”

“Girls! Come on! Before it gets cold!”

Elain and Feyre looked at one another, trying not to laugh as they headed down the staircase together.

Their father had come a long way since the death of their mother. At first, he was a shell of a man. As time went on, and after Nesta left, he’d learned how to cope. He’d never moved on, had never gone a day without missing her, but he had learned to cope. He had learned to smile, learned to laugh, learned how to have a good time for his daughters.

Unfortunately, in his healing process, he’d picked up cooking.

It was unfortunate because it was always disgusting.

Nine times out of ten, at least.

The three of them sat down at the dinner table, their father anxiously awaiting his daughters’ first bites.

Feyre cleared her throat. “Dad, I have to admit that meatloaf isn’t my favorite.”

“Is meatloaf anyone’s favorite?” Elain whispered.

“Okay, okay,” Isaac said, hands raised. “It may not be a fan favorite, but it was the recipe of the day in the cookbook Elain got me for Christmas. So.”

“Way to go Elain,” Feyre mumbled.

“Okay,” Elain said, cutting off a piece of meatloaf. “Here goes.”

She put the piece into her mouth and chewed, slowly. “Yummy. Is it...supposed to be hard?”

Isaac groaned. “I’m just going to order a pizza.”

Their dad got up from the table and walked into the kitchen.

“No, dad!” Elain called after him. “It's good!”

But she was laughing. Feyre was laughing. And Isaac was not buying it.

“Has anyone talked to Nesta recently?” Isaac asked, after ordering a large pepperoni pizza from the corner pizza shop.

Elain’s laughter faded away. “I did this afternoon. She didn’t sound too good. But, she said she’d come visit for fall break next month.”

They had moved to Velaris at the beginning of the summer, in hopes of starting anew. Nesta would have come, too, if she wasn’t going to school in their old city.

Elain loved the city of Velaris. She had loved it from the first day she’d seen it, and she knew Nesta would love it, too.

“Maybe we can go see her next weekend,” Feyre suggested.

“Yeah,” Elain agreed, forcing herself to smile. “We should.”

“I’ll have to give her a call tomorrow,” Isaac said, clearing the meatloaf from the table.

As he brought it into the kitchen, Feyre and Elain erupted into laughter, once more.

For twenty minutes, they tried to encourage their father in his cooking endeavors, but he just kept rolling his eyes, telling them his cooking was award winning.

Even his brick hard meatloaf.

When that twenty minutes was up, the doorbell rang and Feyre hurried to the door.

“Finally,” she mumbled, “I’m starving.”

When she threw open the door, she froze.

Pizza delivery boys were bred differently in Velaris, apparently, because the boy standing in front of her was gorgeous. His dark hair wasn’t covered by a hat, although Feyre was certain that a hat was part of his uniform. But it was his eyes that were captivating.

Violet. Bright. Humored.

“Large pepperoni?” He asked, brow raised.

Feyre cleared her throat. “Oh. Yeah. Yes. Thanks.”

“Twelve dollars even,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“For...the pizza?” He said, laughing quietly. “Which is the reason I’m standing on your porch.”

Feyre turned pink to the tips of her ears. “Your sarcasm isn’t needed.”

He lifted a brow as Elain came up behind her with some cash.

“Thanks,” He said, keeping his eyes on Feyre’s.

Elain took the pizza box, giving Feyre a nudge forward as she brought it back to the kitchen.

“You’re new to this house.”

Feyre blinked. “Excuse me?”

He grinned. “I’ve delivered to this house before.”

“We just moved in,” Feyre said, taking a step back. “You may leave now.”

Laughing quietly, he shook his head and descended the front porch steps.

Feyre didn’t realize that she had watched him go until he drove away.

_______

Chapter 2 coming soon.

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#nessian #elriel #feysand #fanfic #fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #tacmc void

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { S I X }

Chapter 6. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

Cassian awoke in blinding pain.

A monitor was beeping in the background, the fluorescent lights were dimmed. He groaned as he took in his surroundings.

He was completely alone.

He was in a hospital.

Outside of the window, he saw the bright starlight. He was still in Velaris, then.

He tried to remember what had happened, but he couldn’t. Nothing came to mind as he struggled to grasp onto the memory.

With a curse, he attempted to pull himself up into sitting position. Shooting pain in his left shoulder greeted him.

He looked down at his body atop the plain white sheets. His arm was in a sling, his left leg in a cast from his toes to his thigh.

Everything hurt.

He didn’t even want to see what he looked like in the mirror. 

The door slowly opened and Cecily entered. She didn’t even notice he was awake until she set her coffee down on his bedside table.

A soft sob shook her small frame as her hazel eyes grew large. “Cass? Cass!”

She gently hugged him, gathering him into her arms even though he was so much bigger than she.

Cecilia grabbed a glass of water off the table and held it to his lips. He drank, slowly, as he leaned back against his pillows.

“How long was I asleep?” He asked, voice raspy. 

“Four days,” she said. “You took a bad hit to the head.”

Cassian reached up and brushed away her tears. “What happened?”

She froze, her sob fading into silence. “What do you mean? You...don’t remember?”

Cassian shook his head, slowly, watching his little sister’s heart break with his every movement.

“You crashed,” she said, through her tears, voice quiet but harsh, bitter. “You were driving, drunk, and you crashed.”

Cassian's heart stopped, the monitor he was hooked up to began to beep in alarm. “Did I...hit someone?���

She shook her head. “Ran into a tree. Your side got hit the worst. You were going way over the speed limit.”

Pissed.

She was pissed.

And she had every right to be pissed.

Only a damned idiot would drive drunk.

And that’s when Cassian remembered.

That’s when Cassian remembered it all.

His face paled in horror. “Az?”

“He’s fine,” Cecily whispered.

But Rhys… he hadn’t been buckled, hadn’t even been inside the…

Cassian couldn’t bring himself to ask, couldn’t bring himself to say his name.

Cecily’s head began to shake as tears streamed down her beautifully tanned cheeks.

~~~

Feyre approached his hospital bed.

Elain had told her what had happened days before, thanks to Azriel, and Feyre suddenly felt guilty.

She had been so cruel to him, so ungrateful.

She had been a bitch to him since they’d met.

Now, he was hurt, he had almost lost his life, and her cruelty would have been the last thing she’d given to him in this life.

It had taken her a few days to get the nerve to visit.

But here she was.

He was breathing, steadily, although he had yet to wake up.

Feyre sank into an armchair by his bedside, if only because the sight of him made her knees weak.

He was unrecognizable.

His body was beaten, bruised, swollen.

A bandage was wrapped around his head, his black hair sticking out. A cast held his right arm, but that was all she could see thanks to the blankets that covered him.

A nurse came into the room, startling Feyre out of her staring.

She hadn’t realized she had begun to cry until the nurse offered her a tissue.

“Thank you,” Feyre whispered, accepting it gratefully. “How is he doing?”

The nurse began checking his vitals. “Are you a friend?”

Her kind tone sounded unnatural in the current circumstances. 

Feyre nodded. “Yes.”

“He’s doing better,” she said, offering a smile. “He’s made a lot of progress. He’s stable, although he’ll have a long road toward recovery.”

“What’s wrong?” Feyre asked. “What’s all happened to him?”

The nurse’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to tell anyone other than family.”

The nurse wasn’t much older than Feyre, perhaps in her early twenties, recently a college graduate. Feyre wasn’t happy with that answer, but the nurse was only doing her job, so she nodded. “Have they come by, do you know? His family?”

The nurse shook her head as she took Rhysand’s blood pressure. “We’ve contacted his father, but no, no one has come.”

Feyre nodded her thanks and let the nurse finish her rounds in peace. It wasn’t until she left that Feyre scooted the chair to the edge of the cot and took Rhys’ hand in her own. She brushed her thumb over his palm, trying not to irritate the scratches and bruises, wondering if he could feel her, could hear her.

“Hey,” she said, her voice sounding far louder than it was in the quiet room. “You’re an idiot, I hope you know that.”

It was meant as a joke, but her voice came out broken.

“You are cocky and rude, and so in love with yourself that it’s annoying,” she said, laughing to distract her watering eyes. “You have annoyed me since the day we met. I can’t stand you.” She shook her head, the hand on her lap joining their joined hands on top of his cot. “And I need you to keep annoying me, okay? So you gotta wake up.”

Nothing happened.

He didn’t move.

There was no indication that he had heard a word that had come out of her mouth.

But Feyre didn’t move.

She stayed by his bedside, holding his hand.

~~~

Elain sat across the table from Azriel in the hospital cafeteria.

Neither of them had said a word in a few minutes, but neither of them felt uncomfortable. 

She rode with Feyre to the hospital, who had been too anxious to drive herself.

“What’s going to happen to Cassian?” Elain asked.

Azriel blinked, almost as if he was trying to register that she had spoken. “They’re not sending him to jail. Unless Rhys...you know. As of right now, they’re sending him to some kind of mandatory support group. Kind of like Alcoholics Anonymous, but for young adults that need support of all kind.”

“And if Rhys…” She couldn’t say the words, couldn’t finish her sentence.

But Azriel understood. “Even though it was an accident, it was still his fault. He’d go to prison.”

Elain nibbled on her bottom lip. “And how are you doing with all of this?”

Out of the three of them, Azriel had been impacted the least. He’d gotten out with a few bumps and bruises.

“I feel guilty,” he admitted, quietly, refusing to meet her gaze. 

When he said nothing else, she asked, “About what? It wasn’t your-”

Azriel’s hazel eyes flashed as he looked back up to Elain, as if he was just realizing she was still there. “I should go check on them. Can I text you later?”

Elain hesitated. She wanted to ask him more questions, wanted him to open up, but she knew that’s not what he needed. So, she gave him a gentle smile and nodded.

Elain had been there for Azriel since the accident, had been texting him since the bonfire. He had been different since after the accident, and Elain understood. She would be worried if he hadn’t been acting differently. They were still getting to know one another, but Elain found herself drawn to Azriel. She wanted to know him.

But she felt like that was an impossible task.

As she watched him walk away, her heart shattered.

For all of them.

~~~

Cassian felt angry.

Angry at himself, mostly.

Angry at his father.

Cece was pushing him through the halls in a wheelchair. She had convinced him that he needed to leave his room.

He wasn’t so sure.

He was perfectly fine staying in his bed, sulking.

If Rhys didn’t make it, a thought that he couldn’t shake from his mind, Cassian couldn’t live with himself. How could he be so fucking stupid?

Cecelia pushed him into Rhys’ room. The heart monitor was beeping steadily. 

Feyre sat by his bedside, tenderly gripping his hand.

She caught Cassian’s gaze.

“Hey,” she whispered.

Cassian couldn’t bring himself to reply. He thought Feyre had hated Rhys, but the look in her eyes now told him quite the opposite.

“How is he?” Cassian choked out.

“Stable,” Feyre responded. “The nurse has high hopes.”

Cassian let out a breath as his eyes began to water. 

“It’s okay,” Feyre said, voice still quiet.

She didn’t bother to tell him that it wasn’t his fault.

Because it was. They all knew as much.

“Turn me around,” he muttered to Cecelia after a moment.

“Cass-”

“Turn me around!” he snapped.

Rhys didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch at Cassian’s rise in volume. 

Before Cecelia could get his chair all the way around, Cassian used his free leg and his free arm to wheel himself out of Rhys’ room and down the hallway.

Cecelia didn’t follow him. Cassian didn’t know if it was because she hated him that much after all that he had done, or if it was because she loved him so much that watching him fall into the pit of despair was too hard to watch.

Either way, Cassian deserved it.

~~~~

Nesta stood on the edge of the parking garage, watching the cars go by on the street below.

She wasn’t at the top, but a fall from the fourth landing would not be pretty. 

She tilted her head, the cool night breeze feeling weird against her buzzed head. She remembered how it felt for her long, Golden brown hair to blow in the wind.

With the memory, she felt nothing.

Nothing.

She felt nothing.

Was nothing.

She was empty.

Her body was falling into an endless void.

She knew she was crying, although there was no sound, no feeling, only the salty taste that coated her lips from the tears that had already fallen.

Nothing.

Nesta closed her eyes, and when she swayed, they shot open.

She fell back onto the garage’s cement, a soft sob shaking her frail shoulders.

“Miss...are you okay?”

A shaking, wrinkled hand reached for her.

Nesta met the green eyes of an elderly man.

He was breathing hard, panting. He must have seen her, must have come running.

“Let me help you,” he said, his voice gentle.

As his hand reached Nesta’s, she did not pull away.

#void #tacmc void #tara writes #6 #nessian #feysand #elriel #elain #azriel #nesta #cassian #feyre #rhysand #fanfic #fanfiction

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { F I V E }

Chapter 5. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“It sounded like a dream; it tasted like damnation.”  from The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic

Nesta woke up early the next morning, but it wasn’t until 8 or so that she got a surprise visitor.

Elain hurried past the guest room towards the bathroom, but slowly backstepped a second later.

She looked into the room, brown eyes wide. “Wh- Nesta?”

She had been at a party the night before when Nesta has gotten there. Everyone had been asleep when she had gotten home.

Nesta sat up in her bed, a small smile for her younger sister. “Surprise.”

Elain’s eyes remained wide. Nesta didn’t know if it was just because she was shocked to see her or if it was because she hadn’t yet seen her hair, or lack thereof, in person yet.

Before Nesta could string together another sentence, Elain was running inside of the little bedroom, throwing herself on top of her sister. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too,” Nesta muttered into her hair. “Feyre still asleep?”

Elain froze. “Okay so, don’t tell dad, but she’s at a boy’s house.”

Nesta blinked. “She spent the night at a boy’s house?”

Elain rolled her eyes. “Not like that. At least...I don’t think so. Not last I heard. Anyway, I’m just telling dad that she’s at a friend’s and I’m going to get her in a little bit.”

“And why are we lying?” Nesta asked, intrigued.

“We’re not lying. He is a friend,” she said, winking as she nudged her sister in the ribs before throwing her arms around her neck, once more. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re here. How long are you staying?”

Nesta hesitated. “A while.”

Elain gave her a curious look, but nodded. “We’ll talk details later. I’m just so happy to see you.”

A soft knock came on the already opened door.

Isaac stood in the doorway, a mug of steaming black coffee in hand. “What’s your plans for this Saturday, ladies?”

“I’m going to get Feyre this morning,” Elain said, nodding. “She stayed at a friend’s house last night. Then I was thinking we’d do some shopping downtown.”

Isaac blinked. “Feyre made a friend?”

“Yeah,” Elain smiled without missing a beat. “They’re getting along really well. One of my cheer squad mates.”

“Alright,” he said. “Nesta? What about you?”

“Going with Elain,” she said, much to Elain’s delight.

Isaac nodded, his eyes holding Nesta’s for a moment longer. “Alright. Well, you three be safe. I’ll see you tonight for dinner?”

“We’ll be here,” Elain smiled, clapping her hands.

Nesta nodded, trying her best to smile. Her heart wasn’t in it, though. She wasn’t sure if her heart would ever be in it.

Nesta smiled, but she felt nothing.

She never felt anything.

Not anymore.

~~~

Feyre woke up with a pounding headache and a hazy memory.

She shot up on the couch, fully taking in her surroundings. She had no idea where she was, had barely any memory of the night before.

She remembered going with Elain to the bonfire. Remembered the punch. But after that?

Rhysand.

Oh gods. Rhysand. She had a vague memory of her shoving her hand down Rhysand’s pants.

Her cheeks burned.

“I know you from somewhere.”

Feyre spun around, fully aware that her breath reeked.

A young, teenage girl stared at her, hazel eyes curious, curly brown hair pulled back into a bun.

“She goes to your school,” a guy answered from the kitchen. “Feyre, my sister, Cecily. Cece, meet Feyre. Oh, and I’m Cassian.”

Feyre’s mouth opened, then closed.

The three of them were alone.

“Rhys is in the shower,” Cassian said, guessing her thoughts, mouthful of scrambled eggs. Feyre felt sick.

“I...should go,” Feyre hesitated.

“Rhys drove you here. Don’t you remember?”

Feyre blinked.

She remembered her hands in his….

Feyre cursed, her face falling into her hands.

“It’s okay, Elain is on her way,” he chuckled.

Feyre’s cheeks burned to the point that she was almost in physical pain. She couldn’t imagine what Elain would say when she arrived, but she knew it would be embarrassing.

Another dark-haired male stepped into the main room from the hallway. He gave Feyre a polite nod as he went into the kitchen and began to dig through the fridge. Feyre recognized him from the bonfire.

“So, you all live together?” Feyre asked.

Cassian nodded.

Feyre, not knowing what else to say, sunk back down onto the couch.

The bathroom door opened a minute later. Rhys came out, a towel around his waist, tanned skin still glistening.

He caught Feyre’s eye and grinned. “Ah, she’s awake. Good morning, Feyre darling.”

Feyre didn’t respond.

“Already in denial about your flirting last night?” He asked, leaning over the back of the couch. “That hurts.”

“I was drunk,” she mumbled.

“You know what they say,” he began, “drunk people always tell the truth.”

“I’ll wait outside,” Feyre announced, rising to her feet.

Rhys stepped in front of her. “Stay. Please? Have some breakfast….if you can stomach it. I’ll even put a shirt on.”

Silence.

The room was met with utter silence.

“Fine,” Feyre snapped, after a moment passed. “But the minute Elain is here, we’re leaving.”

Rhysand’s grin simply widened as he grabbed a tee shirt and a pair of sweatpants off the ground and meandered into one of the back bedrooms to dress.

Before he could come out, a precautious knock came to the front door. Feyre watched as Azriel’s eyes shot up and he hurried to open it.

Feyre’s sister stood on the threshold, smiling at Azriel once she met his gaze. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied, quietly.

Feyre quickly ducked around Azriel and past Elain, hurrying toward the car as quickly as she could. She only froze when she saw who sat in the passenger seat.

Feyre hadn’t seen Nesta in a while, but she knew her oldest sister hadn’t been doing well. Looking at her now, Feyre didn’t even recognize her.

She was far too thin, her head buzzed. She was wearing a black jacket that nearly swallowed her whole.

Nesta’s eyes met Feyre’s and her entire body tensed. Feyre took the remaining footsteps cautiously. When she sat in the back seat, neither of them spoke a word.

They simply watched Elain, and although all they could see was her back, Feyre knew she was giggling. Azriel watched her, hazel eyes soft, as Elain said whatever it was that she was saying.

“Who is this guy?” Nesta asked, out of nowhere.

Feyre was so unprepared for the question that she jumped at the sudden noise in the silence.

“Azriel?” Feyre asked, surprised by the steadiness of her own voice. “A friend of Rhysand’s.”

“And Rhysand is the boy you slept with last night?” Nesta asked.

Feyre scoffed, not even bothering to tell her that it wasn’t what she thought when she said, “And you’re one to judge? How has Tomas’ bed been treating you lately?”

Nesta didn’t reply.

She didn’t even look back to glare at Feyre, which is what Feyre had expected her to do.

Instead, they fell back into silence as Elain hurried back toward her car.

~~~~

Rhysand wasn’t too surprised when Feyre didn’t say goodbye. He was, however, surprised to find her phone still sitting on the couch.

He’d put it in his pocket as he went for a walk through the city.

Cassian and Cecelia were busy arranging their father’s memorial service while Azriel had to go to work at the garage. Rhys offered to help Cassian, but he just brushed his friend off. Cassian hated his father. Rhys even thought that he was happy to see the old bastard dead after everything he’d put his children through.

Hatred of their fathers. It was one thing they had always had in common, even when they were young.

So, that left Rhys to waste a day out of the apartment.

The sun was shining, the air finally becoming brisk with the approaching Autumn. He thought to spend it messing around with some lyrics he’d been working on, but it had been a while since he’d been to the rivercourt.

It sat just along the Sidra, although it had seen much better days. The court paint had long ago faded, the concrete cracked. The basketball hoops no longer had nets, but it didn’t stop Rhysand.

It was his favorite place to play, it always had been.

He’d loved the game. Once.

Before his father wanted him to become a slave to it. Then it had become torturous.

But every now and then, Rhysand liked to relive those days when he was nothing more than a boy who loved a game.

He had been good, too.

As he pulled up to where the three-point line would have been on the broken concrete, Rhysand squared himself up and took a shot.

It effortlessly fell into the middle of the rim.

Rhysand didn’t move as the ball bounced off the concrete, into the grass. He spun around, slowly, taking in his surroundings and breathing in the fresh, salty air.

But as he closed his eyes, all he saw was her.

~~~~

Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys pushed through the doors of Rita’s. Helion had done an impressively professional job on their fake id’s. At eighteen and nineteen, they barely passed for twenty-one. At least, that’s what the skeptical glare of the bodyguard checking id’s at the door told them.

“Beer,” Cassian told the bartender, “whatever’s cheapest on tap.”

After showing the bartender the black X that was drawn on the back of his hand, the bartender fulfilled his request. Cassian hated the taste of beer, but he could use it.

All he had thought about all day was his father.

His anger had built up until he told Cece he was sorry, but he needed the rest of the night off and they could resume dealing with his death in the morning.

Azriel and Rhys hadn’t hesitated when Cassian had asked if they wanted to join him for a night out on the town.

Cassian was glad, too, because it would have been far more pathetic getting drunk alone. And three hours later, when they were all stumbling around in the parking lot howling at everything and nothing at all, Cassian was grateful for his two best friends, even if this memory would be nothing more than drunken haziness that he would barely remember.

“Shiiiiiiit,” Cassian breathed, getting behind the wheel of his truck. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision.

“You shouldn’t drive,” Azriel said, falling into the passenger seat. “Let’s call a cab.”

“I’m so drunk!” Rhysand screamed, standing in the bed of the truck with his shirt over his face.

Cassian and Azriel howled.

“Sit down, jackass!” Cassian hollered, pounding on the back window. “I’m fine. We live less than fi-five minutes from here.”

Azriel, completely unaware of what he had said before, was singing along to the radio, obnoxiously loud, head hanging out the window.

He could hear Rhys joining in for the chorus, voice worse than Azriel’s.

Cassian shook his head, sputtering a laugh as he put his truck in reverse.

It was only three miles to their apartment, but they barely made it a mile down the road before everything changed.

Even the beauty of the starlit night sky of Velaris could not diminish the tragedy that would unfold a mile down the road from Rita’s.

~~~

Don’t be mad at me, but I’m no longer going to do tags! They don’t work half the time and they add, like, an extra half hour onto every post....so, from this post forward, every chapter will be tagged “tacmc void” and I will be updating weekly. :)

#tacmc void #fanfic #fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #void #nessian #feysand #elriel #tacmc #tara writes

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { A C O T A R }

Teaser. Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

disclaimer: this story deals with sensitive material. 

He watched her, unblinking. His jaw was set, lips pursed, arms crossed.

“You’re a week late?” He asked, voice low. “Why would you tell me that?”

Nesta’s insides were shaking. “I….just thought you’d like to kno-“

The blow came to her abdomen before she could put her hectic thought into words. She gasped, hands clutching her stomach as her eyes began to water. “What the hell was that for?”

He plopped down onto the couch, dismissing her entirely as if punching her in the gut was nothing out of the ordinary. “Just in case.”

Just in case you’re pregnant.

Nesta wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure how to act. Her eyes quickly dried, a sense of nothingness taking the place of her despair.

He’d once told her that he loved her, that he wanted to build a life with her. He’d once made her feel important, beautiful, wanted, and loved. He’d once made her believed that he actually wanted those things. That he’d actually loved her, wanted to marry her.

What a stupid, beautiful fool she had been.

He began to flip through the television stations, his feet propped up on a footstool.

Nesta opened her mouth to speak, to stand up for herself, but nothing came out.

“I have to go,” she said, voice quiet. “My sisters need me.”

“K,” he said, continuing to flip through the stations without meeting her stare.

“Tomas,” she breathed.

“What.”

She was still staring at the back of his head when she asked, “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“No. I work.”

Nesta nodded. “Okay...I guess I’ll just go, then.”

“Okay. Bye.”

She waited for him to say something, anything else, but he didn’t. He didn’t even look back at her once as she backed out of the room, out of his apartment, and quietly shut the door behind her.

She didn’t make it to her car before the tears came, and once she was safely shut inside, she screamed.

#nesta #nessian #cassian #feyre #rhysand #feysand #elriel #azriel #elalin #acotar #acomaf #acowar #fanfic #fanfiction #tacmc void #new fanfic #coming soon