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There’s Glitter On The Floor After The Party..

@highlady-brittney

Taylor Swift fan, Sarah J Maas fan, and Nursing student
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theladyofdeath
Anonymous asked:

“Your love is suffocating” prompt 500 words - any couple

theladyofdeath answered:

Nessian.

Word count: 442/500

Warning: Depressive episode + fluff 

Written with the perfect and lovely @snelbz

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Nesta awoke to an old friend.

An old friend that she loathed, an old friend that didn’t come around as often as they used to. This particular old friend used to be her safeplace, but she finally got the nerve to leave such a friend, to move on, to put this shitty old friend in the past. 

Numbness. 

There was a time when she craved numbness, when she welcomed it, just like the old friend it was. 

Now? She hated the numbness.

Feared the numbness.

Cassian was still sound asleep next to her, his face stuffed in his pillow, a soft snore the only thing filling the silence. 

She tried to settle back into sleep, tried to ignore the hollowness that was settling into her chest, but with every movement she made, it grew, until she could hardly breathe.

Rolling over, she stared up into the darkness of their room, before closing her eyes and slowly began counting backwards from ten. Her breaths settled down, but that all-consuming emptiness… It remained.

Cassian’s wing subtly twitched against her arm, and she turned her head towards him, sighing softly. His eyes were already on her. “I know you’re awake.”

Nesta was quiet for a moment. “Sorry, having trouble sleeping.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Cassian mumbled, with a yawn. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Numbness. Hollow. Overwhelmingly empty. 

“I think I had too much wine,” Nesta said, her voice quiet.

Cassian snorted. “There’s no such thing.”

Nesta said nothing.

Cassian remained quiet, and Nesta thought he had fallen back asleep, but then his hand moved to hers and brushed her fingers, softly. 

She didn’t push him away, she welcomed in, that subtle touch. 

“Let me know how to help you,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

Nesta took a deep breath. “Your love is suffocating.” 

He snorted, and an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. “You wound me.”

Instinctively, her face turned towards his chest, breathing his scent in deeply. 

They laid like that for a moment, in complete and utter silence. She took in his scent, the scent of her mate, and it was that scent that allowed her to nearly relax. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, slowly, surely, in through her nose and out through her mouth. 

“Don’t let it overcome you,” Cassian whispered. “Suffocating or not, I’m here.”

Nesta pressed her forehead into his chest. “I know.”

Silence remained.

Not a word was uttered after that. Cassian remained, his arm around Nesta, her forehead resting against his chest, listening to the soft beating of his heart beneath his skin.

And that alone made the numbness just a little more bearable. 

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highlady-brittney

This is just so perfect 🥺🥰

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rowanisfae
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larisssss

My top 10 Rowan Whitethorn sass moments

10. When he keeps messing Aelin training on Mistward

“You know,” she said slyly, “that’s twice now you’ve made a mess of my training with your tasks. I’m fairly sure that makes you the worst instructor I’ve ever had.”
He gave her a sidelong look. “I’m surprised it took you this long to call attention to it.”

9. When he's oh so concerned for Lorcan self-esteem

“Should I thank you for putting on pants?” Lorcan said, his voice barely more than a midnight wind.
“I didn’t want you to feel inadequate,” Rowan replied, leaning against the roof door.

8. Right after when he serves Lorcan the tea

"What is it, exactly, about Aelin that gets under your skin, Lorcan? Is it that she’s not afraid of you, or is it that I walked away from you for her?”

7. When he's literally serving the tea

“Making breakfast? How domestic of you.” Aelin leaned against the doorway, irreverent as always.“Shouldn’t you be sleeping like the dead, considering your busy night?”
“Can we not get into a fight about it before my first cup of tea?”
With lethal calm, he set the kettle on the stove. “After tea, then?”

6. Something sass doesn't even need words

The one with night-dark eyes and an edged grin looked Rowan over and drawled, “I liked your hair longer.”
A dagger embedding itself in the wall not an inch from the male’s ear was Rowan’s only answer.

5. And again

Her toes curled, but she gave him a simpering smile as he rose to his feet, every muscle in his naked body rippling with the movement, and watched him pad with feline grace to the washstand and ewer atop it.
The bastard had the nerve to look her over as he lifted the jug. And then give her a satisfied, male smile as he poured a glass right to the brim, halting with expert precision.

4. Lorcan and Rowan give me life

Any softness vanished from Lorcan’s granite-hewn features. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re in this shithole place, and then we’ll discuss my plans.”
“Aelin can decide what to tell you.”
“Such a good dog.”
Rowan gave him a lazy smile but refrained from commenting on the delicate, dark-haired young woman who now held Lorcan’s own leash.

3. His opinion on the Orynth Castle

"Well, now you’ve seen every hall and room and stairwell. What do you make of your new home?” “A little small, but we’ll manage.”

2. His high standards on the coronation party

...Rowan glanced to the open doors. Then to where Lord Darrow stood beside the empty throne.
Not an official throne—just a larger, finer chair that had been selected from the sad lot of candidates.

[...]

Behind the dais, hidden beyond a painted wooden screen, a small group of musicians began playing a processional. Not the grand, sprawling orchestra that might accompany an event of this magnitude, but better than nothing.

1. Probably my favorite

“I’ll need to retrain.” [...]
Aelin frowned “And pack on some muscle again.” A slight quiver graced her words, but she curled her hands into fists at her sides and smirked at her clothes—the Mistward clothes. “It’ll be just like old times.”
[...]
Rowan gave her a crooked grin. “Just like old times,” he said, following her out of the barrow and back toward the ebony river, “but with far less sleep.”

Edit:

It has been called to my attention that i forgot the best one, so here it is:

Rowan moved deeper into the entry hall, every step laced with power and death, coming to a stop at her side. “You can call me Rowan. That’s all you need to know.” He cocked his head to the side, a predator assessing prey. “Thank you for the oil,” he added. “My skin was a little dry.”
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highlady-brittney

I forgot how much I loved sassy Rowan! This makes me want to reread all over again 😍

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snelbz

A Battlefield’s Miracle {Nessian}

A/N: This story is based post ACOSF. It will 100% contain spoilers for A Court of Silver Flames. Do not read forward if you have not finished the book yet! Written, as always, with @tacmc.

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highlady-brittney

I haven’t finished ACOSF yet.... so saving this to read when I’m done!!

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thewraithsofmorhogg
Anonymous asked:

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJEde6nr/ <- definitely the cadre after going to a bar

thewraithsofmorhogg answered:

Top Left: Lorcan, thinking he’s the lead singer again.

Top Right: Fenrys, trying to keep up with Lorcan.

Bottom Left: Vaughan, forever sober while wasted.

Bottom Right: Rowan, unsure of how he ended up here but not about to be showed up by his bandmates.

Connall is recording. Aelin is probably already passed out.

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highlady-brittney

I love this. I laughed so hard 😂

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highqueenofelfhame

what’s a weird body part you’re attracted to? when i say weird i mean like, unusual. mine is hands.

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highlady-brittney

Hands and arms. I want to look at your arms and know that when you hold me you got me. And don’t get me started with hands... 😏🥵

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katerbees

Dear Fanfic writers, I don’t care.

I don’t care if you’ve never written before or if you’ve written hundreds of fics.

I don’t care if your fic is 100 chapters or just one.

I don’t care if there’s too much dialogue, or not enough.

I don’t care if your character drinks “a hot cup of coffee” or “a steaming well of carefully brewed fair trade Ethiopian single origin organic beans, contained in an antique blue willow cup with one tiny chip on the edge and mild cracking in the glaze.”

I don’t care if you use the same pronoun over and over or if you use the word “persnickety” eleven times over the course of ten pages.

I don’t care if your historical references are accurate, or if the characters speak in a way that doesn’t fit their environment.

I don’t care if your romantic pairing makes love on a bed of roses at sunset or if they bang up against the wall in a changing room at Walmart.

I don’t care if your stories are nothing but fluff, or nothing but smut.

I am going to read your fics, and I am going to enjoy the hell out of them. So please keep writing, and ignore comments from assholes. We, the readers, love you.

Reblog if you agree!

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abruisedmuse
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emmaduerrewatson

I’ve been thinking about people who, if they’re either suffering through mental illness or they’re suffering through addiction, they have an everyday struggle, no one pats them on the back every day, but every day they are actively fighting something, but there are so many days that nobody gives them credit for that, and so, how often must somebody who’s in that sort of internal struggle must wanna say to everyone in the room, ’‘you have no idea how close I am to going back to a dark place“, or ”you have no idea“.

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